Drive me crazy

The rain comes over her, soaking the road in a minute. Heavy clouds paint the sky dark and grey and the atmosphere feels gloomy, humid. Ahead there is a growing mist fogging her way. She doesn't mind: she likes the sound of the drops against the window, the smell of the grass, wet and fresh, the wind hitting the car while she is sheltered inside, the heater on, a good song on the radio. She doesn't see the motorcycle coming, it appears out of nowhere and when she finally notices the dark figure ahead of her, it is too late to push the break.

The impact is all on the motorcycle, the tumbles and crashes, the driver under the metal carcass, pressing against the asphalt. Yongsun counts to ten before rushing out, the rain splashing, wetting her, towering above her like a nightmare. Yongsun should call the police, an ambulance, do something, but the pale, young-looking girl mashed beneath the motorcycle is fascinating. Her helmet is nailed, long, blond hair spreading on the gravel, wet with rain and blood, her eyes are watching the stars, reflecting the light from above, her hands are scratched and rough and Yongsun darts toward her, knees on the ground, her fingers soaked around a bonny wrist. She can feel the rush of her living pulse beating under her fingertips and she sighs, reassured. She looks fine, just a bit ragged, a doll thrown away, wasted and abandoned under the pouring rain.

The girl is so pretty, Yongsun notes, large lashes caressing her whitened cheeks, drops shimmering like tears flowing down her fresh skin. She is wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans that are under the mass of broken metal. She lays very still, but her fingers react to the touch of Yongsun. "Don't worry, I'm going to call the ambulance now," she assures her, painting circles on her tiny wrist. She fishes her phone from her car - pretty much intact even after the crash, - and makes the call, sitting under the storm, one hand curled around the victim's arm, the other raised to hold the phone.

The ambulance comes quick and they take care of the poor girl. They get her lithe body from underneath the clipped metal of the motorcycle. On the side, there is a growing pool of blood. Her clothes are soaked in red, her breathe, irregular, shaky, her eyes starry like the night above, the rain washing the dust from her face.

She drives with them - she follows the lights and the sound of the siren breaking the rain, shimmering against the drops falling down. When Yongsun makes it to the hospital, the clerk has already put a name on the girl, a name found on her ID card, pressed inside her back pocket.

"Moon Byul," she mumbles, sitting next to her, holding her hand while waiting for the results of the X-rays. She looks so broken and vulnerable and Yongsun feels so responsible: it has been her fault, in the end, she didn't see her coming under the veil of the storm.

She thinks it's the right thing to do to stay with her, waiting until a family member will come, stand for her. she calls Yonghee, who must be worried for her tardiness - who was expecting her home hours ago.

"Unnie, I got into an accident," Yongsun says to her worried sister. "I'm all right myself, but I crashed against a motorcycle and she is in the hospital... I'm waiting for her parents to come over," she explains hurriedly.

"OK, OK, take care!" she bits her goodbye, with an eased expression. Yongsun sighs, holding onto Byul's hand, rushing her fingers along the quiet veins of her arm, drawing on them with the pulse of her beating heart.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, looking at her closed eyes, the scattered scars and scratches, the blooming red on her chin. "I didn't see you coming, it was my fault so I'll heed for all of it. The motorcycle, the hospital bill... You just get well, OK? Don't have to worry," she promises, her fingers untangling the mess of her hair - dirty with rain and gravel. Her skin is soft and cold with tears staining, red spots of scratches and scars that she caresses with care, disseminating the blood, smearing it soft. A cough breaks the quietness of the room and Yongsun jolts, abashed. She turns, churning, stares at Yongsun with bright, brown eyes that lit up the dimness, glancing fiercely, demandingly, shocked. She looks confused, blinking at her, her voice trapped in the ventilator she wears. Yongsun laces her fingers around her writs; drowns circles of reassuring, of comfort. "It's OK, you had an accident, you are in the hospital now," and she brushes her hand as gently as her voice is, smiling at her - and, up close, Byul is beautiful, all pale shades and shadows.

Byul signals to the ventilator covering , coughing on the process and Yongsun thinks that she wants to tell her something so, as carefully as possible, she removes it, reveals a strawberry looking pair of lips, dry, chapped.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice rough and raw, sandpapering her words.

"My name is Kim Yongsun," she introduces herself, motioning to shake her hand, but it is pointless: she is barely awake. "I was the one crashing against you. I'm sorry, I truly am," she adds, bowing to her as apologetic as she can. Byul blinks, the shedding light hurting her sight but she looks at Yongsun, delicately touches with a finger her hand.

