CHAEYOUNG's POV

 

They would always worry about me.

 

I'm their youngest child and also the one whom they should always keep an eye on, to be taken care of. I was the sickly among the siblings, that even the slightest infection was too much for my younger self to handle.

 

The white walls, the stout scent of anesthesia, the steady ticking of the monitor, and the insipid light that flows through the windows.

 

It all dulled my senses.

 

Blaring, over and over, that same pattern, telling that it would always be that same day.

 

I’d recall my parents’ visits to the hospital. They would always tell me that everything will be alright. That this soon would be gone and that we could finally go home.

 

They would smile and gently touch my forehead. A touch that seems to be afraid that they might break my delicate figure.

 

Fragile.

 

Whisked away from handling any difficulty and merely just in place. Only to be instructed on what should be done and what shouldn’t be, as I would nod and follow them each time.

 

It was their way of showing their love.

 

Protecting me from any harm. Shielding me from what’s to come. Extinguishing the flames and laying out the path for me to cross.

 

I was merely in place, never thinking nor worry of ways to do it on my own.

 

Days passed by.

 

And little by little.

 

I was able to recover.

 

Yet, I could still feel their anxiety.

 

There was that daily check-ups with the physician hired personally to nurse me. The monthly visits back to the hospital. And the watchful eye that’s always set upon me.

 

That same apprehension lead for me to be homeschooled for the rest of my childhood. That it was the best choice, for them to stay in touch and be keen in observing me.

 

It wasn't lonely. I'd told myself back then.

 

That even though I don’t have any friends my age back then, my older sister would often come and play with me, sharing a tea pot session or a fairytale story once she's done with her school. Or that sometimes, my big brother would barge into my room and exclaims to play baseball out at our backyard, trying hard not to break any windows which would rove into a round of scolding from our mother.

 

It wasn't lonely. I'd repeat to myself.

 

That even after my sibling’s departure overseas, as my sister settles to go study abroad for her high school and my older brother for his college, I’d apprise myself that I still have my parents. That they would take me out for dinner, from time to time, once their schedules were lax enough to spare a free time. But once alone, I’d often find myself eagerly waiting for my teacher’s discussion for the day’s lesson. And whenever the day comes to end, I would always come into their room and share what I’ve learnt – I’d sing for them too! – as it brims my heart with delight upon seeing their proud smiles.

 

But those days too, somewhat passed from sight. Their daily visits became weeks and soon turned to months. They would be sorry, explaining that they’re needed for our business expansion overseas, to which I'll just nod in understanding and hobbles back to my lessons, like a good daughter there is.

 

I'd find myself atop the highest part of our own library where aged or ‘antique’ books rest neatly into the wooden shelves. It’s where I scampered into the second my lessons were over. That I didn’t even noticed that I’ve started waiting for the second to tick for my studies to end, drawing my teacher to ask me one day on the sudden change of my behavior. That I wasn’t active anymore on asking questions. That she’d sometimes caught me staring outside, eyes blanked out in lethargy. And that I’d often notice how she would always ask if I’m okay, that somehow, it felt like she’s about to call a doctor any second. I would nod at her then, reassuring her to cease her worry.

 

I couldn’t answer her.

 

I couldn’t find my voice.

 

I didn’t have to.

 

I’d lost myself to the books of the library. Rushing to it and delve on what the world might be. A place outside of this circle, this little space I'm enclosed to.

 

What would it be like?

 

To see the world.

 

To see it all.

 

And I wasn’t alone.

 

Even if it’s a fiction.

 

I couldn’t help but feel relieved.

 

That it’s calming, knowing that someone have felt like this too, here, held in my hands as I read her story.

 

The story of a princess, her golden hair, and her tower which she calls home.

 

Rapunzel.

 

And like her.

 

I’d often wonder what it would be like to be free.

 

“It's lonely.”

 

I finally voiced out.

 

As there would be no one else to hear me but myself.

 

 

"What are you saying?!!"

 

I could hear the loud shout of my father from the inside of the room, followed by a loud slam against the table. His heels clacked resoundingly, his footsteps heavy, as he shuffles across the room, before bellowing back once more.

