Chapter 01

The sun is about to bleed a breath taking mixture of scarlet, light pink and vague tangerine—it’s been half an hour passed—and I haven’t feel like moving anywhere close to the ‘home’ word.  You know, there are few cites from The Little Prince by Antoine de Exupery that I vividly planted inside my mind, growing along with myself ever since I was this little cheeky girl with mucus and bright smile, and this certain one said, “One loves the sunset when one is so sad,” but I thought that the sentence don’t really speak for itself.  Here I am, sitting beneath the reddening sky and the gold sand, of brisk atmosphere and warm tears—and I’m not sad.   

Or much less, I’m trying to.

Abbey: ur boyfriend really is a little shit he just ditched me alone at this place.

I squeeze my sore eyes, not knowing what reply I should give to another text filled with ranting sent by my  Abbey.  I should have turned my cellphone off.

Me: ok, then.

Slipping my cellphone back into my skirt pocket, I sigh inwardly and try to pick up things that got disrupted somewhere along the line.  The calming rhythm is still here, the wind is still blowing and I’m still unevenly breathing. 

When the so called most important person in your life betray—has been betraying you, one doesn’t simply say—it is alright.  However, it probably stabbed you too hard that the wound will remain opened, aging and aching until you can’t see the real difference between hurts and whatnot.  This case unfortunately lumped on me.

It happened first when the bristle of the cherry blossom trees speak to my ears, shy glances exchanged and my bubbling curiosity screamed inside.  Al and Abbey are discreetly having something under their sleeves as I watched them more profoundly.  To be saying that my observation has never been wrong would be such a very, oblivious statement but hey, I’m a writer—I observe details for my daily projects and even spent half the time to dwell on it.  That day, the three of us walked down the path to our houses still. 

The following week, Al couldn’t properly walk me to my house anymore because he has signed up for an add-course which took five days in a week after the school time until 9 p.m. for the sake of his last several months in our school—I complied to that, but turned out that the course only took three days after Edrick informed me the truth.  Later the course matter metaphor into something less rational and I kept enduring the urge to spit on his excuses.

Shea, do something!—Edrick’s voice would resonate inside my head, reminding me about this wrongdoing but I’d only be nonchalant and let it pass.  We’ve came to a conclusion not to talk about it again.  I’m just that hesitant of having to lose another part of me again.

And then my ring tone buzzed on the back in all its glory.

“Gimme fifteen more minutes,” I say, once knowing the caller.

“That’s what you’ve been repeating since two hours ago, honey,” it’s clear that dad is getting uncomfortable about me not yet going home but his tone is still as gentle as usual.  Or more like a tone lowered? “Seriously, get home, now.”

I huff, “Is something up?” cleaning the last debris off of my skirt as I stand on my feet.  “It’s not like there’ll be an apocalypse if I don’t go back now.”

“Well it will, because surprisingly your mom decided to visit us without any notification and she just warned me that she’ll take you if you don’t go home in five minutes.”

“I’ll flag a cab.”

--

So she’s here, she really is here—all completed in a cream button up and sleek high heels, this huge glasses cover her crescent eyes and she got her hair done—someone’s prepared for this.  Her arms are wrapped in a manner and dad stands right behind her, reflecting me a told-you-so look to which I reply with a lips biting.  I’m sorry dad I’ve been thinking for the whole cab ride that you lied to me when you didn’t.   

“You’re good,” she greets me and I slowly nod, trying to process her too casual or might I say, too inappropriate greeting for not visiting us for about five months.  As per said, she sits back on the chair and I see Dad being a little less burdened.  “Where have you been dear?”

“Beach.”

Mom instantly questions dad with a, “You let her?”

“It’s not really a matter though,” he answers in all honestly. 

There had been a huge difference between hers and my dad’s way on teaching me.  Mom’s side is very obedient in keeping manners—it’s all about rules and demanding perfection.  The rules are inherited from generation to generation of which also running in the blood of mom herself and as long as her elders are still alive, she’ll be keen to the rules only.  And sometimes, my grandma from mom’s side can even get in the way—just like how she barged into my parents’ divorce, three years ago.