"It's nothing," she says and smiles amid the pain, "I've been in worse," she continues, just to make Yongsun feels better, just to reassure this girl who looks so hurt for an accident she can't remember - a girl that is just sweet and kind and beautiful, a smile approaching, threatening to take away all of her perfect, oval face.

"Oh, she is awake!" the doctor that has silently come in says, exultant. "We can't contact your family, love, there is anyone else to call?" he asks, looking at her taking the reports about her condition. She shakes her head, slowly, blond hair swirling over her shoulders.

"My family lives abroad," she explains, the mask covering the stains of her chin. "How am I?" she asks and the doctor consults the papers, sighs.

"Not too bad, but your ribs are broken, which will hurt. And your hip, too. And some minor injuries and scratches. You'll need to stay in bed for a while, do you have a friend who can look after you? Until you get used to the casts and all?" but Byul shakes her head again, creating the image of a halo over Yongsun's eyes.

"You can stay at mine," she offers, out of nowhere. She has remembered that Yonghee, her older sister, is going out for a few weeks, on holidays. They share the flat, but Yongsun is sure that her sister won't mind - in fact, she can clearly hear Yonghee inviting her to do so. "I mean, it was my fault and you can't be left alone," she rushes to add, "I might be a danger on the road," she jokes, smiling bright and big, "but I'm a good person, I promise to take care of you, if you need it," she finishes, sitting down next to her. For some reason she feels attached, bounded to this stranger girl. Maybe it is because she is the one ruining her life and feels the need to pay off for the damage. Or perhaps it is because she doesn't feel that strange to her now. Her voice is raspy but, underneath, it sounds calm, sweet, like cuddling and her eyes are alive, oceans of stars. But Yongsun feels it deep, the need to take care of Byul, if she wants it, too.

She tilts her face, staring at Yongsun, evaluating, weighing her words, pondering her options. She seems nice and willing and open, a reassurance she doesn't need but likes. Byul knows how to judge a person, she is good at that, and there is nothing menacing or threatening about this Yongsun, only someone full of regrets and sorrows. And Byul thinks that she would like to lift that from her heart - to make her feel better. So she doesn't need the suggestion twice when the doctor advises she stays in the hospital until tomorrow. After all, she needs someone to take care of her and Yongsun happens to be disposed of - even if it is to expire her guilt, Byul doesn't mind.

After another round of checks, Yongsun is dismissed but promises to be back the next morning.

"I'm not leaving you alone," she has said, gently, brushing Byul's hair, watching her softly falling asleep. "Rest well and I'll see you tomorrow," she whispers on her way out.

In the car, flashes of the crash cross her mind, so she turns the music on, loud enough to opaque her feelings, allowing the song on the radio to wash her of guilt and blame, singing alone to the lyrics she doesn't know. when she finally reaches home, her sister is still waiting.

"How is the poor girl?" Yonghee asks, softly, hugging Yongsun in a reassuring embrace. She leans into it, heart fast beating, remembering the shape the paramedics took out from under the jumble of metal.

"She is good, considering the gravity of the crash. Unnie, I feel terrible. I didn't see her coming my way," she explains, teary eyes, gentle hands rubbing her back and neck.

“It's OK, she is OK, don't torment yourself this much, it was an accident, this things like this happens to everyone," Yonghee says, her lips brushing dark, wavy, messy hair.

"I told her to stay here, so I can keep an eye and pay," Yongsun explains, agitated. "It's the least I can do for her since her family lives abroad and she is alone..." she rambles, her chin resting atop of her sister's shoulder.

"You did the right thing to do," Yonghee agrees, tranquillising her, holding her still, keeping the shattered pieces of her little sister. "You did good, Yongsunie," she mumbles, the old, endearing name sliding, making Yongsun smile a bit, remembering the memories of remote, happy days, running hand in hand with her sister along the sea.

By the next day, Yongsun feels better, more cheerful: it took her hours of fumbling and tumbling to get some rest, thinking about the crash, feeling terrible for all the anguish she has caused to someone else, all the damage and pain Byul is undergoing because of her, but the morning greets her with a shinning sky of pure blue splashed in cotton clouds, the song on the radio is her favourite and she feels that the day is going to be good. So she drives back to the hospital to collect Moon Byul with a smile on her face and lingering emotions dangling on her heart – the notion that she will be able to repay her mistakes.

