꿈♡

♡

“Do you think that…” I made a short pause to silently count the first objects I laid my eyes on. “Three notebooks will be enough?” I asked my friend, Jingjing, before letting myself fall flat onto the bed, to the side of my dark grey suitcase. “Won’t I run out of paper to write one? Should I get an extra one?”

Jingjing wrinkled her nose as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Come on, y/n. You’ve never completed one single notebook and you want to add another one to those three?” She snorted, something I had always hated. “Also, you’re going to South Korea, not to the middle of nowhere. Don’t you think they have stationers there? Or is this country the only place where you can buy notebooks if you ever —and I can’t stress this enough— happen to run out of them?”

I sighed out of frustration because she was right. Not once, in my twenty-four years old, did I ever complete an entire notebook, even though I was always writing. I would end up buying new ones before I could finish the one I was using… Or worse—I would write in two or three notebooks at the same time.

However, deep down, this wasn’t about the notebooks—I couldn’t care less about them. It was about looking for any excuse, no matter how silly, to back out of this trip. I mentioned notebooks because they were in sight, but it could have something else, really. I could have come up with any reason to stay, like, I don’t know, the lack of my favourite apple juice in South Korea.

At least, using notebooks as an excuse wasn’t as embarrassing as mentioning apple juice. Jingjing wouldn’t ever let me live that down.

Anyways, Jingjing fortunately (or not so fortunately, at least for me at that moment) knew me like the back of her hand and it only took her a look at my face to know what was really going on.

“Listen, y/n,” she began, using her sweetest voice. “I know it’s scary to go alone to a place you’ve never been before, but I promise it’ll be alright. Actually, I think this is what you need, like some sort of start over. It’ll be great for you.”

I closed my eyes tightly, yet still pressed my left arm over them.

“I know. I’m aware this will be a great experience for me; otherwise, I wouldn’t have applied to the exchange program in the first place,” I replied. Then, I sighed. “But it’s still quite overwhelming.”

“Understandable,” she conceded. “But I truly believe this is exactly what you need. You haven’t been the same since Hao left.”

I winced. Since he had left our hometown, Jingjing never mentioned Minghao’s name—the name I had once held lovingly close to my heart had become a taboo word.

“I’m sorry for bringing that up,” she quickly apologised. “But you haven’t been yourself since he… Since that. It’s like your spark disappeared.”

“I grew up, Jingjing,” I said coldly. Did Hao’s leaving break my soul? Yes. After all, he was one of the most important people in my life. He was my first friend, my first crush, my first kiss and my first ‘I love you’. He used to be the person I wanted to do everything and anything with, the person I wanted to share my deepest secrets with. He owned a part of my heart, and it was understandable that he took a part of me with him when he left. However, agreeing with Jingjing made me feel as if I was blaming him for my misfortunes, for the mess that my life had become—and that was something I could never do to him. I’d never hold it against him that he left to follow his dreams. I owed him that much.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sensing that she made a mistake by bringing up such a sensitive topic. “I’m just saying that, in my point of view, this trip might help you. I miss your old self, y/n.” She sighed. “I love you, and I’d do so even if you turn into a freaking Grinch. I just want you to be happy. You’ve always wanted to experience adventures, and this might be your chance to do so.”

▫ ▫ ▫

A few hours later, I was on a plane, heading to Incheon, Seoul’s international airport. While it wasn’t my first time riding on a plane, it was the first time I had left my country. This was the reason why I was completely wired and, although I hadn’t been able to sleep at all that night, I was wide awake.

The flight lasted for about three hours, but for me, it took forever to finally land. In the meantime, I was slowly grasping everything—I was going to be away from home for six months, in a city I had only seen on television, and whose language I barely spoke.

In all honesty, it was recipe for disaster. However, once the plane was up in the skies, I got the feeling that everything was going to be alright. In fact, I had a good hunch about the whole thing.

▫ ▫ ▫

Once I was done with a tiresome, annoying check-in, I grabbed my luggage and looked at every signal I came across with in order to find the nearest exit. But there was a huge crowd in the hall and I, distracted as I was, collided with some girls that were holding cameras. The cameras looked expensive, with those incredibly sophisticated lenses that must have cost them an arm and a leg. The girls, visibly upset, pushed my clumsy ass forward, towards the rest of the crowd, so I wouldn’t get in the way of whatever they were taking pictures of.