 

“My daughter is not a mute! I dare you to tell me those words again! And I'll make sure your license is gone the moment I closed that door!”

 

There wasn't a reply at first. And with a heavy sigh, a calm voice followed suit, drifting the seconds to avoid the building anger of my father.

 

"Selective mutism." The doctor slowly explained, "It happens when someone who is capable of speech couldn’t speak in specific situations or specific people. It is an anxiety disorder and sometimes, this usually co-exist with Social Anxiety Disorder, which is also called social phobia, the fear of being judged or negatively evaluated in a social situation. I’m not saying your daughter is diagnosed with these but if her condition worsens…it may lead into it."

 

As if in disbelief, my father was rendered speechless as silence hung upon the room. I didn't wait for his reply and ran.

 

I couldn't understand what was happening.

 

Mutism? Anxiety Disorder?

 

Am I sick?

 

I could feel my stomach lurched, my heart writhing in sudden tension.

 

Memories cascaded back.

 

Those white walls. Those bland windows. And that acerbic stung of needles.

 

I couldn’t go back there.

 

I couldn’t be imprisoned to that place ever again.

 

*

 

They were afraid.

 

And I, too, am beginning to be afraid of myself.

 

I was a princess whose wishes already came true, long before I could utter it aloud, never experiencing any difficulty. Thus, it made me secluded on what the world truly is.

 

So when I was about to face it, to finally flap my own wings, to be set free from this secluded tower.

 

I cowered in fear and retreated.

 

Back to the world that they've built for me.

 

That somehow, I couldn't stand on my own.

 

My feet trembling to even take the next step. Too scared to take flight on my own. Used on the support that was often handed down to me so easily.

 

But meeting you, made me feel free.

 

You with that unwavering spirit of yours, a daring presence.

 

You with a held-out hand, stirring still my shaky hand.

 

And you with your eyes that sets something within me right from the very start.

 

Faith.

 

You would smile at me then, urging me forward.

 

An impalpable belief that I…

 

Can do it.

 

 

I watched the unfamiliar surroundings in such fret. And just as the driver pulls over and opens the car door, my dread only increased upon looking up at the mansion.

 

My father looked at me and offers his hand. I laced my hand into his and leads me into the house.

 

“This way Mr. Park.” A maid greeted after bowing to us.

 

She guided us to the center of the mansion. Its heart displaying a statue of a knight in plate armor, both his hands atop a sword that’s pierced into the ground while his face was masked completely with his medieval helmet. A sole, yet grandiose chandelier hung above it, enlivening the expansive space as two sets of stairs that meets in its top was enfolded by red carpets.

 

I clutched my father's hand and stopped walking just before taking a step into the stairs. He halts and bended down, explaining.

 

“Sweetie. This isn’t a hospital.”

 

I looked down. I couldn’t meet his eyes. He knelt and holds my hand, placing his other hand atop of mine.

 

“Daddy will just have a meeting with one of his friends, okay? And...” He sighed deeply, looking down, his tone hinting sadness. “And your Mommy and I didn't want to leave you on the house alone now.”

 

Still, I didn't reply and only nodded.

 

“And next month, you'll go to school. It's where your brother and sister went to. Isn't that great? You'll be able to make new friends too.”

 

I peered into his eyes, disbelieving everything he’s told me. That I didn’t realized that my wish to see the world was now being granted, but it was far behind time. I’m now afraid of everything the world has to offer. I felt my eyes blinked back, his eyes went wide slightly, as if sensing my fear, and hugs me tight.

 

We didn’t speak for minutes. Laying out into the silence at the words we couldn’t convey to each other.

 

He then stood and glanced back, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I nodded back, breathing deeply. He held my hand firmly, afraid of letting me go and continued our steps.

 

Upon arriving, the maid steps aside and opens the doors. We were welcomed with a cheery voice.

 

“Thomas! Finally! Thank you for coming.” The lady kissed my father’s cheeks in a greeting, exuding her bright energy.

 

My father respectfully bows his head and replies. “The pleasure’s is all mine. Margareth. I'd like you to meet – ”

 

"Oh my! She's your daughter, right?" She crows excitedly, to which my father only nodded in with a small smile. "And oh! You could be friends with my daughter too!" She clasps both her hands at the idea, but soon shakes her head. “But…she’s really handful.”

