Approximately 11 months ago, somewhere in the university

 

The wind blows slowly around the marble steps making the leaves dance in a lazy hypnotizing rhythm. It is soothing in a sense, but the accompanying nostalgia is almost unbearable.

 

 

Years ago red was my favorite color, and you were there with me. We were watching the shadows sway, debating on the slightest change in the pigments. We were merrily observing the world turn around us, like we were the center of everything there was. You and I were almost psychedelic, beyond anyone's judgments. We were the wind and the colors all the same.

 

 

You stayed with me that autumn even if you don't do love and you think you will break me like everyone else you’ve ever loved. You did, I don't mind that you did but I do mind that you didn't stay, if I will at least be very honest for once.

 

 

 

 

I wish I could keep you.

 

 

 

 

 

I wish I could make you stay as I do what my father asked me to. It would’ve have been easier. We both know you will even if it tears you into irreparable pieces if I have asked you to, but I am selfish. I can’t have you broken like that, not even in my imagination or in any version of my reality because you are the only existence in my universe that really mattered to me in the highest sense of needing another to continue existing. I’d rather have you whole at a safe distance than fragmented and scarred beside me.

 

 

 

I wish someday you could forgive me for being selfish.

 

 

 

A faraway shout broke the trance but the thoughts of you still lingers with the nostalgia. Everything is still. The sun hangs low somewhere and people are bustling on the vicinity but no one comes to this place at this time. They are all busy living their lives before winter comes in full blows. Perhaps, I should envy them for the mere exuberance towards the moody weather but that would seem petty and so unlikely of me. If only, I still know who I am. It is almost impossible to recognize the masks these days. I am inevitably lost.

 

 

 

My limbs keeps on moving seemingly disconnected from the pounding in my head.  A step at a time, the movements are minimal. I am slowly getting nearer the entrance, although I am barely present at the moment. I am with the leaves that are teasing the wind because it reminds me of you. Us, it is a vivid imagery of us.

 

 

 

The wind can never take her prisoners forever. At some point one way or another, the leaves will stop their intricate dance and they will get back to being the wind and the leaves.

 

 

 

 

How I wish the imagery applies to all the dimensions of our co-dependency. It does in some aspects like your presence and your comfort but not the nostalgia, not the feel of you. You're the nostalgia that makes the soothing painful and warm. It almost makes me swear that I'd give everything to hold you close for another minute, but I just can't anymore.

 

I could only sigh as I forcefully try to dismiss all the thoughts in my head.

 

 

 

 

Dreamer Soojung feels like a shadow I’ve left behind now, it’s pointless to keep on entertaining the thoughts that makes me want to just double over and cry. It is apparently part of growing up among other things, but no one warned me that it feels worse than cutting your own wrist.

 

 

 

The scars start to itch again at that mere thought but it is conveniently ignored altogether with the spiralling leaves that are levitating on my peripheral vision. Absentmindedly, I finish the short hike.

 

 

 

The capilla of the university is as astoundingly majestic as I could remember, high ceilinged with rows of elaborate steel chandeliers. The pews are entirely wood, varnished with a dark paint. It contrasts greatly to gold laden altar. The design of the building is supposed to make it welcoming, no windows or doors exists in the place, it is open in all corners but it looks cold empty like a stranger one meets in the metro station every day.

 

 

 

 

I pull the trench coat closer to my bones, shivering under the refuge of the open. My eyes roam, straying a little bit longer on the hollow cross at the center, then my gaze rests on the lone figure slumped at the last pew on the left of the long aisle.

 

 

 

Silence.

 

 

 

The nostalgia weaves around me tighter, crawling in my skin like cold until it is firmly gripping my writhing heart. Vertigo comes pounding hard and loud simultaneously with the angry beating of my cardiac muscles. It feels like the hollowness in the center of my universe slowly warps back to the iridescence it once have.

 

 

 

 

We are alone and you are there breathing, in flesh, in front of me with your head resting on the edge of the pew. The luster of your soft red hair is tamed by the autumn light, but your glow still looks as breathtaking as it has always been to me. I would have sobbed if I haven’t known better.

 

 

 

The initial shock disappears quicker than I wanted as the urge to just break the walls around me and you makes my breathing hitch. It is bizarre to feel my nerves spasming from a long forgotten feeling but I remain rooted on the spot. An unknown force won’t let me come near you.

 

 

It is more powerful than the longing that makes my stomach heave badly with my heart threatening to jump out of my rib cage. The weight on my shoulder that has always been there since that day feels like iron bars, forcing me to kneel, stay where I am standing, anything except to cover the distance. Maddening is an understatement, your presence makes my senses so agitated as another shiver crawls in my skin.

