Bo Young poured herself another glass of soju. She's home sitting on the sofa, studying her script. Filming started this week and they finally completed the first episode today. She didn't have to show up, fortunately, since her scenes didn't start until tomorrow. She kept going over her lines and planning how she would act with him in their first scenes together. 

She is nervous, anxious; almost like a new actor would be facing her first drama. Ottoke, she sighs, studying the script book again. The scene has them meeting the first time when he woke from his injury. They would show some chemistry already and a palpable aura of attraction in that first scene. She tried to play it in her mind's eye but could only manage to recall their own moments together in the past. 

The first time they met in their first drama, he was so shy, barely meeting her eyes initially, then becoming bolder each day that passed that they spent together. And there were many days, almost all the time, she remembered. She thought of how those warm eyes followed her everywhere, never missing a beat, just watching her even after his own scenes were completed. He would stand on the side, ready at a moment's notice to help her with her coat or a hotpack, always touching her hair, his hand on her arm, on her back for a brief caress. He made her breathless in the nearness of him, even though he was standing afar. The way he would just stare as if the distance between them did not matter-- it could not even begin to diminish the intensity of his gaze. And her poor heart had beaten like a drum every single time. He was relentless in his pursuit of her, in breaking down the barriers she didn't even know she had put up around her heart. And the calm and collected Bo Young that she had been was rendered powerless as he swept her off her feet.

I'm done, she thought, shaking her head as if to clear it free of unwanted thoughts; she took one last shot of drink and made her way to her room. She couldn't -- wouldn't -- think anymore. Thinking makes a benumbed heart feel all sorts of unwanted sensations; ones that are best kept buried, tamped down into oblivion, and forgotten. 

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Filming started early in the morning. The day promised to be bright and sunny, even though there is a bite to the air already as they welcome an early fall season. The production crew had been on site since 6am and had set up camp in Wonsan-ri, a small town in Gimpo. The location is ideal to show an isolated village the script calls for. Wonsan-ri is not too far from the coast, the Han River flanking it to the east before it turns northwards and back down to the west, separating the province of Ganghwado by a sliver of river before curving and emptying into the Yellow Sea. 

She greeted the crew and walked over to her trailer to change and get her makeup ready. Her stylist and makeup artist followed her and proceeded to prep her for the scene. Her character is wearing a plain cotton long sleeved shift dress, topped by a grey oversized cardigan sweater. Minimal makeup on her face was only needed to convey the character's simplicity and natural beauty. Her long hair is gathered in a ponytail sitting low on the back of her neck. Once prepped, they moved to the house where they would film the scenes. She greeted Ms. Kim, the scriptwriter, and Pd Lee. They spoke to her about the flow of the scene, how they wanted multiple shots to get the better angle effect. She listened to their instructions, occasionally nodding her head to show her understanding. Ms. Kim then left to speak with set decorator.

"Hyung Sik-sshi," Pd hollered, waving his hand as he glanced behind her, "come over for a moment." 

She had turned around to look instinctively as Pd Lee called out. She met his eyes briefly before she turned to face forward once more. She kept her composure steady as Hyung Sik came over. 

He had on a down jacket draped over him; he was shirtless wearing only swaths of bandages across his chest. He held a cup of coffee on his hand. "Annyeong," as he greeted everyone with a slight bow. 

She murmured a greeting in return and Pd Lee resumed talking about their scene, catching up Hyung Sik on the plans. 

Pd Lee clapped his hands as he finished talking, satisfied that everybody is now on the same page as him. He went off to speak to the gaffer and audio technician, leaving behind the two for the first time, alone amidst a crowd of people.

She broke the silence first. "Still drinking iced coffee? Won't you feel cold?" she ventured. They both looked out towards the crew busy prepping the area.

Hyung Sik took a long pull of coffee before replying, "I don't get cold easily. I prefer the americano cold. It tastes better."

"At least it won't be too chilly today, I think."

"No. It's sunny enough. We'll be indoors filming mostly anyway. Excuse me, I should get ready," he said bowing and walking away. She saw him greet Choi Min Shik sunbaenim warmly, the actor playing her father in the film.

Bo Young drew a deep breath, glad to have that initial converstaion out of the way. She purposely ignored the content and subtext of their conversation. Instead she turned and headed to where the refreshments were set up to grab herself some green tea. 

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"Cut!" Pd Lee hollered. He was looking at the playback of the scene they just shot. "Let's change that camera angle a little bit; I want camera one to focus on Bo Young and camera two on Hyung-Sik." He gestured to the cameramen to show placements. "Bo Young-ie, when you sit here, put your left arm around his shoulders to support him. I want it to look like he is falling onto your left shoulder." He added. He then shifted Hyung Sik's left arm to circle her waist. "This is your injured side, Hyung Sik-kie; let it lie a little more stiffly on her side as you lean forward. You are using her to keep yourself from pitching forward." Pd Lee made additional adjustments so that his face would settle on her shoulders. "Let's try the movement again. Eveybody in position please. Let's start on Mr. Choi's line asking his daughter Mi Yeung to sit. Action!"

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It felt like a familiar embrace, same but different. Hyung Sik's arm encircling her waist, the strength of it as it braced her in place. She felt his deep breaths in her neck, the shape of his lips resting on her shoulder as he acted being in agony. She bit her lips, concentrating on her script, on her memorized lines, aware he must feel the loud thumping of her heart and the camera capturing her flushed face. Yet this was nothing compared to the next scene. She found it much harder to shoot; she sat facing him again, with him now boldly looking at her while she fed him the soup. Again her blush came unbidden as those eyes she's known forever stared back at her, from the same but different man she once knew...

She must have done a good enough act, for Pd Lee only took a few shots at the end of the scene. And he, he had gotten up fairly quickly and was seen chatting with the crew off to the side. 

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She lay exhausted in bed, chiding herself for the undue stress she is feeling after today's filming. She had come home hours ago and had cooked and cleaned, trying to tire herself out before going to bed, refusing to think back on today's scenes. Still she tossed and turned, as sleep continue to elude her grasp.  First day and this is how I behave! she thought remorsefully. I have to be better. What must he think of me? But her mind would not be calmed and the thoughts however unwelcomed came anyway.

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I stopped thinking of you
The way you used to stare
With heated eyes and bated breaths
As if nothing else mattered but me.

I stopped missing you
The way you would say my name
In hushed voice and soft whispers
Under the cover of darkness, in the shadowy grey.

I stopped loving you
The way I stopped looking at the light
'Tis better to be blind than see
What is long gone and taken from me.

I stopped wanting you
The way one would long for something unreacheable
Unexplainable in the yearning
This wanting of something, someone no longer there.

I stopped.

Thinking of you
Missing you
Loving you
Wanting you

And I am just here.

- Denial, the first stage of grief