My name is Ahn Hee Ra.

Female. Seventeen. Seoul, Korea.

People generally describe me as someone smart and funny. Crazy and sadistic. Outgoing. Talented. Pretty, some would occasionally say. And I must admit, all those adjectives fit my description quite accurately. Well, except for the last one. I’m not quite confident about that.

Anyway, just like any normal teenage girl out there, I had crushes. Heaps of them, actually. I liked to apply my polygamous tendencies of my K-pop biases in real life. Yes, these so-called crushes of mine come in batches. And they’re not just ordinary good-looking guys, mind you. I make sure that they’re as gorgeous as my beloved idol boys.  I’ve had a fair number of guys that slipped off a little of my requirements, though, but more or less they managed to pass my visual meter.

Now why am I blabbering about this whole crush thing? Well, what I just wanted to say is that despite of the millions of crushes I’ve ever had, there was not a single one that I was serious about. Like, no one ever really crossed the love line. One almost got in, but I pushed him away before he could take the last step.

I don’t know, but maybe one of the reasons why I never let anyone inside my heart was either my standards are too high, or I’m not ready yet – setting aside the fact that I’m prohibited to have a boyfriend. But even if my parents would permit me having a romantic relationship, I would still choose not to be in one. I’ve seen lots of people get destroyed by that thing. I wouldn’t risk my luck to try it.

You see, I have this weird mechanism in my brain that erases the feelings for a certain person and makes me not believe that the phenomenon of having ‘mutual feelings’ we are supposed to share whenever I found out someone likes me back. I tend to be like that because first: it’s just impossible, and second: I find no thrill left in it if I decide to believe it’s true. I know I’m weird, alright?

‘You’re an angel with a broken wing’, one friend of mine once said. ‘Afraid to love. Afraid to get her heart broken. Afraid to let love give its chance. And that angel in you, she’s just waiting for someone to fix that broken wing.’ Uhm, I gravely apologize for the overly poetic statement, the guy who said it to me is sort of a writer.

Anyway, let me comment on his testimonial now.

All that I can say is that first of all, it’s too cheesy. Blech.

 And second, though I’d really hate to say this, but I agree on the first two phrases. I’ve seen how love works. I’ve seen how people make stupid stuff and naïve decisions because of it. I’m like, why are these dim-witted people too dense to notice that they’re making false judgments because they’re secretly manipulated by their feelings caused by this thing called love? Why are they crying over the same thing? It’s not like they’re going to be starved to death or like it’s the end of the world. I was like, ‘Open your eyes, mankind!’

I criticized those people back then. I laughed at their idiocy and recklessness. At their ignorance.  At their demise. Well, I used to. But at some point in my life, I stopped.

And that particular point was when karma finally chose to hit me hard. Straight right through the heart. I didn’t know I would be like one of those people. 

That was until I met him.

Our first meeting was the one of the funniest and most memorable first meetings in my crush history. It can’t be really defined as a formal meeting, though. It was more like a ‘first sighting’.

The whole scene was still clear in my head. I remember it was dismissal time, and my long time friends and I were just having mini reunion at the benches near the school gates, joking and chilling around like we always do. We were talking about how different it feels not being together in one classroom again and stuff when one of my previous classmates, Luhan, passed with two of his new friends. One looked a bit chubby and foreign-looking; the other had a very angelic aura, and well, good-looking. They looked unfamiliar. Must be transferees, I thought.

One of my friends and also Luhan’s previous classmate called his name repeatedly, but it took long before he noticed us. While Luhan failed to hear us, one of his friends did, and instead of poking Luhan, he poked his other friend and thought we were calling the other guy instead of Luhan.

Normally, someone would check first who called them before responding with a wave, but this guy simply didn’t. Out of impulse, he waved everywhere with a surprised-confused-happy-lost child kind of face, looking for the people who supposedly called him. I can’t really describe his expression thoroughly (as you can see, I’m bad at imagery utilizing words) but one thing was sure: he looked really really really cute. Especially when Luhan noticed us at last and excused himself with them before approaching us, making him finally realize that he wasn’t the one being called. Out of embarrassment, he hastily bid Luhan goodbye and practically ran outside the gates. All who witnessed the event laughed at his dorkiness.

