~Ten Days Before~

According to greek mythology, soulmates were originally round, perhaps (given the shape) revolting beings who started off attached together as one. They were either male and male, female and female or female and male, connected to one another with two heads, four feet and two pairs of arms, rolling about with each other. At some point, they’d decided it was a smart move to attack Zeus, who, back then, had been up on mount olympus. Although there was no clear explanation as to how the round beings ascended to the peak, it’s said that they’ve succeeded in attacking Zeus for no apparent reason, angering him as a result. It was for this reason that he’d split them apart; men off their male or female counterparts, left to wander in search of their other halves. Unfortunately for them, their s have been on their backs, without which they were unable to locate their other halves. Zeus, at that point, being a good samaritan and turning the situation to his own benefit had somehow changed the placement of their ual organs, given them torsos, belly buttons and s (which explained why males also had s which had no apparent use) in hopes they would find each other so that they would find pleasure, procreate and produce more of their kind. Human race, since then, would wander through their lifetime, their soul purpose being finding their other half. Zeus’s ultimate expectation was for the human race to multiply and grow in size so that he’d have more people to worship him for his satisfaction. And that’s how soulmates were born. 

Sung Gyu remembered this, though not in exact detail, from what he’d read for his classical literature class. It’s been a long time since then, and he was pretty sure he’d probably read perhaps more fascinating pieces during the time of his course, but this particular piece had really stuck with him. He wasn’t certain why it did, what about it that had gripped him, or even if he believed a single word that he’d read. But one thing, for him, was certain. And that was that it had everything to do with the thin chrome ring that glistened on his right hand. 

Sung gyu could still recall that day ever so vividly, the feel of wind in his hair, dust in his eyes, the heat of late summer sun upon his skin. Standing before him, she couldn’t have been anywhere past his shoulders, and her long wavy hair kept gliding across her face with the wind. Strands of it stuck to her lips as she struggled to push her fringes behind her ears; they were small half circles, turning crimson on the edges like petals of rose. He did think she was beautiful back then. After all, she was his first love.

“Do you really have to go?” He’d asked her, and he was certain he’d asked her this about a hundred times by then. “Why can't you just stay? Just a little longer?”

It was the light brown-ness of her eyes, he thought, that drew her to him. He could remember how breathtaking she looked when her eyes filled up, like two tiny lakes on sunny mornings. 

“I can't’” She replied, lowering her head. The scruffed front of her sneakers kept digging into the dry sand. He remembered those shoes. It was the same pair she wore when they went to the lake bank the other day. “My whole family is going, everyone is going”

“What about your grandma?” Sung Gyu pushed on. Sung gyu knew her grandma well, only because she made the best bibimbap in the whole town. 

“She doesn’t want to go, she said” She replied, her voice small, coated with remorse.

“Maybe you can stay with her then” Sung Gyu told her hopefully, took a step ahead towards her. “At least...at least until we start middle school”

There wasn’t much time left until elementary school ended. And having started elementary school together, the only innocent little wish he had was to end elementary school together.

“My mum said that we’ll be staying for a long time. We wouldn’t even come back…” She finally raised her head to look at him better; a heavy wind blew, and he could remember so well how her tears fell and strands of hair stuck to her pale cheeks. “How can I stay without them? My whole family…”

“Then what about me?” Sung Gyu asked, his voice hoarse as he was about to cry himself. He took another step forward and clenched his fists. “I can’t...I can’t live without you either…”

And that was the truth. Sung Gyu couldn’t exactly remember how far back their past together went, but he felt like he’d known her from the point his life began. He’d learned about something similar in math class. They called it a constant. While the constant stayed the same in an equation, everything else changed. That’s what she was to him. They’d lived in the same neighbourhood, her house in the far left corner, just at where the lane ended while his was towards the left, just a block away. As they lived in a private lane, nobody else came, and none of their parents could drive. So the road in front of their houses was all for them to play in. Sung Gyu had played house together, and explorers sometimes, or detectives, pretending that a bunch of her dolls were dead people. During the football season, his parents would order chicken and invite them over to watch the match together. She wasn’t interested in the games; she only came for the chicken and he knew. They started school together, had lunch together, walked back home together. On rainy days when they couldn’t play outside, they’d sneak out to the road in oversized raincoats and watched as their measly paper boats disappeared down the stream. They got beaten up together for playing in the rain, caught colds together, got well together. There was nothing that they didn’t do together, as if they were a pair of hands and feet that were always in sync. It was hard to imagine a life without her. For Sung Gyu, it would be like trying to eat without a spoon.