It was all a blur afterwards. Screaming erupted, and I was pushed harshly a few more times. I grabbed my suitcase as if my life depended on it—well, at that time, it was kind of true because my whole life was compressed inside it.

Pushing didn’t stop until I finally emerged to the other side of that mass of people. I ended up falling face-flat on the floor.

Ugh, it was embarrassing, to say the least.

When I tried to get up (thankfully, my broken bones count still on zero), a stern-faced man in a jet-black suit forbade me from moving forward. He was well built, so I guessed he was a bodyguard… Or so he seemed. However, I couldn’t care less at that moment. Considering there was a bunch of people behind me, I needed to step forward so as to get on my feet again. It was a matter of simple physics. I didn’t want to get closer to whoever that man was protecting.

As soon as I got on my feet, the man pushed me backwards, sending me towards the crowd and, afterwards, to the floor once again.

I could have cried if I wasn’t so pissed off.

And then, a slender hand appeared in front of my face. I stared at it for a few seconds, so the owner wiggled their fingers, urging me to take it and get up. Eventually, I did.

“Thank…” The words died in my throat. When I looked up, I found those eyes I had longed for so much.

It was Minghao.

Life used to be easier—or so it seemed in your memories. You remember colours to be brighter, smells to be sweeter, emotions to be stronger. Maybe it was just you romanticising your younger years, but doesn’t everyone do that? Apparently, growing up, your mind let go of all those moments filled with teenage angst and only kept the good memories, the ones you can’t help but recall late at night when you can’t sleep, when you feel the loneliest, when the emptiness is too much to handle. And you keep recalling them because he was in every single one of them and the mere thought of him made your heart feel warm.

You keep telling yourself every time that it’s no use recalling memories from your youth. In fact, focusing in the past won’t bring it back—at least, it won’t bring him back to you. Now, you’re halfway across the world. Moreover, you haven’t seen each other in years. Years (yes, years!) have passed since you last heard his voice.

You firmly believe that so much time has passed that he doesn’t even think of you anymore, you probably being just another person that was left behind alongside with his teenage years. But you like to think of him every now and then. And you can’t help but to wonder about his current life (how is he doing? Have his dreams come true? Is there someone he loves now?). You stay awake for hours, until four or so in the morning, asking questions to yourself of which you’ll never get to know the answers.

Immediately afterwards —or, maybe, in the meantime—, his face makes its grand entry and fills your mind up like it has every right to. In the dark, all you can see are those thin almond eyes and how they morphed into slits when he smiled brightly; you make out his slender fingers that used to intertwine with yours. So you’re finally trapped, you can’t escape: in every corner of your mind, it’s him, him, him.

And the memories of happier times just tag along.

♡

“Hao?” You called one day, giving his hand a little squeeze to have his attention.

It was late autumn, only a couple of weeks before winter struck, and you both were hiding under the castle in the playground of your neighbourhood’s park. You had snuck out of school, thanks to that so-called young love, and spent your pocket money in some strawberry milk. You used to do that pretty often—school was boring, anyway.

You had been sitting in silence for a while, him being a relatively quiet boy. But you were getting bored after finishing your drink (you were like that when you were younger. You got a lot quieter after you grew up) and fallen leaves triggered a rather daydreaming side of yours, one that liked to ask Minghao random questions about the future.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think we’ll be doing in ten years?” Your voice was hoarse. Usually, around that time of the year, you’d get a (or several) sore throat. For this reason, as you were out in the open, you were wrapped not only in your own clothes but in Minghao’s jacket and scarf as well.

“Ten years from now?” He shifted to see you and you mimicked his movement. Your hands never let go. “A lot of things may change. That’s a lot of time.”

You suddenly felt queasy. You fidgeted with the hem of his jacket.

“Do you think we will still be together when we grow up?” You asked in a whisper. For the first time, you regretted bringing up the topic.

“Of course,” he replied in a heartbeat as if there couldn’t be any other possible answer for your question. His free hand reached the scarf around your neck and straightened it. You unconsciously nuzzled against the fabric, his mouth curled up in a soft smile at the sight. “Why wouldn’t we?”

And he sounded so confident that you chose to believe him. After all, he had always been the brighter one.

♡

“I can’t wait to grow up!” You blurted out one day.

Having that kind of outbursts was not unusual in your youth. You’d randomly go off like that around once or twice a day. The number, of course, increased or decreased depending on how much stress you were under.

