People were starting to look like trees, all grey and green.  Noises were starting to get muffled.  I just felt… tired.  

    I slipped out of the building to the back garden, dimly lit by a string of lights.  I only stopped once to kick off my heels, holding them in one hand while aimlessly walking on the grass.  The night was a lot warmer than most March days, it felt nice.  

    Feeling was another substitute for thinking. 

    And there were a lot of things to think about.  

    I didn’t want to think. 

    When I turned a corner of a stone wall by the fence, I heard voices. 

    “I can’t believe you actually showed up.  Whatever happened to staying under the radar?” 

    Across from the wall was a guy who looked about twenty-something, maybe even younger.  He looked intimidating and powerful, donning a charcoal suit like he owned the color.  His face was etched like a sculpture, and could’ve been easily compared to—

    Myungsoo.  

    He looked like Myungsoo.  

    And just when I made the correlation, I craned my neck further, only to see another figure with a much-too familiar frame standing right in front of him.  

    “Father—”

    “And since when did you start listening to dad? You’re a coward, Kim Myungsoo.  A coward.  You and that you call a mother.” the guy narrowed his eyes.  His expression looked plastic and cold.  

    I heard a shaky exhale, most likely from Myungsoo.  To my surprise, he couldn’t respond.  

    When he did, he said, “Hyung, you should come back home.” 

    “Don’t call me that,” he spat, “we won’t ever be family.” 

    “I’m trying,” Myungsoo sighed.  

    “No.  That’s where you’re wrong.  Stop trying.  You don’t have to do anything, anyways, you have everything handed to you.  First, the family inheritance, now, the hotel.” 

    “You know fully well this entire thing is out of my control,” Myungsoo said, sounding calm.  

    “But you want it, don’t you? You want the spot.  You want dad’s approval.  Same goes for the second mom.” 

    A pregnant pause filled the air.  

    “I can ruin your life,” Myungsoo said, his voice void of any emotions.  The statement itself was already making me shake a little, but the way he said it— like it was a fact, an algebraic equation.  If I knew anything about him, it sounded so unlike him.      

    That’s when he was punched.

    A few moments later, I stood there, leaning against the wall.  Myungsoo was still on the ground, leaning on his palms.  He had his head down as he let out a bitter chuckle.  And I waited until his voice struck the quiet, 

    “Are you stalking me, Princess?” 

    I came out of hiding, standing meekly with both hands clasped around the straps of my shoes.  He turned his head, shooting me a smirk.  His eyes looked glassy, the side of his lips where he was hit bleeding.  

    I cleared my throat, unable to look at him in the eye.  “Thought I’d stick around.  It was a good show,” I dismissed, trying to sound nonchalant and snarky.  

    I felt bad.  This entire thing didn’t settle well with me.  Everyone saw Myungsoo as a perfect guy— handsome, pretty-looking specimen, smart, and spoilt.  Like, born with a silver spoon in your mouth spoilt.  I did too.  

    But no one’s perfect.  Myungsoo, who seemed flawless, had interfamily conflicts in the house.  No one’s perfect, but everyone keeps secrets.  I do too.  Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to pry into his personal life, find out more about the enigma that was Kim Myungsoo.  I thought, what’s your secret? 

    “Glad you enjoyed it.  Trying to compensate for the lack of real problems in your life?” Myungsoo pushed himself up to his feet, dusting his hands.  

    “Problems?” I let out a laugh so fake even I thought it was phony.  “I have slim to none.” 

    “If only that were true,” Myungsoo replied without missing a beat.  He winced, touching his torn lip.  

    How we ended up in front of a convenience store at midnight, decked out in party wear, I don’t know.  

    When I came out with a travel first-aid kit, I stopped in front of the bench.  Myungsoo ripped off his jacket, tired.  When he looked up at me, he raised a brow.  

    I ripped off the plastic packaging, handing him the band aids.  “Here.” 

    He chuckled, “Doesn’t the girl usually treat the guy?” Nevertheless, he screwed open the cap of the antibiotic.  

    “Look,” I said, crossing my legs and straightening my back, “I’m not really used to nursing other people, it’s just not my calling.” 

    He rolled his eyes, shifting so his leg hit the heel of my shoe.  He stared at the stop light across the street from where we were sitting.  People that passed by stared—teenagers that were coming back late from the academy giggled as they ogled at Myungsoo, couples and others coming back from work shooting us envious glares.  

    I thought, they see a pretty looking boy with a pretty looking girl.  

    I thought, they look at us like we are the epitome of perfection.  

    I thought, there really is more than what meets the eye.  

    “You aren’t going to ask what happened back there?” Myungsoo looks at me, his expression unreadable. 

    “Would you even tell me?” I lowered my head, mentally tracing the cracks in the tiles beneath my feet.  

    “You don’t care,” he concluded, clucking his tongue.  

    “Lie,” I snapped, trying to sound curt, “never said I wasn’t curious.” 

    “I’m curious as to how long it’s going to take for you to tell the entire school about what happened tonight between me and my half brother.” 

    Brother? 

    “Are you ing kidding me right now?” I slam a palm on the wooden panel of the bench.  “What is your problem? All this time you’ve been calling me out for being a cynical, manipulative…” I trailed off, figuring it was too early to be confronting him about everything.  I needed to be concise and collected.  

    “This… entire time….” I started again, my voice quieter, “instead of plotting a way to ruin my reputation and making me feel- ugh, just stop approaching me!”  

    Wow, I was terrible at this.  It sure as hell wasn’t my first time arguing with someone, but it seemed like I hadn’t covered the basics yet: to defend, not attack.  

    “You’re assuming things again.  Who told you I would actually go out of my way to ‘ruin your reputation’?” he sighed, “I was just making a statement; your perception of how school should be running is pretty ed up.”  

    “This is getting boring,” I said, “grow up, L.” 

    “See? You’re always like this.  When things just don’t go your way, you force people off.” 

    A red alarm went off.  What was this guy saying? 

    I hated how the girl in the movies would always come to a stopping point once during an argument with a boy.  It was suffocating.  I went on for hours about how the girl was just so washed out, not able to say anything back. 

    I kind of understood why the characters couldn’t refute the former statements now.  

    I was stuck.  

    I wanted to say, “Sometimes I get the feeling you have a thing for controlling everyone when things just don’t go your way.  So are you venting your anger out on me or do you want to start a fight?” 

    But it was clear that both of us could agree it had been a long night.  That we rather put this behind us when we got back to school. 

    Because who wants to admit they’ve gone through hardships? And frankly, who wants to hear it?  

    Instead, I said, “…Do you wanna talk about it?” 

    “Are you using this as a chance to get closer to me?” 

    Blushing, I stood up.  I my phone to display the time, pressing my lips together so I didn’t look embarrassed.  “Fine, don’t.”

    He let out another frustrated sigh.   “Naeun, sit down.” 

    “What?” I crossed my arms.  I sat down anyways, because the crossing straps on the back of the heels were butchering my feet.   

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