Kang Min Soo was pretty sure that it was Park Jimin.

If the familiar face wasn’t it, then the stinging pain at the side of her right wrist — where the casted tattoo is — would be the given. There’s definitely not anyone else that would make it hurt like this.

She could feel the bile rising up , her heartbeat becoming erratic, and the school director’s words of welcome becoming a mere background in her head. He obviously hasn’t seen her yet, considering he’s happily talking with a bunch of people around him and not sparing a glance at her. That, or maybe he’s forgotten about her. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

He’s even got an arm around a pretty girl.

Min Soo forced herself to look away. She shouldn’t let herself get affected by this. She’s faced much scarier and heartbreaking events through the years that he has been out of her life. It didn’t mean that just because they were — still are — soulmates, they were going to end together. And she plans to keep it that way.

He was so near, yet still too far.

Kang Min Soo told herself never to look back. He wasn’t worth it, anymore. He left like everyone else, anyway. What was the point of fighting for someone who gave up before you knew of the fight, anyway?

(Hold yourself.)

 

~

 

In a Saturday morning inside a quaint, yellow house, a woman in her late twenties prepares breakfast for her family as her husband wakes up their child. The woman was a kind person, though she was sometimes temperamental. It would be her husband who would always calm her down, somehow the yin to her yang. He was also kind, mellow and has a long patience. It had always been him who had been there for her, dropping what could’ve been a title for their family to stay with her.

“Eomma, what’s this?” a voice suddenly rang throughout the household. The woman glances at her back and notices her seven-year-old, pajama-clad daughter running towards her.

The woman pauses from her work to look at what the little girl is showing her. She kneels down beside the small child, gently taking her tiny wrist in between her rough and matured hands. In the smooth, white wrist was what seemed to be a freshly drawn padlock shaded in black ink.

“Where did you get this, Min Soo-ya?” her mother asked, a little frown appearing in her face.

“It just appeared when I woke up this morning, eomma,” the child explained. “What is it, eomma? Am I sick?”

“Uh — no, no, darling… you’re not…”

But the creased forehead and downward eyebrows doesn’t escape the child’s notice. “Why don’t you look happy, eomma? Is something wrong?”

The mother shakes her head and stands up. “Nothing’s wrong, darling,” she said, giving the child a smile that could fool just about anyone. “Why don’t you tell your appa to run a bath for you, hm?”

The child says a bright, “Yes, eomma!” and runs to her father who is sitting at the living room. She doesn’t notice the slight tremble in her mother’s hand.

 

~

 

Min Soo slowly gets a hang of the university life.

Waking up at six in the morning to go to seven AM classes, spending the next ten hours in school and all the while spending her free time strengthening her tracking map to find her mother. After all, it was the very reason why she came back to Korea in the first place. If her life was anything normal, she’d obviously stay in America.

She also finds out that Park Jimin is in the same department as hers, due to the fact that he’s become some sort of celebrity around the Visual and Performing Arts Department. He’s one of the main performers for the coming winter showcase, and apparently, he’s one hell of a dancer. A contemporary dancer, she’s heard.

Min Soo wondered how his father handled that, considering the old man had been adamant on having him take a course that leaned more towards white-collard jobs. When they were younger, Jimin had always expressed how much he loved arts — dabbing in some of drawing, singing at school plays, and — most often — dancing at school programs. Though he had been shy of showing it verbally, especially when his father was around, it resonated in every movement he’d made from what Min Soo remembers. It was only his mother that showed as much enthusiasm as her son and pushed him to follow his dreams.

She sighed. Why does she always have to end up thinking about that boy?

As she sits in the library alone and surrounded by books during her free time that Thursday afternoon, she ignores the slight sting in her wrist that’s been going on for weeks now. According to the scarce books her Aunt Veronica had on Casted, the tattoos would inflict pain when either: A) at the first few months of the pair being torn apart after spending a long time with each other, or B) warning the pair that they are close within each other’s distances. It specifically implied that the pain would hurt both parties.

But seeing as he clearly doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, he must’ve done something with his tattoo — because the only way to get rid of a Casted tattoo is when one of the pair dies. Maybe she’s dead to him, she thought. Min Soo sighed and twirled the pencil in her hand as she tries to bring herself to focus back on her work.

Well, she wouldn’t be surprised.

(Just stop thinking about it.)