It was evident, despite her words, that she shared the sentiment too. “You can try….we can talk on the phone…” She said.

“But that wouldn’t be the same”

“I know” She dug the sandy ground with her shoe even more. He gazed at her for a minute, on the verge of giving up. He had tried everything that he could, said everything that he could think of. He was only thirteen. There was only so much that a kid his age could do.

Sung Gyu screwed his lips. “Is there anything...anything that I could do to make you stay?” He asked her in the end.

“Anything?” She perked up.

“Anything” He nodded and lowered his head. “I don’t know what else I can do...or say”

She didn’t reply, and they were quiet for a long, long time. The wind continued to blow, dust continued to get in their eyes. In the background, swings creaked by themselves, trees rustled, cicadas sang. Sung Gyu thought back to every movie he’d seen, every book he read, every song he’d sang; sometimes it was things like this that gave him the answer.

Then he knew that there was just one thing he’d always wanted to do. He’d seen it in movies, he’d read a book where it worked. It would be sweet, the book read. And girls liked it. They liked it a lot. It made them feel important, and loved. It could possibly even make them stay. He’d never had the courage to do it; but at that moment when he was young and naive and everything appeared possible, when he’d finally gathered the last ounce of courage he had and everything that he wanted at that moment was holding her back from going away, Sung Gyu became stronger and bolder than ever before.

“Then what if…” He started and took long strides towards her. She looked surprised, her eyes widened, her light brown irises shining like little amber pools. “What if I did this? Would you stay?”

He was really close to her at that time. When she spoke, he could feel the sweetness of strawberries in her breath. “If you did what?”

“Kissed you” He said, and when she froze to her spot, her lips parted and eyes widened even further, he closed the hairthread of a gap between them and kissed her on her lips.

This little promise of forever would then stay with them for a long, long time.

She did leave eventually. Even the best, strongest kiss in the world wouldn’t have held her back. But it did, however, change a lot of things.

 On the day of their move, Sung Gyu stood outside on the porch with his parents and his sister, the memories of their first kiss fresh in his mind and a heavy weight in his heart, trying not to cry. Their parting would leave a gaping whole in his heart. But she did try to patch it up the best she could, leaving a fragment of her behind with him, a little token, a chrome ring that was a tad too big for even his thumb.

“It’s oppa’s. He bought them for him and his girlfriend, but she left him, you know” She told him as they awkwardly stood on the front porch, watching her parents load the lorries. 

He winced, because he’d heard it didn’t feel great to be dumped. At least he got the ring, though. It was a very nice ring as well. It was cold to the touch and caught the afternoon sun in a way that the patterns on its inside began to shine. 

“Can I keep it?” He asked her.

“That one is yours” She said, nodding at him and opened her other fist, revealing another similar ring, albeit smaller. “And this one is mine”

“Like couple-rings” He said, feeling a little embarrassed by his finding.

“Don’t say that, we’re not a couple” She replied, her cheeks turning red. They’d kissed, they’d had their first kiss. Why they weren’t a couple, however, was beyond him. They were still thirteen still. Thirteen year olds couldn’t be a couple; he guessed it was in the law.

“Will you come back?” He asked her the inevitable, shifting the topic.

“I don’t know” She shrugged in response. “Maybe, maybe not”

“It’s fine,” He said, quite boldly for a child his age. “I will find you”

He thought, back then, and he still thought that that’s how Soulmates found themselves.

