“You’re learning taekwondo, too? That’s so great! We should be friends! What do you say?”

Chihiro could hardly believe her ears. The Lee Sungmin was interested in her friendship? From the moment she watched him spar at the dojo (or “dojang,” as he liked to call it), she had known he had talent. Even without a proper teacher to guide him, he had advanced far for his age and was impressively taking on older students with momentum. His obvious passion had suddenly made her feel inadequate, and ashamed to call herself his fellow student.

“Sure,” she then grinned, sticking out her palm for a handshake. She was honored by his acceptance.

With Ryeowook gone and the kitchen now strangely quiet, Chihiro steps into the living room to rest.

Sitting on the couch, she stares straight ahead at the bookshelves where all her DVDs were kept.

“Again!” he yelled, and she charged at him. She faked a side-kick, but he didn’t fall for it. He then blocked her punch with ease and then exposed her guard. Taking advantage of her temporary opening, he launched his counterattack and she fell to the ground, out of breath and wincing.

“Not bad,” Sungmin grinned, barely sweating. “You’re improving.”

“That’s because I spar with you,” Chihiro groaned, nursing her throbbing wrist. “It’s not easy because you’re so good.”

He merely smiled and offered a modest shrug. “Hey, you’ll get there, too, as long as you practice consistently. Sometimes, I stay here for up to six or eight hours a day.”

Chihiro shook her head. She knew she didn’t have that type of dedication.

But that was the reason why she wasn’t improving as fast, wasn’t it, she thought, as she sat down and watched him fight somebody else. He diligently practiced every day, whereas she only came when her homework could afford it. Or when she was in the mood.

Some things weren’t meant to be rushed, she had reasoned. If she over-practiced, she would have gradually reached a point where she would hate the sport.

After all, why force upon yourself something that should come of its own volition?

The DVDs she wants aren’t there. Ah, right, she remembers. He has them. He always did.

“I think we should try recording one of our practice sessions,” he told her seriously. “So we can learn from our mistakes.”

“Someday, we’ll look back on our old videos and see how much we’ve improved,” she added, and he laughed.

“That, too.”

Then they sparred for seemingly hours, and then spent some more time analyzing their videos and agonizing over every single mistake or poor form.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so bad,” she cried whenever the camera caught one of her many blunders.

“You’re not the only one,” he responded, his eyes glued to the screen. “My form is terrible, too.”

The phone suddenly rings. Reaching over to her side, Chihiro answers it on the third ring.

“Hey, dad. Merry Christmas.”

“Not a very merry one without snow, huh?” She giggles; he knew her too well. “But Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“What’s up?”

“Just calling to see how you were doing,” her father’s voice says causally over the phone. “Is your friend still there?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ryeowook’s currently out delivering a few things, but he’ll be back later.”

“So you’re alone?”

She stares at the fireplace. There was no warmth coming from it; there hadn’t been a fire in it since last year. When she had celebrated Christmas with Sungmin.

“He’ll be back,” she says absently.

“What? You want to go to his house, again?” Her father was upset, and though she understood that she was inconveniencing him, asking him for a ride next week, she couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed by his reaction all the same.

“We’re just friends,” she explained for the hundredth time. “We’re going to the dojo near his house. And then just hanging out after we record.”

His eyes narrowed again. “Why do you have to record so often?”

“Three times a year is not often,” she responded crossly. They had arranged to only marathon recording sessions once every January, April, and December due to their school schedule and her parental constraints, and though she looked forward to each session, she also hated the stress that invariably came with it.

“You should focus more on your work,” her father said angrily. “School comes first. Then taekwondo.”

“It’s my 16^th birthday next week,” she muttered under her breath, after obediently returning to her books. “Can’t I even see my friends on my birthday?”

“Just take care of yourself,” her father says. “You know… you could always come home for Christmas.”

“I already have dinner plans,” Chihiro reminds him, “with Ryeowook.” And then she was leaving town the next day to attend a conference.

He doesn’t force her to come home anymore. She’s nineteen now, soon turning twenty. She’s a legal adult, and dependent on no one.

“What are we going to do about all of these DVDs?” she had asked him early on when they had first started recording.

“I’ll keep them,” Sungmin had immediately volunteered. “They can go here.” She had watched as he put them on his bedroom shelf. “It makes sense,” he had said reasonably, “since I have the video camera and blank DVDs. We’ll just record whenever you come here.” She had agreed, though on the inside she secretly wished she could have a copy, too.

Some part of her just really wanted a memento of his abilities, so she could diligently practice and learn from the one she still admired more than any other.

He was a brown belt now.

There is a knock on the door. She gets up and starts walking through the hallway.

“Guess what? I won my first official competition!” Sungmin exclaimed, grabbing her shoulders and shaking them excitedly. “I won! Me! I can’t believe it!”

“I can,” Chihiro grinned, taking a chance and giving him a hug. He froze slightly for a moment, and then relaxed in her arms.

“I’m so happy…” he said, dazed.

Chihiro opens the door.

“Merry Christmas!” chorus Eunhyuk and Donghae.

She blinks in surprise, then smiles and warmly welcomes them in. “Merry Christmas! It’s been a while.”

