“I wonder why progress looks so much like destruction.” – John Steinbeck

He stands in front of her, dumbfounded and at a loss. The clock is ticking but time does not seem to move. He watches her wither and shrink and fade in the silence of his bedroom.

A sentence echoes in his mind, resonates to every little inch of his body, starting from his heart and running through the arteries—it sounds like a mantra and it makes him feel so sick he wants to vomit: Everyone seems normal until you get to know them, everyone seems normal until you get to know them, everyone seems normal until you—

He bats his eyelids as she screams.

Soojung, sweetheart, he wants to say, Soojung, sweetheart, what is the matter? What’s so hard about life? Tell me, baby, he wants to plead but does not. Words pool in his mouth, choking his throat and blocking his air passage, but no, he cannot get them out.

He remembers having smiled upon glancing over an inscription printed neatly on his drama script. Yoon Chanyoung – Kang Minhyuk; Lee Bona – Jung Soojung. It feels as if it had happened a century ago.

Another memory flashes in front of him; he remembers not being able to get any sleep the night before their first table-read—his heart racing so fast, it throbbed against his ribcage with such intense ferocity he was afraid it would actually burst.

He remembers waving his hand as naturally as possible, and taking a seat not far from her, his lips breathing out Hello, Soojung in that airy tone he had learnt and perfected from Jonghyun.

Oh. Hi, Minhyuk. Let’s work hard together, she gave him a small smile.

He remembers thinking that she was indeed the prettiest girl his eyes had ever laid on; that she was so pretty, so charming, so young and he wanted to be with her, to be the reason for all the smiles she would put on her face.

That’s a wishful thinking, Minhyuk, she shakes her head, how can I smile when I’m never happy? When I’m never going to find happiness? Ever?

And that isn’t true, Soojung. Of course you’re going to find happiness, everyone is, he shakes her shoulders.

Where did it go wrong? Where did the path twist and bend and lead them into destruction?

Where did they go wrong?

The breeze of autumn has slipped away and they have survived the freezing cold of winter. Chanyoung and Bona have shared a cute lips-to-lips kiss and have attained their happy ending and yet—

Yet—

His eyes dart back at hers and a lump forms down in his throat, starting small and growing bigger and bigger as their staring contest continues.

I’m not sorry, Minhyuk, I’m not sorry that I’m not Lee Bona and that I’m not cute and adorable, her eyes gleam with nasty mirth, Jung Soojung is a difficult person, you should have not fallen for her in the first place.

Nothing went wrong, he knows. Nothing went exactly wrong; they—or at least he—just thought that in their world of immense pressure and hectic schedule, getting to know each other seemed to be a good idea, it had a hopeful likelihood to be a fun activity to kill the time, except—

Except it was not so fun anymore, he found out, once she stripped off her sweater and let him see all of her flaws and all of her wounds.

He has underestimated what kind of discovery he could find beneath all her layers, big time.

(You’re too far gone to quit the game now, Minhyuk, if you want to quit, you have to finish it, and by ‘finish it’ I mean we finish it, together, right until the end.)

The sigh that escapes from his lips carries a weight, but even if she feels remotely burdened, her facial expression betrays nothing.

I’m shocked, Soojung, he finds himself speaking, I’m just shocked—that’s all.

A frown develops on her face, and before he can decide whether or not she is still pretty frowning like that, he takes her in his arms and shifts her body so she sits on his lap, and is securely encircled with muscles, body heat and the masculine scent of his soap and cologne.

You don’t understand, Minhyuk, you don’t, she does not try to get away from him, but does not return his hug either.

I don’t have to, Soojung.

And you’re only partially right. I’m not a good person, Minhyuk, I will hurt you, I will.

Her breath feels warm against his skin and he thinks that it is enough for now. You will? Okay, consider myself warned. Step your game up now, Soojung.

You’re stupid, Minhyuk. Naïve and reckless—stupid.

(She is still pretty.)

She is still pretty, she is still pretty, she is still pretty, she is still pretty when she frowns and when she is not herself, hurling her phone across the room and against the concrete wall, her cheeks smeared with the jet black of eyeliner and mascara.

(She meant it when she said she would hurt him.)

Please don’t do this to yourself, Soojung, please, please, please, please, please he says more pleases to her than to everyone else in his life, combined.

He has never begged this much to anyone before.

Too bad she is not one to listen—at least not to him. You told me you loved me, do you still love me now? Do you still love me now, Minhyuk?

He does not answer her question.

His lips remain tightly sealed until the clock chimes twice and he is thisclose to losing a daily battle against his weariness.

You’re still pretty, Soojung.

Stop, Minhyuk.

Stop.

S—

S—T—

S—ST—O—STOP.

STOP.

STOP!

