purple is you ;
Dear, October
October comes every year.
And every October, I would always be reminded of you.
October, 2003
I was 12 years old when she came into my life.
She was introduced to me, as the new member of the Taekwondo club. Her name was Yoon Bomi. Bomi was two years younger than me. She was bubbly, boisterous, talkative (sometimes she just talked too much), annoying and not forgotten – she was a bit embarrassing at times too. She was clumsy, sort of timid, but mind you, that girl could break pieces of boards with only a single punch. She was sort of amazing, in my eyes.
“Howon, today, Bomi is going to be your sparring partner.” The coach said, leaving me with my eyes widened. I never had a girl as my sparring partner. I was a gentleman (or at least I thought so), I would never even dare to flick a finger to a girl.
But this girl was feisty. She flew no-joked kicks on the punching bag that I was holding. She kicked once, twice and the third time she kicked, it made me budged. Then, coach instructed her to practice her spinning hook kick, and that was practically the start of everything.
I held the hook bag as levelled as my face was. According to the theory, a person should spin about 180 degrees before lifting up their kicking leg as in the motion of a hook, which explained why; it was called as a hook kick technique. Since I’ve been keeping an eye on her, I knew that she was pretty skilful with her techniques, and she was indeed, one of the best Taekwondo students, that the club had.
She got in her fighting stance; she howled her kiah shouts, spun around and unleashed her dragon-liked hook kick. The very next thing I knew, the strong kick landed on my face, and I was down on my knees, clasping my right hand to my right cheek. The humiliation that it gave me was truthfully, much painful, than the kick on my face, or perhaps – my pride was hurt.
She was a girl and I was a boy. And I got beaten by a girl.
October, 2012
“Lee Howon?” The sudden voice of the nurse awakened me from my long thoughts.
“You may come in now, the doctor is waiting.”
I gave her a slight nod. It wasn’t my first time seeing her either.
October, 2004.
“Can you be my oppa?” She blurted out one evening to me, while we were having a short break from our Taekwondo’s sparring routines.
I was slightly taken aback. I darted my eyes on her, and folded my arms over my chest. “But I am already your oppa. I am two years older than you, kiddo.” I said.
After the kicking incident, for some reasons, we grew closer. I became more than just her sparring partner, and I sort of became her shoulder to cry on. Bomi was the only child in her family, and I was the younger son in my family. I never had a sister, and she never had a brother.
“Fine. I will be your oppa.” I said, as I watched how the curve of her lips, slowly turned into a pout. She was getting sulky, I reckoned.
“Really? You would be my oppa, oppa?” It didn’t take a second for her eyes to glitter.
“Yes, but with one condition. From now on, you are obligated to call me, Hoya. Hoya oppa.”
October, 2012.
“Hoya?” He muttered. “How have you been doing lately?”
“I’m fine.” I replied, simply.
“Any recent nightmares?”
I shook my head.
October, 2005.
“Oppa, can you help me with my Maths?” She asked me, blinking her eyes, like a cute puppy. We were doing our school works at the library. The thing about Bomi was if she asked for a help, it literally meant that she was instructing you to do so, and she knew that I wouldn’t say no to her.
“And what would you give me as a return?” I asked.
“I would buy you lots and lots of purple stuffs!” She answered, with a giggle. She knew about my obsession towards purple. In fact, for the past two years in a row, for my birthday, she gave me a purple cap, which I wore to tracks practises every weekend, and last year, she gave me a purple bag pack, which I brought to school everyday. In short, purple and I just couldn’t be separated. Just like Lee Howon and Yoon Bomi.
“Deal. You owe me a purple shirt.”
October, 2012.
He showed me a picture of a colour. My favourite colour. “Do you know what colour is this?” He asked.
“It’s purple.”
“And what do you like about purple?”
“Purple makes me happy. Just like how, she makes me happy.”
October, 2006.
“What is it with you and purple?” She asked me, one day, while we were sipping on our drinks at our favourite hang-out spot during one weekend. She was having her usual, Bubble Tea, and I was having Ice Americano, not exactly my favourite, it was my friend, Sungyeol’s.
