성재: Seeing Se Na happy, honestly, is like one of my favorite things in the world.

Now perhaps you’re going to say I’m already very much in-love with her, but believe me, in-love or not, that’s not what matters. When people hear stories about best friends not of the same gender they instantly plug in malice in the matter and say, “It’s only a matter of time before they realize they’re in-love with one another,” or “He/she obviously likes him/her.” I’d like to correct you of that. That’s not always the case. Not everyone’s love story is Reply 1997 with all its colors and drama. I’m not saying I don’t love her—I love her more than anyone would ever do, and, though more than I would care to admit I imagine my future with her, what I’m concerned about right now is her welfare, especially that I’ve made it my duty to be her guardian and brother, and number one caretaker.

Which is why I took so much offense when I discovered it.

I think the bad feeling started about three days before Christmas. Se Na, being in one of her “maniac moods” again (they’re rarely ever seen, but it takes a long time before she gets over it), badgered Eunkwang-hyung to teach her how to play the piano. When we were kids she once ventured into learning it, but I suppose it didn’t awaken her interest much back then, so she stopped eventually. Now here she was several years later, asking one of my members to give her tutorial lessons on how to do it.

“Well, I’d love to, dear, but I’m kind of busy with something. What about your Hyunsik-oppa?” hyung replied then.

“Eh, I like oppa, but, well...let’s just say I want to…spend time with Eungka-oppa?” she batted her eyes at him charmingly, the aegyo of which would instantly coerce anyone who’d see.

Hyung sighed. “Alright, child.” While ruffling her head in a somewhat (adorably) irritated manner.

“Great! We’ll start tomorrow, if it’s okay?”

“Sure. Afternoon.”

And that’s how it was like. The next day when I was in one of the practice rooms I found several music sheets lying on the floor. “But shouldn’t they start with the basics?” mumbled I. Picking them up, I read that the title was Yiruma’s If I Could See You Again.

I don’t know why, but all of a sudden I felt so much discomfort coming from mere sheets of paper. I had this sickening gut feeling that I immediately put it back on the keyboard’s little shelf, where it should be.

As much as I want to say I ignored that, I didn’t. Wasn’t able to. I’m not one that often broods over bothering matters for days on end, but when I do, something must be really the matter. Like it keeps me alert for something that’s about to come, though what shape the imminent situation would be in I know not. The night after Hyung and Se Na’s tutorial lessons, I asked Hyung about why Se Na had this sudden passion for playing the instrument.

“I don’t know, really, but she told me she wants to muster an ‘interesting piece.’ It’s good, though, aren’t you happy about it?”

“I am,” I smiled, though there was still that portion in my gut that spent half the sense there was some odd—no, dark foundation of this. But as I convinced myself that this is what keeps Se Na’s mind off of a few stressful things (like her occasional writer’s block in writing The Lunch Box), eventually, I managed to let it go. Or maybe the feeling just managed to hide somewhere within me, because I denied it so well I fooled myself into believing this was something innocuous.

The days pulled through, and on Christmas day I gave Se Na the thing she wanted.

“Alright, I’m giving it to you, but you’ll have to come with me,” I giggled, and presented a black handkerchief. The party that Se Na herself organized continued to rage on in the background. Everyone was having a splendid time, thanks to Se Na’s thoughtfulness.

Se Na scratched her cheek. “Is it a car, or something? You could just give it to me.”

“Can’t we be cool for just once? Just once. Once. Okay? Please. Once. Once.”

“Pfft, fine.” And I blindfolded her then, and slowly led her to one of the practice rooms, where the gift was. I planned to give it to her earlier that day, but we had no time as we had to head to the studios early.

Holding her hand, I led her to one of the rooms where her gift was. I stopped in front of the little cage, and untied the blindfold. “You can look now.”

Se Na opened her eyes, and I saw her face change from an expression of confusion, then to curiosity, to delight. She let out an audible gasp, hearing the purr coming from it. Stooping down, she opened the gift, and raised in the air the orange cat. “JAEEEEE! T-this is awesome!!!”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? Are you kidding me? This is more than what I could ask for! You’re the best, Yook Sungjae!!!”

I made a face out of flattery. “What’re you going to name it?”

Here she spent a moment of silence, in cogitation. Holding out her arms and putting the cat on the space beside me, as if comparing two picture-frames, she said, “Would it bother you if I named this after you?”

“What, it looks like me that much?”

“Why, yes.”

“I’m obviously cuter than that—”

The cat purred, making Se Na laugh. “Someone here in the room disagrees,”

Like owner, like pet. I huffed. “I don’t really mind, though. Name it Sungjae, then. It’s yours, anyway,”

“Correction,” Se Na steps closer to me, hugging the chubby cat. “Ours.” And when she raised her head to meet my eyes, she said it with so much ease and confidence that I believed on the spot.