 

 

 

It somehow feels like I am seeing you in our next lifetime because you are gone for too long, though in reality I've mostly endured a whole month. I can almost smell you from where I am and I wish I could take you all in or just look at your face again. The lack of color in my life makes me blind because all those pigments that we watch went away with you when you left. It is all too much and it’s like going through an eternity in hell but it still feels right somehow because you are at arm’s reach.

 

 

 

You are finally real.

 

 

 

Silence stretched as I watch you with trembling lips. No tear wants to fall anymore and I find myself holding my breath to not disturb the solemnity of the moment. The scars on my arms are itching so badly distracting me from the burning in my throat. I fight the sobs trying to claw out of me. It is easily held at bay, but one dribbles in my ears like a coin drop in an empty room.

 

 

 

My eyes close immediately like a reflex. It is faint but I know that sound clearly like the voice of my mother. You are crying softly. I could almost feel you breathing deeply to control it. I could feel the feeble beating of your heart within my arms’ reach. I could feel your warmth still trying to diffuse the cold that is slowly consuming me, and I wish for once that my soul is not as attuned as it is with yours. You still end up bruised and scarred despite everything I’ve done to try to protect you from the world, from the cruelty of self-righteousness. It is so unfair but adults do this all the time.

 

 

 

I did the only option left to keep me grounded. I cry, silently. The tears finally fall slowly like it should have hundreds of hours ago.

 

 

 

The warm liquid burns my cheeks in a slow painful trek. It feels like my soul is leaking with regrets that are manifesting in the open, honest, in front of the god you don't believe in. Apologies choke me as I feel your soul bleed exhausted with mine. You are the happiness I don't get to keep and I sincerely wish I could undo the things we've done to scar each other but it is not possible. Like how keeping you is, or having you back because it is too late. I am just too damn selfish.

 

 

 

For a split second, I thought I have finally mastered the universe that you left of me. My fingertips are almost touching your hair but it never did. A shrill sound breaks the purity of the moment. The blackberry that is the same as yours demands my attention insistently in my right pocket.  

 

 

 

 

Your head turns and the miserable look in your face is too foreign to me. A mask you’ve never worn if it is one. I feel nauseous because you have stopped wearing masks when we are alone. It got me fixated and I failed not to reflect the look in your face but it wasn’t meant to be that way.

 

 

 

 

Schooling my features into something not akin to desperate pleading is the hardest I’ve done but I did. I win, perfecting the art of the masks we used to wear to protect ourselves but I am the one who stumbles backwards, widening the distance between us. The hopeful light in your eyes is just too much for my sanity.

 

 

 

I hate how selfish I am. I hate myself more each seconds that passes. My favorite big brown eyes dulls before me slowly like how gasoline mixes with water. It is almost paralyzing but I am able to rip myself away from your warmth. I briskly walk away from the one that makes me whole with trembling limbs.

 

 

The hollow is back in an instant.

 

 

I really should have given you a reason to stay, was the last thought of you I had before I faked an excited hello to my phone receiver.

 

 

 

Approximately 43 hours ago, a patio somewhere

 

 

His mouth always tastes like spearmint, a flavor I loathe. He is trying to be sweet and gentle with his rough hand on my cheek. It is a routine I’ve been too used to by now. A necessary part of the cinematography to make our fictitious love story more believable to everyone else, but it never convinced me.

 

 

The Pride of Erin seeps through the double glass doors to the deserted patio offering a better company.

 

 

 

He loves me, not even the Colonel doubts that he does and there are days I wish I could reciprocate but it is not happening anytime soon. It is not even possible for me to connect to him whenever we kiss. Revolting just turns to tolerable but not even time can make it more than that.

 

 

 

It is pitiful how stuck I am to the reality I’ve chosen. Waiting patiently for the right timing and watching the moments of my life pass by instead of living it. I am exhausted of the reverberating effects of the one wrong choice I’ve made.

 

 

Minyhuk pulls away with a frown. The boyish features seems to glow as it reflects the pool behind me. He is a perfect male specimen for an artist. Cheekbones just the right height and angle to make any straight girl swoon, coffee eyes that are always too honest for my liking, button nose that fits perfectly with his almost womanly lips. It is an ideal face for a military man’s son in law and he is an ideal man for the youngest daughter except he isn’t really anything special under my scrutiny.

 

 

I am not a perfectionist, but he just won’t fit the picture of a happy home I would’ve wanted to give myself when I get older.  It is you, has always been, always will be you. A fiction within a fiction, even in make believe I can’t have you wholly. I have forgotten your face.

 

 

“Hey, where are you?” The hands on my shoulder feels heavier than normal. I look at the glimmering band on his hand instead of his face.

 

 

“Here, with you. Just remembered something, don’t worry jagiya.”

 

 

It is repulsive but no trace can be found on me. I look up to his smiling face.

