December 9, 2012

A rather bony, lean woman fidgets in an uncomfortable metal seat adjacent to a dismal steel desk. Her slightly ringletted, mahogany hair is in a rumpled braid that fell over her right , she slowly becomes aware of the numbing, sharp December air searing into her immaculate white leather coat and thick black pants like a thief in the night. Her mind runs and drones with imagined scenes and milieus as she pictures the confrontation. What will she speak of? How will she begin? Will she last in the same room as them? Will she look at them in the eye? Or will fear get the best of her? Has she even forgiven them? Or has bitterness taken residence in the farthest recesses of her mind making it impossible for her to distinguish it? Unconsciously, she bites her thumb, there are too much contingencies, too much probabilities that risk seems to be out of the question. Feeling the need to bolt before it was too late, her subconscious keeps her still, her arse helplessly glued onto the seat.

“Ms. Jung,” Special detective Kim Minseok enters the interrogation room, a hand tucked into his pants’ pocket. “They’re here. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Her head screams, “No, you blundering idiot. You’re not ready. Now, stand up, turn on your heel and never look back!” But instead she smiles and calmly says, “Yes. Yes I am.” Crossing a finger behind her as she wishes herself good luck.

*

“I’m beginning to see through you, Oh Sehun.” Park Chanyeol breaks the impairing silence that they remained swathed in for the past few weeks, eyeing his friend who nimbly puts his jacket to obscure his fine shirt, vest and cummerbund that fitted him much like a glove. A year ago, the distaste of Sehun towards Choi Jinri was very apparent and irrefutably distinct in his eyes, making it clear that the man had no feelings whatsoever for the heiress. But after his family’s prominent year-end ball, he announced his engagement to the very woman, which was welcomed with heartfelt applause and face-splitting smiles. Chanyeol was caught off guard. It unnerved the colossus further that he did not so much as blink when Sehun asked him to be his best man.

Racking his brain for answers, he figured he’d ask Luhan, the man he knew Sehun often confided in. To his surprise however, Chanyeol found out something much more than what he sought out for. With the cat out of the bag, everything fell into place: the steadfast detachment towards Jongin and Hyunsu, the annual drinking on December 23, the drastic change, the disinterest in other women, the unspoken but somehow distinct intimacy with Luhan. He stayed away as far as he could, “hated” her as much as he could, so they wouldn’t know. So he could conceal his love for her. So he could forget. The love that had stayed with him for years, the love that had tormented him in his dreams and the love that had eventually burned him, mercilessly scorching his core. Finally, Chanyeol understood.

Sehun stops in the middle of fixing his tie, “What are you talking about?” He raises a brow, sparing the giant a half-hearted smile.

“I know why you’re doing this.”

“I love her.” His voice is stoic, Chanyeol could tell. “I’ve always loved her, I was just too much of narcissist to admit it.”

“That’s a lie.”

“And how would you know?”

“Uh, hello? Earth to Sehun! You asked me to be your best ing man! What makes you think I don’t?”

“Because you’re tall? Like a giraffe? And giraffes—or every animal with bodies thrice the size of their heads—have peanuts for brains?”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Is it working?”

Chanyeol’s lips turn into a thin line as he hums an off-key tune, frustration vibrating in his throat. “I’m trying to help you here, Sehun. I know everything. I know why you distanced yourself from Jongin and Hyunsu after their wedding. I know why you kept asking me out for drinks in an ostracized, dingy pub like I was a booty call that you were ashamed of. I know why you turned into a cold-hearted, intolerant bastard. And I know why you were so fond of Luhan. But you don’t see me ditching you. I’m your best man bro, your best man! I’m on your side here. So please, please tell me you want to get out of this while you still can because I have backup and we’re willing to smuggle you out of this precipice.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Chanyeol. This is also my duty as an Oh, to marry a woman with a name no less than mine. It’s not just about Hyunsu. I’m not that superficial.”

“Bull! You’re taking the easy way out.”

“Easy way!?” Sehun bursts, a strand of hair falling over his bare forehead. “Will you do me a favor and look again, Park Chanyeol? Because there is none.”

“Don’t you see, Sehun? I’m already handing it over!”

“What you’re doing is completely—”

“Perfect. I’ve prepared everything. Laid out everything. Planned everything. Just. For. You.” Chanyeol eerily smiles at Sehun whose face warps in return.

*

He knew today was Sehun’s wedding. He knew he (along with Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Yixing) would probably get arrested for disturbing the peace. He knew he might walk away empty-handed. He knew the risks. He knew the danger. But despite the voices in his head telling him otherwise, he sped through stretches of road and leapt through time and space toward the blasted Oh-Choi nuptials. Fate was obviously on their side when just a few minutes ago, he received a hushed call from Minseok saying, “Your sister’s here. She’s come to talk to Wu Yifan and Huang Zitao. You better hurry and get that son of a here before she leaves.” Luhan knew right then and there, that this was his God-given chance to set things right and that he didn’t have time to lose. Delay was a luxury he currently cannot afford.

*

A while ago she was looking across a wall but now two errant eyes stare back at her. Wu Yifan has changed and so has Huang Zitao, both looking so distraught, so wretched, it was as if life had been out of them and they were two empty, expressionless vessels. Pink, raw bruises were on their wrists, caused by the cold, metal cuffs that constantly cut through their skin while dark circles embellished their insentience. Looking at them now, she remembers how she was during her stay in the asylum. Hyunsu could feel the fear amplify at the back of her head as she is taken back to the time when both of them hovered above her, their devilish smirks boring through fastened eyelids but she ignores this. She was already here. It would be a total waste to just walk away without being able to relay her thoughts toward them. So for a good ten minutes, she swallows the bile at the back of and with a croaking voice, she begins.

“All is forgiven.” Was all she could manage. After that, she weeps, her head dropping, unable to stand the sight of them. Minseok, who stood behind her, offered the woman a handkerchief.

“N-no, I’m fine.” She sniffles, bloodshot eyes now staring back at the two. She takes a while to begin again, making sure that when she does, her voice doesn’t crack. “I hated you. Both of you. For killing my husband, for ‘permanently scarring’ me. I hated you because we didn’t deserve . There was this point in my life that I wanted you arrested, that I wanted you dead. But as I spent sleepless nights in that God-forsaken asylum, I realized, ‘who was I to condemn you? Who was I to deprive you of forgiveness?’ When my doctor stepped in, he said, ‘the worst thing you can do to yourself is to live with resentment eating at everything good you have left’. Eventually, we worked it out. He asked me to recount every pain you inflicted on me, every word you spat at me, then in defiance of my emotions—to let them go and to accept the fact that it’s in the past and nothing I do now can alter it. It was hard and in due course, it came to the point of intolerability but I saw through it. For Jongin. For me. And for you.”

*

Music. Beautiful mellifluous music was playing. People are expectant, wondering how the bride must look like and whispering of the groom’s grandeur. The immediate family are lined up, grandfathers and grandmothers chatting through spectacles, parents superficially greeting each other, nephews hairs and nieces hoped for better-looking escorts. As for Jinri, she stayed within the kitchen where her walk towards their massive garden—where the altar was—would begin. Pampered by her bridesmaids along with her maiden of honor, giggles fill the broad four walls as excitement rockets. In t