O1. An Exchanging of Words

Caricatures of Intimacy

So...yeah, I think I gave everyone more than enough time to get their thoughts together and their votes in. To the people who've been anticipating it, I'm super sorry for the uber lateness. School, well that along with some emotional, family, and friend issues, have kept me away but now I'm finally back with what everyone's been waiting for. That's right, the winner of the poll, although interpreted somewhat differently than might've been expected, is finally ready to be unveiled. Since it took me forever (and i do mean FOREVER) to write, especially considering I wrote most of it in one sitting weeks ago and kinda procrastinated on coming back to finish it (yeah, unfortunately for my readers, i tend to do that a lot -insert sweatdrop-), I'm somewhat proud of it and I really hope you'll enjoy it.

So, without further ado, here's what everyone (or mayb the few ppl who may still take notice) has been waiting for.

Hopefully it'll have been somewhat worth the anticipation and, looking back, it would preobably make a pretty good one-shot too, so let's just look at this as a win-win, neh? ( ^ _ ^ )

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oo1. An Exchanging of Words

            I stared at the girl in the white wedding dress, watching as she stared back at me. Her makeup was magnificent, her dress beyond compare, her hair styled in the most elegant of fashions, and yet the image was still incomplete. In this beautiful, almost picturesque display, a couple of things were missing – two things that were both obvious and inconspicuous in this picture-perfect puzzle.

            The missing pieces were the warmth in her eyes and the smile on her face.

            She stood in place, gazing back at me in her glamorous gown and alluring accessories, looking like one of the most beautiful girls in the world, and yet she had the most hopeless expression in her eyes. It was almost as if her pupils were dancing in despair, her iris’ glazed in gloom, and her eyelashes masked in misery. Her lips, only a few centimeters lower, sat in a solemn and anxious line filled with words left unsaid.

            For a second I began to wonder why she looked so unhappy. I mean, no source of sadness could justify this type of depression on a girl’s wedding day, right? But then, as I unconsciously reached forward to sweep back a few strands of hair that had come loose from the bang resting casually over her right eye, my fingers were met with a cold surface. I instantly flinched, my hand recoiling at the unexpected contact, and took a step backwards.

            It was then that I realized my mistake.

            The girl standing before me was surrounded by an embellished silver frame that went from a few inches above the top of her head to the floor beneath her feet, the full train of her dress lying just outside of the border and out of view. The shocked look on my face from our seconds of contact was also reflected on hers, and as I covered my mouth in shocked comprehension she did the same.

            I knew this girl looked familiar. I could feel the connection between us growing the more I looked at her face. What I hadn’t recognized until now, however, was that this whole time I’d been staring into a mirror.

            This girl was me.

            Once the realization that she only served as reflection of myself finally hit me, a startled gasp forced its way from my lips and tears fell from my eyes, slowly making their way from the rims and branches of my eyelashes over the hills of my cheeks and into the crevices of the hands that now cupped my nose and mouth to filter out the sound of the rest of my agonized gasps.

            This was not the dress I’d wanted,

            This was not the ceremony I’d envisioned,

            And this was not the man I’d wished to marry.

            This was not my wedding, and yet here I was backing away from the full-length mirror I’d been staring into and sitting at my makeup stand, crying with a complete and utter disregard for the woman who’d worked so hard to make me beautiful. This was like a nightmare, only real, and there was no escaping it.

            I guess I didn’t do a good job of muting my sobs because moments later I heard a soft knocking on my door and remembered where I was: the back room of a small private chapel. Our fathers, as in mine and the groom’s, had opted for a very small and inconspicuous ceremony with only a few family members and very close family friends, those “friends” being business associates, as the guests — yet another thing that I hadn’t agreed to. When I didn’t immediately respond to the knocks, the door soon opened and in walked the woman who’d been put in charge of my appearance: my one and only favorite female cousin, Park Sandara, more commonly known as Sandy by others and Dara by me.

            I hadn’t looked at her or acknowledged her entry for fear of what she’d say when she realized I might’ve just cried 30 to 45 minutes of makeup away in seconds, but the moment I felt the soft hand rubbing my back in circles I knew it didn’t matter.

            “It’s okay,” she said in a soft voice. “Just let it all out.”

