♀ ❖ ♀

"Maybe we shouldn't date."

I should have known. That was exactly what I wanted to say, firmly. Maintaining eye contact with Siwon, alongside a straight face. No signs of sorrow. No evidence of breaking down. No clue of hurting.

Yet, I unconsciously felt every inch of my skin tingle, and it was then my lips were quivering. I soon was the one to dismiss our intensifying staring contest when my vision began to blur. I didn't know what to say, especially when my tight throat was beginning to dry out from God knows what. Shame and embarrassment filled me in an instant, while tears occupied my eyes. It was easy for him to speak. It was easy for him to murmur his useless "sorry" as I continued to burn the ground with my glare, only to extinguish it with my tears as it stained the dirt. And oh, was it easy for him to stand there as I finally released a sound, a sour combination between a sob and a sigh, pivoting on my heels to leave.

No words had been able to escape my parched mouth, but I didn’t blame me and my hesitant self. Nobody would have been able to speak when it felt like sand was being jammed down their throat. I released a low frustrated cry, which hurt like hell when breathing was already a difficulty. I began to murmur profanity under my breath, things even I couldn’t comprehend. I was allowing the salty tears to soak into my stained cheeks and dry away from the chilly air as it bit at my already numbed skin. My feet were dragging themselves across the ground, and I was grateful that I wasn’t crawling at this point. I felt like complete crap. The feeling only added on; because I knew Siwon was watching me walk away.

And my legs began to take off.

I was running. What my friends—even my classmates—would say if they saw Tiffany Hwang sprinting at this pace. I hated running. I despised even jogging. But I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself from him.

Had he only been using me? I considered. From that one question, even more wonders formed in my mind. My pink bag bumped against my side, and constantly, I would slow my steps in between the run. Then, I arrived to a stop. I had gathered a great deal of unwanted attention from nearly all the students that caught sight of me. I choked out a heavy sigh and brought my fingers up to my face. My mascara had been ruined. My hair was a mess. My life was tumbling down. I was infuriated at Siwon for wrecking everything.

I ended up racing back to that one place I had been hoping to escape. I drove myself over the limit, letting out exasperated huffs and sighs. To me, energy wasn’t even energy anymore, and I was burning something else in my body in order to move my legs. The previous piquing sickness that had made a pit in my stomach was long debilitated. The only thing I was able to feel was the cold air as it pounded my face. I had no idea why I was pushing myself, but I was sure of one intention. I wanted to give a piece of my mind to that jerk to at least replenish some of my dignity.

Upon reaching my destination, I made absolutely no effort to relax my breathing. The activity of rushing to this a secluded section of the campus had built up even more pressure in my throat, almost as if though it was from that dry sensation to a cracking sensation.

And what was I greeted with when I reached the back of the science building? The scene of Siwon surrounded by his regular group of friends, along with the few scatterings of mine that were to be seen among the bustle of his. One of my close friends, Shannon, was literally all over him. What brought me over the edge was that he returned her gushes of giggles with outstretched arms. I didn’t have to observe any more to finally realize why Siwon had broken up with me. It took a short time for one of the boys in the group to notice I was watching. I didn’t know his name, nor did I want to know.

He hurriedly scrambled over to Siwon’s side to shake him in the arm and point to where I stood in the distance. Siwon’s wide pupils revealed everything to me. I balled my hands when he got to his feet.

“No!” I screamed, surprising the entire crowd.

Most were taken aback to see me. Some of his friends were even smirking and shaking their heads, mumbling what I overheard to be, “I knew she would find out,” and other stupid remarks.

I should have expected this. To the obvious facial expressions he would make whenever I approached him and his group of friends, to the lack of replies to my heart-felt texts. It had been going on for weeks, only for him to top it off with a break up. Now, the discovery that he had been harboring feelings for one of my very good friends. I was so furious, I was so shocked, I was so done.

I wanted, badly, to yell something clever. But again, nothing came out. The imaginary sand that had earlier been shoved down my throat turned to lava. It was worse that everyone was here to watch. This was probably some sort of interesting opera for them, where I was casted as the loser ex-girlfriend.

“You guys!” I finally cried, referring to my friends that were mixed in the bundle. “Don’t ever come near me!”

No way did I ever want to see the people that had been unloyal to me. Had they known about Siwon and Shannon the entire time, they didn't say a word to me. I was hurt.