That day you happened to be under a lot of stress.

The weather, hot and humid, implied that the school year was about to come to an end. But do you know what was also coming? Finals. And a lot of them, at that. So, while your classmates were enjoying a free hour, playing and chatting like any normal teenager would do, you were studying, as you had been doing for the past three weeks. You were buried under an immense pile of textbooks that could have turned anyone batshit crazy (and you were so going down that road already, unfortunately).

Minghao was sitting in front of you, his chair turned around so as he could face you. He was reading, his hands holding a thin paperback book with an aesthetic pastel blue cover with some doodles in white. You didn’t know what the story revolved around, yet you were sure that it was way more interesting and enjoyable than maths (and you were right—after all, anything is).

His eyes lifted from the book and blankly stared at you.

“I can’t wait to not have to study anymore! I’m tired,” you exclaimed, rather dramatically. Afterwards, you pressed your face to the book on your desk and grumbled.

Of course, in your imaginary, once you reached adulthood, you would be free from any and all responsibilities. You believed that you’d be a free soul, with any care in the world. So much for wishful thinking. You were still fully convinced that Minghao decided against breaking your illusions early and therefore remained silent.

You lifted your head a little to see his face, though your chin was still resting on the surface of the book. You locked eyes for a brief moment and he then resumed his reading.

“When we grow up we’ll travel everywhere, right? You’ll show me the world?” You asked. He nodded in silence. You squealed in delight. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

You stretched and linked your pinkie to his. “You can’t back out now, okay?”

♡

And just as you wished, you both ended up growing up. However, as it happens with most things in life, there was a catch—you grew apart, too. No, it wasn’t an overnight thing—neither did you fight, nor woke up one day and decided you were sick of each other’s company (you could have never—you enjoyed being around him the most in the world). Your drifting apart happened gradually, favoured by a series of unfortunate events.

Soon after he pinkie promised to show you the world, he left your hometown and never came back. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. Having known each other since you were little kids, you developed a strong bond of sorts that, when he left, you felt like someone had ripped a part of your heart. Maybe it was indeed something like that because you were convinced that he took a part of you with him.

Your conversations over the phone didn’t do it—they didn’t fill up the void. And while you looked forward to them because hearing his voice was somewhat healing (you’d close your eyes and pretend he was next to you), the moment you hung up you were in tears again.

After a couple of months, those phone calls got more and more sporadic, until they stopped altogether. He had a hectic schedule; you had to worry about school grades and university applications. And that was it.

So, while when you were younger everything you knew about him came from his own mouth, now the only things you know are rumours you are told about a friend of a friend of a friend that allegedly encountered him by chance in a foreign street, kilometres away from home.

“What do you want me to say, though?” I blurted out, without realising I sounded like a madwoman. My friends stopped what they were doing just to look at me with confusion written in their faces. Hell, even he looked dumbfounded. “Do you want me to say that I like you? Because I did and I do, jeez.”

“What?” His question lingered in the air but it was going to remain unanswered since I wasn’t keen on repeating myself.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” I started, as if his mouth hadn’t opened, “I have to go.” I took a few won from my bag and left them on the table.

After that — dramatically as it may sound — I left.

I didn’t bother on spending precious time on farewells nor on any other thing, for that matter — the air was getting heavier every minute and I needed to get out. Contrary to my belief, the outdoors didn’t do me any better: the pang in my chest remained pretty much the same.

If only I had endured it for a little bit longer! In two days I would be back in England, back to my everyday routine, and I could have kept this stupid, irrational feeling locked in my heart as I had done for years. I did not have to lose it; he did not have to know.

“HEY!” A voice sounded behind my back. I panicked because I knew who it belonged to.

I didn’t dare to turn around. If anything, my steps became quicker. “Leave me alone,” I replied. “I embarrassed myself enough already.”

He took my hand in his and forced me to face him.

“Why don’t we just forget everything about it?” I pleaded. The adrenaline I felt while we all were at the café now abandoned my body and I wanted to be by myself. And probably cry like a baby as well.

I should have known better because he wasn’t letting go of me. “Why do you always act like this?” He spitted out. “You just go around saying what you wish and then leave when someone tries to say something back.”

“Do you have to do this right now? I mean, is it necessary for you to keep me here while you throw all my faults at my face?” I asked. “Don’t you think I had a hard time ba-”

But I found myself being silenced. By his lips.