perhaps they never will
pg-13 | myungsoo/krystal | 1671w
- where in they meet and meet again
and again.
gif credit
music: paradise by infinite
inspired by the movie one day
Krystal remembers the first time they meet very well. Too well, that in fact, each moment is a vivid memory, and she remembers them with crystal-clear clarity.
They are only both six, Myungsoo’s a little older, but she doesn’t know that. As a child she has always been strangely condescending and looks down on people easily. The other children always call her the snobby rich kid.
Myungsoo doesn’t believe anyone is mean.
So he approaches her, quite tentatively and hesitantly still, and hands her a sandwich, inching across the bench to sit beside her, and two incredulous eyes stare back at him.
He nods, cracking an innocent, little-boy kind of smile, and pushes the sandwich into her hands, which she, unexpectedly, accepts (later he gets to know that this is because she hasn’t eaten for the entire day), and hints at a smile, but it’s not quite there.
Myungsoo thinks this is good enough for him, and so he widens his smile. Krystal notices his crooked teeth, and almost laughs. It’s a start.
They have been friends for two years when she leaves.
She breaks the news to him quietly, two of them sitting on a swing in summer. She is wearing a pretty dress, hoping this makes up for the news, somehow. It’s a very childish thought, but she is eight, and eight-year-olds don’t have complex minds.
He looks at his feet and then up at her again, the pain in his eyes twisting her heart as far as it can go.
He is strangely quiet for an eight-year-old.
That day Myungsoo resumes playing with her as usual, and when they part ways he hugs her as he does always, and neither of them bring up the subject. It is a clean break, for eight-year-olds, as far as they go.
But she notices. She notices the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the hand-holding that lasts a moment too long, the gazes that are much fonder and more affectionate.
Krystal mentions nothing about it.
Krystal returns to Seoul eight years later, with her sister.
Seoul has not changed very much, she realizes, and she takes the bus alone because her sister refuses to go around in anything but a taxi. She takes bus thirteen, the one that goes all the way to the other side of the city, the one that she used to take with Myungsoo.
His name is a distant memory, a strange taste on her lips, leaving her feeling more alienated than ever. She feels like she is in a far away place, not here nor there, and it’s not a very nice feeling.
As she boards the bus and moves towards the back, her fingers brush past someone else’s. The stranger turns and smiles, apologizing a few times, but Krystal only stares.
She stares and stares and stares until he asks if he knows her from somewhere because her face is vaguely familiar. She shakes her head and whispers a soft no, and shuffles to the back, stumbling a little, breaking a little.
She watches him, not even bothering to stick earplugs in her ear because she is too distracted to do so.
His smile never changed.
Her heart shatters a bit more as the bus passes each stop and he still doesn’t recognize her; doesn’t even look at her.
By the time he gets off she is sure that at least half her heart is gone. And yet she doesn’t go up to him. What is she afraid of?
She looks for an answer but there is none that is worthy.
Myungsoo decides to attend college anyway, as it is his mother’s wish, and he has always been a good boy. He trusts that it will be good for him. Makes himself believe it, chanting it to himself as he gets ready for another morning.
The first day is hectic and everyone gets lost, including him, but somehow he manages to find his classroom for the orientation briefing. Everyone settles into their seat and whips out their phone and begins texting furiously, but he observes everyone silently.
A beautiful girl walks into the room with an air of hostility and suddenly everyone hushes, murmuring and whispering everywhere. There must be some rumor he is unfamiliar with. He decides to be on her good side and offers the empty seat beside him to her.
Most of the girls send her death glares.
She doesn’t notice. Her eyes widen and for the smallest moment he sees a flash of familiarity in her, but then it is gone again once she sits down and her hair falls forward, hiding her face from everyone.
For the rest of the hour they sneak glances at each other, but they do not say a word.
There is something, he knows, something about her. He can’t quite place it, but he knows it’s somewhere in his mind.
She is still afraid, she supposes, because she doesn’t even look up once from her notebook, which she sketches in subconsciously while their teacher drones on and on and on. Nothing else is real but him, her and her notebook.
She only finally somewhat glances at him when class finishes, and that is only because she wants to check if it really is him.
But she doesn’t need to, because she has known since the moment she stepped into class.
She runs out of class, leaving his mouth hanging open, because the piece of paper that she was sketching on slipped out of her notebook (she must have torn it out for some reason) is a drawing of him.
He knows who it is now.
But it is too late, and somehow she manages to evade from him for the whole year.
She is twenty-five and works a stable job as a wedding planner, her childhood dream come true. She likes making people happy, bounding two people together for life and taking them to a place of eternal happiness.
She herself, however, still is afraid to love.
One time she has to go to Japan for the wedding, because the couple has requested for the wedding to be in Japan, and she never lets down her clients.
She boards the plane hauling a huge bag with her, her planning material, diary, stationery and a bunch of other seemingly unnecessary stuff. But she needs them. She only feels safe this way.
Krystal trips over someone’s foot as she heads to her seat, and he helps her, hand reaching out to hers, arm to her waist, pulling her back to she lands in his lap instead of falling flat on her face. She is one step away from the right seat.
A picture falls out of her pocket and lands on the ground.
Both of them strain to get it, and both of them pick it up at the same time.
She looks up at the person and almost jumps, because he is - was - the boy in the picture. Kim Myungsoo.
His eyes do not leave the picture, neither does his hand, or his arm. Those same mesmerizing eyes lock gazes with her three seconds later, and pulls her to his chest and doesn’t care whoever is watching them now, just presses his warm lips to her cold ones.
His lips taste like the first ray of sunlight, the first drop of rain, the first flake of snow. It is everything she has always wanted and always wished for and waited for but somehow, it doesn’t feel right.
The kiss doesn’t make up for the times he never recognized her, the kiss doesn’t make up for the times he never tried to find her, and the kiss definitely doesn’t make up for the hurt that she felt every fucking time.
Nothing matters anymore, she thinks, and the kiss crumbles into nothing as she breaks it off silently, making her way into her seat.
All throughout the plane ride, she wants to kiss him so bad but she holds it in.
Maybe she is afraid, but so be it.
Her own wedding is a simple one, contrary to the countless others she has done. She only invites the most important people in her life to witness this ceremony, and a few days before the wedding she consults her fiancé on whether or not she should invite Myungsoo.
Minho shakes his head first, but then later shrugs. It’s your choice, he replies vaguely.
He is no help at all. Krystal rolls her eyes, but decides to mail him one anyway, two weeks before the actual event. She is not sure if this is the right decision, but then again, with Myungsoo, there never are right decisions, so she throws caution to the wind.
Myungsoo arrives alone at their wedding.
She invites him into the holding room where she is in her dress, and twirls around for him to see.
He opens his arms and welcomes her in them, inhaling her fresh scent and tells her that she is beautiful, and that she is a glowing goddess.
She thanks him for coming and tells him that he will be good friends with Minho, but he remains expressionless.
Please be happy, he whispers to her, pressing his lips to her forehead.
I will, she promises him, tears pricking at her eyes. I definitely will.
He tells her that he’s leaving after this, and that he won’t be able to attend the rest of her wedding. She doesn’t ask why, because she knows all of the reasons.
I’m sorry, he whispers again, pulling away from her, leaving her arms empty. I love you, Krystal.
She doesn’t know how to explain the tears running down her cheeks when Minho sees her later, can’t find the words to.
Maybe in their next life, both of them will be happy together. Maybe someday she won’t be afraid to love him. Maybe they will love each other the way they should. But Krystal cannot be sure.
I love you too, Myungsoo, I love you too.