 

"Is she here?" My father asked.

 

“She is. But I swear, she's off to somewhere near trouble. She’s really handful.” She complains as my father chuckles lightly. She kneels in front of me and held both of my hands, exhibiting the warmest of smiles. "What's your name sweetheart?"

 

My father looked at me and gave me a nod.

 

I couldn't respond right away as two expectant eyes were waiting for me to give my answer.

 

I couldn’t do it.

 

I shied away and ran before they could even react.

 

I could hear my father calling out my name, but I was already at the corner of the halls. I took a turn to the left and opened the nearest door, locking it once inside.

 

And just after I closed the door shut, I felt two taps in my left shoulder.

 

"Hi there."

 

A chicken greeted me with its wings flap to the side.

 

It took all my willpower not to pass out right there and then.

 

"KYAAAA – !!!"

 

My scream was muted off with by a feather wing tightly pressed against my mouth.

 

"Ssssshhhh!!!"

 

The chicken silenced me in a hush. It didn't let go of its hand, urging to my ear as it whispers.

 

"I'll let you go. Just promise you won't shout, okay?"

 

"Mmmppphhhfff!!!!" I didn't listen and moved my body against its tight hold, trying to pry off from its arms – wings, at that matter. It’s only when I was having difficulty in breathing that I’ve finally agreed to its deal.

 

I’ve nodded, receding. It removed its arms and retreats its steps. I’ve turned to finally see the chicken up close, welcoming me with both of its wings held up in air, seized illicitly, it has two big eyes, a yellow beak, and white feathers all stained with dirt.

 

I felt how my figure sank into the walls. My eyes blurring in sudden tears. I hugged myself tight, curled into a ball. I was shaking hard, my ears couldn’t fathom the sounds that’s coming from me.

 

It was a desperate cry for help.

 

It didn’t come.

 

The gentle touches, caress and cooing that I’d grown accustomed to with my family. There was no humdrum of that same sentence, that ‘everything will be alright’.

 

I could faintly hear a scrapping noise beside me, loudly plumping to my side.

 

My tears subsided.

 

The shaking stopped.

 

There was silence.

 

The tears that blurred out my vision dissipates as I look up.

 

And once I did.

 

Hazelnut eyes filled with so much warmth greeted me.

 

"Hi again."

 

And at that moment.

 

You were the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

 

I felt how my throat went dry as I could only stare at your figure just as much. Too dazzled. That maybe you were a mirage that would soon vanish. So, I drew you into my mind.

 

Memorizing you.

 

You leaned down and approached me, your silky black hair framing your goddess like face. I leaned back much further away, distancing myself from you.

 

You seem to get the idea, as you stopped your advances. You settled down and leans back to the walls. Your eyes staring far into the windows.

 

"I'm sorry about the chicken scare. I wanted to try this new costume for the Halloween, but my mom won’t let me see it. So..." You giggled playfully and continues. "I went ahead to find it and bam! I'm wearing it now." You finished while proudly flapping your wings.

 

I bit my lip hard enough to prevent my laughter.

 

It drew silence for a second before you spoke again, a more sincere tone.

 

"I'm glad you're fine now." You uttered, facing me. "And besides it's okay! You can cry as much as you can."

 

You stood and grabbed the chicken head that was splayed across the floor, tucking it below your arm before facing me again, beaming brightly.

 

"And my Mom would always tell me that I shouldn't keep my feelings shut in. That you should shout when you want to shout. Laugh when you want laugh. And cry when you want to cry. That our feelings…are meant to be felt."

 

You approached me again, this time, bending down with a hand.

 

I could feel how my stomach lurched in circles at how perfect you looked.

 

"I'm Kim Jisoo." You said, smiling. "You are?"

 

I didn't know what emboldened me to take your hand.

 

All I know is how I couldn't stray my eyes from looking away at your blinding smile.

 

That I didn’t notice, that suddenly, I was already on my feet.

 

Uncontrollably, I felt how my lips suddenly move to its own accord.

 

My voice finding its own way out as I mutter my reply.

