She
She is here again.
Therefore, I am here again. I watch her from the distance, one that I’ve been able to steadily close over the past few weeks. It started so far away that I’m probably just a figure, but now I think she can hear me if I talk loud enough. Will I finally eliminate the remaining gap today and stand by her side?
She pretends not to notice me here, but I know she knows. I watch, mesmerized, as she stands there on the ledge overlooking the beach, her long black hair whipping back with the gentle ocean breeze, her tanned arms spread out slightly from her body, her simple white one piece dress that just loosely hugs around her. She is an angel. I can’t look away. Everything about her was ethereal. Like she would just one day disappear.
I stand up from my seat on the bench and make my way over. By the third step, I know she has heard me. Nothing will happen if all I do is watch, but I couldn’t help that growing feeling in the pit of my stomach when she drops her hands and turns her head just so. I’ve never seen her face this close before. I gulp, feeling a hitch in my throat. Her eyes meet mine, and I swear I can’t breathe. Her eyes, they’re the most beautiful pair of black pearls I have ever seen, and I think for a moment that I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking. That is, until she smiles. I stop trying to breathe altogether, and let myself drown in her who looks at me.
“It’s you again.”
Her voice brings me back to the surface, yet at the same time I’m drowning again, this time in that low, timbre sound that resonates within me. I only nod as I realize that yes; she has indeed noticed me before.
She turns her body now to face me fully, one hand combing her hair back past her ear. She smiles again. “Why are you always here?”
I scrutinize her face, trying to see if she’s annoyed by my presence, but there is nothing but curiosity. Should I be honest?
“Because you’re always here,” I answer.
She isn’t the bit surprised. In fact it seems she was expecting that answer. With nothing but a slight ‘hmm’ of acknowledgement, she turns back towards the sea, gazing at the endless horizon.
That’s it? That’s all she’s going to say? I just told her that I’m always here because she’s always here and all she says is ‘hmm’? I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this definitely isn’t it. I step closer to her.
“Why are you always here?” I send the question back her way partially because I’m curious, but mostly because I couldn’t let our first conversation just die here.
She doesn’t look at me this time, but something changes in her expression. She’s still smiling, and God help me I can’t stop staring, but it’s more…wistful? Yeah, that’s probably it.
I hear her take a deep breath. “I’m always here,” she starts, and she drags her gaze across the expanse of the beach, “because she’s always here.”
She? Who is she? Was my angel also like me, coming here to watch someone? It doesn’t seem to be the case. The tone of her voice suggests that she’s talking about someone she knows. But I’ve never seen this other ‘she’. Was I too engrossed in admiring her that I’ve failed to notice everything else? Or could it be that I’ve missed this ‘she’?
Whatever the case, I come earlier the next day. Earlier, before she even appears and I stay later, long after she leaves. All so I could catch sight of this ‘she’ she speaks of. It suddenly dawns on me that I didn’t ask for her name nor gave her mine. Oh well. She would remain my angel for now. She sees me as she arrives, but she merely smiles while taking her favorite spot on the ledge. I’m not expecting anything more. After all, what must she think of me? Some sort of creepy stalker? I do not close our distance today. Not until I find this ‘she’.
But…the sun sets, and my angel leaves and yet, there’s still no sign of this mysterious ‘she’. I know I didn’t miss anything. I was watching her more intently than usual. She wasn’t staring at anyone, or anything, in particular. She’s just standing there. Occasionally she sits if she feels like it. Half the time her eyes are closed. So what she said…was it a lie?
I come again the next day, and the next, and the next, only to see the same scene repeat itself. She comes, sits, and shortly after the sun sets, she leaves. I even watch the people on the beach. Therein lays the other problem. Barely anyone visits this beach in the first place. If there is anyone at all, they’re old couples taking a stroll, or young boys walking their dogs. Even I found the beach by accident when I overslept on the bus and ended up riding all the way to the last stop. I would have stayed on the bus until it made a round trip back to my original destination, but then I saw her. A lone figure standing there on the ledge in her white dress. Like an angel. It was purely on impulse that I got off the bus that day. I’ve been coming back here everyday ever since.
It’s the fourth day now and still no ‘she’. I can’t take it anymore. I approach her once again. She’s seated today, and already smiling as I enter talking range. I sit as well while maintaining a respectful space between us. She looks my way. Her smile is as captivating as I remember. I can’t think of how to structure my words to not further sound like a stalker.
When I don’t say anything, she fixes her eyes back to the beach and I follow her gaze. Sitting together in silence is not bad either.
“I’m not a stalker,” I blurt.
And just a heartbeat ago I thought sitting in silence is a good idea. Don’t I totally sound like what I say I’m not?
She giggles, and I feel my pulse jump at the sound. I turn to her. Her eyes are twinkling with amusement.
“I know,” she replies, “You don’t ever follow me home.”
My expression must be a stupid one because she giggles some more. I stare at my hands to spare her my burning cheeks. Come to think of it, it had never even crossed my mind to follow her home. Wherever that is. At least we’re clear on the stalker issue. We sit in actual silence for a bit. She, gazing at the beach. Me, trying to make it not so obvious that I’m gazing at her. Then she closes her eyes, and I stare freely.
