It was a Friday in June. I remember, because she was spouting nonsense on American superstitions of bad luck on Friday the 13th. Although I didn't believe her, I couldn't help but follow her tracks as she avoided black cats, ladders and cracks on the ground.

 

At that point in time, I hadn't a clue why I was always with her (or why she was always with me?). And it never really occurred to me that I saw her everywhere I went like a dog and its owner (I haven't decided which roles she and I were). She was just there as if she had always been there--as if my normal daily life hadn't been disturbed by her sudden appearance.

 

Jaebeom had commented once that we must have set off on the right foot. I wondered what he was talking about, considering I clearly told him that the first thing she did to me was push me to the ground (with extensive force, if I might add).

 

I didn't know how she felt about my presence. I'm not quite sure whether or not she even knew that I was always with her (which adds a theory that I might've been the dog), because I've noticed that even without anyone by her side, she still talked as if she were actually talking to someone. Then again, it's not like she ever looked like she was talking to me.

 

I was concerned with my biology exam score that day, so I was only half-paying attention to what she was talking about, but my thoughts were interrupted when she spoke the word, "love."

 

I looked up from my feet at her, only a few steps away from me.

 

"He loves me... He loves me not," she recited repeatedly, plucking the petals on the daisy in her hand with each sentence.

 

Being the misandrist that she was, I didn't have to wonder to know who she was thinking about.

 

Park Jaebeom.

 

My first friend in university, and her childhood friend from the little tike days.

 

Of all the guys in the world, the only one she treated differently was Jaebeom, because he was that 'special someone' to her.

 

Something impulsed me to speak up. "What are you doing?" Maybe I just wanted to remind her that I was still there.

 

"Stop following me," she sighed, her voice sounding coarse and tired.

 

Okay, so I was the dog (90% of the time. The other 10% was for when she was lost).

 

"Jaebeom told me to keep you company while you're in Seoul, didn't he?" I reasoned.

 

She mumbled a jumble under her breath . . . something that sounded like, "I came here to spend time with oppa... Why am I stuck with this creep?" Although I couldn't be sure; she was still a distance away. It might have been something nicer... No chance?

 

"He loves me... He loves me not," she went on.

 

Unconsciously, my fingers had flexed uneasily. I became aware of how much I was expecting out of the answer in the silly game. My mind was racing, and my feet accelerated so I was walking alongside her.

 

"He loves me..." She suddenly stopped and looked over at me, her eyebrows furrowed together and a pout playing on her lips. She tended to look like that when she was angry. Irresistible, I tell you. "Get lost."

 

Even though I knew her intent all too clearly, I . "Well, I would, but first of all, I can't get lost in Seoul, unlike you. Second of all, if I get lost, you will get lost as well, and when that happens, we'll have to find each other. That would only take us back to square one."

 

She growled. I'm not even kidding; she literally growls . . . like a dog. But that really wasn't a first.

 

Makes me wonder if I should add a theory that we were both dogs.

 

She started picking up her speed, hoping she would lose me. However, not that I wanted to pry on her misandrist ways . . . males do have stronger, longer, faster legs. After half a minute of her awkward speed-walking pace, she slowed back to her normal stroll, realizing that there was absolutely no way she'd win.

 

"He loves me not..."

 

Anxiety. Couldn't she do this any faster?

 

"He loves me..."

 

I tried to count how many petals were left.

 

"He loves me not..."

 

She messed up my count.

 

"He loves me... He loves me not.... He loves me..."

 

And after a while, there were only two petals left. The second to the last one was a "love me not." Which meant that the last one was a "love me."

 

At the same time, I felt two emotions stir inside me.

 

One, I felt overjoyed to see a smile stretch across her face and the cute part of her screaming silently out of delight.

 

Two, I was jealous and infuriated that the flower said that Jaebeom loved her.

 

Because I knew he didn't, and I realized I already did.

 

-

 

There came a day when I learned to never feed her sweets. It wasn't because she'd bounce off the walls or anything; it was actually because she had a low tolerance for sweets.

 

After exactly four bites of her cheesecake, she looked like she was ready to puke.

 

However, she looked up at Jaebeom from across the table, smiled, and gracefully brought another forkful of cake to her lips.