 

 

“Tired? We probably should go. Come on, jungie up.” I didn’t resist when he tugs on my hand. His arms immediately circles possessively around me as soon as I am standing on my feet. He rests his head on top of mine.

 

 

“I’ll go on say goodbye to Unnie quickly first, okay?”

 

 

“Yeah sure jagiya.”

 

 

He kisses me on the temple.

 

 

“Go, I’ll wait for you in the car, or do you want me to accompany you?” He added with his cheek pressing onto mine and the day old stubble is itchy on my skin. He is breathing close to my ear.

 

 

 

“Oppa, you know how she is.” I faked an exasperated sigh. “Maybe next time, it was just late and-“

 

 

“Shhh, it’s okay I understand. Just hurry back to me please, I don’t wanna miss you.” Another peck and he finally allows me to breathe freely.

 

 

 

With one last compulsory lovesick smile I turn my back on him.

 

 

 

The urge to run the short walk to the main hall prickles my skin like pins and needles but I managed not to. People wearing fancy outfit swamps my vision as the music dies down slowly. Jessica is nowhere to be seen in the circus. Most of the attendees of this party are blood related to me but none of them are really family.

 

 

They are business partners, and most of the time my judge and jury. I opt out of their presence as soon as I am not socially and politically required to. The glitter of the night is eye opening, but none of it makes me stay in the huge expanse of a makeshift dance floor.

 

 

Jet black hair lures me out of the pretentious and the righteous. We stop on a connecting corridor towards the dining area. My Doppleganger seems agitated. Her eyebrows are wiggling funny. It is a nervous habit I don’t have.

 

 

“Have you seen Jessica?” “Have you seen Tiffany?” We said in chorus.

 

Her tone is neutral for once. It is more unnerving than her normal holier than thou sound, my left eye twitches.

 

 

 

“Have you? Soojung, seriously, if I’ve known you’d grow up to do PDA with a troll I would have drown you when we were little.”

 

 

 

“Nope, not even once, off Hana, where’s Unnie?”

 

 

“Jungie, it’s Krystal, remember? God, he’s starting to rub on you. Tsk tsk, Jessi is somewhere out there, she’s helping me find Tiffany.”

 

 

“Since when did she run errands for you?”

 

 

“Since Taeyeon dated Fany, or that was before that, I dunno. You’ll be surprise what other things unnieeee will do though.”

 

 

I didn’t respond, I watch her warily. Something is wrong.

 

 

The hazy orange glow from the sentinel lights are insistently caressing her face. It is hauntingly statuesque, with her hair up and the regal air that I will never possess. Hana looks like a marble decoration to an old temple. A perfected replica of what I can never be. A shudder slithers on the back of my neck as I keep a steady gaze on her face.

 

 

"Is that all?"

 

 

The air around me stills for a few heartbeats as the sound of her voice rattles my numb senses. The confidence is tarnished with something similar to fear. I haven’t heard fear from my twin for almost 11 years, we were at gun point the last time.

 

 

"What's wrong?" I uttered mindlessly as I examine her more closely, scrutinizing for unknown reasons, curiosity piqued. Her demeanour won’t give her away, but her eyes do. The expressiveness cloaked with the cold is easier to decipher for me merely because of the emphatic link we share.

 

 

"Nothing’s wrong Soojung. I'm gonna find Tiffany." Krystal lied before walking off without waiting for a response. The curiosity doesn’t go away but chasing her isn’t part of my plans tonight. She has always been hard to crack even when we were younger. It certainly isn’t the right time for her mind games. I’ve resigned from that, years ago. I start my own hunt by walking off to a different direction,

 

 

 

The glow of the sentinel lights follows me as I walk briskly along the winding corridors. This old mansion would’ve been perfect for a museum, with its vastness and authentic artistry. Billion dollar paintings hung around the walls like guards, casting looming shadows to the tapestry, probably guarding secrets on the coldness behind those doors.

 

 

 

 

It is not the first time I’ve walked through the halls of this cold monstrosity, but it’s the first time I come here seeking. Once it was a compulsory visit for political purposes and occasionally to visit Tiffany.

 

 

 

Tiffany Hwang.

 

 

 

The general’s daughter is mostly nice. Too kind and too naïve at some days but she is a classic rich hot chick most of the time. We would’ve honestly been closer to real friends if she didn’t have a habit of flirting senseless with you.

 

 

 

Irritation saps my nerves as the thoughts of her clinging on to you floods my senses. It throws me off guard as the vividness of what used to be suddenly strikes - relentless and pounding at the back of my head.

 

 

I’d rather scourge my eyeballs off than to see you with someone else but I’ve been missing your beautiful face. I’ve been missing the colors and the iridescence that seems to have always adored you.

