Chapter Forty Nine

Stories.

Warm on cold. 
I felt something warm touch my cold left cheek, one that had been too exposed at the fragrant breeze of the air conditioning unit whipping towards my face.

I slowly opened my eyes, slightly shifting in my seat and tilting my head away from the glass window where I was leaning my head. I angled my face towards my left side, attempting to squint at the object that just grazed my cheek.

Joonmyeon was gazing at me, with his face resting just a couple of inches away from my face. He was darting me a half-stern yet half-flustered expression, as if the latter one was something that screamed I’m-caught-in-the-headlight. His right arm was engirdled around the headrest of my seat while his left hand was settled on the closed glove compartment in front of me. We were inside his car, with the engines still roaring in life as the vehicle stayed stationary at the spot.

With him still unmoved in his position, he slightly lowered his head down as he gave a small smile to himself, with his glance striking through the tiny space left in between the warmth of our faces. He lifted his head once again to meet my gaze.

Still staring firmly at me at a very close distance, he cleared his throat unnaturally, stuttering. “I…I was just gonna wake you up.”

With my mind still blank due to the nap that I had taken, I craned my glance towards my right side, adjusting my eyes at the sudden display of light outside the vehicle. With that crystal clear glass front, the elegant-looking fountain at the right side of the building, the lounge seen through the glass front, and the familiar personnel at the lobby desk, I realized we were in front of the dorm building.

I knew I should still be lounging back at our house since it was still the onset of winter vacation. However, ever since we arrived at the house after playing an exhausting match of soccer at the neighbourhood playground, I observed that Joonmyeon’s expressions were subtly being dominated by uneasiness and anxiety, although it would be obvious that he was trying to force out reassuring smiles at times he would catch me looking at him as I studied his expressions. I didn’t know the reason, but those expressions were affecting me in a way. And it was those spurs of the moment when I wanted to help him in any way I could. 

After he told me that he needed to drive back, I had the urge to go back with him, and maybe it was a thing I could do to relieve him of the thoughts that were seemingly bothering him. It wasn’t easy for me to bring up the should-I-go-back-with-you thingy since I had not really asked him such awkward question before. However, after mustering up enough courage, I was able to strike the question at him. 

And of course, there went the ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to.’ The second time I brought the question up, he was already settling himself inside his vehicle, and yes, he still didn’t allow me.

The third time kind of went to the extreme. I blocked the path of his vehicle in front, stretching my arms out as if I was being crucified on the spot. I think I saw him cuss a word to himself inside the vehicle as he hit the brakes, making the car screech to an abrupt stop. The conversation kind of went something like this…

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF?!”
“Well, you should bring me along with you if you don’t want a body tied behind your car as you drive down the highway.”

And the rest of the convo proceeded with his annoyed sigh, his ‘get in the car’ phrase, and ‘but I’ll drop you at the dorm building’. With me, triumphantly getting in his car.

I looked at him once again at my left side. He was still focused on the steering wheel as he settled his back on the rest comfortably without his seatbelt tying him down to his seat. He stopped lightly tapping the steering wheel in front of him with the pointer finger of his left hand and gazed at me hesitatingly, as if being awkward though he kept a straight face. The inside of the vehicle was silent, with only the sound of the roaring engines evident.

He was still awkward. Probably, because of the kiss he just secretively planted on my left cheek. 
Talk about wrong timing. But nope, I still think it was a good time. Spontaneous Joonmyeon.

I smiled gently at him before speaking in a hushed tone, as I still hadn’t adjusted my voice after dozing off. “Careful on your way home.”

Joonmyeon just proceeded staring at me sternly without speaking any word. I opened the door beside me halfway, preparing myself to get out. 

But then his serious, low voice resonated fluidly, making my head angle towards his direction again.

“Myunjae.”

My lips were only met with his own ones, pursed and motionless.

He didn’t retract away, staying still for a number of seconds, his face angling to a side. He then gradually inched his lips away from mine, his eyes opening themselves slowly as he gazed at me unyieldingly in the eyes. He stopped distancing his face away, with only a couple of inches between us, when he mumbled.

“Good night, Myunjae.”

He gently grasped the back of my neck and planted his lips on my forehead for a while.

One. 
Two. 
Three seconds.

He completely inched away from me, carefully removing his hand from the back of my neck, with his palm momentarily grazing my left shoulder. 
I flashed a small, closed smile at his gesture. “Good night, Joonmyeon.”