 

"You like it?" Jaebeom asked her.

 

"Of course. Oppa bought it for me." It may as well have been the only reason why she liked it.

 

Jaebeom grinned. "Good. I will bring you here again."

 

A bell tone made Jaebeom switch his attention over to his phone. It was as easy as that for him to chase her out of his attention span. I noticed her poking the cheesecake disappointedly while scrunching her nose, scrutinizing it.

 

I pulled out my unopened water bottle and reached over the table diagonally to set it next to her arm.

 

She froze, only her eyes moving to look at the bottle for a second, and then pushed it away curtly with her elbow.

 

Jaebeom looked up at us after he had finished typing in a text message and noticed the water bottle. "She can't drink plain water," he explained. "It makes her feel sick."

 

"Oh," I mumbled. At least he understood something about her dietary needs.

 

I looked at the cheesecake, and then the water bottle, eyeing the two options she had. Would she get more sick from the sugar or the water? Would she have taken the water had Jaebeom been the one who handed it to her?

 

"Sorry that I've been a little busy lately with my summer courses and everything," Jaebeom murmured, reaching across the table to touch her hand.

 

He was totally leading her on, which I did not appreciate.

 

She grinned, and I noticed how much of a third wheel I looked like from an outsiders' point of view.

 

Her grin didn't reach her eyes, which were shimmering like obsidian today. "It's okay. I understand."

 

"Has Nichkhun been a good tour guide?" he asked.

 

She looked over at me from the corner of her eyes. She was still smiling, and it let me imagine what it would be like if she were smiling at me. The moment was short-lived--but a mere glance. "There's better, there's worse."

 

I cleared my throat, vainly trying to join the conversation. "When are you going back to class?" I asked.

 

He looked down at his wristwatch and surprise flashed over his face. "Oh, no. I didn't check the time. I'm running a little late, actually. Thanks, Nichkhun." He got up from the table and stuffed a wad of money into my hand. "Entertain her again for me, please? Sorry, but I have to go."

 

Of course.

 

Out of the two weeks she had been there, Jaebeom hadn't spent a full day with her altogether.

 

The more I thought about them, the more I felt bitter, which I knew I shouldn't have, because Jaebeom was my good friend.

 

She set her fork down when he was no longer in sight and leaned back in her seat, clearly disappointed.

 

I bit my lip, trying to think of either a way to cheer her up or something to talk about in general.

 

Before I could think up of anything, she got up from her seat and left, her blue foot stumbling over her pink foot.

 

For the first time since I'd met her, I considered leaving her alone. I didn't know what was more important at that point. She had spent a good two weeks roaming the streets of Seoul; she surely would not get lost. Besides, she needed some time alone. Maybe she wanted to cry. I'd never know.

 

But an overpowering 80% of me was selfish. That part knew that she wasn't spending forever around there, and if I didn't spend all the time I could with her, I'd regret it for life . . . or at least a while. I had already started feeling my stomach churn just from watching her back grow smaller as she got further and further away from me.

 

The selfish part of me would have won over eventually with a bit more convincing on my part, but it did all so much quicker when she appeared on the other side of the window outside of the cafe.

 

She knocked on it to get my attention, although I had already seen her, and pressed her handphone's screen against the glass. It read: "What? Not following me?" She was pointing at it eagerly, her face showing a glum expression.

 

I'm not sure whether or not she wanted me to follow her, but it was definitely an invitation, and I would surely accept.

 

-

 

By the end of the third week, she allowed me to be her companion. We walked side by side, and she actually directly spoke to me.

 

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked.

 

So she didn't let be accompany her happily, but as long as she did...

 

"Nope," I replied, my arms coming together and stretching behind my back. "Absolutely nothing better than this." I tried to sound sarcastic, but in all honesty, being with her, simply walking all around town, was the best activity I had ever participated in.

 

She just enjoyed walking around, looking at things. She never went in shops, she never asked what things were, she never pointed at anything or went up-close to get a better look. She just scanned the area and continued walking. This happened everyday and continued all day.

