001. name
Pairing : kim seokjin | original character (oc) Word Count : 1,252 Type : one shot | drabble Tag(s) : Fluff
Dedicated to my best friend, Kristin.
She thought she has already forgotten.
It’s been years... plenty of years that she have lost count already; usually, people would forget someone whose name you do not know in a snap of a finger, or probably something faster than that – even if she always saw him visiting the cemetery on the Day of the Dead every year for as long as she could remember – usually, that person doesn’t linger inside one’s mind even when you have only talked casually each year; if casual meant horsing around the cemetery like a school playground. She really thought she forgot him already, she swore she did. She have never had lingering thoughts of him when she got back home after spending her ‘Day of the Dead’ playing and chatting with him with candles and orange light bulbs illuminating their faces, she never dreamt of nicely kept glasses, shortly cut hair, small, gentle eyes and thick lips back then – but now, it was a whole different story.
After seeing that familiar face, matured by time; by six years of absence – it was surprising how she still recognized him.
What was more surprising, though, was he still recognizes her.
It was a bit laughable how they both greeted each other with a ‘Hey!’ as they both had no idea what each other’s names were, but it was quite remarkable how they talk like they were close friends. She asked him why he was a day early – since she had always seen him visit on the Day of the Dead exclusively – and why he didn’t show up for the past six years. He said he went back to his homeland to study, that he was on break and he needed to fly back soon (and as much as she hated to admit, she wanted to know how soon was soon), and that he misses this tradition of visiting his late grandfather’s grave. Surprisingly, she felt as if her heart crumbled at the fact that he had to fly soon, but she shoves that thought away and reminded herself that it has always been a ‘one-day’ thing between them, and that ‘one-day’ thing only happens once a year, if you disregard the huge gap he was not present on.
They caught up with a lot of things as both of them helped on cleaning and repainting their late beloved one’s tomb stones – their relative’s tombs were beside each other, which made it easy to chit-chat – and how he was taking up acting in one of the most notable universities in his home land, how he still gets homesick even when he was already a grown man, how he missed eating native food, how he missed a lot of things but he needed to stay strong since he is, again, a grown man – but she poked fun at him at how his definition of grown man is probably a boy who only started to grow his first armpit hair, and the two would laugh like back when they were still children, minus how they would play with candle wax balls, thinking they were snowballs if snow magically fell on a tropical island, and hide-and-seek around the cemetery, it was quite a change to just talk and enjoy each other’s company, but she didn’t complain. She probably never will.
Without regrets...
She didn’t know why, but she was waiting for him eagerly the next day – the actual Day of the Dead – with an uneasy heart. It was probably fear; a fear of not being able to see him again, a fear she has just developed under 24 hours, a fear that she feared; if that still made sense. Her worries were sated, though, once she saw his silhouette moving forward after hours and hours of waiting – it made her chest ache that they only had a couple of hours left to talk, maybe even less since he also seems to be catching up with his relatives, and probably friends he had back when he was young and was still residing here. She inwardly slaps herself for thinking something so selfish, but she couldn’t deny how she wanted to be beside him for the rest of his stay here at the cemetery; if finding romance inside such an eerie place was novel-worthy.
Her day was spent talking to him, about things under the sun, about his homeland, about his new friends, about adjusting, about their dreams, about growing in age and in spirit, about unintelligent things, on how they should check whether or not they both see the same people inside the cemetery and they should check one by one if they weren’t spirits with unfinished business or how they wanted to play spirit of the glass when the sun was still scorching at one in the afternoon, how they she discovered that he was easily frightened by local ghost stories that were spread by tongue and how they asked each other why it was a must to eat certain biscuits on the Day of the Dead. They talked about a lot of things, maybe that was enough to fill the gap that was left due to his six-year absence... but they still forgot to ask for each other’s names after all that, after hours and hours of talking, after their shared bits of silence, after noticing how they might meet after six years again – she wasn’t sure if it was intended or not.
Without any regret.
“My name is Kim Seokjin right now. I was Jin over here.... back then.” he, who is finally known to be as Seokjin, or Jin, says with a smile she didn’t want to misinterpret but it looked like sorrow beside the word sweet, before his family headed out of the cemetery, before she regrets not ever asking his name, before she might never see him in years again. Seokjin. Jin.
It must have surprised him that she didn’t reply, she just stood there with a loosely held by her right hand, her dumbfounded expression turning to shock when Seokjin turned his head away and began to catch up with his family who were almost outside of the cemetery. It was already pitch black out, the sky was clear that night and there were more stars than usual; it was a great scenery to remember this memory by as she chased him before he could even get inside their car. She shouted her name through the crowd, she wasn’t even fazed that the peaceful people offering their prayers to their late loved one(s) were startled by her outburst, but she didn’t have the shame right now – she didn’t want to regret not telling him her name after he told her his.
“See you again, Angel!” Seokjin shouts back, his hand timidly waving at her, with his childish grin that brought back memories she had kept somewhere at the back of her head of her childhood every time her family visited this cemetery on the 1st of November, and how this version of Seokjin, this Seokjin of the present – and not just the kid she would always see and talk to once a year – would now be etched inside her mind for days to remember.
Again.
She thought she’d never dream of nicely kept glasses, shortly cut hair, small, gentle eyes and thick lips every time she went back home after the first day of the eleventh month – but now, it was a whole different story – and everything started with a name.