“Purple makes me look good.” I said, simply. To be frank, I didn’t have any particular reasons, I just happened to like it, because purple made me happy. Just like how, she made me feel happy.
“But oppa, you look good with any colour.” She replied back.
“I take that as a compliment.” I said.
“But you don’t look good with shorts.” She muttered.
“And you don’t look good with skirts either.” I muttered back.
She stuck out her tongue at me, and I stuck out mine. And then we, just laughed.
October, 2012.
He showed me a picture of me and a girl. I had my arm slung over her shoulder, and she had hers wrapping around my waist. We looked happy. I looked happy.
“Do you remember this girl?” He asked, while pointing towards the girl beside me, in the picture.
I nodded. Slowly, my lips curved into a smile.
October, 2007.
I was 16 years old when I fell in love with her. I never really knew how did falling in love felt like, but what I knew was that I cared for her – a lot, I was constantly worried about her, I wanted to protect her and I always wanted to be with her – even if it was just for a few seconds. They say love makes people do crazy things – and the craziest thing that I’ve ever done for her was to skip school, and to be there right next to her, when she fell in sick, for a couple of days.
I got warning letters from the school too, but I didn’t really care. My parents however did. And they scolded me and decided to ground me for one weekend. I never told them my reason, and that was because I didn’t want them to blame her. So, I lied. I told them that I played truant at the town’s arcade.
“Why did you do that?” She asked me, during one of her visits to my house, when I was grounded.
“Did what?” I pretended to be clueless. But I should’ve known that I’ve always at lying, and she, on the other hand, knew me too well. She was Yoon Bomi, after all.
“Don’t play dumb. You know what you did.” She glared at me, as if I was a criminal.
“If you continue to glare at me like that, I swear your eyeballs would pop out in any minute.” I giggled, trying to crack a joke. But my joke was not well received. She glared at me, even more.
“Alright. Fine. You win.” I said, letting out a sigh. I could never win against her.
“I did that for you. I did that because you were sick, you needed attention, and I did that because I was dead worried about you. Now, happy?”
She apologized afterwards. I apologized too. And we were back to our normal selves.
October, 2012.
“What do you remember about her?”
“Everything.”
October, 2008.
It was the month where I decided to tell her about my feelings for her. I’ve been secretly in love with her for a year now, and hiding it any longer, would only hurt me even more. She needed to know, and I needed answers.
“Bbom-ah, what do you think of me as a guy?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence, as we sat on a bench, overlooking the beach. It was night, and there were only the two of us.
“Hoya oppa is a kind person, a gentleman, manly, good-looking – and the kind of guy who likes purple.”
“What is wrong with my likings towards purple?” I asked.
“Nothing. But purple is kind of gay.” She replied, with a giggle.
“I’m not gay!” I retaliated.
“Then, prove it.”
I took that as a challenge – and as an opportunity in disguise to seize the moment. While she was not looking, I leaned in closer, and planted a kiss on her cheek.
October, 2012.
“Hoya?” He muttered. “Hoya?”
But I was too trapped in my own thoughts; I couldn’t find the voice to reply.
October, 2009.
We began dating on that very October last year. Many people said that we were too young to be in love, but what do people really know about love? Love is pure, love is innocence and love is you.
Hours, days and months passed by, we reached our 1st anniversary, well to be exact; it was our 6th year of being together, if we were to count the day that we became friends. I was sitting on the same bench, overlooking the same beach, the place, where I had confessed all of my feelings for her.
“Where are you?” I asked, on the phone.
“I’ve just finished my dancing lessons. Oppa?”
“I’m at our place. Are you sure you don’t want me to come and pick you up?” I asked again. I was worried about her, since she wasn’t really good with directions. She was sort of absent-minded; in a lot of ways, but that was what I loved about her.
“Nope, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. Don’t worry too much.” She replied me.
“Sure, you are. And you’re getting heavier too.” I .
“Blerrrk!” I could somehow imagine how she would stick her tongue out, even if she was on the phone. I could only giggle.
