enchantment。

the first day of high school is one that he’ll never forget. everyone tries to give off a good first impression after leaving their embarrassing years of middle school behind them. kids will change their hair, change the way they dress, and some will even change their faces. all of the girls wanted to be like jinri, and all of the guys wanted to be with jinri. it’s cliché but for minho it was love at first sight (at least what he mistook to be love) and he did everything that he possibly could to have her – like she was something to be owned.

“no, i’m not.” thanks to her interruption, he never did get to finish but with her here, he has another chance. he was always asking her for them – a second, third and fourth opportunity to start over their relationship – only for things to end up the same way. she’d be in tears and he’d be pissed off. she’d feel her heart break, and he’d break the door off of its hinges as he slammed it shut behind him.

the front door to his apartment was now closed and locked, there was noone else here. they were alone, just him and her, the main characters of their own tragedy. “i’m actually very unsatisfied. she didn’t know how to play – at least not like you do.” romantic comedies were not the only kind of movies that they watched together. his choices tended to be either of the action genre or explicitly pornographic in nature. once or twice he even managed to convince her to get in front of the camera. born to be a star, he has always felt that she shined the brightest in the dark of night.

“if you’re cold, should we go to bed? it’s much warmer there. i’ll even carry you over.”

it was after a long while for jinri to stare into the scarred relationship before she concluded that they were never in love— perhaps they once were, but a love that was built upon rugged land could never be rooted and stable. jinri has tried saving what was left from the both of them for uncountable time but faith has slipped away carefully from her tight clench. 

“yeah,” she nods, her voice soft as the tune of a everlasting summer as she wraps her arms around him like strings of ivy. “carry me to bed like you always do—” mutters slips out of her plumped lips, distracting the trails of small kisses on his chiseled jawline, careful not to leave any marks— as she has learned painfully that he doesnt enjoys that after their breakup.

she would once asks for him to bring her to theme parks, museums and ice rinks and he would always pin his gaze on her as if the girl has made a futile comment— though he would still take her to all the places in the world as long as she compensate him with a night where he holds complete domination of the girl— and soon she finds herself grown to like that. “i dont think you can compare me to anyone with what i can do to you,” she comments, with the slightest of a smirk hanging idly on her face “after all, nobody knows you like i do” 

“why do I have to like it? wasn’t it enough that it made you happy?” he wasn’t always completely unfair to her. he was often willing to put up with hours of her drivel about the vastness of the universe, if at the end of it, she would use her pretty little mouth on him. she has such plump red lips that he’s reminded of strawberries whenever he looks upon her, and of how their first kiss took place in cinema three back in 2008 – a school day afternoon.

at her insistent request, they had watched a romantic comedy, sharing a bucket of popcorn and a cup of diluted soda with just one straw. he didn’t enjoy the movie for a simple and childish reason – he disliked the fact that she could ignore him for close to two hours despite him being right next to her. but he pretended that he did because she would pretend that she was okay with his hand underneath her school skirt. one should expect no less of pubescent teenagers left unsupervised in a dark room.

darkness is all that’s been left behind upon their return to his apartment. any clothes still scattered across the sofa belong to minho, and he finally pulls a shirt on – one that she bought for him several birthdays ago. jinri, now seated on worn leather, also belongs to minho. she tugs at his wrist to join her, facing a television that only worked half of the time.

the time was now close to two. of the three options presented to him, she should know which one he wanted choose but in case she didn’t, he climbs over the top of her, his body pressing into hers before he tastes strawberries once more. “we can watch a movie if that’s what you’d like … but I’d have to go all the way over to the tv to put one on. is that what you want me to do?”

it is surprising to find herself blushing with him dropping innuendos, but it is also an uncanny misconception that she is the demure school girl she once was. he is an artist and she is the art, a sculpture that was molded gracefully under the skilful hands of his. up until this day, she doesn’t quite care where he wanders off to— for he is untameable. she doesn’t care as long as he comes back to her. after all, their relationship resides in a bubble that floats under the golden sheen of summer days, a summer that shines years ago in 2008. neither one of them are as fearless nor reckless as they once were to break the thin coat of the exquisite façade in which they seem to be rooted.

