Final
Kindling
You figured one drink to catch up with your high school friend Yoojin wouldn’t bring an early grave, but all these hopes were eradicated upon discovering she invited your entire senior year homeroom class. There are reasons you never wanted to meet them again, one being that when they got together they were obnoxiously loud, two being that no one would recognize you by appearance; however, the main reason is that when you are with a group of people you spent a good amount of time with, you revert to the self you were back in those days. In this case quiet, awkward, and unrefined.
Sipping your scotch (because God knows you need a hard drink to get through this) you start contemplating how much the current you is not like the teenage one. College had really been fantastic; you could finally combine your love of money and chance into one major, economics. Studying what you enjoy and not wasting time learning about some dead poet from 100 years ago was wonderful. It felt as if the burdensome world had been taken off your shoulders and was replaced with something sparkling and refreshing to the mind.
It is safe to say that during those four years your mood and personality brightened: something not currently seen by those around you as they become roaring drunk in a tiny bar that barely fits their exorbitant number. Yoojin was never very good with spacial geometry.
Despite the encumbrances, you aren’t upset at meeting these people again, they are all pretty decent… generally. No, the real reason you are crouched in some indiscriminate corner of introverted lameness is because you are trying to avoid him.
Now, let’s clarify some things. You do not hate him; the situation is actually quite the contrary. The both of you were fairly close upon finishing high school. There was, however, a slight thing going on between you two come senior year, and while it was not pronounced, it always hung thick in the air preventing anyone from dating you and you from dating each other. It was that type of relationship where the two in question are very good friends and would like to be together, but know that the circumstances would at best permit a short-term relationship ending with heartache and doubt; a relationship that neither party could put the other through. Thus the inquiry was left unspoken and you two remained friends; him becoming an idol and you heading off to college, eventually growing distant.
Even if Yoojin had told you she was inviting the entire class to the bar you still would have come. After all, he should be in Seoul, having better things to do than meeting a bunch of nobodies, right? Wrong, your calculations would have been so wrong once you caught a glimpse of him chatting with an old friend.
To say you have always wondered what could have been would be an understatement, same with not wanting to find out. At the very least, if he does happen to cross your path you hope to whatever divine being is playing these cruel jokes that he wouldn’t be able to recognize you. Just the thought makes your eyes clench shut and the grip on your glass to become deathly. This is your praying face, and you are a coward.
~
Normally he wouldn’t have come to this sort of gathering. Not because he is pretentious, not because he is trying to forget, but because he is so busy all the time. Being busy is nice though; however, seeing old faces is nice too. The thought of it etches a soft smile on his face as he lifts his drink to his lips. These people are just as lively as they were all those years ago, and friendships between them seem to have stuck through the years.
Friendship… that was something that didn’t stick with him, not to say he didn’t try. It’s just that, whenever his old friends called him he’d usually have a schedule to go to. As time went on he became so busy that responding to their texts became a once a week deal. To say he felt bad would be an understatement, same with saying he wished things could have gone differently. But this is the life he chose, and occasionally being able to see their faces is all in all pleasant enough for him.
However, there is one friend he has yet to see, an old flame if you will. Scanning the room again the only person he hasn’t looked directly at is the woman in the corner, but that couldn’t be her, could it?
Staring at her, an excited feeling blossoms in his gut, and the same type of drunken warmth he felt when he looked at her in high school begins spreading through his body. Perhaps it is...
Excusing himself from the conversation (he checked out a while ago but his friend doesn’t need to know that) he squeezes through the dense crowd and toward the bar where the mystery woman resides.
“Could I get a soju, please?”
~
That voice, no, it can’t be. Your form becomes visibly rigid as you hear it. There’s an uncomfortable warmth rising in your chest, and you don’t like it. With a careful look through your peripheral vision you see a strong build and a tall frame: he’s right next to you. There’s this buzz in the air when he is around that makes you anxious and fidgety and you again hope to whatever god is there that he won’t look your way. He’s a star now after all, again and again you hope that this fact has changed him into a haughty jerk. It wouldn’t break your heart, only aide in the healing process.
You angle your body slightly away from his and nurse your drink closer. There’s a light tap on your shoulder and before turning you scrunch up your face and mumble every curse known to man. In an instant the face is gone and replaced with a curious frown and a raised eyebrow as you turn toward the intruder.
A relieved sigh, and suddenly his eyes light up as he practically shouts, as the bar is fairly loud, “It is you.”
Opening your mouth to respond is useless because soon after his statement a woman comes behind him and taps his shoulder as well.
“Yunho!”
Not wanting to be rude, he gives you an apologetic smile, and turns to the woman with a greeting, just enough time for you to pay for your drink and slip out of the stuffy bar.
~
Outside the air is cool, a much-needed relief after an hour of constant sticky hot. Leaning against a wall you allow your head to hit it and look up at the not so starry sky of Gwangju in pensive silence. Confrontation was never really your thing; and with a long period of time and a never changing heart, you feared speaking with him. Everything about him seemed to remain so… so… there, so real. A real you aren’t ready to face yet.