“Lee Howon, I love you.”
Those were the last words I ever heard from her, ever again. And that day, I waited for a moment that was never coming back to me, ever.
October, 2012.
“Hoya? Can you hear me?” He asked me.
I could feel my sweat dripping from every part of my body. I grabbed the armchair’s leather, gripping it tightly, my lung was about to scream, but I gathered my strength, and fought it back.
The world felt heavy. And my head kept spinning.
October, 2010.
I kicked and I punched. I kicked and I punched, the sandbag, as hard as I could. My knuckles felt weary, but my anger was building. I kicked, I punched, I screamed – and I fell down on both of my knees.
I cried and I bawled, all night long. If only she could hear me right now, she would pull me into her embrace – and I would swear on my whole life that I would never let her go.
But fairy tales only existed in movies, and this was, however, not a movie.
Through all the year, I blamed myself – for everything that happened.
October, 2012.
I woke up from my long scattering thoughts, breathing heavily, as if I was out of breath. The doctor gave me a glass of water; and I finished it, in one gulp.
He then showed me a piece of newspaper article.
“A girl found dead in an alley, was stabbed three times to death.”
I read the title, and my heart pumped even faster. I was trembling, and I felt nauseous. With anger, I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it as far as I could. My sweat was still dripping.
October, 2011.
For the past two years, I lived my life in darkness. I was a walking corpse. My friends tried to reach me, tried to talk to me, but I shoved them away from my life – I was scared of people, I was scared of being happy and I was scared to ever feel alive again.
Life took her away from me. My life was her. Maybe life, should have taken me away too.
Mom? Dad? I love you and I’m sorry.
I swallowed those pills – and I wanted to get over with everything.
They say your whole life flashes before you die, and I swear I could’ve seen all of my life backtracked, from the very moment it began.
October, 2012.
I regained my composure, though my heartbeat was still unstable.
“Do you remember what happened that night?” He asked me again.
I nodded.
October, 2011.
I glanced around at my surroundings. For a second, I thought, I was in hell. But everything was white, dull and somehow peaceful. And a sudden, familiar voice, crept in, giving me the every ounce of life.
She stood in front of me, folding her arms on her chest. She furrowed her ever so beautiful eyes to me. I haven’t seen that for a long while.
“Why did you do that?” She asked.
“Did what?”
“Don’t play dumb, you know what you did.”
“I miss you.” I blurted out, instead. I wanted her to know how much I missed her.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.” She glared at me. Her blazing stares, I wish that stare would stay with me, all day long, all life long.
“I’m sorry.” I said, finally, admitting my faults.
She smiled, and clasped her hands on my cheeks. It felt icy cold. “And I’m sorry too.” She continued. “I’m sorry that I had to leave you this way, oppa.”
I tried to reach for her hands, but all I felt was air. Slowly, her figure began to diminish. I screamed out loud for her name, crying and begging for her not to go, but she kept fading and fading, right in front of my eyes.
“You said that I was your life, so please, live your life well – for me.”
Those were her last words – and then, she disappeared. She was gone, for the second time. It was twice as painful as the last.
I remembered hearing people calling my name, and when I woke up, I saw my parents sat right next to me. They were holding my hands, with teary-eyes. They said, I've been in a coma, for almost three days.
October, 2012.
“Do you remember what happened that night?” He asked.
I clenched my fist. A single tear rolled down on my cheek.
“Yes, I do. She – she saved my life.”
October comes every year.
And every October, I would always be reminded of you.
p.s: 1) Thank you to all of my subscribers & readers. I read all of your comments & I appreciate every single of it :).... 2) I sincerely apologized if this fanfic is not up to its standard :( I'm sorry if it disappoints anyone or wasted your time to read it. I'm sort of new to writing, but I'm trying hard to improve.... 3) Most of my stories do not have a proper poster, it's because I'm extremely at editing posters :/.... 4) I love Homi like a lot, so I'm glad to find people who are on board with me with this ship :)... 5) Last but not least, let me hug all of you readers, ILY <3
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