Min Ju

His notebook was exactly how I remembered it-bulging pages, his name written in miniscule print on the front cover, and paper clips poking out here and there. Eunkwang hopped up and sat next to me, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and brought me closer to him. He put the book in front of us. He looked at me with a smile. “Open it.” I touched the front cover and ran a finger over his name, stalling. I was scared to open it, I had opened it before without his permission, and it wouldn’t feel right if I did it again. When I lingered a bit too long on the front cover, Eunkwang put his hand over mine. I looked at him with surprise, but he was looking down at the notebook. We opened it together, to the first page.

            I was flipping through entries, reading them fully through every so often. Pictures that were tapped and paper-clipped to the pages serves as sort of muse for some entries; those pieces were centered completely around the image. Other pictures were simply there, of course they looked nice but they weren’t even mentioned or hinted at in what he wrote. Eunkwang was really introspective in his writing. In most of the things he wrote, it seemed like he was trying to use one metaphor throughout the one piece, like he had a real liking to extended metaphor

“Eunkwang-ah you’re a fantastic writer.” I told him, not looking up from the journal.  He laughed somewhat nervously.

“Gomawo.”

“I never would have expected this kind of material from you.” I revealed, still flipping through the well-worn pages.

“Yah!”

“Wae?” I asked, still not looking up at him.

“That’s mean.”

“That depends entirely on your perspective.” I replied, not at all apologetic. He laughed.

“True.”

“You said you wanted no secrets, right?”

“Also true. Did you think I wasn’t capable of producing such genius?” Don’t get me wrong, I really like Eunkwang and all, but I really wasn’t expecting that kind of vocabulary to come from his lips, his supple looking lips that did actually feel really soft.  I finally lifted my head up to look at his face. “Well, you just didn’t seem like the kind of person who would come up with this stuff.”

He put his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I am insulted.” I smiled slightly.

“Don’t be.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be offended, because it was all your fault.”

“I know.”

“Well, aren’t you just a little-miss-smarty-pants.” I gave a taunt laugh.

“If that’s what you prefer to call it, then I suppose so.”

“Just so we’re on the same page, why do you think you’re the one at fault?”

“I hardly knew you. It was just me drawing conclusions from previous observation. I shouldn’t have judged you with such little basis.” I stopped to draw a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Eunkwang POV

“I accept thine apology.”

“You are too gracious, sir.”

“I know. In exchange for my generosity, I ask for your journal.”

“For what purpose, dear, kind sir?”

“To read, milady, what else?”

“Thou doth realize that asking for mine own journal in exchange for thine acceptance of my apology maketh you, not generous but a bargainer?”

“I do realize this. Hand it over milday.”

“As long as you understand the implications, but of course.” She put the journal directly in my hand. The blue front was COVERED in swirls and detailed patters in black ink. In the bottom left corner, Min Ju had written her name in fancy script, which had obviously taken a good amount of time to get just right.

“This is the same item that you were searching for like a madman?” I asked, wanting her confirmation, even though I was sure it was

“Correct.” She replied with a firm nod. The pages curved and bent to the indentation of the letters that gave way to words contained in pieces that ranged from two to five pages long. Everything was written in black ink. No variation in colors or highlighting or markers or color pencils or crayon marks, it didn’t even look like there were and White-Out streaks in her, what looked like, one million pages of handwritten production. Any mistake she made was simply crossed out by a single horizontal line and left as if to remind her of any slip ups. The way she wrote seemed whimsical, she seemed to find complex and philosophic meaning and beauty in even the simple things, even the things that wouldn’t usually be seen as appealing in any aspect. She could probably write about a textbook and make it seem like the most exciting thing in whole world. I can’t believe we’ve been in the same class for years and have hardly ever talked. Min Ju is amazing.