While mom is much into the gray side of life, dad is into the polychrome.  It is by the fact that he can see and think of wonders in even the smallest thing that made him the person he is right now.  Dad is an artist.  He taught me about the other side of the reality and that perfection is nonsense—of how we shall see that beauty and miracle can still bloom in the darkest pit.  He built sandcastles, played with me in the saltwater and dyed my hair in turquoise in summer—he’s been the one who’s staying when mom is never there. 

As you can see, mom is an idealist while my dad is a realist.  They once bound into a holy vow but their personal references unfortunately hadn’t had fully agreed to the term, so they decided that it was the time to part away.  Dad and I decided to live the rest of our life in this small town near the sea.        

“So,” he pulls one of the chairs but it screeches too loud, making him flinched and mom’s nose scrunched.  He clears his throat and continues, “What brings you here?”

Mom snorts and it triggers something inside me.

“Here,” she snuck out a brown envelop from her blue Prada and leaves it on top of the dining table.  “I know you’re going on a crisis.”

“Get out,” there’s something inside his baritone that made it deeper and colder with each breath he’s taking and each seconds pass before my eyes.  Standing right up from the chair, Dad walks to the door, spins the handle and swings it open. 

I stand froze right beside him, trying to search for his tender gaze that has gone as fast as the wind.  When he doesn’t reply my eye contact, he bites his chapped lip and says, “If you’re here for the sake of that then you better go back.”

Mom’s shades is halfway on her nose bridge, behind it there peeks a pair of crescent eyes that looks like it can explode in disbelief.  “You’re unbelievable,” she mutters and the word stings on me instead of dad.    

“I am,” he confirms.  “But at least my heart is still working.”

That’s it, the climax of all frustration, anger, and disappointment shoot through my entire body and I hastily dismiss myself from the living room—locking my self inside the bedroom, pulling over the blanket and curl up into a fetal position until God knows when.

I lied.

Mom and dad didn’t apart because of their opposing references. 

I’m a very ungrateful person.

Dad is depressed.

Mom just never accepted that.

--

“Honey, are you sure?” Dad’s voice is subdued due to how heavy the rain on our town nowadays. 

For the past week, it hasn’t only been a pitter patter hitting our solid roofs—the rain has gotten to the point when you can’t simply walk through it without having a single thought that the lightning will struck you.  And according to that, I find no way out of getting stuck inside this minimarket.  I was supposed to be at Edrick’s house at ten because apparently he demanded me to be his distraction incase he’s getting sick from revising Chem (don’t get it wrong, people).  It’s already half past two though.

“It’s okay with me,” I rise up the volume of my voice.  “Just stay home and make some hot chocolate for yourself-“ 

Shrug. Shrug.

“-dad I’ll call you later, kay?” I hung up the call hastily and tiptoe to where the little commotion came from.  Who knows that the minimarket owner will give me a huge feast if I catch the thief she has been making fuss lately.

“Gotcha,” I half-whisper behind the thief and he flinches, disregarding the fact that he’s almost two heads taller than me.  “Put it back,” I order as I hear a quiet cuss coming out from his mouth.  Lazily, he puts back what he has put in inside his baggy grey pants and turns around his body.

“Were you just stealing?”

“Does it look like I’m peeing?”

“No…” my mind travels somewhere off of this topic for a moment before I recall it.  “I mean, whatever—you just-” I stop when I notice a blue mark on the corner of his mouth.  He’s bruised.

“You don’t tell me off to the owner?” he snaps, cutting off my stare on his bruise.

Without making another thought I grab him by his wrist and drag him out of the minimarket, of which I utterly regret since I lost some part of my memory that it’s raining bullets outside.  I run inwardly to as far as we can get from the minimarket, still gripping onto his wrist.  And when the smell of the ramen from the Japanese food stall wafts the street, I pull him inside the small hideout and sit on one of the wooden chairs.