Nearly twenty years had passed since then, and Sung Gyu was still surprised by how fast the time had gone by. It felt like yesterday since he left Jeonju and settled in Seoul, although it’s already been twelve years. So much could happen in twelve years, and for him, within that time, life changed so much that he couldn’t find himself again. 

At one point, he was a soldier; the next, a college student juggling two jobs and a degree at the same time. The next he was a dreamer. Taking audition after audition, singing, composing, crying in the bathroom at three am in the night while clutching the hand he burnt when he was trying to put dinner together, that moment being his last straw. All of a sudden, he was a singer with three albums and one high selling song, appearing on billboards and music chart shows, singing his heart out, living his dream. It wasn’t a long lived dream, as it happened. Like most good things, it didn’t last too long. Dreams were so fragile, like thin glass. Their wings so soft, like of a butterfly; a single touch would destroy it to the point it couldn’t fly again. Three years later, he was battling for his rights in court, a losing fight to retrieve everything that he’d worked for. At the end of it all, he was a washed-up idol, stranded on the shore like a shell without its pearl, lost and forgotten, unknown to the world.

Twenty years too, could change a lot of things. But Sung Gyu did know just one thing that never did. 

Rain was particularly hard that spring. His suede boots were damp, his shoulders were drizzled on, and his umbrella sheltered him from the rain like a looming monster above. He didn’t usually walk to places; physical activities as such were especially exhausting for him. Had he calculated the day and the time right, had he seen the weather reports he wouldn’t have taken to walk that night. But it’s been long since he’d accepted that he frequently made badly calculated moves.

The restaurant, thankfully, was just on the side of the road a few blocks away from where he lived. The entrance was lightened with fairy lights hung on jade green plastic branches; the rusty old chairs and cocktail stools kept outside were drenched by the rain. He closed his umbrella and eased into the bin that was designated for similar umbrella’s like his own. As the automated doors opened, he was welcomed by the warm, cozy atmosphere inside. It wasn’t crowded as much, with just a few tables occupied by couples and groups of people, chattering amongst themselves. The ambiance was amiable, a perfect setting for a long awaited reunion and perhaps even for reminiscents of 32 years of his life.

He approached the counter, and the pleasant lady behind the mahogany table welcomed him with a smile. 

“I’ve made a reservation…”

“Name, Sir?” The receptionist briskly slid her fingers across a screen.

“Sung Gyu. Kim Sung Gyu”

“A table for two, sir?”

“That’s right” He smiled. It was strange to even think of a table for two, after all he’d been through.

“Table number nineteen…” The lady muttered to herself, swiped on the screen some more, and yet another pleasant waitress approached him. “Please, come with me”

Sung Gyu was led to a table for two in the furthest corner of the hall, one facing the vast glass panel overlooking the street. The table was laid, menus were brought in, glasses got filled; and then he had to wait.

Sung Gyu wasn’t particularly keen on waiting; he grew frustrated easily, for he had done a lot of waiting all his life. Time was daunting for him, for he always felt that it moved so slow, as if his life and only his life was lagging far behind. If he were in a race, he’d have been the first in the line but two whole laps behind.

That night too, he waited. For how long, he couldn’t exactly recall. It was after ages that he finally had company. He felt the shift in the air around him, and somebody slipped into the empty chair before him. He glanced up, his eyes absorbing the sight before him. Her dark waves hair passed the length of her shoulders, with rather lovely amber pools for eyes. Her shirt was wine red, a striking contrast to the slight tan of her skin. He gazed at the other for a split of a second and sighed.

“You’re at the wrong table,” He said.

“Am I?” The woman replied. She appeared completely unperturbed by his reaction and her smile remained. “Well, that’s a shame…” She sighed dramatically, and he noticed how her eyes fell upon his hands which held a menu open before him.

“That’s a lovely ring you have…” She told him. “Looks familiar….pretty sure I’ve seen it somewhere…”

Sung Gyu looked above the menu, and she held his gaze. “You know you’re really bad at this, right?” He informed her in the end.

“Drop the act Sung Gyu...I know your face too well” She replied.