He never fails to kiss her temple and whisper Pretty in her ear at every crack of dawn. But she never says Stop anymore, so he does not even know if she hears him.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

Leave me alone, she rages, leave me alone, go away, I hate you, go away, like a volcano eruption she unleashes her lava—it springs out in brilliant shade of burnt orange and red, so hot it sets her hair on fire, blistering fire of hell.

(Does it make her a demon? Does it?)

A frame that displays a picture of her younger, smiling self meets the floor—glass against wood and the more fragile substance between the two dramatically splits into tiny little pieces, damaged and broken and beyond the point of recognition, much like its owner—unfortunately much like its owner.

He does not realize that he has been biting his lip, not even after the sickening tang of iron and metal dilutes with spit in his mouth, and most certainly not even after he takes long strides towards her, forcefully keeping her still in his arms until their legs collapse and end up tangled messily on the floor.

He is about to burst into tears and incoherent screams with her, when his eyes catch the sight of sharp pieces of glass lying dangerously close to them. Iridescent under the moonlight, every single one of it screams harm and damage.

But no, nothing can hurt her when he is also around.

Nothing.

Noth—

Except herself, Minhyuk, a small voice in his mind somberly supplies, except herself.

(Except herself, her own mind, her own dangerous mind, her distorted thoughts, her dreams, no, not dreams, nightmares, her nightmares, that haunt her every night, every day, yes, even when she’s not sleeping, especially when she’s not sleeping, oh God what should I do, I want to help her but, but, but, but—)

He wakes up to the sound of water droplet dripping endlessly against a hard surface. It cannot be more than three in the morning, and his first instinct is to let out a string of mental curses in his head; he has been tired lately.

Go back to sleep, Minhyuk.

He finds her sitting on the windowsill, her folded knees touching her chest, hugged by her skinny arms, and her eyes set at a view outside the window, at something farther than what his eyes can see.

It is raining out there. Heavy downpour cascades from clouds high above; with excessive amount of water they dampen the earthy ground and along with it, human mood.

Come to bed with me, Soojung. It’s late.

I can’t. I didn’t take my prescription.

He gets up from the bed—his heart heavy, but not because he is losing his sleep. I don’t know what I have to do with you.

That’s understandable. You didn’t always have a problematic girlfriend.

Why didn’t you take your prescription?

Huh?

Why didn’t you take your prescription?

I’m trying to see what would happen if I didn’t take it. Like an experiment of some sort. Why are you asking?

I’ll stay awake with you.

You don’t have to.

Yeah, I know.

He wakes up again but this time to the sunbeam piercing through the window—gently it falls on top of his head and hers, filling the small room with streaks of dim morning light.

When he finds her soundly sleeping in his arms, he resists the urge to cry happy tears. Even though he cannot feel his right leg (never will he sleep on the floor ever again) and his shirt, right where the corner of her eye rests, feels kind of damp—

It’s okay, it really is.

Because when his lips connect to her forehead and her eyes slowly flutter open, for the first time since ever he sees that her rich chocolate irises contain significantly less melancholy behind them.

How does your experiment turn out, Soojung?

Um, I think it turns out okay.

Good.

Some days it is hard still—she will alternate between hyperventilating and staying quiet, and he will be forced to watch her suffer alone, until she decides he can penetrate her wall and comfort her with a cup of warm tea and a pair of strong arms.

But it is not always like that. Some days it is not so hard, no—they can sit down on a deserted spot by the side of Han River, and with a glass of Toffee Nut Latte (for her) and another of Espresso Con Panna (for him) they can easily be mistaken as normal Starbucks-endorsed, college sweethearts choosing making out over boring lectures.

That kind of day is his favorite.

For the last half an hour he has been religiously listening to her complain about a bunch of new kids who are so stupid and so annoying they kept following me around like they were my friends, ugh, I can’t stand that type of people, you know that, Minhyuk, I told them to leave me alone, in a not so delicate way you'd approve of, so they must have been badmouthing me in their annoying, shrill voice by now, but I don’t care though, I don’t—

She has a natural ability to make him laugh and cry, to make his lips flower with smiles and his eyes burn with anguish tears, all at once. For every word she articulates, blood rushes through his vessels in excitement. For every smile she fakes and thinks he’ll buy, a painful stinging sensation pinches his heart.

He sorts out the sentimental discomfort onto the farthest corner of his heart and lets out a laugh. This kind of day is his favorite. You sound like an infuriating secondary female character everybody loves to hate in a drama.

You did not just say that, Minhyuk. Do you want yourself decapitated? I was so close to using guillotine method on Sulli last week when she told me I was becoming more and more like Heechul. Ha—Heechul! I might be difficult, but never crazy. She eyes him in suspicion. Hey Minhyuk, you don’t fancy such silly juxtaposition too, do you?

Well, thinking of it… I can understand Sulli's reasons, you see. Aren’t you the type of person who, if trips and falls in public, will wait until you get home and on your own to finally sob against your scraped knees, Soojung?

