Like all fairy tales, ours had an ending, too. Sungjae and I, we both grew up. It was wonderful, being with him. His height seemed to increase daily, never failing to surprise me. The flowers he brought me changed in colors, shapes, and scents. I remember he once brought me leeks wrapped up. I made him soup out of them. But Sungjae. Sungjae never changed. His smiles. His silly antics. His strange outfits. I don’t know whether he was incapable of doing so, or just chose not to, but he couldn’t change.

Graduation approached quickly after our first year together. Unsure of what he wanted to do in the future, he chose to attend a university in Seoul, hoping I would stay as well. I was wishing for the same, but my mother had other ideas. She had such big plans, a huge future for me. She stuffed a few old sweaters of mine into a flashy red suitcase and shipped me off to the States.

I remember the day well. I had clung to him tightly, convinced that if I let go, we would both break. One of his hands was wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him, his fingers digging into my hips. The other hand tangled itself into my hair while my nose found its way to his shoulder. He smelled sweet, good. We held onto each other for what seemed like hours, but the moment came, eventually, when the flight attendants called for the last passengers of my flight. Sungjae untangled himself from me and carefully took my face in between his hands.

“I’ll wait for you.” He promised quietly, his thumb slow circles on my cheek. I pressed my face further into his palms, whimpering. I had grown too attached to him. I didn’t want to let go. Sungjae gently moved my chin so I was facing him again. “Please wait for me, too.” Then my lips moved to press to his, whispering back my consent, my agreement, my okay. The kiss tasted of tears, but I didn’t mind.

As my plane lifted off, I pressed my fingers against the glass of the window, testing the sticky surface. I was missing him already.

Sungjae and I kept in contact almost feverishly for the first few weeks. The time differences frustrated me, but he was patient with me. Seeing his face made me grin so widely that my cheeks hurt. But after 2,3 months, my enthusiasm began dying and replacing it came a curious interest in my new home in the city. I met sophisticated, high-class people who bought expensive drinks with expensive names. I went to more parties, flirted around, and often returned to my apartment drunk.

At one of those parties, I met a boy with a strong, seductive aura surrounding him. He went by the name of Kai and he swept me off my feet.

Being with Kai proved to be difficult, however. As I would lie, tucked into Kai’s arms, I would listen to the sound of his breathing and think about Sungjae. I wondered what he was doing as I was sleeping beside someone that wasn’t him. Guilt suffocated me as I would remember our last conversation.

The last email he had sent I opened and skimmed through; just never bothered to respond. Though I struggle to recall the entire letter now, I remember the ending- a short, sweet, brief, “I miss you.” Then followed a page full of kissy face selcas and strange heart emoticons he had found. Knowing him, he had probably spent hours wrestling with his computer and trying to find something to make me smile.

Thinking about that email always brings me to a feeling of guilt. It’s suffocating and strange, so I contemplate writing to him. As I plan out a response in my head, some of the burdens on my chest seem to lift and I breathe again. Then comes a creeping doubt in my mind that always prevents me from continuing any further. Doubt that he would still want me. That he was the same.

So I let Kai whisk me away from my thoughts. I let him throw me against the mattress and I let his mouth sink into my shoulder. As Kai’s body breathes against mine, I convince myself that Sungjae has gone down the same path I had. I was sure he had forgotten me.

I hoped this was true, but selfishly also wished it wasn’t.

It has been three years since I left Korea. When I step outside of the airport, sunlight blinds me. The world around me is dark in color; I adjust the sunglasses to nestle at the top of my head, squinting against the brightness as I look for a certain face. I am anticipating and dreading this moment, when I face him again.

A soft tap at my shoulder makes me whip around, startling Sungjae, who almost drops the flowers in his hands. After regaining composure, he holds the bouquet out to me and I take the flowers, examining them. The color is a wild fuschia, too bright for my taste. When I lean forward to take a sniff, I recoil almost instantly. The smell is too strong. I look back up to Sungjae, who looks endearingly nervous.

He hesitates before moving to wrap his arms around my shoulders. “Welcome back.” He whispers into my hair. 

Sungjae simply will not shut up while he drives me to my hotel. He jabbers away happily, asking me question after question, while I pick at the flowers he had brought me. “What’s America like? Who did you meet? How was the food? Did you fart a lot?”

I find my face scrunching up again, the way it did when Sungjae would say something weird. But this time is different. Have I always found him irritating? Has he always been this talkative?

He notices my silence and clears his throat in discomfort. He’s not used to my silence. Before I had left, I would snort or chuckle at his silly words. My lack of response was scaring him. Knowing this, I breathe out through my nose quietly and ask him what he’s been doing for the past three years.

Immediately brightening, he talks about the different classes he took, the strange jobs he tried out. The enthusiasm in his tone had once made me laugh; for strange reasons, he was just making my head hurt. But I couldn’t bring myself to tear away the bright smile on his face, so I let him jabber away, watching the world whiz past my window. 