“One ramen soup please,” I make an order and fix my outerwear even though it’s soaked.  He looks bewildered and keeps silent until the waiter brings the order to our table.  I move the bowl to his side.

“Eat it.”

And he looks at me in more bewilderment. 

“Seriously what are you trying to do?”

I sigh.  “This called…” I give him a stern look with my hands making a rainbow shape, “…generosity.”

“Oh,” he snorted. “I only know stealing,” he says somehow sarcastically, taking the spoon and starts pinning the noodle in between the chopstick.  Like, hey what fault I have. 

“Really? I shouldn’t have helped you,” I retort, checking out my bag that a little bit soaked.  Switching my attention to him who’s enjoying the remnant of his ramen, I try to look at his bruise more observantly. 

He stopped at his track, places the spoon onto the table with a thud, and stands up from the chair.  “Then don’t,” he murmured, making his leave to the cold, tense evening.  

--

The morning will go as dull as always if not because I found this cute little paper box that Dad had sneakily slipped with a red velvet inside into my bag as I rode on the bus to the school.  Now that all that pleasure had went into my stomach in less than a minute, there’s nothing quite interesting anymore.

With a resentful sigh as of feeling that the winter break could have lasted longer, I lean back to my chair and look up at the ceiling.  When the second bell rings and my mind had wandered to something like the unknown existence beyond the Milky Way, the Literature teacher, Mrs. Emma went into our classroom. A boy with familiar face is tailing behind her.

He’s wrapped in our crippled school uniform, his jet black hair is still in quite the same style from yesterday and his bruises are still the same too.  Geez this boy definitely didn’t even want to waste his time to present himself in a good way but the girls who seat behind my back already fanning over his condemned beauty—I admit it, it’s not like I despite the truth that he is good looking. 

However in my case, it takes less than a glance to feel a massive hatred to him after what had happened yesterday.   

“Please introduce yourself.”

He cleared his throat before introducing himself, “I’m Dean.” I see his eyes traveled for awhile, trying to process all the new faces in front of its own before stopping at my face and hastily switched again in disinterest.

Rude.

“And from where did you transferred?” Mrs. Emma warmly asks as she puts half of her attention to the absence book.

“I skipped two years,” he states and Mrs. Emma instantly snapped her head.

After a moment of silence Mrs. Emma nods and smiles at him, “It’s okay.”  But the saying sounds much to her self that it got him raising his eyebrow.  “Welcome to our class.”

--

“So, how was your new class?” Edrick asks, shoving a lollipop into his mouth. 

“Same fools same bitches,” I answer frankly and he almost pops out the lollipop from his mouth, chuckling afterward.  “As if the school has ever made serious attention to my class,” I whine, putting in the coins for the vending machine.  “They’re the worst,” I add, now taking the ion drink and kicking the side of the machine, the coins are coming out.

“Wow look at you,” he refers to me taking my coins back.

“It’s my coins.”

“But then it’s not your drink,” he points out, clinging his hand around my neck and drags me along the hallway.  “I actually don’t know what I will do when I graduate,” he says.  “I mean where else will I find your kind of species.”

“That’s odd Edrick,” I shook my head.  “Our houses are literally adjacent.”

And he stops saying anything, I question the dissipation on his face but he’s still wont budge.  When the third recalls coming from me, he squints his eyes and stares at me with slightly wavered gaze.  Something’s up, however I’m still forcing a smile.

“I enroll Lasalle,” he begins, reversing his gaze to the tip of his converse.  I know he’s expecting the wide smile of me to ever slightly vanishes, but this time, I bear it.  I’m bearing the fact that we will really be separated. 

“That’s good news!” I pull him for a side embrace.  “I thought something really wrong—you little—“

“Shea…”

“Chin up fab, promise me one thing?” I hold out a pinky finger and he links it with his.  “Study.  Well,” I smile as his eyes reddening.  Edrick nods afterward after I demand for a respond.

“I’ll take you to your class for now,” he sniffs and I can’t help but to laugh.

“Very gentlemen, Ed.”

