ϞϞϞϞϞ

“Thank you,” Namjoo thanked the vendor. Walking back to Sehun she handed him the key to his bike. She had paid since he had taken her to the store yesterday.

“This doesn’t mean you’re debt free yet.” Sehun held up the key for her to see.

“Why?”

“I said I’ll think about it, and this isn’t it.” He walked over to one of the bikes and unplugged it from where it was locked.

“You’re prickly,” Namjoo said. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

“That was a total invite telling me where you were going.” He got onto the bike.

Namjoo frowned at him. “If I recall, you asked.”

“Can’t hear you.” He said riding ahead.

Making a face, Namjoo hopped onto her bike to chase him. Smacking the back of his head and laughing as she raced ahead.

“Hey!” he called out chasing her down the trail.

The wind blast into her face. Tasting the salt in the air. Listening to the people surrounding her. Sehun threatening to catch up to her. Gently touching the back of her head as he passed and sticking his tongue out at her. For a few minutes they chased each other around the park. Gaining speed, slowing down near the peak where the land dropped off to the rocks below.

Panting, Namjoo put down the brake and joined him near the rocks. Sweating with her hair tangled around her head. Below the waves rushed up against the boulders. Foaming. Sliding back into the deep blue. Overhead the birds cried out. Flying like shadows across the sun cascading above the water. Melting into the skyline. Where way beyond the green mountains flushed out in deep shades of blue and green. Picture perfect with the white sailboats floating down the river.

“It’s pretty,” Namjoo complimented, awed.

“I suppose.”

“You should appreciate it,” Namjoo said. “The world.”

He glanced at her. “Why?”

“Because it’s never ending. The sun always falls and returns, but it’s always there. An earthly presence to fall back on. One night you go to sleep sad, but you wake up and the sun has risen again. To start a new day, do something different.” Namjoo said. “It’s what my dad says. You should find something to be happy about during the day before turning the lights off, because there are too many things to be sad and angry about. So, it’s pretty. The sun that lights up the rest of the world.”

When he made no remark, she turned to find him observing her. Catching his eyes, she asked, “What?”

Turning away he asked, “So, what made you happy today?”

“Mmm…” Namjoo leaned back. “Your mom letting me use her purse. Your dad eating the rest of my chocolates.” She tried not to pay too much attention to her warm cheeks, “You coming here.”

Biting her lower lip, she stole a glance at him. Kind of glad, kind of disappointed when he didn’t react.

Clearing , “What about you?”

Getting up, he said, “I’m not telling you.”

Scowling she followed him back to her bike. “You listen to my cheesy talk and you don’t say anything.”

“No one asked.” He said kicking his brake off the ground and got onto his bike.

“No one asked,” she imitated riding after him.

He bought a bottle of water after they returned their bikes. Offering it to her. Spraying her face instead when she reached for it. She spent the rest of the early afternoon chasing him. Running across the field. Fighting over the water bottle when she caught him. Laughing and spilling the rest of the contents over their clothes until they depleted the entire bottle.

Dropping onto the grass under the shade. Struggling to catch their breaths. Feeling exhilarated yet content. She had never felt this kind of level of glee before. Having spent many afternoons by herself. Simply chatting about the ordinaries of daily life with the volunteers. To Sambok who couldn’t share her conversations.

Understanding why she had felt the raw loneliness when Sehun left. She had enjoyed his presence. Allowing her to play around with him. Developing a sense of familiar connection to him by seeing him daily. Sharing three meals a day with him. Spending every hour with him following her around the farm. Constantly there like no other.

Becoming a friend despite being so different from her was such a special feeling to her. Sehun wasn’t as mean as he came off to be. He just had no motivation to do anything.

That night she neatly folded up his shirt and the sweats he’d let her borrow. Soaking in the calm. The peace. Aware she would miss him again. Be lonely again. But she had spent a good few days with him. That should be enough.

There always came a time when things had to end. Namjoo knew she couldn’t stay in the city forever. She had her life, her things to do. Sehun would have his own things to do, too. He had come after her, and she was satisfied. After tomorrow, she would say goodbye. Probably, that would be the end.

Namjoo glanced out the window at the dark sky. Could see the full moon hovering outside her window. Her father always said if the moon followed her wherever she went, it was guiding her. Smiling, aware that it was watching over her.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

Laughing to himself Sehun grabbed the marshmallow lollipop off his bedside table. Spinning it between his fingers. Listening to the plastic rustle. Thinking about struggling with Namjoo over the water bottle that morning. The way she had defended herself when he squirted it at her. When she had snatched his arm, pulling him toward her to get back at him. The memory wove itself around in his head. Playing around with her had been the best part of his day.

When he woke up, he was still holding the lollipop. Sitting up he placed it back onto the table and stretched. Perking to attention when he heard the door open. Getting up he poked his head out. Namjoo spun around surprised. The blue dress he had bought for her spiraled around her legs prettily. Sehun subconsciously ran his eyes over her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She smiled girlishly. “Does it look nice?”

Sehun ran his eyes over her again. Felt them trail off. Becoming mute.