Lunch is expensive.

Definitely an upgrade from a few cheeseburgers and half-melted candles. Sungjae takes me to a lovely café down in Gangnam, letting me order for the both of us. Wary of his wallet, I choose simple dishes. We eat quietly; he must have noticed my irritation in the car.

The silence bothers me more than his talking, so I attempt to make conversation. “So what kind of job are you working now?” I ask, my tone stiff and polite. He talks with his full mouth, but I can’t bring myself to smile. “I’m into music now.” he raises a brow. “I’m an impressive man now, you know.”

This makes me snort. Memories of our high school years comes rushing back at full speed and I remember the boy who sat by himself at lunch, the boy who couldn’t even use chopsticks properly. “Is that so?” I tease and he grins at the thawed atmosphere. “I have fangirls now.” He tells me, matter-of-factly, stabbing at his salad greens. We exchange safe conversation until our salads have disappeared off our plates. He goes up to the counter to pay for lunch while I step outside to wait.

My hand retreats into my coat pocket, my fingers wrapping around what I’ve been craving since hours ago: my lighter. I take out a cigarette and light up, cupping my hand over the flame of my lighter, inhaling the bitter taste, then exhaling.

The door opens and Sungjae calls my name, unsure. I turn to him and his eyebrows furrow together. “Since when do you smoke?” He asks and I shrug, breathing out wisps of smoke. He leads the way back to his car quietly. I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s unhappy.

He drops me back off in front of the hotel and I step out of the car, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. The taste the cigarette has left in my mouth is bitter, so I at my lips. He stops me and the look on his face is so somber my heart stops for a beat or two.

“You’ve changed.” He says after a long moment. I shift uncomfortably. “No, Sungjae. You haven’t.”

He looks very sad after the words tumble out of my mouth. His expression is so wounded and wistful that I almost wish I hadn’t said them. But there’s an abyss too big in between the two of us and I know our time has passed. I take a deep breath.

“Sungjae, you can’t expect everyone else to stop growing up for you.” I finally admit what has been bothering me about him for years, even when we had been together. I had always been envious of his innocence and frustrated that he was just too good for me. Now it was out in the open. The thing I loved, and hated, most about him.

He studies my face before parting his lips. “I didn’t change because- “ He freezes mid-sentence as an arm settles around my waist. Kai comes up from behind me, his eyes scrutinizing Sungjae’s long body. “Babe,” He greets, pressing a sloppy kiss onto my temple. Sungjae flinches and I move away from Kai, who simply tugs me back into his embrace. His arms feel hot around my torso.

“I’d better go.” Sungjae says quietly. “It was nice seeing you again.” I expect him to turn around and leave, but he stays frozen on the spot, his eyes locked with mine. Kai scoffs quietly, under his breath, but I hear it and my heart aches. “Thank you for driving her here.” Kai says stiffly before taking my hand and guiding me inside the doors. I can feel Sungjae’s eyes boring into my back. It’s like high school all over again.

That night, I untangle myself from Kai's long limbs and clamber out of bed when I hear his heavy breathing, making my way out to the balcony. I look up into the night sky, but there aren’t any stars out. The air is thick with pollution, though I myself cannot detect it with my eyes or nose. But it makes me sad. I remember the nights Sungjae and I had spent under the stars, doing nothing but holding each other, because we didn’t need anything ual to keep us together. All I had needed then was his hand in mine and I could be anything I wanted to be.

I wonder what has happened to the girl who had chosen to sit by the boy everyone else had chosen to reject. What happened to her?

“What happened to me?” I whisper, tightening a blanket around myself.

In the morning, I will drive past a poster of a boyband that goes by the name of BTOB. I won’t notice Sungjae’s charismatic stare because my eyes will be fixated on the stoplights in front of me. When I go to the supermarket, I'll hear a catchy song playing from the speakers and think that one of the singers has a voice similar to Sungjae's. In a few days, I’ll bring flowers to my mother. She’ll complain about the strange color and scent and I will wonder why I even chose that particular bouquet. I will have a couple more smokes before deciding that the taste is too bitter for me and just quit altogether. Some of the friends I meet in the future will be kind. They will remind me of him. Someday, I will get married, maybe to Kai, maybe not, and although my name will not be Mrs. Yook Sungjae, I will remember his words.

Even though I won’t know it, little pieces of Sungae will hide in everything I do, everywhere I go. He taught me innocence and he taught me how painful growing up can be. He is a part of me that I will someday be unable to remember, yet still be the biggest influence on my persona.

And even if I don’t know it, Sungjae will neither forget or stop loving me. He is constant. He is Sungjae, and although everyone else does, he never changes.

A/N: This is quite a drastic change compared to the first part to this installation. I'd like to apologize if it wasn't what you expected. I wrote this a few years ago, when I had my heart broken by a boy for the first time. To this day, he remains one of the most important influences on my life, though we no longer keep in contact. I want to be realistic with love, so this was the result of that. Thank you for supporting!