Time Machine

Oh Hayoung sat in the corner of the cafe and stared out the window. She tapped her manicured nails on the wooden table impatiently and her pink lips formed a pout. The girl's long, caramel brown hair, pale skin, and sharp features brought the attention of the customers.

The bells that hung to the rail of the entrance door rang loudly and a young boy with unruly hair rushed inside the cool, air conditioned building. Sweat beads were trailing down his face and his fringe was damp with sweat. As soon as his eyes caught sight of Hayoung, he smiled widely and plopped himself down on the chair across from her.

Hayoung cringed and pulled out some perfume and a towel. Clearly disgusted, she threw the towel at his face and sprayed the apple scented liquid all over the boy's body, masking the horrible stench wafting through the air.

Although the perfume was a bit strong, everybody was relieved the smell of rotten eggs, two months old laundry, and stinky shoes was gone.

He grinned brightly and a pink lemonade flavored lollipop appeared in his right hand. Hayoung smiled and took the sweet candy and tapped the boys forehead with it lightly. "Don't be late next time." She remarked.

Sungjong pouted and crossed his arms, giving the girl a fake glare. He had only been about ten minutes late, it was nothing to be so mad about, he had figured. Then again, women were a mystery that even the greatest philosopher couldn't figure out.

He stared at the girl, her caramel brown locks laying perfectly on her shoulders. She had cut her hair not long ago. It suited her. At least, he thought it suited her. She smelled like lavender, and it was intoxicating to him. He loved her scent, he loved her soft hair, he loved her.

The sixteen year old sat on the ground in his house, biting his lip in frustration. He stared at the white legal sized paper sitting in front of him. The words in black ink were like gibberish to him. He didn't understand anything.

A knock on the door of his room disrupted his concentration. Without a thought, he threw his pencil down on the ground, leapt up off the ground, and opened the door for the beautiful girl he knew was on the other side. She greeted him with a small smiled and he greeted her with a hug.

Hayoung stared at the white papers laying everywhere on the ground and the mechanical pencil that was now battered up due to the force of Sungjong's throw. She tried to hold back her chuckle, but failed. "Do you need help?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded his head slightly, letting go of his pride.

She was his tutor. His personal tutor. She tutored no one else but him. She gave answers to no one else but him. He enjoyed the fact that he was special to her. The fact that he mattered to at least someone. Her lavender scent seemed far away now. So far away, he could never reach her.

Many people had mistaken them for a couple. Teachers, fellow peers, grandmothers, adults, even the Principal of the junior high was set on the fact that the two were together.

Hayoung had always heatedly denied it, but Sungjong always laughed and played along, much to the girl's dismay.

The two were always together. Whether it was playing football or soccer to shopping at the mall, they were always seen together. They never really did anything in particular, they just enjoyed each other's presence. She enjoyed listening to Sungjong babble on excitedly and he enjoyed the peaceful silence at times and her melodious singing.

"Goal!" she jumped around excitedly.

Sungjong panted, trying to regain his ability to breath properly. Hayoung had finally scored a goal in soccer against him. Although proud, he acted sad and collapsed to the ground dramatically.

Laughing, she appeared at his side, brushing his hair out of his face. She flicked his forehead lightly and giggled at his reaction, a scowl. As if she were the older one, she ruffled his hair, making his neat black hair a mess.

"Just to let you know, I let you win." He said, lying.

She rolled her eyes, "Sure, whatever."

He remembered the green field, with occasional brown spots which consisted of dead, dry grass. It had been a while since he had even looked at her, or even talked to her.

He enjoyed soccer, although he may not have been the best at it, neither was she. He didn't even know if she still played soccer, or any sports in general. She seemed too skinny to do so, like if she even attempted to kick a soccer ball, she would break something. She seemed so frail, like glass.

"Look, it's a huge eraser!" Sungjong exclaimed with excitement. He held up the huge eraser that consisted of five pink, normal sized erasers taped together. Although the product was lame, he was proud.

Hayoung laughed and held up her invention, a tube of chap stick that doubled as a princess stamper. She stamped an ink picture of Cinderella on a blank sheet of paper with the cap of the chap stick, only to have the tape that held the stamp come off.

The two laughed non stop.

Music filled Sungjong's living room and Hayoung watched the boy dance with passion. Admiring his confidence, yet laughing at his exaggerated moves, she watched intently. "Sungjong-oppa, teach me, will you?"

The boy immediately agreed and began teaching her the moves, watching as her body was awkward and stiff as she moved. "No, smoother!" he scolded like a teacher, making Hayoung frown.

He showed her once again and she pulled it off with some difficulty. Since then, Sungjong had taught her dances to girl group and singer's songs.

Now, Sungjong had become an inventor. He had invented many things, but as of now, he was trying to invent one of the greatest inventions ever, a time machine. He wanted to go back in time, when he was sixteen and Hayoung was fifteen.

Hayoung had become a dance teacher at a dance school. She loved her job, at least, that's what Sungjong had deducted. He never knew how happy she was as an adult, after all, they had gone different ways.

Oh how he missed when he and Hayoung were inseparable. They would both think of new things to make with pencils and erasers, or dance their favorite girl group songs. Now, the only things Sungjong had left was memories. Memories of past things he had made with her and the dancing lessons of his in which Hayoung attended just to support the boy.

Now, she was out of his grasp.

He missed her dearly for the past few years. They had watched each other from afar, not making an attempt to converse. Especially not after that incident.

Hayoung was stressed from the constant pressure to study and be perfect. There was the pressure of being Sungjong's friend, the pressure to be good enough. The pressure was too much for the young girl, and she was bound to break soon.

"Hayoung? What's wrong? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? I'll beat them up for you! Let's study?" Sungjong hugged her tightly, she was trembling.

And that was when she broke. "Leave me alone!" she snapped, pushing him away roughly. "I'm sick of everything! It's so stressful when those girls and boys follow us around everywhere! It's stressful trying to be perfect! Go away, I don't want to see you!" The girl was in tears.

But Sungjong had made the wrong decision. He figured the girl needed time, time to cool down, time to clear her head. But what she needed at the time was a hug, and someone telling her she didn't need to be perfect, and it was okay to be stressed and angry.

Hayoung, ashamed of herself for yelling at someone and being rude, and Sungjong, who was afraid she would begin yelling at him again, drifted further apart after that. The two were rarely, if ever, seen together anymore. Nor did they even glance in each other's direction.

Sungjong regrets his decision. He wished he knew what to do at the time, but he was too young to understand. Girls were different from boys. They were more sensitive and they needed someone to reassure them that they were loved. Now that he realized it, it was too late.

Hayoung was now laying peacefully in a castle of white lilies. Her naturally radiant skin now dull and her short hair making him feel guilty. If he were there, he could have saved her. If he were there, he could have shared more moments with her. But now, she was gone.

If only he had a time machine.

fin.