I wasn’t supposed to like someone this year. I promised that to myself. I have spotted lots of gorgeous guys roaming around the campus, but they did not interest me. To me, they just stayed the way are – just gorgeous. He was supposed to be just the way he is to me – a stranger. A really really really cute stranger.

I didn’t know why or when, but I started to like him. Maybe it was because of our frequent encounters. Or maybe he was just merely interesting. I can’t really explain it, it just… happened. It’s one of those episodes that you quite concretely know and feel it, but it just cannot be put to words. I’m pretty sure everyone has experienced that at some point in their lives.

So little by little, I found myself looking for him every break time. There were slim chances of seeing him, but I took them all, nonetheless. I’ve made efforts – real ones – to know things about him. My equally crazy friends even suggested a myriad of silly and extremely absurd plots for us to know each other’s names.

Thank God I didn’t have to go through one of those suggestions for me to get his name. I got it in an unexpected but fairly deliberate way.

It was when I accidentally met Luhan on the way home. Luhan, I thought, is the only person that can be my bridge to knowing the guy. I’ve done a lot of brainstorming on how to ambush him. But fortunately, fate cooperated a bit for me on that accidental meeting.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over and casually joined him, making some small talk about how he’s been and stuff. Luckily, the topic strayed onto his new school life with different classmates so I seized the opportunity to ask about my boy. I wasted no time and asked him if there was a guy in his class that’s particularly good-looking. He jokingly answered that the only good-looking guy he knows of in his class is him and laughed, inquiring afterwards why I’m asking. I alibied that I have a friend that’s interested in one of his classmates and said I was sure it wasn’t him so I thought he could help me.

I must’ve saved the country in my past life. Because when Luhan was trying to enumerate all his male classmates, my friend nudged me and eagerly informed that my crush was walking a few meters behind us. My crush! Today’s my luckiest day evaaar.

Surprisingly, I managed to keep calm exteriorly. But boy I felt extremely nervous that moment. I wanted to jump up and down and squeal and hide all at the same time. But obviously my crush would get turned off and think of me weirdly (although I really am weird).

Anyway, I intentionally slowed my pace down so that my crush and his friend could overtake us. A few seconds after they successfully did, I didn’t think twice and shamelessly grabbed the opening to ask Luhan about his name. I directly pointed at my crush, not caring if Luhan would suspect something or not, not even asking first if he knows the guy, or if he’s his classmate or not, and asked Luhan, “Uhh, how about him, what’s his name?” 

He looked at him. “Ah, him?” He paused.

“He’s Lay.”

Lay, I mentally repeat. His name is Lay!

Right there and then, if no one were watching, I would’ve shouted at the top of my lungs and did my awkward spazzy dance. But no, I held it in like a civilized lady should and tucked my feels tight inside me. I was with my friend that time, and she knows very well my interest in Lay. I pretended to be innocently confused or something and quickly asked my friend if Lay was the guy who our ‘friend’ liked. Being the good friend she is, she played along and said that he wasn’t the one. I pouted to express my ‘disappointment’, and then changed the subject of our conversation.

 Luhan gave away no sign of suspicion on his face and happily engaged back to talk with me, so I guess my superb acting skills functioned smoothly. I excused myself and said that I was going somewhere with my friend and bid our goodbyes. We acted normal until we reached the bus stop and safely climbed inside the bus. We got crazy the instant we completely got in, jumping up and down like what I would’ve done earlier if I didn’t have any inhibitions.

Now, some people would think, ‘why is she freaking out? It’s just a name. It’s not like he proposed to her or something. Plus she doesn’t even know his last name.’ Yeah, so what if I had the name? He still doesn’t know me, so there’s really no difference, right?

Wrong. It’s not just a name. It’s a very crucial tool in the first step of knowing a person. You know why? Because getting his name would only mean that I can finally search him up on Facebook. Not exciting enough? Of course, I know you’re thinking, ‘heh, there’s a lot of people named Lay on Facebook. It would take you a million years to find his profile.’