I pushed the door gently at my side open, got out of the car and waved at him shortly. His vehicle didn’t immediately zoom off the moment I closed the door in front of me with my hand. I noticed him ponder about something for a split moment with a serious expression, as he stared ahead of his path. After giving me a small reassuring smile as seen through the slightly tinted window of his car, he drove off to the road.

The more I spent time with Kim Joonmyeon, the more I noticed he had two remarkable habits. The second one is telling stories. 

You wonder why I got asleep inside the car as we waded through the cold night of winter, with the city lights blending to a hazy horizon against the dark background of the night beside the vehicle. I usually didn’t doze off while travelling inside a moving vehicle. However, I did uncontrollably anyway. Besides the cool yet masculine, fragrant atmosphere of the interior of Joonmyeon’s car, and besides that urge to hibernate, it was because of his stern yet soft voice.

His voice reverberating as he told me a story.

A story of a girl with beautiful dark brown eyes. Ones that would fail to make you gaze away no matter what you would tell yourself.
Set in the first week after the first month of the school year. Senior year. Friday.

May 3.  

‘…It was zero-five-zero-three when I saw her...She had those dark brown eyes…And I didn’t realize I started looking forward to seeing them once again…’

As if an actual recorded tape was being processed in my mind, Joonmyeon’s voice, as he narrated the short yet simple story with particular words being emphasized, replayed over and over again in my mind. How could it not? I made him tell the story not once, not twice. But many times, over and over again, as we strode through the highway with his vehicle. He didn’t complain. He would smile at me softly whenever I told him to retell it. However, as if my brain itself told me that enough of the story had been heard, my brain was the one who executed the mechanism of making me sleep, with my heart, on the contrary, siding on the purpose of relaxing, in his voice that seemed like a lullaby to its ears.

Although I had passed through the lobby, got in the elevator and walked to my room, his voice in my auditory senses never faltered. With the background of the hallway completely silent, usual of the nine-o-clock time in the dorm building.

‘…It was zero-five-zero-three when I saw her. She had those dark brown eyes-‘

The sound and story screeched to a pause immediately as soon as I lifted up my head, landing my gaze at the door of my unit. 

I stopped walking.

There was a figure of a guy seated beside my door, left leg stretched in front of him as it rested on the cold, beige tiled floor, and his right leg bent where he rested his stretched right arm by the knee. He was wearing an expensive-looking finely tailoured black overcoat, all buttoned up to the neck, and paired with dark colored jeans and black shoes. His head was half-held-up and half- dangling as he looked at the ground beneath him. He had his hair fixed partially messy, framing his face of pale white skin, based on what I was seeing at his side profile. He was also holding a bottle of liquor, half-empty.

Before I could speak a word-

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Kyungsoo’s firm yet unstable voice resonated audibly enough, with his glance still directed towards the floor, his position unmoved.

He brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips, tilting his head up slightly as he chugged a small portion of the fluid. He shortly wiped his lips with the back of his hand holding the liquor. 

Still without glancing at me, he supported himself up on the floor with his free hand, settling himself in a straight stance. However, as if he could not hold the straight stance any longer after seemingly, gruesomely trying in his drunk condition, he leaned his back against the wall for a short moment, before pushing himself off of it and shifting his body to face me. Then he angled his head up to my direction, now staring blankly and fiercely at me.

His predatory gaze bore into mine, however, though not being bloodshot, his eyes somewhat looked worn-out, but I really couldn’t clearly decipher because of the shadow being casted by his hair onto his eyes. 

He continued mumbling. “I’ve been waiting. You didn’t open the door for me last night so I thought I should come back this time.”

With me still rooted in my spot, I saw him purse his lips close for a second, then leaning his back against the wall once more, dishevelling his hair back with his free hand shortly. He gazed at the ground in front of him again, placing his free hand inside his jean pocket. 

Seeing his pathetic state, I decided to call for someone to help him and maybe, take him home. I stepped backward-

“Why, Myunjae?” He retorted his slurring words at me. “You’re going to run away again? I also live in this building. I told you that before.”
“Kyungsoo-”

Kyungsoo gave a sigh as he lazily glanced at the ceiling, closing his eyes for a moment. Without another notice, he resumed muttering. “You know what they told me, Myunjae?”

He breathed out a single laugh to himself, before putting up his serious, blank expression once more. “They say that this,” he placed a palm over the left part of his chest, releasing it at the next second, “...will take a long time to heal…”

“…A long time before I could play again.”

“But what