CHAPTER two; fin

“Can I help?” I asked him while he was bending down and inserting the metal handle of the fire pocky to the cold earth. He could only manage to put in a dozen before breaking into sweat.

“No,” he huffed, “When I’m 80 years old then maybe you can help.”

I shook my head in response for his silly answer and sat down in the middle of the halfway-completed circle.

“How many fire pocky left?” I asked him, hoping that there was some that I could hold myself.

“Stop calling it fire pocky!” He flailed his arms in frustration, “It’s called fire sparklers, okay?!”

“It looked like a pocky and it catches fire! What’s wrong in calling it a fire pocky?! It’s cuter too!”

“But that’s how the rest of the world says it! Won’t you be ashamed if you talked to the general population and call this a fire pocky?” He shouted while pointing the one that he was holding to my nose.

“Kids, tone down the noise please? We’re trying to watch a movie here,” Mrs. Lee’s face poked through the tiny window briefly.

We just shrugged it off and he continued his job in making a perfect circle.

“Any spares?” I asked him when he took a seat beside me and after he twisted his back to the sides and causing his joints to pop.

“Of course,” he handed me 3 of them, saving 2 for himself.

“We’ll need to buy an extra pack for next year,” I said while counting all the fireworks sticks that circled us. Fifteen sticks, time flew like crazy. Last time I remember, there were only five, “But that’s okay. I’ve saved some money, remind me to give it to you later.”

He just gave me a faint smile. All of a sudden, he unfastened the scarf that was wrapped around his neck and stretched his arm toward me, “Here, wear it.”

“Um… What about you?” He must’ve noticed how often I touched and rubbed my neck to warm it up. It was silly of me to forget bringing my own scarf in this chilly winter night.

“I’m still stuffed,” he said while huffing up puffs of white smoke from his mouth,” besides, only 10 mintuse left before it strikes 12. I can make it.”

I took the wooled scarf from his hand and wrapped it up around my neck.

“If you do it like that, you won’t be able to breathe,” he said when he saw me pulling up the sides of the scarf to cover my face up to my nose.

I just nudged him slightly with my elbow. That usually meant, ‘Not your business.’ But for that time, I just didn’t want him to notice how significantly redder my cheek had become.

“Hana.”

“What?” I only answered after he gave my shoulder a punch.

“If I ask you to come to my home every year to do this,” he pointed his finger to the ground, to the center of the circle made by his fireworks, “will you do it?”

I looked at him, blinking my eyes several times before answering, “what if I said no?”

“Then we won’t be friends anymore.” He turned his back to me and pouted.

“I’m just kidding!” I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck in a move that looked more like a wrestling choke than a comforting hug,

“How can I miss my best friend’s birthday?”

He pushed me away and we continued wrestling on the ground until we grew tired and just lay there on the dewy grass, staring at the star studded clear December sky.

“Besides, I have nobody else to spend New Year with beside you and your family.”

He looked at me with a veiled sadness, like he knew something that I didn’t know. Something bad. I didn’t have a clue on what impending doom that might happen to me at that time, but actually, the answer is pretty simple. Just strewn there right under our nose.

Growing up. He didn’t want me to grow up.
Maybe he himself didn’t want to grow up. But who am I to judge.

“Will you promise me then?”

“Every year?”

Mirae never took care of his bicycle. How could I know, one might ask? Well, because I was riding it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” That was the last thing I heard from her before I hit the curb with her bike.

If I was sober, I might think riding a bike in the middle of a cold winter night was a really bad idea. Added to that the fact that I was only wearing a sleeveless, knee-length dress without any outer layer of clothing. It was torture, so to say. I was only hoping that I wouldn’t be stopped by any patrolling police for doing drunk biking and a major case of exhibitionism (hey, my knickers were free for all to see and I couldn’t do anything about that!)

I wasn’t sober though. The alcohol had filled my brain with its toxic fumes and clouded my decisions. I didn’t even give a second thought before I mounted this goddamned bike.

There was only him. In my mind, he was all that I could think of. When I started seeing him in the corner of my eyes… That was it. I couldn’t take anymore of it, of the memories and the images. I needed to see him. I needed to see him so badly.

Hell, even the satin boy encouraged me to do it.