jinri knows where this night is heading towards— his eyes has already outlined the every clue she could possibly pick up. “hey you,” she wraps her slender arms around the other, tugging him closer to her in a playful manner. “aren’t you already satisfied with your last … little game with that new friend of yours—” the words she breathes out delicately preen their way into his heart. she would be lying if she said she doesn’t care at all— in a way, jinri just wants to see him react. the girl drops a soft peck on his earlobe, and as far as she knows, he pleasantly enjoys it every time she did.

“i’m never going to let you go.” sweet words could become a threat with just a change in tone. but the words were not meant to be charming nor menacing. they were a promise. they used to make promises with intertwined pinkies, and they would seal the deal with a delicate peck on the lips. she was always going to be his, and he would sometimes be hers.

“i used to tell you that all the time” he reminisces, his voice fond. her sentimentality was a button that he pressed whenever he wanted to drag her back to him. while he still has her wrapped in his arms, he presses a kiss to a tender part of her neck, just below her jaw, just another button. she always liked it there.

slowly yet surely, she surrenders herself to him. “it’ll only be the two of us. i promise” the neighbour had to have gotten the hint that minho’s warm welcome was no longer valid. this embrace was no longer warm – the wind continues to scrape at his back until it feels raw.

“but you’re colder, jinri.” he compares his bodily temperature to her callousness. he is a blister. it is painful for him to remove his arms from around her waist. he comforts himself by taking hold of her hand as they make their way back upstairs. back in high school he used to walk her home like this – with a firm grip that would sometimes hurt her. he would die before he would let her anyone take her away from him.

“what exactly do i have to do to make you stay? whatever it is, that’s what i’m doing tonight.”

“I am thinking of meaningless rambles and eating,” she lays her gaze on the other, anticipating for him to roll his eyes upon the mention of such— as he always had been, he abhors the mere idea of parting her in the endeavour of infinity with a void of intimacy— they never were intimate on a spiritual level anyways. “but at the same time, minho when was the last time we did that and you actually liked it? but really, i want to watch a movie— will you do it, for me?” her lips thin as muses on the last two syllables,

her gaze lazily travels his apartment, the girl has expected herself to at least be trigged by the scene of his perfectly serene place, in contrast of the previous erotic scene she witnessed of course— and it has occurred to her that this has probably eaten into her, a habit that has resided in the darkest corner of her heart. and like a virus, it multiplied itself every time she witnessed her own downfall, and she hates how she can smile and claim that this could no longer get to her.

jinri makes her way towards the creamy couch— she knows this place like she knows her own. the girl flops herself on the lightly battered seat, her slender hands reaching out for the boy’s wrist, tugging him gently in indication for him to join herself.

“i am never going to let you go.”

that particular phrase has been lingering in her mind since the night drew darker. and he will always, with his goddamn magical self commit her into doing anything he wants. this is certainly not healthy but she has committed herself in this downfall. she has struggled, and was confused. he told her that this is the only way that she can love him while his strokes carefully tingle her smooth porcelain. this is what she believed and has been believing since.

believing that she loves him still.

“jinri! jinri!” he continues to call before switching to the pet name that he had for her while they dated in high school. “babe!” to use it again, when they were no long together, was a cheap trick but it was one that he knew was guaranteed to soften her up. by the end of the night, she’d be putty in his hands. putty that he would bend and tear. putty that he would mould and shape as he saw fit.

because that’s what she was to him – a plaything. of course, he’d never say that to her face, especially not when she’s on the verge of bursting into tears. there’s cracks in the dam that prevents a flood of her emotions. she was terribly ugly whenever she cried. he would leave her to console herself before he would ever offered her a shoulder to lean upon. his shoulders were broad only to support her legs in positions that he’d coerce her into replicating.