 

~

 

“Hey!” a seven-year-old Min Soo said excitedly, almost scaring off her new classmate/ neighbor. She shows him her tiny wrist, a little padlock tattoo adorning it. “We have the same drawing!”

The dark-haired boy frowns a bit and narrows his eyes even more (with his features, his eyes almost looked like slits now), his lips jutting out a bit as he looks at the drawing on Min Soo’s wrist. He’s got these adorable round cheeks and a natural pinkness in them, and she thinks it’s cute. “You’re right!” the small boy exclaimed, same excitement lacing his voice while he brings up his left wrist to compare it to hers.

The two kids have become inseparable since then, talking about everything and anything. They play with other kids and end up falling asleep next to each other after lunch. Later, when they take the school bus home to the same road, Min Soo says goodbye to Jimin first. He lives a bit farther down the street.

“Was that your new friend, Min Soo-ya?” her mother asked upon noticing the upbeat goodbyes between the children.

Min Soo then turned to look up to her mother and nodded her head, beaming. “Hm-mmm,” she replied. “And his name’s Jimin and — eomma! We have the same drawing!” She raises her right wrist to the older as if to remind her. “His is on his left, though, but they’re the same!”

An unreadable look passes her mother’s face. Min Soo slowly withdrew her arm, her smile fading. “Is something wrong, eomma?”

“O-oh, nothing, darling,” her mother said, smiling and running her hand on her daughter’s head.

The smile is back on the child’s face. “Eomma, do you know what our drawings mean?”

Her mother hesitated, struggling to find the right words without overwhelming her daughter on what the tattoo really meant. “It means,” she said carefully, “that you’re going to be in each other’s lives for a long time, darling. A very, very long time.”

Min Soo grinned at this. “I wouldn’t mind that! Jiminie is a great friend!”

The mother could only give a wistful smile that her daughter would be too young to decipher.

 

~

 

Of course, it wouldn’t be long before they crossed each other’s paths.

What brings them together is a group project in their BC-25, in the late evening of November at one of the 24/7 cafés in the city (which, thankfully, served great coffee and had a nice assortment of pastries). The project was going to make 25% of their total grade for this semester, and was one of the two big projects for the subject. They were going to have to prepare a proposal paper for it and present it in class; and they would be rated by group for their paper and individually during reporting. Thankfully, her groupmates were not ones who would slack off.

There was Misaki, majoring in Literature-II, who volunteered to compile all the work meanwhile she researched and worked on her own part of the paper. There was Joo-hyung, majoring in Psychology-III, who was known for his meticulousness and grammar-Nazi tendencies. Then her, Min Soo, majoring in Painting-I, who was part-time chill but would low-key probably salvage all the work that wouldn’t be done by others. And finally — Park Jimin, Dance-II, who (like Min Soo) would probably take all the work not done.

(It’s funny how he has some kind of grand entrance whenever she mentions him in her internal monologue. I should really stop that, Min Soo thought to herself as she scrolled down from the site she’s been searching on for the past hour.)

The café, Peppermint and Beans, is a known sacred place for students who are pulling all-nighters and could not do it in A) their dorms, B) their apartments, or C) in the school’s library. Since the café itself is situated within the campus, it oftentimes gets a bit packed during midterms and finals week. At this time of 20:34 — the only time they could find to meet since they all have different schedules — the four students crowd in one table, all sitting beside their notes, laptops and at least one cup of coffee. (All except for Min Soo, who was in a caffeine rush because she’d been here since 17:20 after her final class to do home works and projects, and may have spent on more than three Americanos.)

“Since it’s going to be Saturday tomorrow, I think we can all agree that it’ll be OK if we do an all-nighter, right?” Misaki asked as she tied her hair in a ponytail. “You don’t have any appointments by the morning?”

“My other group projects will be by afternoon, so it’s fine,” Joo-hyung said, shrugging. He looks back on what he’s working on.

“My practice will be this afternoon,” Jimin said, pushing back his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He seldom wears it still, Min Soo found out.

“Well, I don’t really have any concerns in my major subjects for now and I’ve finished my other work while waiting for you all,” Min Soo said. “So, it’s OK.”

“Well then, let’s continue,” Misaki said, looking back on her laptop.

