"In Tibetan, the word re-dok is the portmanteau of the words rewa (hope) and dokpa (fear), acknowledging they coexist and both stem from the same thing - uncertainty."

 

-Matt Haig

 

 

Hyejin likes people.

 

 

Especially the ones in the paintings when she visited an art festival in a local school nearby. Once she got home, she tried her best to describe what it felt like to Wheein, with the best level of vocabulary one could manage for a 10 year-old. Another yellow this and circle circle the square there. Wheein takes out her crayon set (that her mother bought her) and reproduces the picture on paper with a similar vibe. Wheein has always been better than her in any way, even at memorizing things.

 

 

Junior school continued to high school, and her resolve is still the same: to apply for RBW University, finding her path in life. To everyone that has made such a contribution in her enrollment, she cannot thank them enough.

 

 

Fast forward to her second year and now.

 

 

You seem like the type that will disappear into the background. Sorry if I sound too harsh. You may continue.

 

 

Without begging to differ, she does look like one, she thinks. She can treat it as a passing comment, and it won't do much for the rest of her painting.

 

 

There's no one in your painting. Feels like you're doing this without looking at real people.

 

She knew what they were saying. That she's been making a painting devoid of any colors. There were so many great artworks consisting of their own colors . Like saying that to reach something more, she should be able to meet those expectations, and start to reach into the world of colors.

 

One line with her pencil. Two lines. Nada. Zilch. She couldn't form a person. Even based on memory. She can't.

 

It's embarrassing how one that supposed to prefer people is unable to look at the same subject straight in the eye.

 

Even when the air knocked out of her, unable to conjure a single word when her fingers felt heavy against the brush.

 

Felt. Feel. It's still happening. and there's no sure way to stop it. A ball rolling over her parents back home, her own expectations, the desire to stumble into her true self and

a place to belong.

 

 

It's a statue.

 

A head bust of herself. Her own face. She focused her eyes on it, unable to look away. She has to look because no one else does. One has to indulge in oneself to compensate for others. You are your own stan, your own fan.

 

Supposed eyes say a thousand words. She cannot put everything together for eternity, or to stop herself from falling so hard for someone that is so out of reach.

 

Within frustration, Hyejin throws the brush away and starts rummaging between steel scraps, grinding them until smooth. She started putting on the protection glasses. Kim Yongsun's words resonate in her eardrum.

 

Who is this work for?

 

Will this be able to change anything?

 

But Hyejin has better questions.

 

Will it be able to change her?

 

Can she break free?

 

Can they break free?

 

 

 

 

ACT 1

 

DEATH, I LOVE YOU TO DEATH

 

SO BLACK, MY HEART IS SO BLACK

 

 

The cold hands that grabbed hers for a while when they cross during green light. It was a momentary skinship before Byulyi let go, letting Yooah follow behind her as they tried to find a place to eat. Yooah told her that a diner is fine, only to find themselves in a Cafe with rustic mood: yellow lamps flickering and chipped metal desks. Doesn't seem like a place people often visit. underrated.

 

All Byulyi does is pull out the chair and yet it tells Yooa so much.

 

The way her fingers stumbled upon the railings and looking downwards to the utensils with winced eyes, taking off the glasses and putting it back on pretense to clean the foggy lens.

 

"Do your eyes ache?"

 

It seems like she hit the nail on the head because Byulyi took off the lens and put it aside, finally giving up her pretense. It's fascinating to Yooa how without glasses is the moment Byulyi is able to stare at her straight.

 

"What are you doing here, Yooah?"

 

Now that's surprising. Yooah can feel herself flinched in a tone that, albeit not unkind, is out of character that she knew for so long before. The younger woman chuckled, arranging the utensils in a haphazard way on the table.

 

"Cutting to the chase is so not you, unnie. What is wrong with me meeting someone I missed?"

 

"How's Eunkwang?" Yooah scoffed.

 

"Don't you think there's something else you should ask first?" The annoying tone is intended to hit the right place. The professor stopped and rethinked for a second. She is a little rude (very)ally out of place for her. A certain someone rubbing off on her for this habit is something that Byulyi doesn't know until much later. Byulyi starts to cut the tension in herself down and relaxed.