“Shut up.”

“Will you stay in a dorm?” I say as both of us enter the classroom.  The bell will ring in three minutes but the class is extremely deserted—and there’s this certain person whom I recently know doesn’t really fond to relate to break time—as illogical as it sounds, Dean is the person.  When Edrick accidentally hits one of the table, making it screeches, Dean’s head lifts up for a tad degree. 

He’s awake.

“-or a house? A condo?” I sit on my chair and Edrick uses the one beside mine.  “Oh you should take me there when you move in.  I’m great at decorating room,” I blabber, not noticing the fact that Edrick already holds onto my wrist.

“Can you stop?” he says while sighing.  “Talking about itself is already hard.”

“Here you go again,” I blow a raspberry, resting my back onto the chair with both arms wrapped.  As much as he is, I also feel the hardship too.  Nobody likes separation.  But if it’s destined then I will not ask for more other than letting him pursue his dreams.  Besides, the distance between Seoul and our hometown can be measured with approximately a day of bus ride—not that I’m not mature enough to bear with it.  “You can’t always fill up your mind with such negativity.  And slow down, basically you’re just…moving out.”

“I’m on the verge of leaving you alone here and most likely will never meet someone as good as you again.  Was it really just moving out?” 

My stomach churns after hearing his words.  I know he never lied and never will—it’s just that the truths which come out of his mouth are all too sincere—most of the time the truths become venomous. 

We’re finally here.  A line is slowly being drawn between the two of us.  The line that I never had fully imagine about back when I first met this certain senior who always wears a not so manly bag to school and used to pick a fight with his opposite gender juniors.  The line hadn’t crossed my mind too, when we begun our friendship and did a little less crazier things than other common best friends did.  And at last, we still have remnants left before the line fully drawn. 

“I mean-” I refer myself from replying to Edrick only to find Al walking over to my chair with a smile.

Oh, yeah he said to meet me at break time.

“Hey,” Al takes a seat, greeting Kibum with a smile too.

“Did you have a good sleep last night?”

I nod.  “I’m good, just need to doze off for an hour and it will be fine.”

He ruffles my hair softly, “Don’t be too harsh to your self,” he grins shyly while looking around at the classroom that’s filled up by students, eyes forming a pair of crescent moons.  “I know you’re tired so today, just sleep well.”

“But I thought you promised to visit my grandma.”

“I’m really sorry I can’t, I have to continue the paper works at Abbey’s house and add-course starts early today.”

“I-” I bit my lip. 

“Abbey said that she needs the book you brought two weeks ago so she asked whether you can hand it over to her house tonight-” he pauses.  “-but I think I’ll just get it from your house.  Is it okay?”

I nod.

“She has an add-course too later,” Edrick interferes while his eyes travel around the corners of the classroom, avoiding us.

“You do?” Dean asks for a confirmation.

“Yes and for your information, they will occupy your classroom since their lights are currently much less dysfunctional,” Edrick continues and I see the impatient is bumbling inside him.  “She decided to skip because she thought you would company her to her grandma’s resting place and wow-” he woos, tilting his head to the side in a manner and shaking it in disapproval.  “-look at you now, telling more lies,” he chuckles it off.

“I don’t get it.”

“Should I clear it up?”

“Clear what?”

“Mr. Maverick said your class hasn’t been holding add-course from three days ago,” Edrick spits out.  “Add-course my ass-” and I hear him gasps afterward.

The next thing I fail to notice is that crimson red liquid clings on my wrist, making its way down to my white sleeve.  The classroom noises have turned into buzzes in my ears, trapped in a dome that can’t voice a sound.  I read their lips that are mouthing some words close to ; Oh my Goodness Shea—before a black duvet covers the spot where the crimson red came from and a feisty punch being thrown on Al’s face. 

Dean is there, eyes slightly reddened and cold sweat coming out from his forehead as he holds my other wrist securely and leads me along the hallway. 

“Stop being so harsh to your self,” he muttered under his breath.

A/N : 

So how was the first chapter?  Any thoughts?