They have a complicated past, he and her. 

At seven, he moved to the neighborhood all the way from Hong Kong. He was shy and reserved and self-concious and quiet and the opposite of what he is now. But who was his first friend? Her. 

At eight, he got bullied by the other kids because they were taller; and he was scrawny and short and his Korean was crooked and totally rough around the edges. She was there to defend him, and she was the only one to do so. 

At nine, he got sent to the principal's office for the first (and not the last) time in his life. He got into a fight, because these kids wouldn't stop bugging him so he pulled a new technique he learned from his sensei, and he cried so hard after his parent's had scolded him that she had to come over and comfort him. It was the first (and hopefully the last) time he cried on a girl's shoulder. 

At ten, she started making him food. He had never gained 10 pounds faster than he did when he ate all of her cooking in just one sitting. 

At eleven, they were classmates for the first time since they became best of friends. They weren't seat mates but sometimes the class wouldn't go by the seating arrangement and with every chance he could get, he sat next to her.

At twelve, he got bitten by a dog, her dog, and he had to take a shot and she was there to hold his hand as he endured the pain that lasted for ten seconds (which is a minute in a twelve-year-old's world)

At thirteen, they went on a field trip to the countryside courtesy of the school. It was the year where she found out his fondness of cheese and the year where he found out her phobia of cows.

At fourteen, she dyed her hair a lighter brown compared to the almost black color she originally has. She showed it to him - or more like flaunted - and without his knowledge, he was lovestruck. 

At fifteen, people began to notice something in his gaze towards her. He looked at her differently - more affectionately and happily than before, if that was even possible - and two people didn't notice this: her and him. 

At sixteen, they had a huge fight because she started dating someone and he didn't even know she liked that guy in the first place. She asked him to be an alibi, to not tell her parents about this. He didn't go with it. She got mad at him. They fought. They didn't talk to each other in a long while. He realized how much he cared for her; he realized how he's loved her all this time. 

At seventeen, they reconciled during his birthday. She gave him a gift, the golden nunchucks he always wanted. She told him she broke up with the guy a while ago, and she wanted to tell him but he always seemed so mad at her. She told him she was glad that he began to be more outgoing and friendly, not the shy boy that he once was before. She told him she was sorry, and then she began choking and tearing up. At the end of the night, she cried in his arms, and he was too much of a coward to kiss those tears away. 

At eighteen, he finally confessed to her. "I love you, Youngji, always have and always will." he had said with all the sincerity in the world, yet all she did was took a step back, laughed and the words: "Jackson, I know how much you love me, you don't have to sound so serious about it." were enough to break his heart. 

At nineteen, he ran away from home. She was the first one who found him - outside of Mokpo with some of his other friends - to her horror, he was stoned. She told him to snap out of it. She told him, "Jackson Wang, you stupid fool, stop smoking pot and go back home with me. I love you too, you know. I love you." He laughed at her face.

At twenty, they went their separate ways even though they were still stuck in the same university. He kept himself with martial arts and fencing plus some dance lessons. He still heard things about her but the one that caught his attention was that she was dating someone. Again. The ache in his heart suddenly got bigger after that. 

> ; <

He took a deep breath, taking his time, in and out, in and out. 

Focus, focus. 

He narrowed his eyes on his opponent through the net of his helmet. Focus, Wang, focus. He dodges the attack, pars with his opponent's sword, doesn't hesitate to lunge, octaves and does a follow-up counter-time attack that's enough to send his opponent two steps back.

The small metal sword falls against the mats and a round of applause ensues throughout the training room. He takes off his helmet and shakes the hand of his opponent. "You're getting pretty good, Jackson. Even better than the last time we spared." he says, smiling despite his loss.

He winks at him. "All I've been doing these past months is training, bro. So better believe that I've improved." He listens to the compliments from his team mates and accepts them obnoxiously, though playfully by adding some jokes here and there. 

"Jackson," his coach says, calling out for him. "Come here, Mr. Park wants a word with you." he says, voice coating with seriousness that makes Jackson a little less happy about all the compliments. 

Raising an eyebrow, he starts to jog over to the two coaches. Mr. Park was the coach for the badminton team, which was considered weird how he was looking for Jackson, a fencer, out of all people. 

He stops short right in front of them, his helmet under his hand and his sword the other. He bows to both coaches. "Yes, sir?" he says, addressing Mr. Park. 

This coach was lean, broad-shouldered and tall; he towered over him and it was enough to make him shut his mouth as he listened to what the badminton coach had to say. 

"Have you seen Heo Youngji lately? I've been calling her for a few hours now but she still hasn't picked up, her friends and team mates said you could help. She hasn't been attending training these days, and she's a competitor for tomorrow." 

"Umm..." to be honest, he didn't know what to say to that. The badminton coach only wanted to talk to him because of her? Why him? They haven't been hanging out at all these past few weeks what with sports training and studying for the CSAT. 

Actually, the last time he even ever talked face to face with her was during their first day of college. Which seemed like eons ago for Jackson. 

"She has a tournament tomorrow and I don't want any of my players to be MIA." Mr. Park says. 

"So, Jackson," now his own coach was talking. He turned towards him. "Have you seen her? Youngji?"