“Hasn’t it?” Eunhyuk agrees cheerfully. He starts taking off his shoes. “We haven’t talked in ages.”

“That’s your fault,” Chihiro points out, with only a hint of accusation in her voice. “You never responded to my last letter.”

“Sorry,” he says meekly. “But I figured since I was going to see you anyway, I could just talk to you then, right?”

She wants to remind him that he couldn’t have guaranteed that without first telling her in advance, but then decides against it. Friendships were already so hard to maintain as it was, given their distance from each other.

“I can’t believe we’re going to college this fall,” Sungmin said quietly.

Sitting across from him, Chihiro leaned into the side of his bed and nodded. “Yeah…”

So much had changed. They weren’t recording anymore. Nowadays, they just hung out during her tri-annual house call, sparring in the dojo or just playing piano in his living room. He had musical talent, too. Since she didn’t, their duets were more mismatched and hilarious than melodic.

 More often than not, they would carry heart-to-heart conversations in his bedroom, away from the ears of the house’s other occupants.

Sungjin, Sungmin’s little brother, now knocked and opened the door. He never waits for his brother to give permission, knowing that the room’s occupants had nothing to hide.

“Dinner’s ready,” he announced, briefly poking his head through the door to give Chihiro a wave.

“Let’s go,” Sungmin said, standing up and turning off the light. In darkness, Chihiro followed the siblings down the stairs towards the kitchen.

“Why are you in the area?” she asks Eunhyuk. He was a commuter and went to a different college; he lived a few hours’ car trip away.

“Visiting me,” Donghae supplied. He lived in the same town and had ended up going to the same university as her. Eunhyuk was a mutual friend of theirs who had briefly transferred to their college for one semester before reverting back to his original choice.

Chihiro nods in understanding. “But why are you two suddenly dropping by?” Not that she didn’t like it, but their friendship wasn’t strong enough for them to spontaneously visit her, either.

Donghae shrugged. “Just stopping by, greeting old high school friends,” he merely says.

“I see…” They were high school friends? That was news to her.

“When we go to college, let’s keep in touch,” Sungmin said seriously.

Chihiro agreed with an earnest nod. “Definitely! As if we’d lose touch,” she added teasingly.

He laughed. “Yeah. In my high school circle, you’re one of my closest female friends.”

She was honored by his distinction, and didn’t hesitate to return the truthful compliment.

“Are you still in contact with the other alumni?” Donghae now asks her.

“Who do you mean?” They didn’t hang out with the same crowd back then.

He shrugs. “Never mind.”

She had quickly adjusted to the pace of college, and she assumed he had, too. So busy was her new life she seldom found time to call home, let alone call all her high school friends.

One or twice, they had attempted to video chat, but that never seemed to work. The heart-to-heart conversations that they had had back in the privacy of his bedroom just weren’t the same via internet chats with poor video quality and sleeping roommates on the side. Quickly, they ran out of things to say and ended the calls with awkward good-byes.

“How long are you going to be here?” Chihiro now asks Eunhyuk. The two hadn’t taken off their jackets, and now Donghae was glancing over at the door.

“Until Saturday,” Eunhyuk responds. She calculates; that gave him a week.

“We should meet up again sometime,” she suggests.

“Sounds good,” he says agreeably, and Donghae takes out his watch.

“We should get going now…”

There was no dojo in her university. Even if there were, Chihiro wasn’t sure she would have had found the time to practice. Living by herself had forced her to grow up quickly, and she had come to realize that cooking was one of the skills she should have developed when she was younger.

 When she finally returned home for the holidays, she and Sungmin had immediately contacted each other again. They sparred the whole night in the dojo, but as the sun rose and she wiped her sweat, she realized she was disappointed.

The timer dings, and Chihiro jumps. Excusing herself to grab the oven mitts, she walks back to the kitchen. The brownies are done now.

“That was fun,” Sungmin said.

“Yeah.”

“So, um, what do you want to do now?”

“I guess we could play piano…”

After twenty minutes, she gave up and let him play by himself. The Disney duets sounded better that way, a fact she was sure he noted, too.

“Do you guys want any brownies?” she calls from the kitchen. Distantly, she hears the door close and knows that they had left. Somehow, they must have misunderstood her words and thought she had dismissed them.

Or perhaps they were merely looking for an excuse to leave anyway, she muses, sitting at the table with the steaming brownies still in her hands.

Their sweet redolence fills the lonely kitchen.

“Well, good-bye,” she said, as her dad showed up that morning at 10am to pick her up. She was glad for his abnormal punctuality.

He briefly stopped playing piano to give her a quick wave.

The doorbell rings again.

He had a girlfriend now.

She stands up slowly and takes off her oven mitts with reluctance.

She didn’t spar, so they played piano and composed duets instead. They produce beautiful music together.

Walking towards the door, she begins unlocking it, mentally preparing a list of excuses of why she couldn’t have visitors right now.

She had never met her, but she knew from his description of her that this girl was perfect for him.

She opens the door. “Oh—Ryeowook! You’re back!”

They were ultimately just sparring partners, after all.