Yongsun talks with the doctor, ask him about her condition but, luckily, she has only a few broken bones, nothing too worrisome - but she will need help nevertheless, all her chest covered with bandages holding up her ribs and that means not moving and resting to fully heal. Byul smiles at her when she comes through the door. Her face remains pale and bruised but, with her lips stretched, she gleams, eyes the same tone as honey.

Byul hasn't slept at all, too nervous about the step she is about to take, moving to someone else house, being taken care of by a stranger. Also, because all of her body hurt after the initial shock: even breathing is uncomfortable, her ribs compressed and covered up with bandages. But, when she sees Yongsun coming in, with her radiant smile, she relaxes, exhaling slowly the air trap in her lungs. She shouldn't be too worried, but she is - she always is when meeting someone new. Byul is shy and timid and Yongsun seems the total opposite, which makes her realise how lacking her social skills are. She doesn't know what to say, her tongue dry, but she can't forge back the creeping smile, the starlight beaming inside her eyes, the delight of seeing her again, among the rest of her emotions and anxiousness.

Once the doctor releases her, Yongsun helps her out of the bed, her hands soft around her waist. She smiles at her so naturally, it feels like they are already friends, something Byul hasn't felt in years - Yongsun talks and laughs so prettily, so easily, it shatters any remaining resistance in Byul, all the walls and the shyness wreaking down. It is as if they already knew each other. It is familiar to be around her and Byul finds herself opening up, chatting with her about this and that and nothing.

"My sister is going on a retreat, later on, she might still be at home," Yongsun comments casually. "Do you have siblings?" she then asks, a quick glance over her companion. She has been driving carefully, deliberately slowly to give Yonghee time to leave - she has the feeling that Byul will be tense around too many unfamiliar faces, so far away from her comfort zone. It's bad enough that she is injured, to add to that having to live with unknown people, as much as she is trying her best to smooth all the creases, make it pleasant.

"I'm the oldest out of three," Byul says, a little smile at the mention of her family, and, when she rolls her sleeve up, she reveals the shape of what beats deep inside her heart, inked on her forearm she has drawn them.

"That's beautiful," Yongsun mumbles, in wonderment. She must love her parents so much and it says a lot about her character - she has to be a good person to have her family engraved on her flesh and bones. Byul breaks a brief smile that shines like a sun across a stormy sky and Yongsun stares at her for a moment too long, forgetting about the road, about the car, about the fact that she should be driving. "Hey!" Byul blinks and the spell is lifted and, suddenly, she has to rush to regain control, holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. "You said you knew how to drive," but there is no judgement on her voice, which sounds clear and low and beautiful. Yongsun chuckles softly and apologises for the distraction.

"I was watching your tattoo," she says and it makes Byul smirk proudly. "It is very meaningful," she praises and Byul's cheeks get warm and rosy and it is something that makes her look better, all flustered.

"Thanks," she mumbles and becomes quiet, lost in thoughts for the rest of the ride. Yongsun keeps an eye on her, controlling that she is good, that there is no pain blooming on her bones, any kind of discomfort.

When they reach home, Yonghee is already gone and Yongsun sighs, content to not have to disturb Byul, who is clearly shy and uneasy, despite the smiles and the laughter, she can see underneath, uncover her true feelings - because she feels that, too. But she has promised to take care of her as penitence, as the price to pay for her wrongdoings, for being the cause of her pain and so she brushes the fears away, puts gleam inside her eyes, bounces in excitement introducing Byul to her new place. "Do you mind dogs?" she asks, "I asked my parents to take Yongkee for a while," she says, which explains the toys sprawled on the floor, "she is my little puppy, but if you don't like them, she can stay away..." she mentions, unsure.

"I love dogs!" Byul proclaims, exultant, beaming with delight "I grew four, now they are abroad, though" she adds and Yongsun is reassured again that this girl can be trouble, but she doesn’t mean any harm - and Yongsun can deal with anything as long as Byul is kind and sweet (and she is already sure that Byul is, that all the troubles will fall on her side in the end).

"Feel like home," Yongsun invites her after doing a quick trip around the house. She doesn't need to repeat it, Byul is already making it the best she can. "Tomorrow we will go get you your stuff," she offers, helping Byul to sit on her bed. "Now I'll take my clothes and move to my sister's room! It's next door if you need anything, "she says, rushing to collect her underwear, pink-faced. Byul observes her moving around, a brow raised, a smirk stretching her lips.