He took a step back. As he said, they haven't talked to each other in a long while now, much more see each other. The last time he saw her....

He clears his throat and regains his composure in front of the two coaches. He grips harder on the hilt of his sword as he nods to them. "I haven't seen her, but I think I know where she might be, coach." 

> ; < 

Today was the 30th of August.

No wonder why she didn't attend today either, Jackson thinks to himself as he bounds up the steps of the public library with a bag of his (and her's) favorite drink and some bagels he got from an in-campus cafe. 

"She owes me," he says, muttering under his breath as he enters through the library's large double oak doors. "She totally owes me." 

He passes by the librarian, who gives him a look of judgment. It was probably the clothes. He's been wearing crotch-drop pants a little too excessively now, but he can't help it because he feels so comfortable in them; even though it makes him look short. 

He walks in the center, turning his head left and right to check on the long tables at the side, if a certain girl who once had his heart was sitting there in the shadows of the books. 

When he had a project to pass a few weeks ago, he had to come here, to the library, to do some research about it. It was the first time in a long time that he had been in an library and had seen her. 

It made him wonder, and he had to admit it was funny why she was in here in the first place. Perhaps she had been escaping at that time too, wanting to clear her mind and the library is probably the best place for her to do so. Nobody would ever think she would be here; she didn't like books. 

Yet, when he found her, his hand clutching tightly on the bag and his breathing shallow, she was sitting at the far corner of a long table that was near one of the archway-like windows, a large book in front of her. 

He sighs as he literally forces himself to move his feet so that he'd be walking towards her. A few chairs away, he stops and places the paper bag on the table. 

That's when she looks up and he looks away. 

"Jackson.." he hears the surprise in her tone, and he doesn't want to see her expression or her eyes. He'd give away his own emotions and feelings to her if they made eye contact, they were best friends after all and one look could confirm what they're feeling. 

"This is how you spend your birthday?" he says, wanting to sound a bit mean, but instead, his voice didn't have it's usual edge to it. "Pathetic," with a little too much force, he slides the paper bag over to her. 

"I couldn't go home today," she mutters. When he glances up, just to sneak a peek, she's not even looking at him anymore. She's looking inside the paper bag he's bought just for her. "This is your gift to me, Wang Jackson?"

Jackson turned his back to her, hands deep in the pocket of his pants. He shrugs. "You always liked Dr. Pepper, do you know how hard it is to find that soda here in Korea?"

"No."

"Exactly."

Then silence.

The two of them had always been awkward around each other these days. They shared too many memories, they know too many things. It was the painful kind of awkward. He didn't know what to do or say next. Should he leave? Yeah, maybe, he probably should.

But before he could even take a step forward, he hears the sound of a chair being dragged back. "Jackson," her footsteps  gets louder. A hand is on his shoulder. Her hand. His heart is beating louder, faster, and he can feel it pulsating inside him. "There's two soda cans. Here,"

Her hand slides down and away from his shoulder. He bites down on his lower lip as he turns his head to the left and sure enough, she's there, holding her hand out to him as she leans against the bookshelf, a ghost of a smile on her ever-so pretty face. 

"I know," he says to her, nodding. 

"One's supposed to be for you, take it, Jackson." she presses, extending her hand further towards him. He looks down on it, then back at her. He wishes he was as good as her in reading people's emotions, because then, he'd know what she was thinking at that moment when their skin brushed ever-so-slightly as he takes the soda from her. 

Electricity, that's what Jackson feels inside his veins at that skinship. 

The can is cool against his hands, his eyes drop to the ground as he mutters: "Thanks." but then he clears his throat, his voice two octaves higher. "You should, umm, practice later. Mr. Park was looking for you. Can you believe it? They're asking me where you are."

"I'm sorry if it burdens you." 

"Apology accepted, umm, I guess."

She lets out a sigh, he gulps inwardly. She takes a step forward, he stays where he is. The library is so quiet and so still it's like he can hear his own heart beating rapidly against his ribcage, as if trying to break free. 

"Jackson, I'm - I - I ..." she chokes for words, her tongue is tied and Jackson doesn't want to hear the words she has to say.

He shakes his head. "I'll see you around, Ji." 

"Jackson, wait," she grabs onto his wrist - and yes, electricity - and takes two steps forward. He looks up, and she's already looking at him with sad, sad eyes. "I don't know how to say this but I - I'm sorry." 

He looks down at her hand encircled around his wrist, before looking back up at her. "Just eat the bagels for me okay?" 

"You know I don't like bagels."

"That's why. I know."

She lets go of his hand and takes one step back, Jackson does the same. "Fine," she tries to smile but even he knows it's forced. "I will."

He nods and runs a hand on his slightly unruly hair. "Go to the tournament tomorrow okay? Mr. Park wouldn't like it if you're not there." 

"He'd go berserk." she says, agreeing with him for the first time in a long time. "I'll be there, don't worry about me, Jackson." 

He smiles, and it seems pained to him, before he finally walks away. She doesn't stop him this time, so he only walks faster. He opens the soda when he's outside. He stops on the top step and takes a huge swig of Dr. Pepper, leaving the can half-empty when he's done. It's cold against his skin and water droplets drop to his fingers.

Jackson looks back at the library. "I'm always worrying about you, Youngji."