~ Tiffany frequently smiles — that’s the problem ~

Between the two of us, Tiffany is actually the scariest. But not in terms of anger or in jealousy — in terms of smiling.

Despite the fact that her smile has been praised, even revered to a point, by so many people, I fear Tiffany’s smile the most.

I fear Tiffany’s smile the same way Tiffany fears my silence. That’s where our lies are, after all.

My silence is an absence, either of happiness, reason or interest. Picking any of the three, a person can easily notice that something’s wrong with me after they learn how to sift through my boredom, introversion, and depression. Tiffany is one such person.

The same couldn’t be said for Tiffany’s smile since she smiles when she’s happy, when she’s busy adoring me, when she finds something cute, when she’s trying to coax me into doing something I don’t want to do but need to, even when she’s hurt, and when she has problems. It’s the same as finding a needle in a rapidly burning haystack.

No matter what color of rainbow her heart is currently drenched in, she would always smile because she hates being vulnerable, fears leaving herself open for others to dirty and prod.

Actually, Tiffany knows vulnerability the same way she knows my heart; intricate and intimately. Maybe even more so, if I dare to admit it.

Tiffany lost her mother when she was young. I guess that’s where it started. The loss ripped her heart open — for crows and vultures to feed on — yet her father did nothing to close it back up, let alone heal the scar that would undoubtedly be left. He had just let it there.

So, Tiffany taught herself how to sew and join jagged pieces to create a whole, but all she had back then were young hands that naturally would shake under that kind of pain and pressure. It wasn’t a perfect, seamless procedure, of course, but she, at least, have a heart she could say was whole. There were some mistakes, holes here and there, and a trickle of blood that stained her fingers. But it was still a heart nonetheless. At that time, she was contented.

Of course, she was wrong. She was just a child. How could she not be?

What told her that she was wrong was bullying in another country — even children could kill. It’s human nature.

She tried to change to fit in, to at least have one friend she could lean on because, for her, anyone would be tired after standing up for so long. Maybe her friend could help her patch up her heart too so that it could go back to being the heart she used to have back when her mother was still alive — changing herself did absolutely nothing.

There she was again. On the floor. In the classroom with her desk missing. In the cafeteria with a face full of her own lunch. And there they were again. Watching. Just watching.

That experience is why she started smiling a lot no matter what ugly experiences she’s having. She knows that she could deprive her bullies of whatever kind of sadistic glee they get when she smiles at them instead. Smiling drove them away.

But the damage’s done.

Tiffany showed who she was at the start but pain beyond what both her young body and young mind could handle was given to her instead. In other words, her vulnerability had led her to where she was during her elementary and middle school years. My introversion and my uality that came with me as I transferred to her school as a first year in high school is the only reason why got to catch a break.

It was weirdness at first glance that had drawn the two of us together. Actually, we were so weird that others didn’t dare come near us, in fear of catching whatever we both had back then. That means I get to avoid the bullying, at least in that school.

The moment we met, Tiffany was already jaded because she had been smiling at me all day even if our classmates were talking about her just as long — back then, however, all I cared about is just how pretty ‘Tippani’ is along with her eye smile and just how cute her accent is whenever she speaks. God, how gay I already was back then.

Then there’s her dad. He loved her — even until now — and had tried, years after, to both be the mother and father Tiffany was deprived of but it wasn’t enough. He was, by no means, a heartless, evil creature. He just wasn’t enough, that’s all.

Tiffany tried for both of them but laying her heart bare for her father only kept on hurting the two of them. He never really knew what affection was because he wasn’t given that much while growing up. In result, he couldn’t give much to his daughter either.

They were more like friends than father and daughter, which Tiffany found enough on most days. But the days where she needs a father had come and he couldn’t stand for the part. All she had was a friend.

My dad tries to step-up to the role but, of course, it wasn’t the same. It made Tiffany happy though, or as her smile had told me. Remember, smiling is Tiffany’s first reaction to everything. It reached the point where I can’t trust her smile anymore. But that’s when we were only starting our relationship — one of the few things her father is good at when being a dad is being open-minded, though he still warned me about hurting his daughter.

I’m the only person who could tell when Tiffany’s lying about something deep, something she considers personal that will leave her vulnerable when she talks about it. Well, at least that’s what she had told me.

Tiffany’s smile scares me the most because she uses it to hide and to lie, and once I caught on that she’s doing both it means she’s hurt, and I hate that. She’s hurt enough.

“No more,” I tell her.

That also means I’ve failed once again to protect her and that I wasn’t able to keep her perpetually happy, which I know is impossible. It’s just that a woman like Tiffany only deserves joy in her life, that’s all, especially after what she’s been through.

Then again, she couldn’t possibly be lying to me when she got such a wide, blinding, replace-the-sun kind of smile that stretched her lips along with a happy shower that poured from her glistening baby brown eyes.

Squeezing her hand in mine, sobs continued to shake my small form especially when a lone star, sitting snug and prettily on her finger, caught my eye. Then again —

“I’m going to have the most beautiful bride-to-be,” I hiccupped after wiping my tears away. She hiccupped back at me while she blushed heavily because we’re both big babies — engaged big babies.

“…Love, can I finally say I wifed that after the ceremony?” she asked all giddy and child-like with palpable excitement where she had to resort into intertwining our fingers, otherwise she’d start vibrating from where she stood — I’ve seen that happen far too many times to count.

At her question, our collective friends and family — yes, her dad too but he’s her father this time — guffawed. I started to laugh too but just hearing the word ‘wife’ from her made me sob all over again.

“Yeah,” is all I managed to choke out before a pair of lips swallowed my sobs for me. I could still taste the same wide smile painted on her lips.

I guess, no matter how much Tiffany’s smile scares me, it would still be the same smile I had a gay meltdown of decades ago. After all, Tiffany could wedge herself between myself and my depression the same way I could tell what smile of hers is true and what isn’t.

A tiny something that popped into my head after realizing that smiling is the most effective mask there is. And that Taeyeon's silence is a wall while Tiffany's happiness is a mask, where even in this kind of setting, TaeNy is still the perfect pair that goes hand in hand. I would probably create another similar chapter but one that goes into more detail.