 

"I'm Chaeyoung."

 

I gaze upon you, smiling back.

 

"Park Chaeyoung."

 

*

 

I couldn’t push you away. I didn’t have to as you would always intrude my solitary confined spaced, barging into it without any heed of permission. That it felt like you were there on the first place, like it’s your home.

 

That I couldn’t help but wonder on why I wasn’t against it. Your intrepid actions.

 

That it didn’t felt like an intrusion at all.

 

I could remember how you would loudly articulate your indignation at the knowledge that I’ve been cooped up with books. Only deeming it as one if there are pictures in a page and not some parchment with only a text in it. I would smile then, because despite your protests, I knew that you’ll wait for me still.

 

You would drift to sleep, laying comfortably in my own bed, like the beauty you always are. And once I’ve closed my book, I would wake you up then. And it would always work like magic.

 

Your lips would grace a smile, as finally, I could finally join you.

 

And soon enough, I’d always find my toys thrown askew across the floor. You’d defend yourself, arguing that they were meant to be played rather than being displayed on the glassed paned windows of my cabinets. It would always vary. The subject that you would come up whenever we play.

 

Because who knew that it could be a great combination? Tea pots, teddy bears, queens and witches. You'd set the sheets above and make the pillows stood tall like forts. You’d put up the flashlights then, as its the only lighting that’s illuminating my darkened room.

 

It was our own castle as you would’ve called it.

 

And being with you, would always make my heart race at this adventure.

 

Your troublesome mind.

 

Your playful spirit.

 

And your melodious laugh.

 

I love it all.

 

I want to thank you for pulling me all along.

 

For making me took the first step of the free fall.

 

So please don’t forget it.

 

Don’t forget that I’ll always follow you.

 

I’ll always stand beside you, supporting you.

 

My clumsy daredevil.

 

I’ll be your angel.

 

 

I held out the flower and twirls it around and around before tracing its stem with my finger. I turned to my back in my king-sized bed and lifted the flower up, shielding it from the lights that came from the ceiling.

 

"Lavender means…" I breathed out, deep in thought. "Love at first sight."

 

The image of you appeared.

 

I placed a hand in my thrumming heart.

 

I knew that I couldn’t escape from this.

 

That the mere thought of you pulls me in like this.

 

And it felt like the world was watching, severing my thoughts from you to the loud shatter of my broken windows.

 

I immediately got up from bed, alarmed now.

 

I took a baseball bat from the shelves – just in case?– and ran towards the balcony.

 

“Who’s there?!” I rest the bat at my right shoulder, ready to swing anytime at someone who would dare to lunge at me. Drawing near the edge of the balcony, I peered down.

 

Alas, there you are.

 

Kneeling on both knees. Both your hands raised into the air in resignation.

 

I heaved a loud breath and places the bat down. I rest a hand into my temples and shakes my head in disbelief.

 

“Who? I mean who in this entire world would even throw a HUGE rock in a window?”

 

You looked up, simpering that guilty smile.

 

“I saw no pebbles?”

 

I looked up to the skies and turns back, resting against the railings of the balcony. “Where to?”

 

And even though I couldn’t see you, I could already recognize that appeased look that paints on your face as you proclaim in excitement.

 

“Oh. You’re in for a surprise.”

 

And true to your words, I found myself, within minutes at the passenger seat, hurriedly locking the seatbelt before you speed up towards to who-knows-where. I clung to the seatbelt tightly. You only laughed at me. I ignored you and closed my eyes.

 

"Relax. I got this.” You uttered in confidence. I peeked an eye as you reached into the stereo and blasted the punk rock music. My ears couldn’t recognize any sound. Maybe because it’s the way the hood of the car was pulled down, the wind propelling our hair backwards as we zoomed past the streets, or perhaps was it the fact that I refused to listen with my rational self, on how I’ve signed up into a death wish when I’ve sat at the passenger seat of your car.

 

And I really hate how I’ve been silenced by you.

 

Hushed on how you looked.

 

On how you took the wheel back at the driver seat suited with your aviator glasses, your resplendent dark locks and your perfect smile, showing off your deep dimples.