 

"Where's the usual pleasantries and kindness, unnie? What makes you this way?"

 

A waiter served the latte and Byulyi took a sip. "It's all me, Yooah-ya. It's been years since we saw each other."

 

"Likewise, unnie."

 

--

 

Yooah has always been a renowned beauty that is a little too popular. Kidding. It's as if there's such a thing.

 

She know and got what it takes to get the best out of life in smallest moments. Having fellow students helping her with books, adored by students and teachers alike, a string of confessions from both genders and she makes sure to keep the flame going in every dancing routine in the Main Hall every week. The crowd persists as long as the charm goes on, and she intends to keep it that way.

 

The status quo was maintained until that day. Yooa was hopping to the rhythm and about to go through her killing part before she could feel a presence behind her and tripped with a shriek. Until this day she doesn't know if it is Byulyi that caused her fall or her legs decided to give up on her that day. Someone caught her by the arm and the amount of strength to pull her to a stand is surprising. A slender hand with bony surface.

 

It's the same figure that is quick to leave the premise if only Yooa didn't grab her arm back.

 

"Hey!"

 

And their eyes met. Safe to say, both can't take their eyes away from each other. Black locks, strait-laced appearance and a hamster-like face, Yooa's mouth shut and her eyes bulged when her entire face scrunched into a grimace that intended to looked like a smile. Stacks of books in her arms fall and above the spectacular mess on the ground, the scholar fixed her glasses.

 

"You're pretty. And you're a good dancer."

 

Yooa have nothing to say but gape at the elementary kid-like compliment but she already left.

 

--

 

How dare she.

 

How dare she to leave Yooa after incurring some damage on the poor girl? Luckily, she's a smart woman with a lot of resources. Doesn't take a lot of digging when one has Kim Yongsun, the famous blabberer of the art major.

 

"Moon Byulyi from Philosophy Major. I know her but we're not that close."

 

Close enough for Yooa to make a move on the woman who happens to be known almost wherever she goes, partly for coming from an affluent family, and the latter part from sticking her nose at every book in the vicinity.

 

A typical meet-cute between a dancer and a bookworm.

 

Imagine her surprise when Byulyi was the first one to kickstart the whole thing.

 

Her first kiss, her first everything, Yooa won't tell anyone that it belongs to Byulyi only. The woman's dumb enough to drown herself in mountain of books and Yooa thinks it is a piece of information with poor importance.

 

The couple of misfits, they said. But Yooa didn't think it was a problem.

 

--

 

"Hey…" A hesitant voice is impending doom bound to happen. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it for dinner tonight."

 

Safe to say Yooa didn't like it at all. Anyone would be if this weren't her first time doing this.

 

"Who is it this time?"

 

A friend of another friend needs some help with their study. Yooa cannot even muster a will to remember that friend's name, as Byulyi tells it over the phone. It's always different and the list keeps growing.

 

You picked your own pill to swallow the moment you decided to date the Fairy Godmother, her cliques muffled a laugh, and Yooa have to bonk them in the head. Something in her seeth a little because that's what they see Byulyi as? A kind woman bordering on being a pushover? What makes it worse is that Byulyi is not the kind of woman to reject someone's cry of help out of saving face: it was all done in the name of kindness. The kindness that puts her, the girlfriend, on a pedestal lining up for her time like everyone else. One moment after another, Yooa find herself wondering about her relationship. Theirs.

 

It's a casual hookup, anyway. She has to remind herself over and over not to get too hung up over this.

 

--

 

"Hey."

 

Byulyi choked out a snort and woke up with bleary eyes upon a poke in her gut. It woke her up in the middle of the Library with her girlfriend's frown in front of her. It didn't last long before the frown break into a smirk. "Your cheek."

 

"Huh?"

 

"It's a huge mark."

 

The older woman rubbed all over her cheek, her fingers feeling the mark of books she slept on before. She's positive it swells now. "Oh God." The dancer rub the red cheek before peeking over the papers laid along the desk. "This is not your assignment!"