“Who is she?” I ask.
Her eyes open.
“I’ve been coming here earlier than you, and I stay here longer than you, but I don’t see her. I never see her,” I go on.
She doesn’t answer immediately and I momentarily wonder if I’ve offended her somehow. But then she smiles that same wistful smile from before, and she speaks.
“You can’t see her. You have to feel her.”
She says it so slowly that it takes time to register in my head. But then it hits me like oh.
“She’s right here.”
There isn’t anybody but us. Oh.
It makes sense now. ‘She’ is not here anymore.
“She loves the sunset here. No matter how busy she is, she never misses a single sunset. And she always makes sure that I’m here with her.”
She tilts her head back, her expression pensive. “That’s why even though she’s somewhere better; I know she’s here right now.”
We don’t exchange anymore words beyond that. She’s enjoying ‘her’ presence. I’m trying to find the right words to say, and failing. The sun sets and she bids me goodbye as she leaves. I stay awhile longer, lost in my thoughts. Should I continue this? Obviously whoever ‘she’ was, ‘she’ was very important to her. Could I, an admirer, ever compare? By telling me who ‘she’ was, is she trying to tell me that I should stop this?
Perhaps. But I’m not giving up.
She seems surprised to see me the next day. I could tell from the way she blinks and how her eyes widen a little. So she really was expecting me to stop after what she told me yesterday. Well, too bad I’m a tad stubborn. I stand next to her, relaxed. She stares at me inquisitively, as if to see where she went wrong. I return the look with my own determined one.
“Why are you here?” she finally asks.
I grin at her. “I told you. Because you’re here.”
This time, I think she had anticipated my answer. She turns to face me fully. “She’s not an easy person to get over.”
“I can wait. I’ve waited this long anyway.”
She falters. I see it in her eyes. A shiver runs up my spine, and without thinking I extend my hand towards her. It’s now or never.
“I’m Im Yoona.”
I think she feels the shivers too. Her hand reaches hesitatingly over to mine but as our fingers grasp down on our palms, she finally smiles.
“Kwon Yuri."
---
A/N: Oneshot originally written for YoonYul oneshot competition over at ssf's YoonYul thread. Didn't win, obviously, but it did better than I thought it would. YoonYul is difficult for me anyway. Always thought their relationship lacked passion. And in case anyone is wondering who the 'she' is, I wrote her with Jessica in mind.
Therefore, I am here again. I watch her from the distance, one that I’ve been able to steadily close over the past few weeks. It started so far away that I’m probably just a figure, but now I think she can hear me if I talk loud enough. Will I finally eliminate the remaining gap today and stand by her side?
She pretends not to notice me here, but I know she knows. I watch, mesmerized, as she stands there on the ledge overlooking the beach, her long black hair whipping back with the gentle ocean breeze, her tanned arms spread out slightly from her body, her simple white one piece dress that just loosely hugs around her. She is an angel. I can’t look away. Everything about her was ethereal. Like she would just one day disappear.
I stand up from my seat on the bench and make my way over. By the third step, I know she has heard me. Nothing will happen if all I do is watch, but I couldn’t help that growing feeling in the pit of my stomach when she drops her hands and turns her head just so. I’ve never seen her face this close before. I gulp, feeling a hitch in my throat. Her eyes meet mine, and I swear I can’t breathe. Her eyes, they’re the most beautiful pair of black pearls I have ever seen, and I think for a moment that I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking. That is, until she smiles. I stop trying to breathe altogether, and let myself drown in her who looks at me.
“It’s you again.”
Her voice brings me back to the surface, yet at the same time I’m drowning again, this time in that low, timbre sound that resonates within me. I only nod as I realize that yes; she has indeed noticed me before.
She turns her body now to face me fully, one hand combing her hair back past her ear. She smiles again. “Why are you always here?”
I scrutinize her face, trying to see if she’s annoyed by my presence, but there is nothing but curiosity. Should I be honest?
“Because you’re always here,” I answer.
She isn’t the bit surprised. In fact it seems she was expecting that answer. With nothing but a slight ‘hmm’ of acknowledgement, she turns back towards the sea, gazing at the endless horizon.
That’s it? That’s all she’s going to say? I just told her that I’m always here because she’s always here and all she says is ‘hmm’? I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this definitely isn’t it. I step closer to her.
“Why are you always here?” I send the question back her way partially because I’m curious, but mostly because I couldn’t let our first conversation just die here.
She doesn’t look at me this time, but something changes in her expression. She’s still smiling, and God help me I can’t stop staring, but it’s more…wistful? Yeah, that’s probably it.
I hear her take a deep breath. “I’m always here,” she starts, and she drags her gaze across the expanse of the beach, “because she’s always here.”
She? Who is she? Was my angel also like me, coming here to watch someone? It doesn’t seem to be the case. The tone of her voice suggests that she’s talking about someone she knows. But I’ve never seen this other ‘she’. Was I too engrossed in admiring her that I’ve failed to notice everything else? Or could it be that I’ve missed this ‘she’?