 

I clutched the seatbelt more tightly against my chest.

 

It would’ve been the perfect view if this weren’t the case of a life or death situation.

 

That I myself wasn’t so sure anymore, if the hard beating of my heart came from the way I couldn’t take my look off you and your cute dimples, or is it because of the way I’m way too scared for my life.

 

I dragged my look from you and closed my eyes once more.

 

Shouting, my voice was now muffled as you speed up.

 

“Since when did you learn how to drive?! And whose car is this?! And license? Gosh. Please tell me you have a license!”

 

You laughed like a madman.

 

A gorgeous madman, to be exact.

 

Because here I am, nervous for my life, while you sat there comfortably. Like seeing me this way was the most entertaining thing in the world.

 

You took a hard left.

 

Intentionally.

 

I clawed at the leathered seat.

 

Clinging hard for my dear life.

 

“WHAT THE , JISOO!!”

 

It was my first time to curse at someone.

 

To hell with honorifics. It didn’t matter if you’re older than me if we’re going to die anyways.

 

You brushed a hand to your hair that covers your pretty face, and chuckles.

 

“No. I don’t have a license.”

 

*

 

The ride felt like it goes on till eternity.

 

I placed a hand against my stomach, pining for it to stop from lurching in circles and forcing myself not to puke at the car’s interior. I breathe hard, taking long intake of air just to even out my breathing. The long wait was over when finally, you stepped into the breaks, ending the ride to hell and announced our arrival.

 

“We’re here.”

 

You stepped out the car and waded towards the car’s trunk. I was still catching my breath, ruminating myself on what I had gotten into.

 

You knocked into the windshield and lifts a pack of canned beers, your other hand carrying white sheets.

 

“Come, You’ll love this.” You motioned with your head, grinning.

 

I watched as you splayed over the sheets atop the hood before climbing up, the car slightly trodding at the sudden weight, and settles comfortably with your crossed legs. You pop opened a beer, lifting it, and turns back to me.

 

“You coming?” You invited, tapping the space beside you.

 

I momentarily blinked back, musing over the small detail that we are both underage to even drink.

 

Then came a reminder. That we have already broken a dozen of rules the moment I took the passenger seat of this car.

 

I got up and sat beside you.

 

And once I did, I’ve acknowledged that you were right.

 

That I’ll love each second of it.

 

“Wow.” I uttered breathlessly, held out at the view. You eyed me with a smile and move your eyes back to the view.

 

“Yeah.”

 

I didn’t know but the drive made me unaware of the surroundings, sightless on how we’re now atop, overlooking the city itself.

 

And just in time, the sunset glimmers into the horizon. It’s light shimmering in a faded orange flare. I watched as how, within minutes, its beauty dwindles and inducts the darkened sky. And like a haze of swift alteration, the city lights enliven, glowing in circles as it all furnished into a darkened canvas that’s filled the stars.

 

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

 

You placed your beer down, pops open another, and handed it out to me.

 

“Here.”

 

I stared at you, dwindling down for a moment, on how you were able to enflame all the rules my family set upon in a single day. A disbelief that somehow, I’ve downplayed your vigor over my restrained and calculated thinking.

 

You’re addictive.

 

And I can’t get over it, as again and again.

 

I knew that I’ll always choose you.

 

I took the drink and you can’t help but smile ever so widely.

 

You raised your beer into the air.

 

“For freedom and rebellion!!”

 

You shouted like a cavalier about to approach war.

 

I clanked your drink to mine.

 

“For freedom and rebellion.” I cheered back, lightly chuckling.

 

I drank the bitter drink, grimacing at the after taste. I looked up to the skies. And felt how my lips couldn’t shake off the smile at my face.

 

That this felt so right even though it’s all wrong.

 

That I felt more alive than ever.

 

I felt your stare and I couldn’t help but stare back at you.

 

"Do this again with me?" You questioned softly.

 

I didn’t even need to think twice about the answer.

 

“Always.”

 

*

 

You should’ve known that I’ll do anything for you too. Just like how you’d always have faith on me.

 

So please know that whatever makes you happy. I’ll always be happy for you back.