“Oh,” she chirped, “your family is coming over today. I should at least look nice, right?”

“Right,” he quietly uttered, “they are.”

He had forgotten about them. His mother’s sister who had gone off the rails when her daughter died. Something like that, so her family had taken her away to heal from the loss because the memories here were too haunting. Gotten treatment for her abroad to restore her mentality. A story he wasn’t much interested in. Now they were coming back home after some six years.

Sehun barely knew them.

Turning away Namjoo disappeared down the stairs so carefree. When he reached the lower floor Namjoo was with his mother in the kitchen. Sehun watched from the doorway as Namjoo helped his mother sort out snacks on a tray. Focused on the task at hand. Working cautiously to complete the chore to perfection. Feeling a smile creep onto his lips at how hard she was trying.

“What are you doing?”

He jerked shocked. Finding his father staring at him. Wondering why he was standing like a creep at the doorway. The doorbell rang interrupting his excuse.

“Your aunt is probably here.” His father announced starting toward the door.

Sehun followed him. An aged version of his mother entered the home in a thick blue sweater and black wool pants. Smelling strongly of perfume. Her creased face was covered in subtle makeup in an attempt to hide the heavy bags underneath her eyes. The long flight must have been grueling.

“You’re so grown up,” she smiled up at him. Grabbing his hand to give it a squeeze. Her fingers were so thin and bony he could have snapped them if he squeezed back.

Sehun nodded in greeting as his aunt’s husband, a stubby man, walked in followed by their son. Shaking his father’s hand. Sharing small talk about daily life and work.

Upon hearing the noise his mother walked out of the kitchen carrying the tray of snacks. Followed by Namjoo with a tray of water. And then the loudest ear-splitting shriek pierced the entire household. Killing the silence when glasses shattered to the ground. Lurching forward his aunt clung onto Namjoo. Weeping desolately. Shuddering with a heartbreaking cry. Shocked no one moved. No one breathed.

“Chunhei! My Chunhei!” She sobbed manically.

Wide-eyed Namjoo stumbled from her clinging weight. Whimpering when she stepped on a shard of glass.

Bursting forward, Sehun pulled the elder woman off. Yelling, “Are you crazy?!”

“Oh my god…” her husband muttered. Tepid eyes landing on Namjoo.

“Mom!” their son. Staring at Namjoo bug eyed, disbelief.

His parents breathlessly watched the chaos unfold, speechless. As if a wildfire had spread so fast and they had become bystanders helpless to a tragedy. Suddenly moving out of his frozen form his father took action. Jumping into work mode. Directing his uncle, “Take her into the living room.” Looking at him, “Stay in the kitchen for now.”

His mom, his aunt’s husband, and their son struggled to carry the thrashing woman away. Deliriously screaming for Chunhei. Her enraged voice became distant around the corner. Muttering his father brushed past in search of the first aid kit.

Dazed, Namjoo’s eyes still wide, stood frozen. Moving quickly in case the piece of glass dug deeper into her foot he lifted her off the ground. Carrying her into the kitchen. Pulling out a chair for her.

“You idiot,” he chided setting her down. “Don’t just stand there all fazed.”

Sitting a seat away he lifted her foot up onto his leg. Blood was leaking. The tip of the glass stuck out like a nail in the wall. He tried digging it out. Namjoo flinched and grabbed his shoulder.

“That hurts!”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” he angrily yelled. Groaning when he realized he was upset with the wrong person. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No. J…just take it out.”

“It’s safer if we go to the hospital.” He argued.

“I don’t want my dad to get the hospital bill. He’s going to worry.”

“I’ll pay!” he unintentionally raised his voice.

Namjoo blinked, stunned. Gripping his arm, she turned away squeezing her eyes shut and said, “Just pull it out. Do it really quick.”

He hated this. He was scared, too. Where the hell was his dad? He needed someone to grab some tissues for him. Eyeing the bloody glass one more time. Sehun looked at her worriedly. Wondering how much it must hurt.

“I’ll do it fast.” He promised. “On the count of three, ok?”

Eyes still shut, Namjoo shook her head. Feeling for the shard of glass, he started counting. Carefully settling his fingers around it. Namjoo nervously clamped down her teeth. Digging her nails into his arm and yelped when he yanked the glass out.

“Ok, I got it.” He threw it onto the table.

“It freaking hurts.” Namjoo mumbled.

“Stay here, I have to find some tissues.” He started rising to his feet just when his father hopped over the glass at the doorway.

“Are you all right?” he worried hurrying over. “Let me see.” After a quick observation he commented, “It doesn’t look like it embedded too deeply.” Putting the plastic box onto the table he rummaged through it for some antiseptic, a bandage, some gauze. “I have to check on your aunt. Clean the wound and bandage her up. I’ll come back to clear up the mess on the floor.”

As he shuffled out, Namjoo asked, “Do you know how to do it?”

“Of…of course!” he stammered grabbing the small bottle, unscrewed it, and poured the liquid onto a cotton ball. Namjoo jerked her leg when he dabbed it around her injury.

“Do it slowly,” she scolded.