Somebody, I couldn’t care who, raised their voice to say something, only to be interrupted with my sob. It pierced through the still, frozen air. As much as I wanted to refrain it, my crying only increased in volume to the point I couldn’t stand the thought of granting them the privilege to see me break down. So I ran. For the second time today, I ran. Out of their cutting sight, and, how I wished, out of reality's stupid existence.

The only thing I was grateful for was the fact that school was over. Although there were still students roaming around, I wasn’t concerned about my image anymore. My dignity and pride had been officially torn away from me. I didn’t care how I looked; stomping, mumbling, and crying.

Approaching the edge of the school, I whipped my phone out and texted for Leo to pick me up. In my frenzy, I typed every single letter in capitalization. He replied with a simple compromise, telling me to wait twenty minutes. And I was furious. My brother wasn’t even curious as to why I had rage texted him.

The thought only botched my already deformed day.

I deliberately dialed his number. I could have easily called him using my contacts list, but right now, punching the buttons on my cell was the only thing that could relieve barely a small amount of my temper and pain. I waited for three, strenuous beeps before Leo answered.

“Yeah?” came the familiar, carefree voice. In the background, I could hear the overall hum of robotic music and befuddled mixtures of chatter and laughter.

I had no idea how to respond, nor did I have a clue on to why I even called him in the first place. But I was mad at him. I was mad at everything, actually, but that didn’t matter.

“What?” Leo demanded. Without waiting another second for my answer, he hung up.

I called him back. Once the fourth beep came to an end, I immediately yelled, “Leo!”

“God, what is it?” he questioned, sounding slightly annoyed.

He shouldn’t have been the one to be annoyed. It should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one irritated with his cool mood.

An aggravated groan released itself from my throat, followed by my, “Oh my God!” I emphasized on the word ‘God’, revealing just how foul my day had been.

“What do you want?” he interrogated. “I’m coming in twenty minutes, okay?”

“No!” I yelled, frustrated. “I’ll just walk home!”

On the other line, I heard him mumble something to a friend of his, finished with a small chuckle. An “okay” then came from him. My brother did not care.

“Oh my freaking God!” I half cried, ending the call. I shoved my phone into a pocket of my bag and drew the sleeves of my jean jacket over my eyes to dry away my misery.

The rough material scratched me in a horrible manner, but I continued to rub my eyes. After my severe rubbing, I felt the skin around my eyelids sting to the touch of my cold fingers. I felt reluctant to walk home in the chilly, San Francisco weather. For a moment, I regretted snapping at my brother over the phone. Then, the regret was replaced with anger and I stormed back deeper into the school grounds. 

I was tired. 

? ✜ ?

“Why do you always come here alone?”

I slowly peered up from the pile of books I had been stacking. Ms. Choi was staring at me with those electrocuting eyes of hers, as if though studying the person I was behind the oversized frames perched atop of my nose.

“Why are you always reading romance novels that star two women?” I challenged, using the crook of my finger to push up my glasses.

Her sun-kissed cheeks reddened to a lighter shade, something I didn’t know was possible. My grin nearly split my face when I saw her blush. It was fascinating in a way, experiencing the sight of someone blushing.

“None of your business,” she retorted. Ms. Choi then looked away and busied herself with the clutter of paperwork scattered all over her desk. When she saw that I was staring out of the corner of her eyes, she jerked her chin. “What?”

“You’re quite rude, for a librarian,” I regarded bluntly, though I meant what I said in an envious way.

Ms. Choi must have heard the homage in my praise and didn’t take offense. Instead, she swept her hair. “And you’re quite helpful, for a student.”

Without dropping my gaze to the front of her vest, I dared, “Since we’re honest with each other now, can I call you Sooyoung?”

I noticed the woman run her fingers over her nametag. I didn’t bother to take in her entire name, however. Volunteering at the library for three weeks was enough for me to have even the small birthmark on her collarbone bore into my memory.

“Sure,” was Sooyoung’s simple approval.

I responded with an air of silence, and again, the library was engulfed in a peaceful atmosphere. Once I was done with my task of arranging the books by genre, I left the librarian to her lesbian novels to delve into the library’s shelves and its offers of tales. Rather than searching the aisles filled with the newly delivered books that were said to be in trend, I wandered to the sections that nobody ever spared the time to even glance at.