"Sorry for the inconvenience", she bows to her politely, but Yongsun can see her eyes gleaming, the way she feels content in this new environment. Byul can't help but be happy at the present moment: she is not used to having company, living alone, but likes it very much, likes to be here with Yongsun, even if that means a sore chest and using crutches.

It takes no time for her to adjust: she finds the kitchen and eats straight from the fridge, sits on the couch and watches TV with Yongsun, leans her head against her shoulder naturally and Yongsun doesn't flinch, finds it adorable how easy they have settled up, finds it nice Byul's presence, even if that means her talking over a movie - she doesn't find it annoying but interesting and fun instead.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Yongsun asks over dinner. She has cooked Byul's favourite dish and she is eating it pleasantly, complimenting her skills.

"I work at the police department," she says, munching. Yongsun's heart skips a beat, then two, then looks at her in astonishment, shocked. Byul laughs at her panicked expression and rushes to assure her. "I'm not going to fine you for your disastrous way of driving," she comforts her, "I'm out of duty, the second day of holidays," she explains and it pains Yongsun even more than the possibility to be arrested: she has ruined her vacations, broken her bones alongside her plans.

"I am so sorry," she sighs, repented. But Byul, on the contrary, just beams at her.

"It's OK, I was planning to spend time alone watching Netflix. I can do that with you, which is far better," she grins and Yongsun follows suit.

"You can use my account any time you want," she offers, her chopsticks filled with meat that she hands to Byul.

Falling in sync with Byul comes so easily to her that Yongsun doesn't even notice. She finds her in the kitchen, making coffee the next day, excusing herself for taking such a liberty.

"I'm bad at cooking," she admits, shrugging, "but I'm good at brewing coffee," and it must be true because the room smells like coffee beans and Yongsun can only smile at her. And then, she finds Byul sitting next to her while working, asking questions, listening attentively, and it is not bothersome or annoying, it is endearing and entertaining instead despite that Byul insists on taking pictures for her products, revealing what a great photographer she is, with the camera heavy on her neck and the pain blooming on her eyes, but she refuses any help, shakes her hands, shooing Yongsun, promising her that it costs her nothing – that this is a way to thank her for her kindness.

She completes her so naturally, even when Byul is shy and awkward, she is also easy-going and considerate and kind-hearted and Yongsun doesn't notice but there are hollow parts in her that Byul is filling with giggles and smiles and nagging and so much fun. It has been merely a day together but she is already considering her as a friend, discovering all the similitude between them.

Byul follows her around the flat, never leaving her alone, too scared of being on her own – in a strange place, - but Yongsun likes having her, listening to her pouting in discomfort when she moves and her ribs are sore and painful – and how she laughs after that because Yongsun rushes to her, worried. She likes the way Yongsun reacts to all of her antics, how, instead of kicking her out for being annoying she just encourages her – or makes it funnier with her expressive eyes. Yongsun never falls short to entertain Byul, even when she isn’t trying: she is endearing and soft and lovely and Byul likes that side of her very much – likes that she is pretty without make-up, her hair messy, tide up in a bun, how takes all her face when she smiles wide and her eyes spark when she is focused, working hard. She observes her while she is not looking, notices how she acts, how she interacts, how caring and giving she is – how she offers to drive her around, to bathe her or to help her change clothes. Byul has refused any of this, too proud and too ashamed of judging, prying glances, but Yongsun has insisted, has got it her way, has seen everything of Byul’s skin – has caressed with soft fingertips the shape of her tattoos, all the images that she has inked and that are deep and meaningful.

In a blink of an eye, it has been a week since Byul has moved in with her and even Yongsun’s mother is captivated by her. Yongkee runs and plays and barks joyously to get her attention and her rubs and her mother comes over with more food than they can consume in a month, making always sure that Byul is getting stronger, sitting neatly on the bed, blankets tugged, keeping her company. Byul is a charmer, speaking softly and politely and Yongsun can’t blame her mother for falling under her spell – because she is, too. Byul is regaining strength, the scars healed, just a tiny trace of silver on her chin and legs, her bones still puncturing her while breathing but she can manage on her own, doesn’t need Yongsun’s constants attention, her doing her utmost. It has been ten days and Byul feels that her stay has been too long, that it’s time to move on – to take care of herself on her own.