The café has an unspoken rule of talking like being in a library from 19:00 until 8:00 in the morning, for the sake of those students who come here for all-nighters. So for the next few hours, they work quietly and only talk when raising questions (“Should I include this?” “Won’t this expand our study further? We might not have time to tackle on that.” “Who wants some red velvet cupcakes? I’m hungry.”). It also consisted of Min Soo shaking off the feeling of being stared at, trying not to stare at Jimin, and preventing any kind of conversation to happen.

By 24:00, the café gives all their current customers of the hour free coffee. However, as Min Soo turns to accept hers, Jimin cuts in.

“Ah, I’ll take that, noona,” Jimin said, giving the female manager one of his bright smiles that Min Soo knows too well when he wants something. He takes the cup of coffee meant for Min Soo and places it next to his own cup. “Min Soo has had too many already, and I don’t think she would mind if I took her share.”

Of course, the manager melts at his sweetness. “OK then, Jimin-ah,” she said, obviously not noticing the death glare Min Soo has set on Jimin. “Work hard, everyone! I expect you all to pass,” she added in a loud voice, looking around the café.

“Can you give me that now?” Min Soo asked when the manager walks away from earshot.

“There’s this thing called palpations, Min Soo-ssi,” Jimin said, pausing at his work, the glare from his laptop reflecting at his glasses. “And judging by the slight tremor in your hand —” he gestures at Min Soo’s hand, which is obviously shaking a bit “— you’re experiencing the after effects of the caffeine you’ve consumed earlier.”

“You don’t have any obligation to feel concerned for me, Jimin-ssi, thanks but —”

“— but just listen to me, Min Soo-ssi, just for this,” Jimin cut me off again, sounding a bit exasperated. “I don’t feel any kind of obligation; I’m just genuinely worried, so please listen to me.”

Min Soo pursed her lips and looked back to her work. Somehow, Jimin still knew how to shut her up. But how dare he sound exasperated? Between the two of them, she should be the one who’s exasperated! Annoyed that he’s taken her coffee with that innocent boyish charm — annoyed that the world is cruel and decided to put them in a group together — annoyed that she had to be Casted with him — annoyed that she’s thinking about him when it’s the last thing she should be doing!

Was looking for her mother, planning to get her father back and getting a normal life so hard to ask for?

Well, if you consider the fact that her mother has gone crazy, took her father’s soul, and became a Dark Entity — maybe it’s a bit hard to ask for something normal. And now, there’s that she’s Casted with a person who became the first chip to fall in the domino of disasters that has happened in her life — Casted with a person who’s obviously unfeeling to the effects of the bond. And meanwhile being Casted means being soulmates and all that, it also means that there’s a huge possibility that whatever you’d do will affect the Tree; and so, it will bless you with one ultimate thing to even out that oncoming event. And considering the Tree, whenever it gives, it also takes. And — why the does this source have to be from 1987?

(Godingdammit, Park Jimin.)

Min Soo rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and sighed. She looked through the nine other tabs open on her browser, and decided this would not end well if she went past — oh, will you look at that. It’s 1:25.

“Guys, I think I’ll go ahead now,” she said, closing her laptop to sleep and putting it inside her bag. “I don’t think I’ll be able to produce any decent work if I still continue.” She turns to Misaki and adds, “I’ll e-mail you everything I’ve researched later this afternoon, Misaki-ssi. That’s fine, right?”

“Of course, of course,” Misaki said, nodding her head. “Get some sleep, Min Soo-ssi.”

“Are you going home alone?” Joon-hyung asked, frowning slightly.

“Oh well, I —”

“I think I’ll go, too,” Jimin quickly inserts in. “I can accompany her.”

“No, it’s OK. Help Misaki-ssi and Joo-hyung-ssi as much as possible here. I’ll be fine —”

“Min Soo —”

“No, Jimin,” Min Soo said firmly. The image of the first day of orientation week comes into her mind, one where he’s standing with his group of friends and an arm looped around the shoulders of a pretty unnamed girl. “I said I’ll be fine.”

And then she proceeds out of the café, taking huge steps out before Jimin could say anything that might just change the course of things.

 

~

 

The festivities upstairs are faintly heard inside the attic, where Min Soo’s room is. Despite that her father designed her a room that was way more spacious, the ten-year-old preferred the attic where there’s a window in the roof where she could look at the night skies when it was clear. Whenever Jimin was over, it was mostly the only thing they did instead of finishing the movie that’s playing on her dad’s laptop. They’d then talk about the constellations they studied themselves from the books in the library at their school, and Min Soo would supply the stories behind them. The myths, mostly Greek, that is. Sometimes, they’d play a little show to themselves and act out an impromptu skit with a plot that would be all over everything — from sirens to goblins to mermaids to pirates to fairies.