The air emanated a musky and an almost pungent stench, but I wasn’t so troubled. A certain book with a worn out spine caught my interest, and I stood on my toes to reach for it. The cover was soft and brown, unlike most of today’s generation hard and shiny bearings. I was immediately drawn to it.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the front of the library’s metal doors burst open, its usual slam echoing throughout the entire breadth. If my ears didn’t deceive me, I also heard a flurry of sniffles. I shrugged it off to the thought of a person who was a victim of the flu, a nuisance to easily catch considering the freakishly cold weather.

As I made my way to the back corner of the library—my usual spot—I heard the sniffing follow suite, coming closer and closer until I could detect the owner as a girl from the feminine inhales. I made about to my business and pulled back a wooden chair, carefully sitting my duffle backpack in the adjacent seat before resting myself onto my own. Disregarding the continuous snuffles that came from the girl, the library had never been more comfortable than ever. With the heater set on to full-blown warmth, which took quite some persuading towards the stingy librarian to set, and the barren compass of the building, I was a joyous introvert.

Well, it lasted for a beautiful moment before she came into view. The girl who rushed into the perimeter, hugging a pink bag against her chest. Her charismatic eyes gave me the weird impression that she wasn’t, by all means, disrespectful enough to be a pest to me. Despite that, I was still at unease by her presence. She had to be one of the school’s popular divas, judging from her attire. I normally didn’t base people from their appearance, but from where I sat, I could already catch the whiff of strong perfume. And boy, did it blast an effect on me.

I controlled a cough, which instantly caught her attention.

“Oh, sorry,” she forced out, before breaking into a poorly restrained sob. “I d-didn’t know someone was he-re.”

Her words drawled out clumsily. She had obviously been through a traumatizing event.

A lame, “It’s fine,” was the first impression she would ever have of me.

I expected her to brusquely take her leave. Instead, she stood there in that stance for a few lengthy seconds before it became too awkward to continue her pose. I wasn’t sure if I should have felt relieved or bothered, but she shuffled forward to set her bag on the table. When she retrieved a pink make-up case from her pack, I quickly tried to make myself appear uninterested by opening the book that had been waiting on the table ever since I had gotten it down from the shelf just minutes ago.

While I centered my attention on the small texts that adorned the rustic pages, I heard the chair across from where I sat skid backwards. I could literally form the image of the girl dropping herself onto it, the audible clang sound that clacked against the table coming from her make-up case. My head darted upwards for a mere second, long enough to see that she had mascara smudged around the corner of her eyes. I tore my gaze away and immediately set back to reading the book. I skimmed the pages, not really taking in the words. My eyes weren’t even working anymore. I had my concentration focused into my ears, listening to the girl’s high breathing and thick sniffles.

I lowered my head so that my bangs fell just above my nose. I watched her engross in the session of fixing her make-up through the dense fringes of my hair. My heart squeezed itself like a tightly clenched fist.

She was breathing through her agape mouth, her nose far too stuffy to be in use. Pink marks were chaffed across her face, complementing those swollen orbs of hers. The girl’s eyes held a hurt so deep, no one would have been able to dig it out with even the finest shovel. She was like a damsel in distress, like in those romance movies I often watched. They never had a happy ending. 

Before I could control myself, I questioned aloud in a weak mutter, “Are you—?”

I abruptly ceased my inquiry and cleared my throat. Intentionally, I made it sound gutteral and masculine. I then repeated myself in a deeper voice. “Are you alright?”

“Not really!” she huffed in a no--Sherlock tone, seeming to be annoyed by my question. 

Her snap made it nearly impossible for me to continue. I clamped my jaws shut; so rigid, my whole mouth felt like a padlock. The entire time I sat there, I didn’t move an inch. I felt as if though the wrong action, heck, even exhaling my breaths louder than necessary, would’ve set this girl off. When she pulled her jacket off with frustrated whines and a tearful expression, I felt a strong urge to do something to lessen her agitation, even if it were to be by a small amount.

“F-f—Siwon,” the girl sputtered under her breath as she slammed her attire onto the table and laid her head on the small bundle.

My lips twitched. “Guy problems?”

My breath hitched right when the assumption slipped. I mentally slapped myself, stabbed myself, and physically dug my nails into my thighs. Who was I to be invading this girl’s privacy?

To my surprise, she only rolled her head so that her face was hidden from view. Then, a muffled sob made me jolt in my seat. I reacted by scooting my chair backwards and awkwardly averting my gaze from her. If anyone were to come here, they would get the wrong idea. Petty thoughts worried my mind, like if Ms. Choi would overhear the ruckus and come running, or if I would have to deal with this girl’s drama. As cruel as the intuition sounded, I knew she could just rant to one of her friends rather than to me, a random stranger who wouldn’t be able to do much help.