            And so I did as I was told and cried for the first time since I’d found out that this tainted matrimony would come to pass with or without my consent. I cried for what was probably two or three hours with Dara by my side to hug and console me throughout, only relenting her comfort once to signal someone, probably my mother, that I wasn’t quite ready to take the plunge just yet. However, when I had finally finished, it was no longer mid-morning — the sun was no longer as high in the sky as it had been before. I soon pulled away from my cousin and stood up, walking into the small bathroom at the side of the room once to wash my face before returning  and sitting back in place at the makeup stand. We were silent for a few moments as I gazed straight ahead unseeingly and she gazed at me, a look of concern lining her sharp features.

            “Are you okay?” her voice was cautious and careful as she slowly began organizing her materials again, fully prepared to make me just as beautiful as I’d been before my breakdown.

            I nodded once and sat up straight, preparing myself for the pulls, pushes, tickles, and slight discomforts that usually came with the application of makeup. When they never came, I looked up to find hesitation in Dara’s eyes. She instantly answered the question lingering in mine.

            “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she began shakily, placing her tools of choice back onto the table as she knelt in front of me and placed her hands comfortingly on my knees before continuing, “If you want, we can just run away right now. I’ll hide you at my place or, better yet, with my parents. They’ll definitely understand. If we explain it to them, I know they wi---”

            “Sandara,” I calmly cut her off right there and, for a second, found it amazing how I’d managed to silence her completely just by saying her full first name. It was almost as if I was the unnie and she was the dongsaeng. “How long do you think you could get away with it —stashing me away like some forbidden secret — before my father figured it out and came to get me? Do you know how furious he’d be? And your poor parents, they’d just get dragged in too.”

            She stayed silent as slowly the possible consequences of her idea began to sink in. After a moment or two I continued, only to be cut off.

            “Besides, it’s alright. I’m fine wit---”

            “You’re wrong!” I looked at her with eyes widened in surprise. This was the most vocal she’d ever been to me about the farce that was about to take place, and I couldn’t help feeling as though our roles were suddenly being reversed. “It’s not alright, and you’re not fine!”

            I stayed quiet as she suddenly clutched my hands before continuing, squeezing them in a sort of comforting understanding as she spoke.

            “Bommie, I know you,” her voice was filled with kindness and good intentions, but the piercing look in her eyes paired with her next few words sent a small shiver down my spine. “If you do this, little-by-little, slowly yet surely, you will die inside.”

            I closed my eyes and took a deep and even breath before slowly nodding my head in agreement.

            “You’re probably right.” As I looked her in the eyes she seemed somewhat surprised that I had agreed with her so easily. “I probably will find myself dying more and more each and every single day that I’m a part of this marriage...”

            As my voice trailed off, she continued to keep a comforting grip on my hands and I saw the faintest glimmer of hope spark in her eyes.

             “...but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

             I felt guilty knowing that I was the one who’d made that glimmer disappear. Just like that the spark was gone, extinguished by waves and waves of disappointment. Dara had always been like a cross between an older sister and a guardian angel to me, so the weight of my words and blatant disregard for her attempts at protecting me hit her like a ton of bricks. I watched her as she slowly let go of my hands and stood up, wiping gingerly at the corners of her eyes to keep whatever signs of moisture at bay as she took in and let out one last deep breath before speaking again.

             “I know. It’s for your parents, right?” her tone was calm, understanding even, as she gave me a warm smile, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, since you’re so set on doing this, the least I can do is make sure you look good while you do it.”

             And with that she picked up her tools and began applying my makeup once again, this time with no conversation, no distractions, and no interruptions. We sat in a comfortable, almost trance-like silence as an unspoken ritual took place. It’s weird, the bond that forms between two girls over the application of beautification products. In the minutes she took to shadow my eyes, blush my cheeks, gloss my lips, repair my hair, and whatever else she did to me, I felt like we were closer than we’d been in months. After all, I’d been barred from using my phone or computer and leaving the house unaccompanied during the month or so of marriage preparations, so I hadn’t had a way to get in touch with her, making her the very last person to know about the arrangement. In fact, she’d just barely been able to book a flight back into the country in time to even make it to the ceremony, much less squeeze in more than a minute of girl time at a time.

             “Finished,” she announced after a few moments, her tone flat as she gave her work one last visual assessment before beginning to pack away her various brushes, curlers, liners, sticks, and whatever else it was she kept in her bottomless pit of a makeup bag.

             I nodded and tried to smile at her and she attempted to return the gesture, however, we both knew the smiles we gave and were given were counterfeit. We had already accurately estimated that, though our lips curled upwards at the corners, no feelings of warmth or joy or happiness were radiated.