action speak louder than words – she’d tell him cliché shit like that all the time, and he would turn it against her. having no answers to any of her questions, he circles his arms around her waist, his chest pressing to her back, his breath against her cheek. in his embrace, she was warm – perhaps even hot with fury.

she was sunshine but he was a rain cloud. when it rains, you seek cover. “come inside, babe.” he smothers her fire, suppressing her feelings and implanting his own. “you don’t want to be mad at me” he injects. “you were the one that was late” he blames. “see what happens when you move so far away?”

his cold hands pricks into the softest of her complexion— it seems as if their old selves are laced with the bewildering consciousness. Jinri tries to break from his sudden embrace, appalled by the recapturing images of the entangled bodies and muted moans— she abhors the fact that this scene will be tattooed in whatever is left of them. “let me go...” she pleads as the petit hands of hers pushes weakly on the nonchalant hold on her. and she wants out.

babe.

the sound of his luring voice, honeyed tone and the way the syllables click so well on his tongue has brought back the waves of nostalgia. the two used to be high school sweethearts, at least that is their dazzling veneer, a sugarcoat. they are the lead players in a school musical play that lasted for three years, yet just like every other hit performance, the satin curtains is their impediment, for their guise feeds on the cheer of crowd, for their love is bound to rust from the obsolete admirations, for they are merely an optical illusions.

and at this moment, she wants to drown in the unforgiving wave of bygone times.

“how is it my fault now—” she sounds a little weak now, and obviously the girl is giving in like any other time “first of all,” she mutters, her lips ever so slightly pouty as she follows the other back in the building “i am not going in before the place is cleared, and second of all, you feel so cold” jinri sighs softly, as a sign of her once again giving in. her warm palms finding their way to his familiar scent, her warmth transmitting to him bit by bit, he drains her in every aspect but she is intoxicated.

booty calls require a certain punctuality. when minho texts jinri a minute past midnight, he expects her to be there fifteen minutes later – twenty at the very latest. so in her absence, and without any indication that she was coming over, he seeks his fill elsewhere. the girl across the hallway had just moved in two days ago, and in minho’s mind there was no better time to welcome her to the building. he brings with him a half-empty bottle of whiskey that he likes to think of as half-full, and condoms.

however, they end up back in his apartment. “i haven’t unpacked yet” she kisses against his chin as he moves backwards towards his own bed – hers still in pieces in a box. the studio apartment in which he lived in was not particularly large. the living room is one of two rooms and doubles as a bedroom and kitchen. the other contains the bathroom that is without a bath. he describes his decor as minimalist, having such little furniture allows him to maintain a tidy appearance.

the neighbour is a rude guest. she makes a mess. she leaves her clothing everywhere and anywhere. her shirt is left with the scattered shoes by the door, her bra is thrown on a chair, her pants are draped over the back of his couch, and her panties are hung unceremoniously on a lampshade.

minho prefers fucking with the lights on, and he’s so deep inside of her that he doesn’t hear the door opening nor the cautious footsteps. then there’s yelling instead of moaning. the voice is familiar instead of strange, coming from behind him rather than from underneath him. he turns his head over his shoulder before he is able to finish and he stops. “jinri?”

minho is rude. abruptly, he leaves the neighbour unfinished but also with an electric toothbrush, one of his few luxuries, and instructs her to “get creative” before he barely manages to pull on a pair of pants. giving chase to the ex-girlfriend half-naked was not the best idea he’s ever had. the cold bites at his skin, joining the marks left behind by his new favourite neighbour. “jinri! wait!”

Jinri feels the humiliation boiling up in her body when she mindlessly escape the venue, she should have known better than to be indulged in his tender venom— this is not right, this is not fucking right and I told you so.

She wonder what her justification will be for acting in such manner, after all, she is just a person who he reaches out to when life took the better of him. In these past years, she has witnessed his ups and downs— mostly downs and the shards of his breaks her even more. Their relationship is a vicious cycle, and they fall deeper and deeper into the abyss of desolation, yet the two is different, in a sense where he can pick himself out up any time yet she awaits for his rescue, yet all he does is push her deeper down. That is what she feels anyways.

