http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztv5WbaXJdY

Ok, so maybe it was because of a little incident like this that started everything:

“Hey, why are you crying?” little six-year-old me, Lee Dasom, asked the boy who rubbed his fists over his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but only resulting in getting dirt all over his face. He looked about my age, but that’s about all I could determine, besides the fact that he had really big lips.

“N-nothing,” he hiccupped. I thought he looked kind of sad, and pathetic, so I took my handkerchief out and helped wipe his tears and face clean.

“It’s unmanly for a guy to cry, especially in front of other people,” I said. I remember my dad telling my older brother those exact words, and thought they were wise enough to pass on to the next boy who needed to stop crying and man up.

“I-I know that!” he said, a bit too defensively if I might add. He pouted and looked away as I wiped at his cheeks, trying to put on the brave face and avoid the question. It was a little too late to try and act cool and manly in front of me now, mister.

“Look, if you stop crying and tell me what happened, I’ll buy you ice cream. How does that sound?” I asked, pointing my pencil at him in an accusing manner, using my mother’s bribing technique to try and calm him down. It was the only way I got anything I wanted from her. He blinked at the tip of the eraser, which had a smiley face drawn on it, before looking up at me.

“Really?” he asked, a spark of cheerful hopefulness in his eyes. Hey, that money was supposed to be used to buy milk while my mom went to the bank across the street, but who cares? I’m just a kid, what does she really expect from me? I want my ice cream.

“My conditions need to be met,” I replied. He gave me a confused expression once again, and so I rephrased that, changing my vocabulary to simpler terms. “Tell me and then I’ll buy you ice cream,” I clarified.

“I was… being bullied…” he finally admitted, looking down shamefully. Understanding the situation at last, I poked him with the eraser of the pencil, giving him a broad smile.

“See, now was that so hard to admit? If you have something on your mind weighing down your chest, you should tell someone about it, ok? I’m Lee Dasom, now let’s go get you that ice cream I promised you,” I introduced, holding my hand out to him to help him up. He stared at it for a moment, before nodding and grabbing it, standing up. I was taller then he was, and even more so as he bowed his head to wipe away the last of his tears. “No more crying, ok? I’m your new friend, and as my friend, I don’t like seeing my friends cry.” Walking up to the convenience store next to the park, we walked in hand-in-hand, my head up confidently while he tried to hide his red puffy eyes.

“Ahn Daniel…” he finally introduced, as we picked out our flavor ice creams. My mother scolded me for buying ice cream instead of following instructions, but it was worth it in my mind.

 

Or maybe it was because of this that followed:

“Do I… know you?” the boy, sitting next to me, asked with squinted eyes. I found it a bit uncomfortable that he was scrutinizing me so intensely, and just shrugged my shoulders easily. It was the morning of my first day as a freshman in high school, this was not how I pictured starting the year off.

“How would I know, maybe we just passed each other once before and you remember a snapshot of my face from memory,” I concluded, turning away from him. I rested my chin on my palm, staring at the clock, waiting for the class to start to have an excuse not to socialize with the guy sitting next to me. I knew who he was, and if I didn’t give him a hint, he probably would never remember who I was, even if my name was called out.

Even as the bell rang and the homeroom teacher came in to call out roll call, he was still staring at me. Deciding to end his suffering, I ripped out the corner of a piece of paper, writing in cursive writing with a pencil that had an exclamation mark drawn on the pink eraser.

‘Look, if you stop staring at me, I’ll buy you ice cream after school. How does that sound?’ I wrote, which were almost similar to the words that I said years ago to him when I helped him up, just twisted a bit to fit this situation. If he had any recollection of me, then he’d understand those words. Otherwise, it was just a vain attempt on my part. Folding it up, I tossed the note to him, and put the pencil on my desk with the eraser facing him. His eyes must have scanned it about five times before a flicker of realization crossed over his features.

“Lee Dasom?” the teacher called out, which was my cue to raise my hand and call back “here” so he could mark me present for the day. The note, the eraser mark, added with the announcement of my name, was enough for the boy to finally understand who I really was.