Sung Gyu finally set the menu aside and smiled. It was a perfect day, a perfect start for what would have been a terrible, terrible night. “It’s been too long,” He said, smiling warmly for the first time after so long. “Far too long, Kim Gaeul”

It was almost as if he and Gaeul never parted ways. Despite living away from each other, they’ve still found time and put effort to catch up on each other’s lives. Regardless, it’s been nineteen years since he’d last seen her in person. Kim Gaeul was still the Kim Gaeul that he’d always known; loud, quirky, and honest; her smile was sincere, her words so eloquent. She could be quite timid and quiet in odd moments, becoming a completely different person altogether. During the time that they’ve called and exchanged letters or texts over the phone, he’d grown to learn what ways she had changed and what perks had stayed the same. Kim Gaeul who, back then associated with just one boy (himself) had ended up dating so many to the point that she didn’t want to date anymore, ultimately concluding that men were trash. Kim Gaeul who used to be terrified of climbing down the lake bank to dip their feet in water and even crossing the road was now always found conquering high hills. Kim Gaeul who used to be somewhere in the bottom in her class (just like himself) had obtained two degrees in natural sciences and now worked as an environmentalist. Thankfully, Sung Gyu had been a part of her journey, at least bits and pieces of it. And he too, was proud beyond words.

And he also had to admit, finally meeting her after so many years, she was far more beautiful than he remembered. 

Conversations flowed naturally between them, almost as if they were picking up exactly where they left off. She spoke too loud, laughed too often and mostly her words  filled their conversation. But that was fine, for Sung Gyu himself had very little to say. After all, his life hadn’t been as vibrant as hers, and she certainly had more things to tell. 

“I’d wanted to become vegetarian for a while” She told him at some point, in vast contrast to the medium rare steak she was devouring as she spoke. “One of my colleagues showed me this footage of how animals get slaughtered for livestock and it traumatized me that I could eat nothing but salad and pudding for a long time” Gaeul shook her head, in disbelief of her own life.  “Thank god they had that in there. Otherwise all I’d have to eat is Kimchi”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Gaeul sitting with an array of Kimchi and rice in his mind. “Kimchi isn’t that bad”

“I know” She sighed, and had a sip from her wine. “But I can't stand spicy food anymore. I start crying”

“What a coward” Sung Gyu scowled and gestured at her with his fork. “Next time we’re stopping for spicy Jjampong”

Gaeul rolled her eyes. “I bet you can't handle it yourself…”

“We’ll see” Sung Gyu boldly accepted the challenge.

They were quiet for a while, enjoying their meals in the comfort of each other’s company. With how things in his life turned out, Sung Gyu avoided dining out altogether, afraid of facing the world. It’s probably the first time after months that he was sitting here, having a nice dinner with a nice girl, taking a slow-progressing walk down the memory lane. For a moment, he could savor the delight of being anything but himself.

“I know that you don’t want to talk about it” Gaeul put in all of a sudden, catching him off-guard.

“Hm? What?” He perked up, laying his cutlery back in his plate.

“You know...about the-the…” She cleared , averting her gaze “you know what” 

She didn’t have to word it out for him to understand her. He picked up his fork again and pushed his food around on the plate, wanting their conversation to change. It hadn’t been long since that happened, and the aftermath was so much that he had to convince himself to be a different person entirely. If anything, it was the point where his life ended, and nothing mattered anymore.

“Sung Gyu” Gaeul pushed on. They’d already had this conversation over the phone, at least Gaeul had tried to. But whenever that topic came up in their nightly phone calls, he’d somehow dodge the talk. “You avoiding it doesn’t change anything, you know”

He sighed and looked at her tiredly. “So does it, if we did talk?”

“It does” Gaeul replied with conviction. “At least, it helps you to take it off your chest”

Sung Gyu fell quiet at that and turned away. He didn’t want to talk about it simply because he couldn’t talk about it, because that very conversation felt like rubbing salt on a sore wound. Myriad times had the incident made him feel like a complete failure, seeing that all his years of effort had gone to naught. His life was like a sand castle; a sand castle that he’d given his everything to carve, from high towers to posts to pillars, all in perfect shape, only to shatter and disappear under a single wave. Perhaps that’s what being a washed up singer was all about. It was his washed up dream.