Calling a cab is pointless as you live a few blocks away, and the cool air is calming your flushed cheeks. All this time and you are still so terribly affected.
With a heave, you’re off the wall and walking down the sidewalk. After some yards you hear someone calling your name. Right about this time you wish you weren’t wearing heeled boots, or at the very least weren’t inebriated. You want to run, or hide, or turn invisible, or all three, but luck just isn’t on your side today and instead you stand rooted to the spot as the man with the tingling voice draws closer.
He bends over and holds his knees, panting between words as he says, “You left so soon. I wanted to talk to you.”
Strange, you thought he was in better shape. Maybe his heart is fluttering as fast as yours is? Preposterous, but still the thought makes you want to swoon as Yunho looks up expectantly from his bent position. What you would give at this moment to be able to ruffle his hair. The fingers on your right hand are wiggling and you force them to still by grabbing your left elbow, but his hair still looks so touchable.
You turn your head slightly to the side and speak in a small voice, “You did talk,” and you hope that’s good enough, he’s not getting anything else out of you tonight.
“I don’t define me saying one sentence as having a conversation.”
“Well you didn’t clarify that now did you?” Despite the indignant tone in your voice you can’t hold back the amused grin at the childish turn in your conversation. You glance at him, head still turned away, and see that he’s standing at his full height. You don’t want to comment on it, but you just can’t help yourself right now, “I hate how tall you are.”
There’s a chortle from his side as he retorts, “Well, I hate how short you are.”
“I’m not short!” whoops, you’re entire body is facing him now and you’re scolding yourself, you’re supposed to be running away right now.
His posture is relaxed and he laughs again, “See, talking to me isn’t so bad is it?”
There’s an elated expression on his face and it makes your guts squirm in delight as your face flushes. No amount of cold can take the red away now that he’s in front of you. Eventually, you accept that this conversation won’t end soon and go to sit on the curb of the street, signaling him to follow your lead.
“So, what have you been up to?” It’s a pointless question, you know, but you’d do anything to avoid talking about yourself. There’s no reason to get attached to him again.
“I’m sure you already know that.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
He’s laughing the alcohol must be getting to him and leaning back on his palms to stare up at the dark sky, “What I meant was it’s not important. If you’re really curious you can look it up on the internet. What I want to know is what you’ve been up to.”
Bringing your knees to your chest you rest your head on them as your arms encircle your legs, “You know, stuff. College, studying, graduating, having a boyfriend, dumping a boyfriend, getting a job, moving out, things like that.” Talking about your life makes you embarrassed, you accomplished so little compared to him.
There’s a shuffling sound beside you as you stare at the street ahead. Maybe he’s finally giving up. You are out of your thought as hands come under your arms and lift you up, your body thrashing and kicking until you are placed on your feet.
“What are you doing!?”
“Come on, I’ll take you home. That was where you were going, yes?”
A protest is about to leave your mouth when he grabs your hand and yanks you to follow him down your original path, “Yunho,” he smiles, it’s the first time in so long that you’ve said his name, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to know where I live.”
His sudden stop causes you to jerk forward, his hand still holding onto yours tightly, “Why?”
The entire time he’s been holding your hand you didn’t struggle, and you still don’t as you speak quietly, “I can’t go through this again.”
What emotion flashed onto Yunho’s face you wouldn’t know because shortly after your statement he’s on his way down the street again, your entwined hands causing you to be tugged along, “Just let me walk you home, it’s not safe for a lovely woman to be walking around alone at night.” He glances back to see you staring at the ground, a blush on your face.
~
The both of you are in front of the door to your apartment as you bid him adieu, fishing for the keys in your pocket. You could’ve sworn you had heard him walking away as you finally find the keys and you’re about to put them in the door as a hand slams beside your head. You quickly turn around to be greeted by Yunho’s body pressing you against the door as the keys drop from your hand.
There’s an intensity so strong behind his eyes as his face comes closer to yours and you try to turn your head away, only to have it tilted up to look into his eyes. Neither of you speak and you curse your body for not shoving him away when you had the chance. It’s like your limbs are locked down by his stare and your lids grow heavy as his mouth comes an inch away from yours.
And he kisses you, experimentally at first, but then with more fire as the hand that gripped your face goes to your neck to tilt your head back and intensify the kiss. The other hand goes from the door, to the small of your back, and then lowers to your .
It’s then that you decide this is too far and try to get him away, but he only pushes you against him harder and his hand slips into your back pocket, taking an object you can’t quite remember out. You open your eyes in the kiss as his hand pulls away to see his eyes opened and glancing to the side where his hand is now lifted. It dawns on you what he’s doing as you hear the familiar beeps of your phone.
About this time you are aware of his tongue in your submissive mouth, and you are going to fight with it until he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours, hand slipping the phone into your back pocket again. This time his hand stays there and you tell him not to try you, and he pulls it out laughing.
He moves away from your flustered and flushed body that now leans back against the door and glances you over for what you thought was the first time, but apparently isn’t.
“Call me,” he smiles before giving you a quick kiss and leaving.
Looks like the old flame just burst into a huge fire.
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