“Guys are problems!” she denounced after a phase of stifled, harsh lamenting.

I had no idea how to feel towards her comment, since in her eyes, I was a man myself. I wasn’t offended at all, but I didn’t know how to respond. In such a situation, however, I was bound to say something to the girl.

“I guess the majority of them are horrible,” I agreed, stumbling upon each word that came from my lips. I rubbed my wrist, troubled, and jested in a quiet voice, “Some of them are so awful, they even make my goosebumps get goosebumps.”

A sudden laugh relieved itself from the girl, making my chest swell with an unspeakable thrill. I hadn’t planned for her to hear my childish retort, but given the fact that it had amused her, I was somewhat pleased. After a moment of eerie silence, she went back to her mourning.

I glanced at the window and saw that through the foggy glass the sky was falling to a gloomy dimness. I then turned my attention to the latter, who still had her head buried in the heap of dark blue jean her jacket managed to quantify. Her hands were folded on the table, in plain view. Those manicured nails of hers were seeping themselves into the skin of her hands; like the heir was trying to numb the emotional pain she felt by distracting her body into a physical incision.

“Ouch,” I worded silently when she removed her nails to pierce them into another area. Red punctures were the results of her pricking, and to me, they looked pretty damn painful.

All the caution and common sense left me when she continued to harm her smooth, milky white skin. I quietly leaned over to the side of my chair to reach for my backpack. I ped the front pocket as slow as possible to abstain the cause of any noise. After feeling around the compartment, my body abandoned the warmth of my chair and pity inspired my legs as they hauled themselves towards the girl in a swift motion. My hand was then hovering above hers and momentarily, I backtracked my action and wondered if what I was doing was too audacious. Yet, her chest was rising and heaving in pain, and even with her face stuffed in the jacket, I could easily hear her mutters and prayers. I could also hear my heart drumming against my chest, as if warning me to stop what I planning to do.

Her head shot up when I dropped my hand onto hers. Thankfully, she acknowledged what I was trying to do and relaxed her chin back onto the surface. Her eyes never left mine in the doing, and with a nuzzle of her cheek, her jacket was flattened out and her entire profile was revealed to me. The whites of her eyes were stained with red, surrounded by puffy pink skin. I felt embarrassed witnessing this girl in such an inadequate state.

I strained my lips to form a small smile and uncapped the portable bottle of lotion I clutched in my free hand. Then, with all my power, I compelled my fingers to be gentle as I ran my thumb over her scratches. I could feel the tremor coming from the shaken brunette. I attempted to be soothing by getting on my knees and blowing onto her marks. I wasn't resourceful enough to know if lotion would help cure her pricks or make them worse, but it was far too late to turn back.

When her fingers overlapped mine and her hand was in dominant control, I grinded my teeth. She was squeezing my hand with so much strength, I could actually feel my bones raking against each other.

I didn’t complain. If I was the one thing tethering her to sanity, then I was absolutely okay with a little discomfort.

“Y-your,” she began, her eyes widening just a hair width, “your hands are soft, for a guy.”

I immediately pulled away and straightened myself. I was then terribly afraid that if she examined me for any longer, she would know. And then, from her, everybody would know.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go home now,” I excused, retreating to the other side of the table to gather my backpack and push the chairs back to their original places.

Just when I was hurrying away, her call halted me.

“Wait,” she declared in a husky voice. “What’s your name?”

Darn.

There was no escaping this question. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t hear her, since I was frozen in spot. But I knew how girls functioned. I knew from even the simplest comfort received by men could perk any girl’s feelings. I knew this question had more to it. This person was interested in me.

“Taeyeon,” I ended up answering, truthfully.

“You’re Korean?” she questioned.

It was obvious that she was asking whatever to make me stay.

“Er, yeah,” I endowed, shifting my feet and trying to avoid her studious gaze, “and I have to go now, so—“

“I’m Tiffany,” she notified. “Hwang.”

“Ah, cool, you’re Korean too.” I managed a grin, which probably appeared flimsy, and dipped my head. “Well now, annyeong, my fellow Korean.”

When I was spinning around to take my leave, I arrested the sight of her smiling at my dorky salute.

And I hoped that Tiffany Hwang wouldn’t try to search for me in this packed school of ours.