Jinri hears the rushed steps and hushed breaths following her, and it almost brought her to a halt. The sound of her name floats in the clear night sky, and it cuts through her skin like the piercing wind in the worst of winter, no, she doesn’t want to stop for him ever again— but then again, she say that every damn time. 

“What am I to you?” the girl turns, her features misted by a layer of shadow, and to situate herself under the shadow has concealed her emotions— for she has always been a façade. The January wind whistling in the distance between the two, it was this distance that drives them apart initially. “Do you fucking think its fun to mess with me, so is that a way for you to step me down telling me that I am nobody after all?” The girl could not bring herself to face him— the marks on his body stings her eyes, and the space between them has became suffocating. “Because if so, congratulations you did it.” 

Jinri has figured that she doesn’t understand herself after all. 

It was just past midnight when his texts drags her into the unforgiving breeze of Seoul, she is not obliged to do anything he asked her to, especially not after the breakup after high school. But she does so anyways— what miracles can habits tattoo into her veins, the spider veins that once flowed of the blood that tastes like the wilderness. It is 12:04AM, the girl breaths a soft stream of air that marked the lone streets of Seoul— the city of dreams, and perhaps the reason why she personifies solitude is for the remembrance of her defect of a dream.

He has probably assured himself once again that the world out there is too monotonous for a blaring soul like his own, for he haunts her soul merely as a weekend entertainment. Jinri has pictured uncountable scenarios of her walking out on him, yet not long has she realised that he is stained in her life, his word tainted in her dreams, his sole existence besmirched her, and he finds satisfaction in witnessing her downfall. 

Jinri has figured that she doesn’t understand him as well. 

Jinri’s hands clenches onto her phone as the girl settles in front of his apartment. It is almost 1:00AM and she can’t quite fathom what drives her to rush here upon a text— to her, he will always be like a drug, she knows— with clarity that excruciates every part of her; that whatever is left in between the two, is wrong, indefinitely wrong. But she seems addicted.  

Her hand frozen on the door knob, contemplating if it is a wise choice to just walk into his apartment— after all, it is not normal for him to keep the door unlocked, not even when he is anticipating her arrival. Jinri sighs as she pushes the door and makes her way into the compacted space that she has familiarised herself with from the past years— yet something was differently, utterly different.

There are clothes everywhere, especially those female undergarments that stings her eyes. 

"Are you really that fucking blind?"

"I'm the one's that's always been there for you, not him/her!"

"I'm in love with you."

"I think I love you."

"I never loved you."

"Can we pretend you didn't say that?"

"Can we pretend I didn't say that?"

"I don't feel the same way."

"I think we should just be friends."

"It's so obvious that you like him/her."

"Can you stop talking about him/her?"

"You know I like/love you, and I'm trying to forget that, but you make it pretty difficult to do that by talking about him/her every time we speak."

"Every time I try to move on, you're right there."

"Stop leading me on."

"You're playing with me."

"I never thought we'd have a last kiss."

"I'm tired of being your doormat."

"Take a chance on me."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I'm tired of being your second choice."

"I'm not even your second choice, I'm not even in the top ten to you!"

"I can't keep pretending that I don't care."

"I was in love with you and you took advantage of it."

"I kinda wanna be more than friends."

"Have you ever stopped to think I have feelings, too?"

"It's pretty shitty how you think you're entitled to have a relationship with me because we're friends."

"Just let me go."

"I regret every time I've said I love you."

"All I've ever learned from love is that someone is always gets fucked someone over."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't believe in love."

"I don't wanna get hurt."

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I can't do this anymore."

"You broke my heart."

"Please don't leave me."

"It's over."

As soon as she replies to his question, he’s packign away his things and standing up. A small groan leaves his lips before he huffs out with a nod. “Are you a bum? Seriously, do you enjoy to sponge off of me for food? Aish,” Kinam tuts at her before motioning with his head for her to follow him out. “Buy your own next time, they’re not even expensive.”