 

"Someone asked me for a favour." Byulyi retched a huge yawn, unaware of Yooa's grim look. "I can't exactly reject them babe. Besides, I need something to do these days."

 

The insomnia, Yooa knew. Countless nights when she woke up to find an empty side of the bed, and found Byulyi in her workdesk again, indulging herself in endless tasks and, if there are no more tasks, opted to do another people's portion of assignments and making more tasks for herself. If Byulyi think it's therapeutic, Yooa think it's ridiculous.

 

I need to get my mind off things sometimes, she said. Yooa was sure she meant many, many times. All the time, it's more like.

 

"You can share some of the tasks with me. We can do it together and you can go to bed earlier." Yooa can't believe the words from her own mouth. But the moment it came out the sincerity struck her. It's the level of genuine that she never sported with her previous lovers. Flings. The tip of her ears grow red upon realizing Byulyi's curious eyes behind the lens. "Wh...What?"

 

But the face fell back into the expression she knew too well. The edge of pulled to a template smile, a shake of the head, and a pat on Yooa's top of the head. Yooa always blasts her for the embarrassing gesture, but this time she finds herself a changed woman. "Thanks, but I'd rather you sleep well and never miss your class." A light jab to Yooa's habit of skipping class, and the older woman's constant reminder to pay more attention to her education. If only she can put the same level of attention in treating her as a girlfriend. Having a girlfriend who acts more like your mom is the strangest feeling to be had around.

 

When Byulyi take the pen and scribbling again Yooa can feel her pitch rising.

 

"You're going to continue again?!"

 

"It's about to be finished, anyway." Her tone is calm, although Yooa can detect a twitch in her finger, her usual habit when she's nervous. "You can go home first if you want. It will take a while."

 

There it is. The faraway look again. The faraway attitude. She can't get through. How does the most social person can be so disconnected from her surroundings? The fact that she's supposed to be her girlfriend, the one that she should spilled onto the most couldn't even taken into account, hurts her pride a little bit. Yet she doesn't know what compels her to say the next sentence.

 

"Don't be silly."

 

The plan works. With a slight miscalculation on her part. But she can always play her cards in the right places. This time wouldn't be an exception.

 

--

 

The plan was going in smooth waves.

 

Of course, that is until she messed up.

 

Yooa doesn't even have the right to question when a car stops near the campus and the driver steps out. Her steps firm as she make her way to Yooa, and at a closer look she can see the taunted brows that formed into V and the ever present smile that for once, nowhere no matter how hard she look.

 

Moon Byulyi is furious. And Yooa know why.

 

In that state the older woman still doesn't pull her by the arm or anything one might do when angry. Instead the urgency reflected in her whole demeanor.

 

"Get inside." Byulyi speak within gritted teeth. "We need to talk."

 

--

 

It's a quiet ride. Yooa decided that she wouldn't start anything until the other woman addressed it by herself. A decision that soon puffed into the air because was out of her control. "Aren't you going to say something?"

 

"What's there left to say?" The scholar pressed her thumb against the steering wheel until it turned white. "That you decide to cheat?"

 

This is not right. Moon Byulyi never speaks to her in such a direct way like this. At least for whole time they are in a relationship. What incurs this kind of change? Yooa can feel an increasing emotion loading inside of her. The insensitive remark is a fuel to the fire.

 

So she has to take it this far for Byulyi to show something other than a smile?

 

"I don't get you, unnie. I really don't." The younger woman kneaded her right arm, a little choked. "Just stop this car and put me off."

 

It's in the middle of the night, of course Byulyi cannot do that, but Yooa can't bear to be in the same space as her girlfriend. "If that's what it takes to finally show something else than a smile to your girlfriend, maybe I should have done it with Eunkwang from the start! At least he knows what a woman is looking for--"

 

Byulyi let out a sarcastic scoff. "I know my father sent you to me."

 

Yooa froze.

 

"Is that what this is all about? What does that man offer to you to approach me? Let me guess, seducing me to come back home?"