“You do understand that you are not at fault, do you?” Gaeul went on, her voice mild and concerned. “Law suits are like that, you know. It's always on the side of the strong against the powerless; and here it was you against the company. There was nothing you could do”

Sung Gyu took a deep breath, trying to find words to respond. But then, he stopped trying. He liked to imagine that it never happened, that that phase of his life never existed; and whenever he heard that one song which took him to that brief peak in his career, he’d pretend that it wasn’t him. 

It all started when his popularity started going downhill. Sung Gyu was about to debut in a group. Initially upon being selected, he was put together with four others with the plan of forming a band. The training was too long, too exhausting, and eventually, one after the other, his fellow band members started to leave. It was only Sung Gyu who stayed, the last man standing. He supposed it was because of his loyalty to the company that he was able to debut on his own. Sung Gyu had a rough start, but at least he started, and he was prepared for a journey that wasn’t going to be easy. 

What he didn’t expect was his journey to be so brief. His first album wasn’t a success, as all first albums would be, and although it left him feeling quite traumatized, Sung Gyu did not give up trying. He wrote, he composed, he practiced and recorded day and night until he had perfected himself, until he had the perfect tracks which he treated like his children. His second album, then, became a massive success. He could still remember, sitting in his CEO’s office, watching how the title track raised up on real time charts. It was a february release, just in time for the start of spring and valentines day. It snowed that morning, he could remember very well; and when he exited the company gates, the street was swarming with reporters. Sung Gyu became that one soloist who made ‘The song’ of that spring. 

When that one song he had started to lose popularity, his company decided to recycle the same tracks in different versions, different language and re released. Sung gyu had hundreds of unreleased originals, enough to come back with perhaps a full album which had always been his dream. The company could have rode his popularity so well, taken the opportunity to accept OSTs, variety shows, release new albums, anything. Sung Gyu could have been so much more than he imagined. But all they did was accept a few CFs then and there, a bunch of magazine covers, started a youtube channel and forced him to do vlogs where he could have done song covers instead. He did a bunch of musicals, took over an offer for a mini drama that eventually fell through.

Five years. He wasted five years of his life in a place which failed to see his value, downplayed his talent and just used him for their gain. The company earned enough from that one song’s royalties as it played in every corner of the country every spring. His popularity fell gradually, to the point that his song became known only as a song of spring of a singer with a name and no face to it. When Sung Gyu finally decided to terminate his contract, seeing that being with them would only put restrictions on his career, they did allow him to, but under one condition; the copyrights of all his work, including the song of every spring, will still be under the company’s brand. It was when he refused to withstand their conditions, hell broke loose. 

“You can always start over...did you ever think about it?” Gaeul put in, filling the silence between them. He had been so lost in his own thoughts for long that he didn’t even realise that she awaited an answer.

Sung Gyu let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t care anymore”

Gaeul stared at him for a brief moment, her eyes quietly scrutinizing him. “Sung Gyu, that’s what you wanted to do all your life, it was your dream”

“Not any more” He groaned, grimly poking his fork into the remaining slice of steak.

“That isn’t true-”

“Look,” Sung Gyu replied, growing frustrated with this conversation. “Gaeul, it’s over, okay? It happened and it’s over”

“But-,”

“Gaeul” He addressed her a little more firmly this time, which immediately made her stop. He looked up at her and met her eyes. “Gaeul, please...It’s that some things just aren’t meant to be…”

“Sung Gyu…” She whispered, and it could have been only him, but Gaeul’s eyes seemed to shine. “Don’t say that…”

“Maybe we should talk about it another time” Sung Gyu pushed on, now becoming desperate. “It’s a nice day today, we’re finally meeting after so long, and this is the last thing I want to talk about”

Gaeul gazed at him for a second in this peculiar way that she always did, as if she was reading his mind. Then finally she let out a heavy sigh.

“Then we should probably get dessert”