Well yeah, that’s true. But people describe me as smart for a reason. I won’t just blindly type ‘Lay’ on the search box and go through the profiles one by one. I’ll go to Luhan’s page (who is already one of my friends, obviously), click his friends list and search his name in the list. Because of course, Luhan would clearly be friends with him at this time.

And I exactly did just that. I typed ‘Lay’ in Luhan’s friends list and clicked ‘Search’.

And when I saw the results, I got confused. Only one person popped up on the search list, but I saw no ‘Lay’ in his name. The person was named Yixing. His display photo was vague, too.

 I was gravely devastated, but I clicked the vague guy’s profile anyway. The moment his profile loaded completely, I almost fell off my seat. Literally.

There were two reasons why I reacted that way. One: The vague guy was Lay. And two: his profile wasn’t private.

I almost died out of happiness because of the second reason. I instantly knew his siblings, his previous school (Yes, he was a transferee), his birthday, and his western star sign (He’s a Libra like me). I swear my inner stalker self materialized. I also knew that he was very rich. His pictures said it all. He’s gone to Taiwan, Japan, Europe, America and everywhere else. Yep, he’s that rich.

Although his page wasn’t private (luckily), it wasn’t that public, either. I’m only limited to see his photos and the basic information. But who cares? I found him! And his profile wasn’t overly restricted!

I thought you might ask but no, I didn’t add him. I’m always like that. I’m too scared to add my crushes because they might conclude that I like them (which is true) and they would avoid me because of that. It’s simple guy logic I’ve learned to observe. The moment they find out you’re head over heels with them, the tendency is, they avoid you. That or they decide to play with you. For what purpose? I’m not sure. Maybe they just find desperate or desperate-looking girls who chase or look like they’re chasing after guys is a huge turnoff and plainly annoying.

And besides, I suspect Luhan has told him that someone from my group of friends like someone in his. I have a strong hunch he did. I didn’t want to feed Lay’s ego (if ever had an inflated one already) and I didn’t want to look desperate, either, so, I repeat, I didn’t add him.

But it wasn’t for long. I told my friend, the same one who played along and jumped up and down with me at the bus, about his Facebook prof. She searched it immediately right in her laptop and without doubt clicked the ‘Add Friend’. And then we sat and wait.

He wouldn’t accept her, I thought. I was confident about that. Because like, hello? They only have three mutual friends. People most likely wouldn’t accept a friend request from a person who has less than twenty mutual friends.

But five minutes later, she got a notification that he accepted it. I was inaudibly shocked. He accepted it? They’re friends now? And that was when I decided that I shall add him. But not right away due to safety purposes. And so I waited for around two days to finally have the guts to click that powerful button. I couldn’t be happier when he accepted me that same night.

I browsed his profile, yes, but only minimally. Stalking was not my forte and I’m one of those old-fashioned people who still like to take things slow. I also belong to the club of firm believers that an invisible binding force everyone calls fate exists. I will know what I will know. Not through thorough online snooping but through whatever auspicious instances I shall come across in the future.

I’m proud to say that I did not regret my decision about the matter. I found out a lot of interesting facts about him without the help of online technology. With the help of overheard (more like eavesdropped) conversations at random lunch times, unexpected meetings at various school events, and reliable sources from friends, I found out that he was good at drawing, liked fishes and everything related to water or marine life, was into sports (swimming and badminton), had a tremendous liking for the color blue-green, and was extremely exceptional at dancing (both dorky and the real stuff).

I had read or heard somewhere that people get attracted with the looks first, and the knowledge you have acquired on the person’s personality determines how great you could grow to love that someone. And I strongly agree with that theory. The more I knew about him, the harder I fell. He was by far, of all the guys I liked, the closest to my ideal type of guy – good looking, rich, athletic, dorky, artistic, and simple.

That was the problem. I never heard or saw something about him that turned me off or discouraged me at least one bit. It was all but the opposite. Metaphorically speaking, I felt like I was on cloud nine when I found out everything he is.

But of course, everything that has a great advantage comes with a great disadvantage. Little that I know that the cloud nine I’m in was a storm cloud.

And guess what that great disadvantage I’m talking about?

It’s his girlfriend.

Didn’t get it? Let me rephrase it: He has a girlfriend. A real person.