Feel free to wonder how wonderful it is to be Se Na’s best friend.

 It’s like investing in a bank without investing anything at all, yet you get so many benefits. Well, if that makes any sense. Certainly, though, it feels much like that.

“Can’t you just call that ‘Fat Sungjae,’ though? Sungjae’s a little too close.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Fat Sungjae. I like that. Hey buddy, I’m Se Na, your owner,” she played with the munchkin’s one paw. “And this guy right here—” she smiled at me, “Is your other owner. Be a good boy, okay?”

I snickered. “You know how disturbing it’d be if that thing talked back?”

“He’s probably going to sass you, first thing.”

“Why you little—”

“—Love ya, Jae.” accompanied by a peck on the cheek, happening in the speed of light. It was so sudden, too quick; it caught me off-guard; I actually yelped.

After spending a few stupid seconds in shock, I grinned back at her and pinched her cheek. “Aw, love you too.”

And then there it was: I saw it there, but only for just a very short second, but I was sure. I know Se Na all too well. There was a gleam of sad look in her eyes. You would say I was just imagining things—I’m hoping that I was just, actually—but I knew it. Really. I’ve looked into her eyes for years and years and even when we were separated for a long time I could still distinguish what she was feeling just by looking into those hazel brown orbs.

I felt a pang of pain in my chest, just before she hooked her arm around mine and invited, “Come on, let’s go back in.”

It weighed upon me, and what was more bothering than that is that I didn’t know how to remedy it.

When we came back, they were having games, and were having a grand time, they forgot to remember the one who organized this party. As soon as we entered the room, Minhyuk-hyung grabbed me and exclaimed, with a face full of relief and panic, “Come on! Or we’re gonna lose!”

I don’t think we’re too old to play charades.

As midnight struck everyone was exchanging hugs and kisses and greeting one another a Merry Christmas. The greatest surprise was that President Hong dropped a visit—really, Se Na went to such lengths. That girl’s really something.

Then it hit me: where was Se Na? I looked around the room, and I found Fat Sungjae’s container on one corner, and with the animal inside. How long has it been since we came back in?

“Hyung, have you seen Se Na?” I held Peniel-hyung by the shoulder and whispered to him.

He gave me a concerned look. “What do you mean ‘where is she,’ wasn’t she with you a while ago?”

“Yes, she was. But she’s not here anymore.”

“Well then. May be she just went outside…” then he stared at me, like there was something on my face. “Sungjae, you don’t look so well.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

Hyung saying that out loud just made it more real. There really was something wrong, then, if I couldn’t control the contortions of my face. “Nothing. I’ll go look for her.”

It took me almost ten minutes to find her. I searched and searched inside, from the practice rooms down to the Cube Café, but in the end she was just outside the building, sitting on the stairs near the fire exit, exactly.

I confirmed it when I heard loud sniffing.

“Se Na? Is that you?” I said cautiously. It’s really frigid here, with snowflakes slowly descending.

No one answered. Just sniffing.

“Hey.” I had to use the light of my phone to make my way there. There was the redhead with her head cast down, her purple hood with cat ears on it covering her head. “Hey, Se Na.” carefully, I approached, and put an arm around her shoulders.

Se Na cries just like anybody else. The mewling, the great tears coming down one by one—the whole nine. But what made her cries different is their effect on me. It was unnerving; even the word unnerving put it mildly. She doesn’t cry unless for a very great affliction.

“Why are you crying, Se Na?”

“Oh, Jae, it’s you…” she muttered, wiping her face with the back of her hand before looking up.

“Yeah…what’s wrong?” I swallowed.

“Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to be alone and…you know, ‘weep a little weep,’” She sniffed. Her nose is clogged.

I don’t know if it was befitting to the occasion, but I felt nervous. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you’re weeping over, though? You know you can always tell me everything.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Se Na.”

The next time she met my eyes, I suddenly regret having asked that. It was like getting a glimpse of a territory I knew that existed, but never even dared ready myself for it. She was like that for a very long while—quiet, unnerving, disconcerting. A small snowflake gently lands onto her hood. Then another. And another.

 “I’m sorry.” She whispers, after the silence. I could swear tears filled her eyes a second before she looked away, and covered . “I’m really sorry, Jae. I’m really, really sorry,” Then she stood, and I found no strength to stop her. Here she was, breaking quietly into a thousand pieces and all I could do was watch, trying to figure out in my pathetic way what could cause her this sorrow. Call me overreacting or over-imaginative, but if you were me, with that sickeningly grave feeling piercing into your heart, like icicles; and a sinking sensation in your gut—it’d be enough for you to know that your best friend as you’ve always known her has been changed.

For the first time, in a matter about Se Na, I felt completely helpless: like she’s deliberately stepped across a gap, into a place where she knew I could never follow.

My mouth felt dry.