 

But why is it I couldn’t do it? That I couldn’t understand this ardent envy when you’re enjoying his company. Is it because I was so used on being with you, that your attention would always be prowled only to me?

 

That you’re this vagabond of light, kindling not only my heart, but also the hearts of many.

 

I didn’t want to be this self-centered nor egotistical on gaining back your attention. Was I being too possessive of you?

 

It reminds me back of my dark past.

 

And I couldn’t tolerate on regressing back to that place, knowing that I’ve now known what it’s like.

 

To see the light.

 

To see this world.

 

I’m too scared that I couldn’t keep up with you.

 

I couldn’t reign this anxiety that somewhere along the road, I’ll be left alone once more.

 

And if that ever happened, I knew that I couldn’t explain it to my soul.

 

I couldn’t handle it.

 

So, I took the easiest way out.

 

A way on protecting myself.

 

On protecting this decrepit heart.

 

My sweet wanderer.

 

Will you forgive me?

 

 

I bowed to the maid who opened the door to your mansion’s foyer. I flitted past the entrance hall and treks up the stairs to your room, already familiar with its turns and corners, owed to the frequency of my visits, that it felt like it was already my own room. I veered to the right wing, passing through the large open paned windows that exhibits your mansion’s courtyard. It was your favorite spot, chanting its design and landscaping, at which it would always lift your mood. That you’d sometimes sit at a corner to wait the  sun’s arrival that doles its own light, rousing the place alive.

 

I lift a hand, now standing outside your room, but stopped mid-air. Your voice darting in high volume, ringing through the door.

 

“I know! I got it Mom! So please just – ”

 

“No! You don’t get it! Do you?!” Your mom equally voiced out. “I was called out again by your principal for vandalism and destruction of school property!”

 

“I’m not involved with the vandalism, I swear to my whole life! And it wasn’t even me who started the fire!” You disclosed in frustration.

 

I was about to take my leave, knowing that I shouldn’t eavesdrop to this conversation, when I too felt the impact of your mother’s next words.

 

Effectively freezing me in place.

 

“I’m disappointed on you.”

 

I didn’t have the time to move away as the door flung open. I opened my mouth hurriedly trying find an excuse. An explanation. A lie. Anything to justify my actions.

 

“Auntie! I…” I felt how my words died out, when your mother regarded me with a nod and recedes down the stairs, swift on understanding my own plight.

 

I’ve bounded back and entered your room. I closed the door and watched on how you deemed my presence with a sigh, standing with your back to me.

 

“Heard all of that?” You asked.

 

“Yeah.” I answered. You defeatedly drooped into your bed with your hands covering your eyes, seemingly ashamed on what I’ve witnessed.

 

I sat beside you, staring straight ahead, as silence rang through the room. Hushed. A bleak difference from the shouts that’s transpired.

 

“We wanted to take a break from studying.” You started, voice somewhat muffled. “You know, with the Finals coming up and with the pressure of us being kicked out in our Second Year. So Hanbin and Bobby came up with the idea of a bonfire, Jennie was against it, but we secretly went for it still. Then a fire break out. Burning the stock room at the back of the gym.” You removed your hands and stared at the ceiling, impassive. “It was Hanbin who started the fire by the way. Not me. But who cares anyway? I’m just like what they say.”

 

You hoisted yourself up, eyes attesting your dejection.

 

“A disappointment.”

 

I reached the folded paper at my pocket and handed it out to you.

 

“Here.”

 

You took the paper and quietly read its printout. It was a flyer for the upcoming Student Council Elections.

 

“Run for the Presidency.” I imparted collectedly. You set the paper down, deep in thought, and swivels your look into me.

 

“Do you think I can do it?”

 

And unlike that fiery confidence of the gambler who’s hellbent on taking any challenge, I saw how you cower to this tale of adventure.

 

It was my turn to have faith in you.

 

I stood up and held out a hand to you.

 

“Let’s start making the posters, shall we?”

 

*

 

I urgently typed into my laptop with a hand, zooming past the budget for this month, and with a pen in my other hand, I took note of the numbers before shifting to the next tab.

 

“Yo! Pres! Someone wants to talk to you. Said he’ll wait for you at your classroom.” Chanyeol announced to t