xvii. “You see, the point is that the strongest man in the world is he who stands most alone.”

—An Enemy of the People

_____

One thing I realize about Jongdae is that no matter when, part of him believes that everything—everything—he has to carry alone. It ranges from the smallest of worries, the tiniest ones where perhaps many people don’t tell, to the larger things. The arguments between friends, many of which he has been forced to act as the middleman, struggled to appease both sides and meet the demands of both. His mom’s anger, her mourning and the loss that still blankets over the family, unaddressed and unresolved. It’s not quite over, and he shoulders it all alone, silent and never complaining, as if he’s somehow deserved it.

He hasn’t. He deserves so much better, and so much more. But it’s hard to convince him of that when he doesn’t believe that, and hasn’t believed that in a very long time.

***

I get home late, a heavy feeling of trepidation following me, paired with an empty stomach. The last thing I want is to walk home to an argument between my parents. Everything has been too much for me to think about today, and added to whatever they had mentioned yesterday—I didn’t want to concentrate on it. I try not to. It’s still some time away, and at the moment, there feels like there are too many things going on to focus on that. Something that requires genuine effort to think about, when there’s nothing else clouding my thoughts.

But somehow, I do. We might stay in Seoul longer. You could go back to Canada for university, or you could stay here.

It’s a possibly I haven’t entertained until yesterday. The school year has blurred together, and while Jongdae definitely has made a once mundane school brighter, I can’t say that I haven’t imagined it coming to a close. I’ll say a goodbye. It’ll be tearful. I’ll tell him visit. Maybe I’ll visit. And God, I’ll miss him more than I thought I’d miss anyone or any part of Seoul, the same boy who ran into my at the bookstore and caused me to sprain my ankle, the singer who hasn’t sung in years. Star student. Athlete. Everyone’s favourite in the school; Kim Jongdae. I’ll miss him. But leaving? It’s always seemed inevitable. There has never been another choice I dared entertain.

Do I want to stay here? I know I won’t stay because of one person. I know I can’t because of one person. But part of me also wonders if it’s not just because of one person. Maybe it started with one person, but now the city is a little less foreign, a little more interesting. The greys of the buildings, the neon advertisements seem a little brighter. Everything I have used to be back in the small, cozy town of Fort McMurray, but now I’m not so sure.

I open the door to the apartment as quietly as I can, wondering if I can get inside without alerting either of my parents. It doesn’t work, because as soon as the door is open, my mom has already rounded on me.

To my surprise, she gathers me inside and closes the door behind me. “I was so worried,” she says, and I blink at her. “Anna, didn’t you check your phone?”

I touch my pocket. “It was out of battery. I was at Jongdae’s house.”

She lets out a long breath. “You couldn’t have seen the news, then?

“What news?”

She shakes her head. “A girl at your school was hit by a car. She skipped study hall and left, and didn’t look when she was crossing. The police proclaimed her dead on the spot.”

I swallow thickly. No wonder they thought it would have been me. It’s all too much to think about; Chanyeol, Jongdae’s mom, Jongdae, university, a girl from my school. It’s too close, too much, and too jumbled. I don’t think the thought sinks in. That could have been me. They thought it was me. How easy could it have been me? Did I know her? What had happened?

“Oh,” I manage out numbly. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

My mom gives one last shake of her head as she pulls me to the direction of the kitchen. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says quietly, and at that moment, my dad comes from the living room too.

The relief is clear on his face when he sees me, but the tension is also still there. I manage to ignore it, though, and somehow, they manage to put it down too because I am whisked to the dinner, my mom goes to heating everything up again, and my dad fills me in on the details.

The girl’s name was An Chunhee. She’s a year beneath me, one of the top ten students of her grade. Her name isn’t that familiar to me, but when my phone comes back to life and I see the picture of her, I recognize her from the halls. She has one dimple on her left cheek, a slightly lopsided smile (but it’s very bright in the picture), and hair plaited in a braid down her back.

“She was hit by a bus,” I say as I skim the article. “Four twenty five.” Twenty minutes after Jongdae and I had passed the exact same area.

A grim nod. “We thought it was you for a second,” he says. “Skipping study hall, at least. Walking home alone. And when you didn’t pick up your phone, both your mother and I…well…”

I wince, but manage, “I’d never skip study hall twenty minutes late. I always leave as soon as possible.”

He doesn’t react to it. Maybe it’s the insecurity talking, but the silence is a painful reminder of last night and even of the morning, so I add, “About what you and mom were talking about yesterday—”

“We can decide that later.” My mom sets down two dishes and a bowl of rice in front of me. “Don’t worry about it, alright, sweetie?”

This isn’t the sort of resolve I’ve been looking for. “I’ve been thinking about it—” I begin.

“Anna, it’s fine.” My dad scrubs a hand over his face, and he looks tired. I trail off. “I know you’ve wanted to go back for a really long time. And you can. I said it would be two years, and it’s almost been two years. I can’t go back on a promise, and I know how much you want to go back.”

That’s the thing. I don’t know if I do. And I don’t know why.

“Oh,” I manage out weakly as I pick up my chopsticks. “I mean, you don’t have to… do that for me, you know? I can still…” I don’t know. “I’ll manage.”

He looks at me with a frown as I pick at the dishes, not feeling the least bit hungry anymore. “You’ve been talking about how much you’ve wanted to go back since we got to Seoul.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s fine,” he repeats. “We can sort this out later, alright. There’s still time to decide.”

There’s time to decide meant putting off the decision for later. I’m not sure if I want that. But at this point, I don’t know what I want.

So I nod, dig back into my meal, and try to push the thoughts of An Chunhee, university, Park Chanyeol and Kim Jongdae aside until all the names blur into one I can’t tell.

***

There are two weeks before Jongdae and I present our project. It’s been finished for a while, and we haven’t really worked on it much more. The script sits at my bedside, and I’ve rehearsed my parts a bit to myself, though it hasn’t really been the centre of my thoughts. It’s weird, because two months ago I had sat with Kim Jongdae in the library, not quite comfortable enough to do as much as talk to him. We’ve finished the project now, but not just that. There has been so much that I can’t really bring myself back to the beginning and believe that it had started with something so small.

As I lay awake in the dark, I wonder what it’ll be like going back. What will be the same? What will be different? When—if—I go back, it’s not going to be returning to a familiar place. Because whether or not I like it, Seoul is now what is familiar. It’s what I’m used to. And if I have to be honest, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it was two years ago.

I still can’t come even close to a decision, though, but eventually, despite everything, sleep takes over, sweeping me safe into an oblivion in which I’m not required to make any choices.

***

The weekend is spent catching up on work. I text Jongdae asking him if he’s alright, and it takes a good four hours for him to respond. I stay in my room coming out twice to wash up and eat breakfast, but my parents most likely sense that I don’t want to talk much because none of them come inside. Doing work—boring as it is—takes my mind off mostly everything, except Jongdae’s a concern still niggling at the back of my mind.

Go Anna, 9:12 AM

Hey is everything okay?? Do you want to rehearse the script during the weekend??

I check my phone constantly for the next while, thinking that maybe I’ve missed a notification. There are none, though, so I resume, albeit distracted, my studying.

Noon passes when my phone finally buzzes.

Kim Jongdae, 1:43 PM

I’m fine. Is tomorrow afternoon alright? At a library or at a coffee shop?

I’m pretty sure Jongdae doesn’t sleep in late. He’s a morning person (in fact, he’s up ridiculously early and he sleeps ridiculously la