“Just go get him!” He told me. Even though I wasn’t sire if it was really said by him, or it was just the product of my alcohol-enhanced imagination.

It didn’t matter anymore though; there was no turning back now. Just around that corner, past that and I would be able to see that silly, bright orange gate of his home.

But did anybody remember when I said how torturous it was to do this particular bike ride of my life? Yes. Unfortunately, the icy daggers that pierced my lungs were getting the best of me and the pain started to creep through the numbness that was caused by my wine drinking. If the alcohol in my system was a fire, the pain was like ice that started to overpower my body bit by bit. That includes the fiery passion of meeting him again.

The doubts started to surface.

What if he’s not home?

What if he’s asleep?

What if he moved again without telling me?

“What if he forgets me?” I unintentionally said that last phrase out loud. My unconscious then started to pound me mercilessly with horrible mental images of him, alone, at his garden. Waiting for me the whole nightlong. I, the person that already promised him that I would come every year to celebrate his birthday, so we could stand in the middle of the circle made of his fireworks. So we could wish each other the best of wishes. I, the person that abandoned him.

But the moment I got my senses back, I was already standing in from of his front gate. My heart was racing like mad and every wheezing breath felt like a sword was plunged deep into my chest cavity.

‘What if he forgets me?! What if he hates me?!' I couldn’t help but concentrate at that thoughts as I contemplate on whether should push that gate open, or to mount my back and attempted the most embarrassing walk of shame in the history of humanity.

Then, at the worst time possible, the front door swung open. The warm yellow light that seeped out partially illuminated the small garden in a whimsical shade.

‘It’s him, it’s him,’ my racing thoughts repeated the phase over and over like a broken record. I looked around frantically, trying to find a low bush or a tree to hide behind. The moment my eyes lay upon a perfect sized trashcan that could act as my hiding place, a familiar voice frozed me on the spot.

Too familiar, maybe.

“Who’s there?”

I commanded myself to face him, to look him in the eye, to embrace him and say ‘I’m sorry’. But I couldn’t quite make myself do it. I just stood there, in front of his silly bright orange gate.

His footsteps approached, slowly, closer and closer. He did that in silence, as if he was also analyzing the situation, trying to calculate the chances that the person that stood behind the gate was really who he think It was.

He didn’t utter a word until he was just a foot away from me. He just stood there, and I could feel his gaze over me. Maybe he was waiting for me to speak first. I should, I know, because U had tons of explanation to say, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it.

“Hana?” his voice was barely audible.

Slowly, carefully, I peeked through the curtain of my then messed up hair. What was once put up in a tidy chignon was strewn all over my face. I might’ve looked like the ghost from ‘The Ring’ herself.

He had changed a lot. He had grown much taller, that was one thing. His hair was no longer a messy tendrils jutting out in every directions. But I had hoped his feelings and memories toward me still hadn’t changed.

“Hana,” he said in a much firmer tone, “what are you doing here?”

“I… I was just around the corner, you know… From a party,” I said while looking down at my feet in an effort to avoid his stares, “Thought I might as well… Check on you.” 

The silly gate creaked open in a speed that might’ve broke one of its old hinges.

‘He’s angry,’ I thought. I imagined that he would slap me across my face or tackle me to the group, so I winced and braced myself for the impact. I surely didn’t expect that he would throw his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. A warm and a long yearned hug.

“You silly brat, you’re freezing,” like the olden days, he untied his scarf and wrapped it around my neck.

That was it. That was the breaking point for my emotional dam. The wall just cracked open and I let the tears fell down freely onto my cheek.

“What’s wrong? Hana? Are you okay?” Like the olden days, his hands brushed across my temple and he tugged the loose strands of hair behind my ears.

I only shook my head for an answer. My hands were clasped over my mouth in a way to control my overflowing gladness.

“Hana, please, speak to me,” like the olden days, he used his shirt to softly dry my face from the streaks of tears.

“I… I’m sorry,” I said in between my sobs,” I’m sorry, Sungmin, I’m sorry.”

He pulled me back to his embrace. While he was slowly rubbing my back, he said, “Now now, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

We stood there; more like hugged there, for quite a while. As my sobbing started to wind down and my body felt a bit more relaxed, I fully realize how tall he’d become. I braved myself to lay my head down on his shoulder and dare I say that it felt perfect? How fitting it seemed for me to position my body like this to him.
He smelled nice. Like the olden days. Sweet, like a nice little childhood.