 

She can't possibly say it. She couldn't say that her mother was unable to pay for the rest of the semester' s tuition and by some strange encounter, Mr. Moon approached her into a proposition that will end as soon as it began. Except with minor inconveniences that soon piled up to major.

 

She's starting to fall. As cliche as it may sound. All her everything, masks and all, she loves it and hates it at the same time. Maybe that's why she take Eunkwang, the college's sleazeball offer, to spend the night. Only Byulyi's face is in her mind. She imagines how the older woman might react.

 

Hate is still a stronger emotion than indifference, anyway. If that's how Yooa can make an impression on her then so be it. She didn't need anything else. Yooa took a deep breath and prepared herself to look to her right, struck with the rarest moment. Right in front of the steering wheel, beads of hot tears streaming out along Byulyi's cheek, staining her wool vest and Yooa didn't know how to react upon a crying girlfriend. Is she the one who drove the scholar to this point? Is she taking it too far?

 

Isn't this what Yooa wants? If so, then why is she feeling bad all over?

 

"Answer me." She gritted. "What did he promise you?"

 

Yooa scratched the rim of the seat belt. "You never look at me. You never look at anyone else in your life. Everyone takes an equal part in your life. What's the point of discussing this when you don't even care if I exist?"

 

Existence of love. Yooa never imagined herself to be the one spitting out that word the first time out of them both. She's supposed to get inside her mind and push her to do her bidding like the minx she is, except that this time it was dominated with pink. She doesn't know when it happened, when it all started. Moon Byulyi, for all the straight-laced appearance and calm, neutral voice that has that strange lulling effect on her; an effect that she assume encompasses to everyone else around her, putting her on the pedestal of unrequited affection.

 

Love is a silly, impermanent state of sickness. A sickness that once latched onto you, it will find your heart and gnaw it to pieces. She can't have it. Yet.

 

She's dominated by black. Her heart is. She can see it around Byulyi as well. Their hearts are so, so black. A thin veil of compassion is all it takes and maybe Yooa can figure out why she's so irked by Byulyi's indifference.

 

Tears won't distract her from the main task at hand.

 

"What difference does that make?" Yooa raised her voice. It was unintentional. "You never care for me anyway. I can just go to Eunkwang and forget this had happened."

 

The tears materialized into thorns, and Byulyi's eyes went dark. The glaze has lost its hue, and her whisper becomes audible in a moment of silence.

 

"There's never been a day when I don't love you."

 

Steering out of the assigned track. Skidding over the pavement. Her eyes capturing the sight of Byulyi with her hair floating. They were hanging upside down in their car within the smoke of crashed car. Passersby start to gather around. Yooa wished she could unlatch the buckle to shut her ears from the increasing noise.

 

And everything went black.

 

--

 

Yooa opened her eyes to a dim LED light on the ceiling of a room in hospital. Upon raised hand she noticed the white robe and, within her peripheral view, a figure standing beside her bed.

 

Byulyi put her fingers on the bed rail. Her concerned look burst out into a whole sort of other emotion when Yooa jerked to the side and shrieked in pain. Because she knew where the source of the pain was. Byulyi steadied her girl by the shoulder, preventing her from moving too much and putting her down without straining the bandaged part of her shoulder. Yooa scans her eyes everywhere, a sign of a heavy dose of painkiller that hasn't worn off. "Where am I?"

 

"The hospital. You have to rest. I…"

 

Her words died in the middle when Yooa put her fingers on the bandage, tapping the white fabric , a vain attempt on touching the burnt flesh. Yooa can guess, from looking at Byulyi's eyes on her fingers, a collective understanding of a mark that will never disappear.

 

Yooa got what she wanted. In a way.

 

A chance to imprint herself in Byulyi's heart.

 

Love under the oath of death.

 

--

 

Back in the present, Yooa takes the glasses before Byulyi has the time to reach it, weighing the equipment in her palm.

 

"You can't possibly wear this in front of me again, are you?"

 

Byulyi clicked her tongue, a little unnerved. "Sometimes it's working, even oftentimes it's not. Can I have it now please?" The younger woman places the glasses in her palm, in which she wears it in a second. Yooa wouldn't miss the fidgeting. "The glasses are not working, unnie. Everyone knows that."

