Chasing Her

Chapter Thirteen

Seo Ah shook her head for the umpteenth time that day all the while battling the urge to glare at her annoying cousin. The idiot, Yibo, who thought it would be fun to invite her out to shop together, knowing that she loathed the idea of shopping. Along with that, it was a goddamn weekday, and not just any random weekday either. It was Monday. Just because they were cousins did not mean that she wouldn’t use this against him in the future; in fact, she would definitely get back at him for making her wake up before noon.

Unbeknownst to her inner montage, the man was busily scanning through racks and racks and hangers and hangers of the clothes that were begrudgingly on sale. It was as if he found it enthralling to look through every single Pokémon shirt that the store had in stock; Yibo would weave through each and every article of clothing, as if the design would differ from the last. If there was anything that hadn’t changed about her cousin, it was most definitely his fascination with Pokémon, not that she could really blame him.

The childlike glimmer in his eyes was the exact same as it used to be. Seo Ah recalled seeing that same shimmer in her brother’s eyes; however, it had been way too long ago, and frankly, she had nearly forgotten what he used to be like before the world had taken its toll on him. The Oh Sehun that once affectionately ran after her every time she’d leave for school seemed like nothing more than a figment of her imagination now.

Yibo continued his search, ignoring the small child that had been waiting patiently for him to move aside so that he could look through the clothing racks himself. This store was the ninth one they’ve been to since they started this whole shopping spree, or ‘adventure’ as Yibo would like to describe it. After all, they were on the lookout for the utmost perfect birthday present they could give to their favorite person in the entire world; what better way to find it than together?

Seo Ah snapped out of her trance and grumbled when she noticed that Yibo was still hard at work. Her head throbbed once more; the lack of sleep was beginning to affect her. She maneuvered her way through the clothes racks, shelves, and numerous piles of shoe boxes to reach him.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it a bit too firmly. “Look, my dearest, most exasperating cousin. We’ve been looking through this store for an hour now, and you’ve yet to find anything to give Ah Reum,” she commented, crossing her arms to signify her displeasure. “I’m utterly and thoroughly convinced that you’ve given up on this whole exploration for the best gift you could feasibly ever give her and instead, have begun looking for objects you could add to your collection.”

Seo Ah’s harsh tone made him flinch. Heedless to say, it was her spot-on guess that scared him out of his wits.

Nevertheless, he kept a calm and reserved expression on his face as he grabbed the shiny Butterfree plushie the child had been eyeing for the past ten minutes. He tossed it in her direction and while she scrambled about to catch it, Yibo had already arrived at the cash register, a normal Butterfree plushie in his own arms.

Seo Ah arched an eyebrow, glancing briefly from the object he was holding in his arms to the object that she was holding in hers. The grin on Yibo’s face did not answer any of the inquiries that had formed in her mind. Slowly and hesitantly, she stood beside him, placing the item down for the employee to scan it.

She leaned towards him, thumb and pointer finger pinching his side to keep him in place while she whispered in his ear. “What are you doing?” Seo Ah asked.

Yibo held back a yelp. He bit his lip and recalled the many, many pieces of information he’d obtained throughout the years. Even though he felt like crying at that exact moment, he remembered the wise philosophies of Riolu, who had taught him to endure. And so, he did; he endured.

The woman at the cash register shot him a concerned look before handing him two plastic bags, thanking them for shopping there, and wishing them well. Throughout that entire situation, he stayed composed and offered her a smile when in truth, his flesh was screaming for assistance in any way, shape, or form. In the end, though, the two hastily left the shop with Yibo caressing the spot Seo Ah had mishandled.

She turned to face him. “So?” she queried, gazing momentarily at her nails out of boredom.

He was sweating profusely; his forehead was practically perspiring bullets. “It’s…” Yibo drawled, his lips, “a couple set.”

Seo Ah stared at him skeptically, eyes basically boring into his soul. Yibo laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head while evading her gaze. After an eternity of silence, Seo Ah groaned.

She shoved a hand through the plastic bag to retrieve the two items. “Why on earth would Ah Reum need these?” Seo Ah wondered, eyes fixated on the plushies and how their color schemes differentiated. No matter how long she scrutinized the two, she just could not, for the life of her, figure out what was so significant about them that Yibo just had to go and buy them, insisting that these were the perfect gifts.

For the first time since they had exited that store, Yibo beamed confidently. He clicked his tongue and bopped her nose. “They’re crucial,” he started, “Think about it. She’ll give the other one to Sehun so that they’ll match. That’s what Ah Reum usually does.”