             It was all just an act.

             “Thank you,” the words escaped my lips as I stood and gave Dara a hug, one that she happily accepted. “Thank you so much for everything.”

             “It’s nothing,” she responded with a hint of a smile lining her voice. “You’re my sister and I’ll always be there for you.”

             With a nod and another exchanging of falsified smiles, we both found ourselves still initiated in the hug as we glanced anxiously at the door in a terrified sort of silence together. It may have been just the simple result of a carpenter and some oak or mahogany crossing paths, but beyond it stood forever. Beyond that door stood the future and, although I now looked at it with indifference, I could feel Dara shaking ever-so-slightly in my arms.

             “Well,” she spoke up finally as we let each other go. “It’s about that time, isn’t it?”

             I nodded and she took shaky steps toward that door, steps that slowly gained confidence the closer she got before she stopped and rested her hand on the cool brass knob.

             “I’ll be waiting for you,” she said as she turned slightly to look back at me with a faint smile, “Waiting on the other side.”

             With that she opened the door and, in a fluid sort of sweeping motion, left the room.

             I took a short breath before walking toward the door myself and, as I left the room, I once again found myself looking into the mirror at the girl from before, the girl who stared back, and was minimally surprised with what I found. She was still beautiful, still picture-perfect in almost every single way, but her face was different somehow. Her eyes no longer held emotions of any sort, they were simply lined with listlessness, and was no longer anxious.

             After all, it really only had two words left to say.

 

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So...umm...how was it?

Was it anything like what you expected? Did you like the angle I took with it? What about the imagery? Could you picture it all clearly? Was it disappointing? Did you hate it? Did you like it? Idk, now that I'm finally presenting it to you all I feel incredibly nervous, lol! Please let me know what you think through a comment or something. Really, I'll appreciate anything from compliments and criticisms to suggestions and ideas. Anything you have to offer will be serious read and cherished because usually I don't get too much feedback from my users. Most just end up being silent readers and, while I do appreciate them stumbling upon my story, it'd be nice to get an "I like this" or "I hate that" or "Please update soon", or even just a simple "Hi!" or something along those lines from them every now and then.

So thanks for reading this and, to the 12 subscribers who stayed with me long enough to notice this (i really do love u guys! XD), thanks for waiting for forever for this. And please, if it's not too much trouble, let me know what you think. 

Believe it or not... "Your insight gives me reason to write." - kudos to Apani B for the awesome lyrical quote

Thanks, and stay safe!

[ - ] DoMeSi

p.s. During my extremely long hiatus from this story & all my other chaptered fics, I think a few of you will be happy to find that I wasn't just lazing around and sleeping in various random locations the entire time (it was only a quarter, thank u very much xD ). I wrote a one-shot out of boredom and posted it up a few days ago, so mayb we can treat that as sort of an apology piece for taking so long to start..? Anyways, the link is below and I hope it slightly makes up for everything.  ( ^ _ ^ )

http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/99903/

 

(C) DoMeSi. November 19, 2011. Edited February 23, 2011.

 

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Comments

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annabelle7
#1
Chapter 2: Never thought of this unique pairing before.... lookin forward to your update
DoMeSi
#2
Omg, I forget to log back in for a week and end up w/ 5 new subscribers & 4 new comments? YAY!!! <br />
<br />
@rawr6127 <br />
Umm...that's a good thing, right? LOL, thanks =D <br />
<br />
@CornBomster<br />
I love how the pressing of random keys is a good thing, lol! & thanks, the love is definitely appreciated! (^_^) <br />
I remembered reading something where they were referred to as the Park Sisters, so I kinda took some ideas from that. <br />
<br />
@bommielove<br />
Aww, thanks! XD <br />
I think I mentioned somewhere b4 who he was, but don't worry. He'll b showing up soon. <br />
I'm actually really curious about how readers will react to this coupling, so make sure u let me know.
bommielove
#3
i love ur writingg XDD curious to know who's bommie husband o.o
CornBomster
#4
Hddssbdb i love you so much! Haha! Well written! Dara and Bom <3 truly like sisters! Update soon!
Generalchan
#5
Woah ^^
kyuhyunlover #6
the first chapter was good! please update soon!<br />
yeppuda #7
hope u update soon!!
kawaii18 #8
hey hope u still continue writing this story!
yeppuda #9
hope u still continue writing ur story..pls!
SmilePhoMe
#10
Its been a month already . Your story seems interesting ! Please update ASAP ! <3