“I’m trying my best!” he retaliated.

“Who’s Chunhei?” Namjoo wondered when he returned to work.

“I don’t know.”

“She’s your aunt.” Namjoo reminded.

“I don’t really know them.” Sehun explained wiping the blood stain off.

“Why not?”

“They didn’t live in the city when I was growing up,” Sehun told. “I heard her daughter died, so they left the country for her sake. Now they’re back to start over.”

“Then, Chunhei is the dead daughter?” Namjoo asked.

“Probably.”

“You don’t know her?”

Lifting his head up he repeated, aggravated, “I said I don’t know them.”

Tossing the bloody cotton ball onto the table he grabbed the bandage. Guilty for being irritated when she just wanted to know. Her innocent eyes. Her curious ways. And she was really pretty today. Why did his damn relatives have to come over today? Why did they have to come over at all?

“I’ve never heard of her,” he lowered his tone. “I heard my aunt is a little crazy. Just ignore her.” Grabbing the gauze, he wrapped it over her foot. “You know not to get it wet, right? It’ll rot and the doctor will have to cut it off. You’ll be worse off than Minseok.”

Namjoo scoffed making him smile. When he finished, she lowered her foot to the floor. Grinning at him she said, “Thanks.”

Focusing elsewhere he said, “Forget it.”

The peace lasted only momentarily. His attention came to when his cousin appeared in the doorway.

“My mom wants to see you.” His eyes stared past him, landing on Namjoo.

Sehun turned to look at her wondering what in the world was going on. Getting up Namjoo walked toward the door where the shattered glass still lay on the ground. Hesitating. The cousin held his hand out to help her. Gripping her waist, Sehun helped her hop over. Releasing her on the other side to let her limp the rest of the way to the living room. The cousin whose name he had yet to know glanced at him then turned away.

His aunt cried out when Namjoo appeared in the doorway. Face streaked with tears. Hiccupping. Struggling to breathe.

“Come here, Namjoo,” his mother, sitting next to her sister, called.

Inclining, Namjoo slowly walked over only to be yanked into the sobbing woman’s arms. Her knees hit the ground with a thud. The woman trapping her in her tiny arms. Her body seemed to arch like a rag doll being squeezed by a careless child. Sehun couldn’t help but take a step forward in an attempt to pull her away again. He didn’t like that the woman was manhandling her.

“My daughter,” she trembled. Crying heavily, Namjoo’s long hair, “My Chunhei.”

Why no one was saying anything was beyond him. Sehun wanted to riot at the absurdity of the situation.

“Honey,” her husband shifted closer to wrap his hands around her shoulders, “you have to calm down.”

Not hearing him, his wife withdrew from Namjoo. Cupping her frail hands around her face. “Lets go home. Come home with mom.”

“Mom, please,” his cousin pleaded.

“No.” Then above speaking level, “No! I’m not going home! Not without my girl!” Shaking crazily again, “Chunhei. Why are you doing this to mom?”

“She’s not,” his mother gently touched her sister’s shoulder.

The woman immediately turned, hissing with stark red eyes, “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!”

Instantly removing her hand, they listened to the woman continue to cry. Shaking his head, his aunt’s husband got up to walk out of the room. His parents followed. Sehun stared hard at the weeping woman before going after them. Planting himself around the corner he eavesdropped.

“That girl, who is she?”

Fiddling with her fingers nervously, his mother explained, “Her father owns a farm Sehun visited in Gimje. Her name’s Namjoo.”

“Her father?”

“Yes,” his father cemented.

“I was shocked when we saw her. She looks exactly like our Chunhei. How could this be possible?”

Silence from both of his parents.

“How long is she staying?”

“A few days I believe.” His mother answered.

The man hesitated. Conflicted. “I know this is completely out of my limitations, but Youngja won’t budge. The shock of seeing someone so much like…Chunhei is too much. Even I can’t believe it.”

No one offered any explanation. No one had foreseen this.

“I know this is a really weird request. It makes no sense at all, but my wife may never heal. Just for a while until she becomes stronger – I’m so ashamed to ask this.” He paused. The silence rang so deafeningly loud. Lingering like a spider creeping up on its trapped prey. Picking up his voice he finished, “May we borrow her?”

That was it.

Coming out of his hiding space, Sehun yelled, “Are you crazy?! What kind of request is that?!”

The three elders snapped their heads to look at him. His mother called baffled, “Sehun!”

ing his arm at the old man, “How can you even listen to his nonsense?!”

“Sehun!” his father scolded.

“That’s Namjoo,” he raised his voice. “She’s not an item you can use for a few days to help a woman whose gone out of her mind!”

“Sehun!” his enraged father screamed so loud his voice ricocheted off the walls.

Hurrying to his rescue, his mother softly put her hands around him. Leading him into the seclusion of the library.

“You can’t talk like that about your aunt.” She softly said.

Flinging her hands off him, he muttered, “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

She breathed, troubled. “It’s…a difficult situation.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to make her go with them!” he spat. Then straightened back. Eyes growing a tad rounder.

Namjoo was going to go.

***so it begins...