I backed away from him eventually and forced myself to look him in the eye. There was worry, mixed with a bit of gladness in them.

“I’m sorry,” I told him once again with no waver on my voice, "I'm sorry, okay? I... I didn't know what I was thinking, to just... Abandon you like that. I really didn't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry." However much he didn’t mind that I forgot about him, I did. And that was what mattered to me. I didn’t want to loose him, not again.

He started to worry me when he paused and gave out a deep sigh. But it all went away when he looked back at me with a gentle smile on his face, "I understand. It's all a part of you growing up, right, little missy?"

He managed to make me giggle when he nudged the tip of my nose, just like how my mom used to do when she was lecturing me as a kid. 

"What matters is you're here now." He gave my shoulder a few pats. Soon after, his eyes lit up and a wide grin unfolded on his face, "Of course you know what comes next?"

“Well, I was hoping not to miss it.”

“You’re never going to miss it,” he then dashed onto his home while yelling, “wait here!”

‘He doesn’t forget me!’ My inner self cheered in overflowing joy.

Of course he remembers you, idiot. You were the one who forgot him.

He came out after a while with a package of fire sparklers on his hand. He rushed back to my side and started to tear up the plastic cover. Then just like the old days, he stuck the metal rod into the cold earth, eventually trapping us inside the circle.

One, two, three, it went on and on. I noted that he didn’t loose his breathing halfway into the making, which was a miracle on its own. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Seven years. It took me seven long years to notice how empty my life was without him beside me. Seven long years of growing up in pretense. But not anymore, not anymore.

“Ready?” He fished out a lighter from his pocket and handed it to me.

“You’re giving me the honor?”

He just nodded and gestured me to go ahead.

“Light the fire pockies up.” Oh, finally.

I bent down and flicked the lighter up. One by one, they went ablaze as the fire touched them. His fireworks started to sparkle away. When I’ve completed the turn and stood back at the center of the circle, the sight was breathtaking. The sparks filled the night and the light jumped on the dewy grass underneath, making the illusions of thousands and thousands of fireflies flying around us.

I looked at him and say a big smile on his face. He was looking at me, all the time, not at the fire sparklers, me. Taking in all the years that he had missed and trying to fill in the gaps in his life with my images. When he felt like he could tell himself that my presence was real enough, he grabbed me by my hands and swing me around in a random and spontaneous dance. We threw our arms to the air and just let a hearty laugh out to the world.

Then just like when we were a kid, after we felt exhausted, we would just lay our back on the cool dewy grass and stare at the star-studded winter sky.

I looked at him, and his eyes were glistening. His fingers found his way around mine, entwining them. We just lay there, immersed in each other’s presence with the dying sparks of the fire sparklers dancing around us.

When the last of the sparks died away and we were left with the natural lighting from the sky above, I inched closer to him and gave him a quick peck on the top of his head.

“Happy birthday, Lee Sungmin.”

We usually ended it like that. Maybe with him giving me a little nudge and saying, “What’s that for.”

But that day was different. He cradled my face with his hands, holding it just centimeters away from his.

Looking into his eyes, it was still filled with the excited twinkle of the sparks, long after the physical form of it had died out. Just like how the light dances on the surface of a still water pond can keep you mystified by the edge, his eyes gave the same effect on me. I imagined to just let it all go and dive down into the depth.

“Have you always waited?” I whispered.

He didn’t offer me with an answer and just inched closer.

Never mind the frantically beating heart and the blood rushing to my face, I still could feel his tender kisses on my cheek.

“I told you not to worry,” I imagined a smile forming on his lips,” I believe in you.”

It was warm, his lips, as they trailed across my face and left a spreading trail of heat. It grazed my skin as it went through my jaw and stopping short just under my ear.

His mouth was open, hovering above my skin, causing the hairs on the base of my neck to rise up in anticipation.

Then he whispered, “Happy new year, Kim Hana.”

With that I knew, 60 years from now, I’ll be helping him stick in that metal rod into the cold earth of December.

“Will you promise me from this day forward?”

“...Till death do us part.”