Damn, her eyes bulge as realization dawns in, you’re right. But not before I curse the ground—curse and send it to Tartarus so Hades can give it the torment and suffering it rightfully deserves.

All the more reason why you’re practically the female version of Kim Heechul, he mutters dryly.

Still, I’m not crazy.

Okay. You’re not crazy, unlike Heechul hyung. Let’s try another—

I don’t want to try.

He ignores her, —up to this day I still wonder why you were casted as Lee Bona, when in all actuality you’re more like the evil lovechild of Chairman Kim and Yoo Rachel.

Chairman Kim and Yoo Rachel? Minhyuk, are you aiming for the most revolting mental image human race can come up with? She rolls her eyes without a care, but he swears, he swears he can see a hint of a smile ghosting on her face.

And it renders him speechless.

The slightest, most opaque tinge of happiness he has ever found on anyone, but coming from her, that slip in her hostile demeanor has been unusual and real, it has been so real he wants to take and preserve that fleeting moment inside a jar, physically. Soojung…

What? Stop making fun of me, Minhyuk, I won’t hesitate to… Ugh, whatever, the sun is too up high, let’s go grab some lunch.

(He still wants to laugh and cry at the same time, but that stinging sensation pinching his heart has gone without a trace.)

He remembers having smiled upon glancing over an inscription printed neatly on his drama script.

Soojung, he enters the room with two cups of hot chocolate and marshmallow, and sits beside her.

He remembers not being able to get any sleep the night before their first table-read.

Well, aren’t you considerate, Minhyuk? Hot chocolate goes best with this weather. With a small nod of her head she gestures to the summer rain outside the window. When he thinks they will fall into a silence, she continues, I've always associated rain with misery; it feels as if the sky is crying the tears I can’t shed.

He remembers waving his hand as naturally as possible, and taking a seat not far from her, his lips breathing out Hello, Soojung in that airy tone he had learnt and perfected from Jonghyun.

Why are you telling me this? You don’t have to force yourself, Soojung, I understand. (That opening up for you is like heel for Achilles, but he does not voice that out loudly.)

Oh. Hi, Minhyuk. Let’s work hard together, she gave him a small smile.

She takes a deep breath. It's raining again. I'm crying again. And yet like magic, you are here, with me, with a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallow, with me. I'm not sure of what it means, but I think it must be good, because my insides feel warm despite the weather—because despite my crying I feel like smiling. She leans closer and plants a long kiss on the corner of his lips.

He remembers thinking that she was indeed the prettiest girl his eyes had ever laid on; that she was so pretty, so charming, so young and he wanted to be with her, to be the reason for all the smiles she would put on her face.

What was originally obscured by thick mist draping over the horizon is now starting to become clear. He was right then: She is indeed the prettiest. But he was also wrong: He cannot be the reason for all the smiles she will put on her face. Her happiness does not depend on him, the very same way her sadness does not. Do you remember saying you can’t ever find happiness, Soojung?

Yes.

She is going to find her happiness, even if she has to gather her confidence and muster her courage, in the cruelest way possible, she is going to fight for it, strive for it—her happiness, even if she has to travel around the world, or go to the moon and back, in the search for it, it is not going to be easy, but he knows she is able to endure it. She will. Do you still believe in what you said?

No—I don’t think so, no.

You have to find it, Soojung. No one’s going to hand it to you on a silver platter. And I’m not giving you any shortcut either. You have to find your happiness by yourself.

Yes—I guess… She takes his hand and laces her fingers around his. He can see some flickers of fright in her eyes, but it is not much. Will you wait, Minhyuk?

(She does not specify but he understands.)

He does not answer her question.

His lips remain tightly sealed until the clock chimes twice and he is thisclose to losing a daily battle against his weariness.

You’re pretty, dear Soojung.

(He does not specify but she understands.)

You’re pretty too, Minhyuk. I really like you.

.

.

.

.

.

Okay, I’ll give you one—just one—shortcut and that’s all I’ll ever tell you, Soojung. A hyung once told me: ‘People don’t smile because they’re happy. They’re happy because they smile.’ Maybe you can start from there; smile more, sweetheart.

Oh Minhyuk, you could have just said that you particularly adored my smiles. (I like yours too, but she does not voice that out loudly.)

Thank you for subscribing and commenting and upvoting even before the story is released. I hope it meets the expectation. (If it doesn't, please bear in my mind that it's my first one-shot ever. I know it's not an excuse, but... ugh, go easy on me, darling, please.) It'll be nice if you comment, if you argue and protest. That way I can learn my mistakes and how to not make the same ones again in the future. Once again, thank you.

(I'll give you cookie if you can guess who is the hyung who said that quotation in the end of the story without googling it! Clue: if Ryeowook had Park Hyungsik, this hyung had Kang Minhyuk, said Kim Heechul.)