Though, I wasn’t expecting him to tackle me in a hug, causing us both to get scolded by the teacher after class.

 

Or just maybe, maybe, it was this time that really packed it in the bag:

I don’t know when they were going to release this song after they finally debut, but the lyrics washed over me with an overwhelming surge to my heart. Like everyone else, I clapped and cheered, laugh and drank, and had fun during the summer of the end of my sophomore year, during the summer beach bonfire bash. I’m a responsible, independent teenager most of the time, but it was ok to let loose every once in a while.

Teen Top, the band Daniel was in, hadn’t yet debuted, but they were here singing ‘Party Tonight’ – one of their songs they weren’t quite sure when they would release after they finally debuted – to try out how good they really are. By the looks of it, they had great potential and would make it big one day.

Daniel and I were great friends, he stuck to me like glue ever since the first day of freshman year, when we bought ice cream after school and caught up on all the happenings those many years we hadn’t seen each other. Now, he was moving forward with his dreams and aspirations, and standing in the crowd with everyone else cheering for them, I felt as if he was leaving me behind a little bit, slowly becoming even more distant from me.

As the song faded out, they stood in the glory of their hard work, everyone cheering loudly for them. When they tried to get off stage, everyone flaunted them, asking for autographs and to hang out with them. I was about to turn and leave, if Daniel hadn’t called out for me to wait up. Looking back, he pushed past the small crowd of girls around him, and ran over to me. Ok, I might have looked at the girls with a bit of smug for that, but I was absolutely engulfed in happiness that he would rather be with me then those other skimpily cladded women.

Maybe it was the heat – even though it was near sunset, or the rush of adrenaline, or the beer. But as we walked away from the crowds of sophomores, Daniel laced his fingers through mine, holding my hand in a reassuring hold with his. It felt warm and safe to be with him, as if I fit perfectly by his side. Or at least, that’s what I thought. He still refers to me as his ‘friend’. I guess this was how nice guys feel when girls friendzone them for the exciting bad boy.

I didn’t expect Daniel to confess to me that day, or for us to kiss. It was my first kiss, and by the way his lips moved a bit awkwardly over mine, it was his as well. But by the end of it, I had adolescent thoughts of us going steady, getting married, having kids, and growing old together. Those dreams were obviously crushed; otherwise there would be no story here. A few weeks into the summer, and our relationship for that matter, my dad got a promotion. Which meant we had to move away from my hometown to the big city where his new office is.

Telling Daniel was hard enough, having to reject his suggestion of a long distance relationship was even harder, and seeing the sad expression on his face just broke my heart. “We can still be friends, texting and e-mailing each other, just like before. But really, no matter how much I love you, long distance relationships never work out,” I had told him. I even gave him a pencil as a good bye present to console him, with a heart drawn onto the pink eraser. He tried protesting, denying it, saying we would be different, but I knew better. I was a realist, and it wouldn’t last.

For the first few months we constantly texted, called, e-mailed, and every form of communication we could to just be able to keep in touch constantly. However, at one point, he got extremely busy since he debuted, and I needed to concentrate on my own future as well. It got to the point where we completely stopped talking to each other. I don’t know what hurt more, the fact that we drifted apart, or we let the distance get to us as much as it did. All I know is, even if Daniel had girls tripping over each other just to get to him, if I ever got to see him again, I knew my emotions would get the better of me. I loved him then, and a little part of me still loves him now, but like I said before. I’m a realist, and fantasies were just too overrated for my liking.

No matter how much I still loved him.

 

I stopped typing on my typewriter, completely frozen at what I just wrote. It took me about a good couple of minutes, before I took the piece of paper out, and ripped it to shreds, dumping the discarded pieces into the trashcan.

‘Never again,’ I thought to myself, taking a few deep breathes before rolling my shoulders, trying to get into my zone and finishing up my script for my new drama. I’d usually procrastinate to the best of my abilities, but right now, I needed the distraction. “Never again,” I said out loud, with conviction, as my fingers flew over the letter keys.