“But you can’t drive!” Yongsun vehemently protests the prospect of behind without Byul already a nightmare. She has got used to her presence so quickly, to her wits and charms and funny remarks and comments, to have her laying on the couch, her camera hanging on her neck, ready to snap a photo. She has taken it for granted, has felt so attached to Byul, she has grown deep in her, like blooming flowers, like a spring day; it is cruel to let her depart, to refuse the warmness that she irradiates, to fill the flat with nothing but silence again. She doesn't desire to, can't do it, too - she doesn't want Byul to turn into a mere beautiful memory. 

Byul has good reasons to want to go – not only that she considers herself an intruder, a nuisance, a bother to Yongsun’s life, who has accepted her despite better judgement, despite her being loud and annoying and troublesome. She knows how difficult she has been to Yongsun, demanding and exploitive, a little brat manipulating her, making fun out of her, and ten days are more than enough – she doesn’t want to torment Yongsun any more, though she will miss all that she is and she means, all the reasons she has put inside her chest. She has been abusing Yongsun’s kindness, she has fallen for her naturally, gradually with the passing hours pressed together, seeing her, listening to her singing, softly matching with the song of her heart. It is infeasible to not love Yongsun - too good, too wonderful, an angel without wings,- but she is also aware of how impossible it is for Yongsun to love her, so she better disappear, moves on and forget.

“I know,” she proclaims, exalted, “but you are driving me crazy,” she shouts, shivering. She doesn’t elaborate – she doesn’t have to, it is crystal clear, even Yongsun can see. Byul hasn’t meant to say it aloud but just to cut up Yongsun’s opposition, any argument and reason coming to convince her to stay.

“And I’ll be madly worried without you around!” Yongsun replies, as fierce as her. “Who is going to annoy me, follow me like Yongkee? Who is going to unclog the toilet or fix my computer? I need you, Byul, I need you with me. Healed or not, I’m not letting you go,” she says, adamantly, stubbornly, fierce. 

“But I am nothing but a bother,” Byul tries to reason but Yongsun is shaking her hair, long strips of wavy darkness flipping around.

“Exactly. You are a bother. But I like being bothered,” she explains, making her point clear. “I like being bothered by you,” she recognises, with a defiant, resolved tone on her voice that resonates across the room - and that sounds final to Byul. 

“Are you crazy?” Byul worries, blinking at her in confusion. From all the possible confessions, this is the weirdest one, the most unexpected – and, yet, it has her heart beating fast and furious, elevated with the meaning behind Yongsun’s words, feeling that they are in sync even on that field, that they have fallen together in love like two pairs of leaves swirling on the chill air of an autumn night. She has always admired Yongsun determination, her patience, her dedication to all that matters - and she has poured it all on her, has been by her side, her fingers crawling on her back, supporting her, helping her when the pain was too great to pretend, to mask it with a smile. 

“Yes, crazy over you,” she admits, angrily, disturbed. “Why am I even arguing with you?” she wonders, her voice grounded, giving up, heaving breathlessly. 

“Yes, this is stupid,” Byul has to agree. This is pointless: in the end, they both want the same.

“Right, I want you around for the same reason you don’t want me around. Because we like each other,” she concedes, now chuckling. “I like you,” she repeats, sternly, her hand around Byul’s wrist, holding her still, “and I know that you think it is not possible, but I do. You are annoying, but also the nicest person I’ve ever known, kind and sincere and helpful. You don’t mind that I’m always bubbling with energy, buzzing, always doing things: you just follow me, adjust to my taste. You are wonderful and precious and charming. You have my mother around your fingers, how would I resist?” she explains, smirking, fingers tripping over her forearm, travelling up, doodling lazily over the draws that Byul already has. 

“If you can put up with my antics, maybe I can stay,” Byul suggests, giggling, a beautiful grin spreading all over her face and she has never appeared more precious to Yongsun than right in this moment, her eyes alive, gleaming with the force of thousands of fireworks exploding inside of her heart. 

“Of course I can,” Yongsun promises, caressing the curb of her chin, drawing the lines of silver, pale scares she has caused, inflicted on her by an accident that put them together, that is the cause of this all. Byul’s eyes are closed and Yongsun is so near, she can count the thumbs of her chest approaching, feel her breathe on top of hers. Yongsun is very careful when her hands creep back to Byul’s hips, slowly pushing her in, lips tempting, savouring the air and the inches separating them. “You are so, so damn beautiful, Moon Byul, that you keep on  driving me crazy.”