 

 

 

My unseeing eyes sweep the halls as I keep on striding the empty corridors seeking for my eldest sister. I latch with a pastel like image of you and Tiffany in my head. The why would have been relevant if I am pondering the rationality of my actions at the moment.

 

 

 

A guttural sob ends my unrest as I stop in mid stride. Jessica would have been in the balcony on the usual days, but that one sounds too close for comfort. I round the dimmer corridor, changing my direction in an influx.

 

 

 

Another sob makes me walk faster as I reach the vestibule, the General’s study is straight ahead, but I steer to the left. The door to the room I’ve been in numerous times, it is ajar.

 

 

 

Cold air sweeps the space as my fingers dance in the surface, repulsed at the idea that someone had the nerve to add pink on a beautifully carved mahogany.  Miyoung.

 

 

 

I nudge the right flap with my shoe, slowly regaining clarity. The image of you and Tiffany recedes back to where it was kept. Then it is Tiffany with sobbing Jessica on her feet.

 

 

 

They are bathing in the color of rose. It touches almost every surface within close range. The pink wallpapers darkened. Persian rug re-colored. I stop in the threshold of the room, in trance, squinting to make sure.

 

 

 

 

Tiffany’s face is frozen into an ethereal look of smiling with her eyes closed, her head tilted slightly. Her back is leaning heavily on the wall and her arms are dangling on her sides, legs outstretch.

 

 

The absence of skin from her jaw down to her bare feet forces a scream out of my suddenly dry throat. Jessica’s head shoots up. The paleness of her face keeps me there, with jelly knees and buzzing nerves.

 

 

 

 

 

My eldest sister shakes her head at me, numerous times. Looking at Tiffany then back at me. The shaking of my limbs are getting unbearable so I move forward, clasping the sleeves of Jessica’s dress when I am close enough to reach.

 

 

 

“I didn’t do it, Soojungie, I didn’t. I didn’t”

 

 

 

Jessica tries to touch me. Her bloody hands contradicting her sobbing claim. The black dress she is wearing drips from the red welling from Tiffany’s lower torso.

 

 

“Jungie, No. Please, Please. Please, Tiff, Tiffany.”

 

 

“Soojung-ah!”

 

 

Minyhuk’s voice is dangerously close. Jessica’s arms move on an indistinct pattern in front of me.

 

 

 

ONE POUND OF FLESH NO MORE NO LESS. NO CARTILAGE NO BONE BUT ONLY FLESH. THIS TASK DONE THE LIGHT SHALL BE FREE.

 

 

It’s not the rose dripping from the first line. The curves and edges of the letters are familiar.

 

 

***

 

Approximately 11 years ago, a wine cellar somewhere

 

 

Obsidian eyes blinks back at me. The darkness makes us cower in the corner as a sweet melody reverberates from the room above us.

 

 

“La vie en rose” Hana mumbles absentmindedly, shifting every so often.

 

 

My skinny limbs have been too sore that each small movement makes me wince in pain. The damp smell insistently keeps exhaustion from giving my mind a rest. My twin and I have been tugged into this nightmare painfully naïve and unsuspecting.

 

 

How I wish daddy is here.

 

 

I bite my lips hard to keep the sobbing at bay. Hana gets irritated with the sobbing, she’ll move away again if she hears me crying.

 

 

“Try hacking, it’ll probably loosen the knot.”

 

 

 

“It hurts.”

 

 

 

“I didn’t say it won’t princess.”

 

 

 

“…”

 

 

“Meanie.”

 

 

“Cry baby.”

 

 

“ugh- I”

 

 

 

The eerie sound of hinges grinding makes Hana’s eyes widen. She moves closer, slowly turning until I feel her hips press onto my knees.

 

 

Orangy light morphs from a thin straight line to a wide arch, consuming the darkness but not winning an inch. It fails to reach our tiny forms.

A shadow shifts ahead. Looming, teasing, messing with our heads. I can feel Hana leaning closer.

 

 

 

“ssshhh.”

 

 

Black spots come dancing in front of my eyes. I always hate momentary blindness. The midnight blanket recedes completely as the low ceiling erupts with bright lights.

 

 

I close my eyes, tugging unconsciously harder where the pain is being more insistent. The heavy pounding in my chest is echoing at the back of my ears. Someone might hear. Footsteps match the enraged pounding inside me. I can see Hana leaning further to the left side in my periphery.

 

 

Footsteps come closer, the endless arrays of wine racks seems to widen slowly. Hana nudges me to move backwards. I remain unmoving, frustrating my twin as she forces me to move back using her weight. We struggle, distracting me from the footsteps and my abnormal heartbeat.

 

 

 

The scrawny boy that plays baseball throws with Hana at the park on weekends emerges from the corner. He is wearing a short red dress.

 

 

What?

 

 

“Joe, thank heavens.”