Tonight’s New Year’s Eve, and a little while later, fireworks would light the sky signaling the New Year. They would see the show from their window in the attic for free, without the hassle of going to the crowded park. They’ve already built themselves a little fort out of pillows and blankets, where they would wait for the fireworks, reading to each other the Jimin’s old copies of One Piece mangas. It was their tradition for every year when they discovered the fun of comics and mangas. If they weren’t feeling One Piece, Min Soo would bring out her copies of Naruto.

“Min Soo-ya,” Jimin sudden said in a soft voice. Min Soo immediately paused from reading to give her attention to Jimin.

“Hmm?”

“Are you really not going to practice witchcraft?” Jimin asked. “Your entire family reckons you’d be one of the strongest ones if you hone your skills.”

Min Soo shook her head. “Nah,” she said dismissively. “I don’t really have the need to know and practice it. Appa turned down being a Guardian and eomma’s lineage skipped her generation. I don’t want to be the odd one out in our family. Besides, I’m happy having a life like this. Why are you asking?”

Jimin pressed his lips in a thin line, as if contemplating something. He becomes quiet for a few moments before he asked, “Don’t you feel like, sometimes, people have too huge of an expectation of what and who they want to see us as when we grow up?”

There were questions like these, where Jimin sounded a bit too old for his age. Min Soo has always noticed the edge of maturity in Jimin’s words and actions at times, acting like a responsible hyung or oppa to years younger than him though he sometimes looks younger than them. She knew he had to grow up a bit faster than her, with the situation he has at home. Though he comes from a whole and loving family, sometimes the pressure put on a child can take a toll on them.

His father was a wealthy businessman who expecting nothing less from his son, and the family expected the boy to become someone who’d be worthy of carrying the image of the Parks in the business. The only person who sided with him was his mother, who have gone to every play, every showcase, every recital Jimin ever had and continues to support him to reach his dreams. And that one person is sometimes not enough to overpower the majority.

Min Soo just wanted to wrap her best friend in a blanket burrito at times and protect him at all costs. Because that’s who Park Jimin is — someone precious and someone who needs to be appreciated more. All the kid ever wanted to do was dance — why couldn’t they give him that? He’s on top of class, he’s completely polite and responsible, and he can melt anyone with that sunshine smile of his (the one where his eyes turn into crescents, there would be a slight blush to his face, and he would sometimes cover his mouth with his hand when he’s trying to hide that smile or laugh). That should be enough for them to let him do what he wants.

“I don’t really feel that pressure,” Min Soo said, carefully choosing her words. She thinks of her grandparents from both her mother and father’s sides. “Not from my parents, no — but I know that there are some people in my family that expects me to choose something that’s obviously not what appa chose. They still think that him turning down the position of becoming one of the Tree’s guardians was a big let-down in their family, and they’re thinking that I’m not going to make the same ‘mistake.’ Take notice of the quotation marks.”

Jimin chuckled. Min Soo smiled.

“So, yeah,” Min Soo continued. “There are times, especially when they’re around, where I feel pressured into becoming someone I’m not though I’m not really seeking for their approval or acknowledgement.”

“But isn’t it a normal thing to seek for that approval from your family?”

“I mean, it kinda is,” she said, shrugging. “But I think it’s up to you if you’re going to let yourself be affected by it.”

The two children pause to look at each other, Jimin with a small smile on his face and Min Soo with a slightly wide-eyed expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Min Soo asked, forehead creasing.

Jimin laughed. “Thank you for your wise words, Master Kang Min Soo,” he kidded. “Your statement has rivaled those of Confucius’.”

“Shut up, dork.”

He scrunches his nose at her words. “I feel the verbal insult right through my heart, Min Soo-ya,” he said, melodramatically clutching the front of his shirt where his heart might be. “I thought you loved me?”

Min Soo snorted unattractively. He already knows the answer to that, she thought as she listened to him laugh once more. The sound always made her think about the Busan sea during the summer, when it’s sunny and the sky is a perfect blue and the waves hit the rocks in some sort of unknown rhythm. She can’t wait for it to be summer again.