 

A small sigh escaped Byulyi. "I know."

 

"What are you going to do about it?" She pushed through. "What is your plan?"

 

"Training and preparations to finally adjust to living blind."

 

"Doesn't being completely blind ever scare you?"

 

"There's a low chance of someone being completely blind." The professor said as a-matter-of-fact. "It's inevitable--"

 

"What if I tell you there's a way?"

 

Byulyi shakes her head, letting a laugh, but Yooa can tell she's wavering. "That's not possible."

 

"It is." Yooa won't let her ex get the satisfaction of calling out lies. "You have to listen to me. I came here for a reason."

 

--

 

Moon Byulyi walks together with her ex side by side, swapping places so Byulyi can walk on the outer side of the pedestal. She was sure Yooa had already reserved the hotel nearby, but was still insisting on taking a short look at her apartment.

 

She's glad that she said no to that because what awaits her next is Hyejin sleeping on the sofa.

 

The college student is sound asleep. Byulyi didn't have half the heart to wake her up because the woman must be tired. The project that Yongsun put her into was quite intense as she heard it. Instead, Byulyi sits at the edge of the furniture and scans her eyes to Hyejin's shut lids.

 

Before realizing it she sweep a strand of hair that drops to her face, slip it behind her ear. A sense of panic ran through her gut when the woman opened her eyes with a wince, scrunching her lids once or twice before laying her head on Byulyi's lap.

 

It's the de javu of familiar situations all over again.

 

Byulyi couldn't just shake her shoulders or anything. Not when the woman burrows her face inside Byulyi's stomach and dwells there, as if she's in the sanctuary of the sacred.

 

What does she think of Hyejin? She thinks of her as an interesting woman. Someone she would like to be friends with. Someone who wouldn't hurt anyone around her. Someone who…

 

Someone who started to fill the crevices that is her own blackened heart. It was black as a soot, but she started to peel it over.

 

She cannot have that.

 

She can't allow herself to.

 

--

 

Cue to the biggest statue in the room.

 

Byulyi, Yooa, Hyejin, they are all standing from different angles, trying to have a wider perspective of what they should be looking at.

 

From her place, Byulyi saw the future of her inside a room with dim light. It's her sitting inside with a key that she holds herself. It's mandatory for everyone not to get inside, to let herself time nursing in her aloneness that she has crafted.

 

Being alone is a luxury that not many can afford. It's not self-sacrifice. She is content in the space that she created, a protection for the outside world from herself.

 

Byulyi cannot see everything from that further point. She can't craft a picture of their wishes and what they comply with. She can't see the thoughts of both girls, no matter even after Hyejin's rash confession before. It was a temporary lapse of judgment.

 

Lack of love will deem a greater fruit of not hurting everyone around her.

 

She doesn't need to see what Hyejin and Yooa are doing on the other side of the statue. What does the future hold, she has no idea. One thing she can give to Hyejin is the avoidance to the disappointment it will bring once the feeling was reciprocated.

 

--

 

Byulyi caress the side of her head on her lap, letting the girl in her slumber for three minutes. It's always this way; either she's awake or Hyejin is asleep and vice versa. There's no meeting in the middle. What does Hyejin saw in her? A savior, someone she indebted to?

 

The thought makes her feel a little crushed. She won't act any further on it.

 

ACT 2

 

YOU ARE LIKE A DISTANT STAR

 

NOTHING WILL CHANGE

 

ALWAYS FOOLISH

 

The moment Hyejin opens her eyes, she doesn't have to wonder why she sleep so peacefully that night. One look at the clock shows 1 AM, and another look upward shows that she is indeed sleeping on Byulyi's lap. The professor was sound asleep, and Hyejin didn't miss the blanket draped up on her shoulder.

 

Hyejin knew this scene from somewhere. The comfort it brought was similar. She remember before that she lay on the sofa, waiting for Byulyi to come home. After making a slow movement of peeling her head off the lap (no matter how comfortable it was), she tiptoe to the dining table only to find that the dish that she cooked and wrapped in aluminum foil was left intact. The older woman skipped dinner and put her head on her lap. Yep. That must be the only explanation.