“I’m just…not feeling well. I’ll head home now.” And before she walked off she bid, “Merry Christmas.”

Then it came home to me, with a chill: she didn’t want to tell me.

--

It was only two days later when I saw her again. The very moment it was announced that we would see her for the day I immediately resolved to settle it with her: what she cried about on Christmas, because I was pretty sure she wouldn’t cry just over “not feeling well.” But the very moment I saw her walk through the door, my resolution crumbled. She was high in spirits; she was feeling alright with a radiance I don’t know if she was just faking, or genuine; she was in a good mood, in general.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I forgot to pick up Fat Sungjae the last time,” she said to me. “Thank you for telling Minhyuk-oppa to drop it by.”

“Sure thing,” then she walked off before I could ask her what she cried about.

And now as I stand here, reading this piece of paper, I completely understand. My lower lip trembles, and the urge to crumple this paper wants to take over. It makes sense now. It’s like watching the pieces of a puzzle fall onto their proper places one by one.

Se Na was keeping a secret from me.

My phone rings.

“Jae, where are you?” it’s Se Na.

“I’m at…at your home.” I answer, miraculously doing so.

“How are you there? Oh, right. You know the passcode,” she huffs, and chuckles. “Duh. Alright, I’ll be there in a jiffy. I’m on my way,”

I put down the phone without even saying bye. I realize that I’m shaking.

--

“What’s up, I brought tacos—” is hung mid-air, seeing where I stand. She spends a moment eyeing the empty brown envelope on the bed, and the paper I’m holding.

I stare back.

Se Na drops the bag in her hold, probably spoiling the tacos in the process, and power-walks towards me. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” she snatches the paper from my hand.

It’s been there this entire while, ever since I read what’s written on the medical diagnosis. But I didn’t know what it was, until this moment. Anger. “When was I supposed to see it, then?” I bite back a profanity.

“Sungjae, I can explain.”

“Don’t you ‘I can explain’ me. Se Na what the hell is this? This—” I yank the paper from her hold, and crumple it. “Se Na, you’re sick! And not just any sick—it’s a terrible disease!” and my throat tightens, without my permission. Something clouds my sight. “Don’t think I don’t know what this means!”

Her voice trembles. Her face is red with what I think is shame, shock, and humiliation. “Look, I did it for your own good!”

“For my good, Se Na? For my own good?” losing it finally, I seize her by the shoulders and shake her. “Does ‘for my good’ mean making me look like a fool? When did you plan you’d tell me? When your name’s already on a tombstone?” Screw this, I’m crying.

“J-jae, y-you’re hurting me.”

 “Haven’t I told you before that you tell me everything? Even what you feel? I know everyone can keep secrets, but this is one you ought to tell me! Why were you so worried about me? You’re not the one who should be concerned here: you’re the one I should be concerned about! I wasn’t going to hate you if you were sick—I would hate it if you lied to me!”

“If I told you any sooner, you’d react just the same! Just look at what you’re doing right now—you—you’re overreacting!”

 Gasping, I feel like I’ve just been stabbed. “Overreacting?”

She bites her lip.

I haul my bag and coat from the table, and walk out. “At least someone cares, Se Na.”

--

Later at home Ilhoon-hyung and I get into a fight. What’s so wrong in being angry? As a matter of fact they themselves betray me, and now hyung even has the nerve to be mad? I’m the victim here for crying out loud!

Only Peniel-hyung approaches me after the high-worded exchange. And so I sleep, for that night, having trouble in getting some actually because I’m crying out of rage.

The next day we are summoned for a meeting about The Lunch Box. Se Na attends, of course, but I can’t even look at her. I’m not just mad, alright; I feel betrayed, disgusted, and altogether bitter about this matter. She can’t expect me to forgive it that easily.

“The shooting will resume on the 3^rd of January,” the director says. Here Minhyuk-hyung, who is on my right, elbows me.

“Sungjae-goon.”

“What?”

“You know…if we’re going to film The Lunch Box again soon, it’d be better if you two make up.”

I shoot him an irritated look. “Why don’t you ask her about that?”

My hyungs ever rarely see the asperity of my personality, they almost believe I don’t have such side. Here I could see hyung being so suddenly stunned, that he chooses to toss away the topic. “Never mind, never mind.”

We troop out of the room after the meeting. When we’re walking to one of the office’s rooms, I feel something tap my shoulder.

I glance.

“Can we talk?”

“Save it.” I say, and jerk my shoulder to shake her hand off, because I’m still disgusted. Overreacting or whatever, I don’t care. If Se Na can have her temper, why can’t I? “That paper pretty much explained everything,”

I don’t dare look back as I walk forth, but I know they gather round her, and I hear Minhyuk-hyung whisper, “Let him be. Give him some space for a while.”

as promised! sorry it's a lil' late. how'd you like it? please tell me what you think!

merry christmas and a happy new year!!

-b