“Min Soo-ya,” Jimin calls her name again when he notices her spacing out.

“Yea?”

Jimin raises a pinky to her, a mysterious glint reflected in his eyes from the yellow tint of the flashlight inside their fort. “Let’s have a pinky promise.”

They’ve had this thing since they were younger with pinky promises. Quiet promises of something long-term was usually what resulted with it, and both of them have never broken one that they’ve made to each other.

Min Soo’s eyebrow rose. “On what?”

“Let’s not fall under the pressure of their expectations,” he said, his pinky still eagerly waiting. “No witches or businessmen or Guardians or family honors. Just Kang Min Soo and Park Jimin through and through.”

Min Soo smiled. He always knew what to say. She wrapped her own pinky finger around his. “Promise.”

From downstairs, there were the sudden shouts of “Happy New Year!” and on cue, fireworks started shooting outside. The children’s eyes went wide and both of them scrambled out of their fort, running towards Min Soo’s bed which the roof window was above at. Sure enough, sparkling green and red and gold colored the dark skies. The two of them watched the entire thing quietly, letting out gasps of amazement and awe every now and then. Eventually, Jimin hooked their pinkies again without looking down and Min Soo only smiled.

 

~

 

Jimin’s face suddenly appeared in the space where she took the book out, making her jump in surprise.

“We need to talk —”

“Good Lord —”

It’s been two days since the all-nighter at Peppermint and Beans, and Min Soo’s already sent her research in to Misaki. Their entire paper is already under the scrutiny of proofreading with Joo-hyung. Right now, Min Soo will be doing a few illustrations Misaki thinks their proposal would need so she’s doing a bit of research for basis in her free time.

Before she could react to what he just said, Jimin rushes to her aisle and stands before her, a determined look on his face. He isn’t wearing his glasses this time, but it doesn’t recede the fact that he still resembles that small toy duckling holding a tiny plastic knife meme. Does this boy not own anything that doesn’t give him any sweater paws? It’s not doing anything good to neither Min Soo’s health or her persistence on ignoring him despite that the pain in her Casted tattoo is always there to remind her.

“Shouldn’t you be in practice right now, Jimin-ssi?” Min Soo asked him in a monotonous voice, forcing herself not to get distracted by the image in front of her. “Now, excuse me, I have to finish the illustrations for our proposal.”

She walked past Jimin, making sure she wouldn’t hit his shoulder or anything because she wasn’t that dramatic. However, she knew that the boy was following her, given the fact that he’s the only one talking in a rushed whisper in this particular aisle of the library right now.

“Won’t you give me a chance to explain why I left then?” Jimin asked, which made Min Soo immediately pause in her footsteps.

(Hold yourself.)

She turned to him, glowering. Jimin backed slightly. “You had a lot of chances back then, Park Jimin,” she said through gritted teeth. “You had my old phone number, but you didn’t even think of calling me then. So, there are any more slots of chances now. I’ve run out.”

Min Soo walks past him again, now heading back to her table with her illustrations. Jimin, obviously, follows her. “But, Min Soo-ya —”

“Will you just stop, Park?” she seethed angrily, stopping once more to face him. She probably looked like something straight out of a cartoon right now; a girl with short lilac hair and face red in anger, veins in neck popping out. Min Soo also received a lot of looks from people who heard the commotion, and she does her best to ignore them.

“Listen,” she said in a quieter voice, though the anger in it isn’t diminished. Jimin’s lips are pressed close. “You haven’t been part of my life for the last five years, and I’d like to keep that way, alright? So, can you please leave me alone?”

“Min Soo, you know we’re Casted; and whatever we do, we’re bound to meet each other in whatever way fate is going to make us —”

“But it doesn’t guarantee me forgiving you, or needing you in my life,” Min Soo said bluntly. “Your absence has made me realize a lot of things and accept things I wouldn’t have thought I would’ve agreed to when I was younger.”

(You ing liar.) (Shut the up.)

Jimin’s face drains out of color as Min Soo continues with her sketches, looking at the new reference she’s brought out. Somehow, her heart’s beating wildly inside her chest and she feels like she’s drowning over something she can’t comprehend. She ignores the feeling and continues drawing, as if Jimin’s not there.

“Wha — What do you mean by that?” he finally asked her in a hoarse voice. He coughs slightly before continuing to ask, “What do you mean you’ve accepted to something you wouldn’t have agreed to when you were