How did I find that out? That’s simple: Facebook. Photos. Wall Posts.

 Am I not just hallucinating? Oh how I wished I was.

A girl like myself would’ve said, ‘so what if he had a girlfriend? They could always break up. And besides, a chicken can be easier stolen when it’s tied up.’

Yeah, would have. But in this situation was an exception. You know why?

Let’s just say that we’re having an English lesson and it’s about adjectives and their degrees of comparison. There are three degrees, right? They are namely, positive, comparative and superlative. Let us focus on the comparative degree. To apply it, we need to have two things that should be compared. Let those two things be me and his girlfriend. In comparison, one is always better than the other.

And unfortunately, she is always the better half. The better subject. The better everything.

She met him earlier. Was way prettier. Richer. I didn’t know what I had that she didn’t. I’m weirder, maybe, but that doesn’t really help in alleviating my hopes and spirits. She may be nice. She looks like she’s not the type to and annoy people around. And I trust my instincts. I can feel that she’s a good person. Why would Lay date her if she wasn’t someone you could like or love, right? I trust his tastes, too.

And above all that, he’s perfect. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. That’s why he deserves someone like himself. Or even someone better. And I knew it wasn’t me.

And he did. To put it more accurately, he already had her.

Before I even knew of it.

So that was it. That was the great discouragement I was looking for. Him having a perfect girlfriend. Him meeting her before I ever knew of his existence. Their relationship has been long and strongly established. And that’s something I can do nothing about.

Well, I could have, but I chose not to. Because he looks happy and well cared of by her. And I’m sure that’s something I can’t beat or bear to destroy at the moment.

After that revelation, I slowly distanced myself from him. What’s the point of continuing my crush if I feel more miserable than inspired? By the end of the semester, I don’t feel affected seeing their couple photos anymore. Or so I thought.

Before I continue on, by any chance, have you heard of the four month rule in attraction? No? Then allow me to educate you.

This so-called rule states that if you only continuously like a person for four months or less, then it’s just attraction or infatuation. But if it exceeds that, it’s already love.

I counted, and found out that it lasted for a semester. And a semester has four months. Phew, I’m safe, I thought. I only liked him for the whole second sem of the school year. And then semestral break followed shortly afterwards. The break ended so fast, and I had to back to school again before I knew it.

I’m not going to lie, I still anticipated seeing him. I did, though, but only twice. That’s weird, I thought. Last time I checked, I saw him frequently, not occasionally. I usually always see him with his friends at the canteen during lunch time, but now, I barely do. I don’t exactly know and I’m not entirely sure, but I thought there was something wrong. I could feel it. I had a hypothesis, but I didn’t want it to be the right conclusion.

I was restless for the next few weeks, so I decided to finally take some action. I went and took my only and last resort and went to the most reliable source of the latest information to find the answer – his Facebook profile.

So I browsed his page, expecting the answer I hoped to be, not the answer I had dangerously suspected it was.

But like I said, my intuition rarely goes wrong. And this one wasn’t one of those rare moments.

It is known that our school is one of the prestigious ones in the country, so lots of students get enrolled each year. To cope up with the big population, it has erected two campuses. Both offered the same programs and services, but are situated fairly far from each other.

Now why am I suddenly talking about school stuff and campus location? To make the long story short, he switched campuses.

"Why?" It was the first and only question that bugged me the whole time. Why did he move?

I tried to gather all the possibilities that brought to mind. I tried to analyze everything rationally. I thought, maybe he moved houses, and our current campus was too far or the other was nearer their new house.

But I know that wasn't the only possible reason. I knew very well that maybe it could be partly because of his girlfriend. Because she was at the other campus.

I was trained to condition myself to calmly accept bad news. But confirming my very own suspicion – this particular suspicion – was more painful than I expected. It was more than I thought I could handle.

And for the first time in my seventeen years of existence, I caught myself crying for no apparent reason.

I was never depressed. Not in love, at least. I was only disappointed at things. But not enough to get me to break down and cry like this. I wasn't the type of person to let myself fall into depression. I even once said that I’ll never cry over a guy. But I proved myself wrong.