 

But for some peculiar reason, I anticipated waking up in the morning, showing up at the dining table and simply waiting for her to wake up just to join her on her walk. On some days, she tried to wake up earlier than me, but being the light sleeper that I am, and by the fact that my room was closest down the hall, I always woke up when she did.

 

Jaebeom, who slept on the couch to make room for her, never noticed us leaving.

 

"What's that?" she asked, pointing across the road. It was the first time she had asked something about the landmarks.

 

"That's the Han River," I answered, trying to remember interesting facts about it, but none came to mind.

 

She started running for it, dashing across the street as if cars weren't coming towards her. Her huffing breath condensed in the chilly air (of the strangely cold summer day) briefly and disappeared behind her.

 

"W-wait!" I shouted. My arm reached for her, but she was already far by the time I could react. I frantically looked both ways down the street as I darted after her. She was growing smaller, and that did not please me. With all my athletic ability on full power, I chased her, reaching her just before she stopped to the side of the river.

 

She bent down, her hand gliding across the wildflower-bed as her eyes scanned each flower. "Help me look for it," she said, her voice low and in a hurry.

 

My knees automatically dropped to her level. "What? Look for what?" I asked her, the same urgency in my voice as in hers. "What do you want?"

 

"A leucanthemum vulgare," she said, "I need a leucanthemum vulgare. Please help me find one."

 

At that point, a couple of things were rushing through my mind. One, I hadn't a clue what a leucanthemum vulgare was. Two, it was frightening me to see how worried she was. Three, I needed to help her. Four, what was even happening?

 

"A leucanthemum vulgare?" I asked, trying to calm down a bit. "What is that?"

 

"A leucanthemum vulgare! A leucanthemum vulgare!" she shouted, her hands forming fists and pounding the dirt beneath her. She stopped then, choking from what I found to be her tears.

 

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice quivering. "What is it?"

 

"There isn't one here," she breathed, her bent knees falling to the ground.

 

And there was nothing I could do. I couldn't hold her, I couldn't comfort her, I couldn't offer her my help. She sat there, tears pouring out of her eyes and hiccuping uncontrollably. I could only watch, helplessly, uselessly, as she uttered the words that made me understand: "He will never love me."

 

-

 

And then she was gone. As if she had never entered my life, as if she had never been there before. As if I never had a reason to live.

 

No goodbyes, no warnings. Just a disappearance and a message through Jaebeom.

 

"She told me to thank you for taking care of her and sorry for troubling you," Jaebeom said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks for looking after her for me. I know you had better things to do."

 

I didn't.

 

"That's it? She's gone?" I asked, hearing my voice drop to a lifeless whisper.

 

"Yeah," he told me, his eyebrow arching in a confused way. "Hey, are you sick or something? You should get some rest."

 

"When did she leave?" I asked.

 

"This morning at dawn. You were totally drunk. You don't remember?" He walked passed me, into the kitchen. I heard the sink run and dishes clanking.

 

I didn't even remember how I became drunk, but a heartdropping feeling inside me told me that she had somehow talked me into it in order for her to leave.

 

"Want some hot soup?" Jaebeom called from the kitchen. "I'll make you some. Whichever kind you like." He was chuckling, for his voice came out happily. "Take it as a thank you and me caring about you being sick. It'll be your only chance, so you better take it."

 

I turned and grabbed a hat. "I'm heading out for a second." I ran for the door. Something in my head was trying to come out, pounding furiously.

 

The road was wet from the rain, and raindrops were dripping off of the tree canopies over me. I walked quickly, knowing that I had to find one immediately.

 

Today, the morning noises of cars heading to work, kids at daycare playgrounds, and market people chanting, annoyed me. I was frustrated. It wasn't the same. The walk to the park seemed like it was taking forever, too long. I probably would have considered heading back home. It felt like being a lost dog without its owner.

 

But I made it, and I spotted one almost immediately. My arm swooped, my hand plucking it right from its roots.

 

I stared at it, twirling it between my fingers briefly. The white petals blurred as they whirled around and fluttered delicately.

 

"Leucanthemum vulgare...," I murmured to myself.

 

My fingers stopped twirling it, and my other hand reached for a petal, ripping it off cleanly.

 

"She will come back," I said.

 

Pluck.

 

"She will not come back."