Seo Ah rolled her eyes, stuffing the items back to where they belonged. She immediately regretted asking him; knowing Yibo, he probably just made up that answer in a fraction of a second because he didn’t want her thinking that he wasn’t sure what he was doing. “You do know that this gift has to be perfect, right?” She turned back to stare at him, only to find him with his arms crossed, whistling, and looking towards the fountain. “Don’t make me tell Auntie what you’ve been hiding from her.”

Yibo frowned. “Seo, it’s the thought that counts.”

She grimaced at that. “No, no. It has to be perfect. Don’t you want the very best for her, too? Ah Reum deserves the best,” she tried to reason with him. “Besides, this is the first birthday she’s going to have with the knowledge that her dad actually cares about them. Isn’t it a given that this birthday should be the best she’ll ever have?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He was aware of that as well, but the timing wasn’t quite right. Yibo walked to an empty table he’d spotted, gesturing for her to sit down, and while Seo Ah was quite uncertain, she complied.

“Doesn’t Ah Reum know about it?” he asked her as quietly as he could after making sure there was no one nearby.

Seo Ah silenced him. “That’s not something we discuss in an open place.”

“Why not?” Yibo furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve heard my mom and dad talk about this in hushed voices, but I still don’t know much about it. How bad could it have been?” he prodded.

“Horrific,” she replied rather ambiguously. “Imagine thinking that your neighborhood’s so close-knit, only for an incident like that to make you question everyone you’ve ever trusted.” Seo Ah shuddered in dread as her face turned even paler. “Nothing was the same anymore. The dynamics between each family? Long gone. Even when they’d left the country, the memory was still embellished in everyone’s mind, and Ah Reum…”

Yibo reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to, Seo,” he told her in a sincere voice. “I don’t want you to have to relive those memories just to tell me what happened.”

Seo Ah nodded, expressing her thanks.

“So,” he leaned forward, “Food?”

“Always,” she answered, finally smiling.

Yibo had just gotten up to examine the restaurants in the area when he heard her scream his name. By impulse, he turned around, trembling in the process.

“Don’t forget the fries!” she bellowed, a serious, yet hysterical expression on her countenance. He mentally chided himself, wondering just what he had done in his past life to be rewarded with such a…difficult cousin to please.

He turned back around, disregarding the snickering he’d hear from all around him. In some passersby’s sights, their bickering seemed like a bunch of siblings fighting, and while Yibo couldn’t deny the validity of that conjecture, he could not envision being siblings with Seo Ah. If she managed to make his life so hard just by being his cousin, he could not even bear to think of how terrible his life would be if he was her brother instead of Sehun.

I’d cry. He would. He really would. Seo Ah’s temper was not something to mess with, and he could not count how many times her own brother had messed with it and dealt with the eruption of the so-called volcano. Yibo genuinely wanted no part in that. He was there to help them, not be dragged into a game of ‘the floor is lava.’ That was child’s play, and he was far too old for such self-indulgent amusements.

Yibo inspected what each restaurant had to offer, taking into account what both he and Seo Ah would appreciate. Ah, and he definitely could not forget about the fries. So, basically, he had to look for a restaurant that served fries. That wouldn’t prove to be too difficult.

When Yibo glimpsed towards her direction apprehensively, Seo Ah immediately crossed her arms. Truthfully, she could not care less about the food being twenty minutes late or whatever. Even if eating was her utmost favorite thing to do in the entire universe, she had to use that as an excuse to sidetrack Yibo for a short period of time.

He looked so serene from where she was sitting, and Seo Ah just could not help but be envious of how little he knew.

Hiding the truth from Ah Reum was undoubtedly the most challenging thing she had ever had to do. Sehun had taken it the hardest, but she wasn’t far behind him. A child she’d looked after alongside her brother—so innocent—so pure—too good—for this world. She had to lie to that girl.

Their community treated that incident like a plague, and according to that reasoning, if there were no fatalities, then it never occurred. Her mother and father told her that talking about it was forbidden, and since being told that, Seo Ah never questioned why that was.

It was swept aside. Ignored. Forgotten. However, it was never truly disregarded. It was there; it lingered in every involved person’s mind, crawling and struggling against that fictional cage it was held in, so that it would become free. It was sardonic hearing her English professor tell their class, “the truth will set you free,” because in Seo Ah’s case, the truth compressed her airways and rendered her immobile.

It didn’t set her free; it imprisoned her in that confinement as well.

“Se