Whatever the case, I come earlier the next day. Earlier, before she even appears and I stay later, long after she leaves. All so I could catch sight of this ‘she’ she speaks of. It suddenly dawns on me that I didn’t ask for her name nor gave her mine. Oh well. She would remain my angel for now. She sees me as she arrives, but she merely smiles while taking her favorite spot on the ledge. I’m not expecting anything more. After all, what must she think of me? Some sort of creepy stalker? I do not close our distance today. Not until I find this ‘she’.
But…the sun sets, and my angel leaves and yet, there’s still no sign of this mysterious ‘she’. I know I didn’t miss anything. I was watching her more intently than usual. She wasn’t staring at anyone, or anything, in particular. She’s just standing there. Occasionally she sits if she feels like it. Half the time her eyes are closed. So what she said…was it a lie?
I come again the next day, and the next, and the next, only to see the same scene repeat itself. She comes, sits, and shortly after the sun sets, she leaves. I even watch the people on the beach. Therein lays the other problem. Barely anyone visits this beach in the first place. If there is anyone at all, they’re old couples taking a stroll, or young boys walking their dogs. Even I found the beach by accident when I overslept on the bus and ended up riding all the way to the last stop. I would have stayed on the bus until it made a round trip back to my original destination, but then I saw her. A lone figure standing there on the ledge in her white dress. Like an angel. It was purely on impulse that I got off the bus that day. I’ve been coming back here everyday ever since.
It’s the fourth day now and still no ‘she’. I can’t take it anymore. I approach her once again. She’s seated today, and already smiling as I enter talking range. I sit as well while maintaining a respectful space between us. She looks my way. Her smile is as captivating as I remember. I can’t think of how to structure my words to not further sound like a stalker.
When I don’t say anything, she fixes her eyes back to the beach and I follow her gaze. Sitting together in silence is not bad either.
“I’m not a stalker,” I blurt.
And just a heartbeat ago I thought sitting in silence is a good idea. Don’t I totally sound like what I say I’m not?
She giggles, and I feel my pulse jump at the sound. I turn to her. Her eyes are twinkling with amusement.
“I know,” she replies, “You don’t ever follow me home.”
My expression must be a stupid one because she giggles some more. I stare at my hands to spare her my burning cheeks. Come to think of it, it had never even crossed my mind to follow her home. Wherever that is. At least we’re clear on the stalker issue. We sit in actual silence for a bit. She, gazing at the beach. Me, trying to make it not so obvious that I’m gazing at her. Then she closes her eyes, and I stare freely.
“Who is she?” I ask.
Her eyes open.
“I’ve been coming here earlier than you, and I stay here longer than you, but I don’t see her. I never see her,” I go on.
She doesn’t answer immediately and I momentarily wonder if I’ve offended her somehow. But then she smiles that same wistful smile from before, and she speaks.
“You can’t see her. You have to feel her.”
She says it so slowly that it takes time to register in my head. But then it hits me like oh.
“She’s right here.”
There isn’t anybody but us. Oh.
It makes sense now. ‘She’ is not here anymore.
“She loves the sunset here. No matter how busy she is, she never misses a single sunset. And she always makes sure that I’m here with her.”
She tilts her head back, her expression pensive. “That’s why even though she’s somewhere better; I know she’s here right now.”
We don’t exchange anymore words beyond that. She’s enjoying ‘her’ presence. I’m trying to find the right words to say, and failing. The sun sets and she bids me goodbye as she leaves. I stay awhile longer, lost in my thoughts. Should I continue this? Obviously whoever ‘she’ was, ‘she’ was very important to her. Could I, an admirer, ever compare? By telling me who ‘she’ was, is she trying to tell me that I should stop this?
Perhaps. But I’m not giving up.
She seems surprised to see me the next day. I could tell from the way she blinks and how her eyes widen a little. So she really was expecting me to stop after what she told me yesterday. Well, too bad I’m a tad stubborn. I stand next to her, relaxed. She stares at me inquisitively, as if to see where she went wrong. I return the look with my own determined one.
“Why are you here?” she finally asks.
I grin at her. “I told you. Because you’re here.”
This time, I think she had anticipated my answer. She turns to face me fully. “She’s not an easy person to get over.”
“I can wait. I’ve waited this long anyway.”
She falters. I see it in her eyes. A shiver runs up my spine, and without thinking I extend my hand towards her. It’s now or never.
“I’m Im Yoona.”
I think she feels the shivers too. Her hand reaches hesitatingly over to mine but as our fingers grasp down on our palms, she finally smiles.
“Kwon Yuri."
---
A/N: Oneshot originally written for YoonYul oneshot competition over at ssf's YoonYul thread. Didn't win, obviously, but it did better than I thought it would. YoonYul is difficult for me anyway. Always thought their relationship lacked passion. And in case anyone is wondering who the 'she' is, I wrote her with Jessica in mind.