Why? There’s that damn question again.

 Why am I crying? Why am I crying for someone who doesn’t even know my existence? Why am I crying for a person who didn't even do anything to purposely hurt me? Is he even worth these tears? Until now, I still haven’t answered those questions. But I know I wasn't only crying for the mere reason that he changed campuses because of his girlfriend. I guess it was more than that. I knew there were deeper reasons. Deeper reasons my mind could not bring to dig further.

I realized that I have learned the art of alienating myself from my heart too well.  My brain has been remarkably deft in keeping things wherein my consciousness would find difficulty to discover. It works like a concealer and flawlessly veils all the unwanted blemishes from sight. It was my ultimate defense mechanism to ‘stupid’ emotions.

But no matter how hard I apply the concealer, in the end, it still needs to be removed. That is because wearing it for too long and failing to remove it may do harm to the skin. This is where the water – in this case, my heart – comes in.

Water with its cleansing properties, washes away everything when needed. This is how exactly my heart works. It can wash all the lonely, isolated, and bottled-up feelings my mind has kept away from my deserted island of awareness with a huge wave of experience. It can expose all the flaws I’ve been hiding all this time with my mental concealer. And now, I finally unveiled some of the secrets my mind refused to reveal.

Like feigning happiness.

Like trying to be happy for them. For him. I truly did got happy. I thought I did.

But just when I thought I was already okay, in reality, I really wasn’t. I kept saying that I’m happy for them but no, I couldn’t be. Not truly. I could not fool myself for too long.

I have just been using a concealer all along.

And this time, it had to be removed.

The next day, I admit, I felt really down. But I didn’t let it get to me. I did my usual routine – cracking jokes, making fun of people, pigging out on food and stuff. I didn’t dwell on it too much because I don’t want to be the person that does.  After all, life goes on. I needed to go on.  

But I know I can’t be the same person as before anymore.

I bet that if I didn’t tell my friends about it, they wouldn’t have guessed that their little sadistic fellow had a problem. At least not right away. They would’ve, eventually, but not right away. I can even fool myself, how much more the others? That’s how both amazing and scary my mask could get. 

Now I understand exactly why those people I used to call as ‘dim-witted’ cry over this stupid thing called love. Now I understand how much painful it is. This one-sided love.

He made me hope about things that never and will never happen. With him, I dreamt of countless possibilities. I filled my thoughts with numerous quixotic what-ifs.  I occupied myself with imaginations – those of the kind one would find in most typical fluffy love stories.  I hoped for numerous fateful encounters. For unexpected meetings. Lucky chances. I dreamt lots of them.

That was until I woke up.

I realized I should stop. I had to stop. Because in the end, I have no choice but to accept the painful truth. Sooner or later, whether I like it or not, I will have to learn to accept that fantasies of these sorts were only meant to be just that – just mere fantasies. Nothing more.

I had to accept that he had her. She had him. And me?

I had nothing.

They said that people that have been hurt the most are the wisest. In the same context, this heart-wrenching experience made me realize a lot of things.

Like, people? They can’t get hold of all the things that they want.

Dreams? Not all of them get fulfilled.

Love?It is not constantly returned back.

And tragedies?

Real tragedies don’t always end up with people dying. Most of them are of those with broken hearts.

But I also realized that it isn’t all about the being broken or dying inside.

It’s about trying. Getting fixed. Getting reborn again.

It’s about moving on. Going on.

And until now, I’m still trying.

Do you remember my name? It's Ahn Hee Ra.

I'm seventeen. Young. Heartbroken.

I remember person once said to me that I was an angel with a broken wing.

 I tried to fix my wing and tried to fly again, but I fell and now I can’t anymore.

But I know that time will come when another angel will arrive in my life.

He will not help me how to fly again…

But instead, he will carry me in his arms.

And together, we will fly away forever. 

A/N: How was it? Sorry it's so angsty. I needed to release all those feels. Please do comment your feelings and reactions about this fic. Thank you for always supporting me and subscribing. If you haven't, I would appreciate it really well if you do. Thank you very much <3

And will you keep a secret? The girl in this fic is actually me.

Saranghae readers, both ninja and not <3