 

Another silence was filled with Hyejin mulling over whether she should steal another opportunity of getting close to the professor. The other side of her telling that whatever goes through will put this relationship in jeopardy.

 

They were standing in the middle of the passage of time. Throughout the process, at each attempt at intimacy, Byulyi put another layer of protection against herself, not allowing more room to breathe and take it all in.

 

Does Byulyi think Hyejin was confused? That it was a ditsy confession made out of any other emotion than love? Be that as it may, how can Hyejin assure her that she's there to stay?

 

Is assurance the only thing Byulyi needs?

 

There shan't be any attempt to get closer, so Hyejin gets back to the sofa and takes the spot that Byulyi reserved for her from the beginning. She laid the side of her head on Byulyi's thigh and cover herself into another undisturbed slumber.

 

--

 

Another session of Art Festival in RBW will be held in several weeks. International curators and big names in art industry will attend and you can imagine the fun! Who knows, maybe they will take a second look at your work, Hyejin-sshi!

 

Nothing will change the fact that there is only one person she serves this project for. The cultivation of her mind and soul for long, exhaustive weeks. Hyejin is now in the public studio of Art Major again, scraps of metal lying everywhere as she take off the protective glasses and taking a second look at a project that is far from finished. She takes the flyer that's hanging precariously in the corner of the worktable and scans what Yongsun gave her earlier.

 

 

ROYAL COLLEGE OF ART, LONDON

 

SCHOLARSHIP APPLICATION

 

 

Whatever goes in Yongsun’s mind for assuming that someone who’s abstained from creating any piece since previous semester is even eligible to partake in this program. Wheein semi-pushed her to apply because it never hurt to try, and further consultation with Kim Yongsun starting to forge the course of her style. She's developing her own color.

 

Part of her commands to crumple the flyer and trash it but another part wins and she put it again on the desk, right before her phone rings. She answer after a swipe.

 

Are you Ahn Hyejin?

 

The voice is unmistakable. The caller didn't have to introduce herself because it's the same woman that drag Byulyi in tow at the end party without giving her so much of a glance. The question how do you know this number hung at the tip of her tongue until the trail of her mind cut.

 

Meet me at this place.

 

The name of a Cafe near the campus was familiar to Hyejin, but she was tugged with reluctance. Whatever business this woman is about to throw at her must be related to the same woman who did so much for her. Yet she couldn't muster an excuse to skip it altogether. Another part of her is curious.

 

After an affirmation, she end the call with a sigh.

 

--

 

With the canvas bag hung over her shoulder, Hyejin strut inside the Cafe wearing the cleanest shirt she can found in the studio, and upon fulfilling the appointment, she half-wishing the said woman wouldn't be there.

 

But there she is.

 

Seated behind the table near the window, her attire were much more casual than the first time Hyejin see her, a testament of leaving another persona behind while she resides in Seoul. To Hyejin's panic their eyes met, and the stare turn a little authoritative as Hyejin pull a chair and sit herself down.

 

"We have met once before. My name is Yooa. I assume you have heard about me."

 

The same air of authority repels Hyejin a little bit, even with the plain t-shirt and overall casual attire. Hyejin can't help but wonder in what way she sway Byulyi in the past. The comparison began and she has to stop now.

 

"Why do you want to meet me?"

 

"Byul let you live together in her place."

 

Hyejin has to confess that she didn't fancy the way Yooa utter the sentence, like a fact that has to be buried and be unknown forever. But she let Yooa implore, keeping a neutral face while answering the other woman's questions.

 

To her surprise none of the questions getting towards the technicalities of their living arrangement. Not like there was anything to be spilled though. If there's any it wouldn't be her business to pry on. Yooa clicked her tongue, a sudden determination to cut this crisscrossing questions short.

 

"You have to convince Byulyi to come together to me to U.S."

 

Hyejin didn't have to ask because Yooa give the reason straight away. "He