Note: There will be two point of views. Hye Kyo and Song Joong Ki's. So, watch out! :D

The Breakup. Already?

Hye Kyo POV

Hi, I'm Song Hye Kyo. I'm a 20-year old freshman college student, majoring in Spanish (don't judge me). I honestly don't know why I chose this major or what I want to do with this kind of major. I am not sure if this can help me become successful in the future, hopefully it'll find its way to success. Maybe it'll just help me learn a language that is useless in my Country - either way, I don't know what to do with it. And as my Daddy would say, Que bien, that's good, you don't know what you're doing with your life sweetie, but that still makes me proud of you. Apparently, he'd learn some spanish words from me and that makes him a proud father for learning something somewhat special from his daughter, who has an undecided future. Such a supportive father, it makes me feel bad that I don't even know if I can raise our family income with my verbal strengths in Spanish. Or with my face. 

Nope, definitely not with my face. Now let me tell you why. A few weeks ago, I only had three pimples. It happened the night after I first met this rather popular Basketball player at school, hence I couldn't stop thinking about him. A few days after that one week, seven more arrived like a wrong shipped, misadressed Amazon package out of nowhere. They increased overnight after the butterflies bombarded my stomach with Song Joong Ki's flying kisses and whatnots. . . 

Song Joong Ki. That's quite a pretty name there, isn't it? Song Joong Ki is not my brother or my relative - so don't even start with me again. Oh by the way, the little people at school love to argue with me about that. I've had enough fights about this similar surname coincidence issue with my friends. They keep on telling me that this is a matter of pure , that I'm a pedo noona, and that Joong Ki and I are literally cursed - meaning we can never be together unless we have the same fate as the Beauty and the Beast - or the Beast and the Beast, if that even exist (there is no beauty found here when even my own Daddy decided to call my best friend beautiful instead of me. Que bien, he'd stopped calling me beautiful. Is my bestfriend prettier than your own daughter now? I'd love to ask him, but I don't wanna seem pathetic).

Song Joong Ki and I - we're like Romeo and Juliet, except I wouldn't even - despite being ridiculously stupid- pretend to be dead for Romeo or him but he would probably do that because he's a fan of Romeo and Juliet. My life is too precious, as precious as my face. This face - mentally points at my face- that has been touched and cursed by Joong Ki's hands three weeks ago at the rooftop where I first met him. 

Song Joong Ki was a common person. I've seen him around before that day at the rooftop. I've seen him talk to girls and I've always found it cute when he blushed - but he wasn't that cute up close. Knowing that the redness on his cheeks wasn't actually a blush, but something else that is still very catchy and red and a little bit swollen. Either way, those little things on his face still makes him seem very attractive in my eyes. My best friend would say I need better glasses or maybe a pair of contacts, but unfortunately I could not afford either of the two. Again, Song Joong Ki was very common despite his pretty face, tall height, curly dark hair, and a body that I drool about every single day. . . Well, common because he wasn't the only one who had that kind of body until he approached me and I realized that, 'Oh, his body looks so much better when it's this close to me. He should really move closer so I can touch him and then we can do it and that and yeah I have a dirty mind but hey he's blushing, wait no actually, those are pink pimples. . . '

Pimples. Pink Pimples. I know. I hate repeating it myself, but yeah it's that word. The fake blush-on on Song Joong Ki's face? The curse. He's been sending some for me apparently.

So back at the rooftop, where we first introduced ourselves (F.Y.I. I was very attracted to him at second sight and discouraged at third sight), Joong Ki said the word first. "You must be lost pretty lady," he said as I was my chocolate ice cream, making a mess of myself but I was too dumbstruck to do anything about it. Then he laughed and added as he held out an arm for mine to shake, "probably not. I'm Song Joong Ki, anyways."

I was dumbfounded since he was so close, and he was sweating like a hot tamale, and his chest was seen through his shirt with no signs of conservativeness or limitation (making me feel like losing my ity), and he was smiling toothily like the Beast (from Beauty and the Beast) when Lumiere, the moving candlestick told him to show his smile. I couldn't help but stutter, and notice his unique blush-on. Still cute, I thought. Then after swallowing my ice cream cone into whole, I said, a little too loud for the silence surrounding the rooftop, "My name is Song Hye Kyo!" 

"Oh," he paused, "are we related?" 

"Maybe, but hopefully not." 

"Hopefully not." 

"Yeah, hopefully not."

Then came the silence.

Speechlessness.

Akwardness.

Oh, this is why I never get a boyfriend.

Finally,  I spoke, "I mean, I love being an only daughter that thinks like a man and I wouldn't even wish to have a hot tamale as a relative."

"Am I hot?" 

"Of course!" I declared, almost as absentmindedly as I could. "But a tamale hot, with a tamale face. And I know that sounds weird, it's just a metaphor I think.  I can't actually imagine your face as a tamale, but you're hot like it, isn't that amazing?" I obviously sounded so nervous to the point that he laughed at me - unless he laughed at my lameness of words. Maybe he didn't understand what I was trying to say.

"Amazing," he said. "So, do you wanna grab some Tamale together?"

I wanted to. I wanted to play hard-to-get so I told him, "Maybe next time. I mean, it's not like they have it in the Cafeteria.