(no subject)
One-Way Glass
SuJu - Hyukhae
2018 words; PG
A look at the course of a relationship through the eyes of others.
You pack down the sand into the bucket with your pink plastic shovel as tightly as you can and flip it over-careful, careful!-, and beam when a perfect sandcastle slides out. You want to show mommy, but she’s on the other side of the playground talking to another lady, and you know how boring grown-up talks can get. So you smush the sandcastle flat with your shovel and start a new one; maybe you can make this one even more perfect than the one before and draw doors and windows on it with a stick and decorate it with grass and pebbles.
There are two men sitting on the bench next to the sandbox and they’re talking boring grown-up talk too, but you think they’re handsome-not as handsome as daddy, of course-, so you don’t mind too much.
“Yeonhee and I are getting married, Donghae,” the one with yellow hair says. The one with the brown hair is quiet for a very long time, and he doesn’t look very happy. In fact, he doesn’t look much like anything at all; he just stares at his shoes and is very, very still. You wonder why, because you’re old enough-five and a half-to know that getting married means there will be a pretty wedding, and weddings are always happy.
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations, Hyukjae, I’m happy for you,” the brown-haired man, Donghae, finally says to the other with a small smile.
“I want you to be my best man.” Well, you’re not quite sure what that means, because daddy is the best man in the world and everyone knows it. There’s another super-long pause.
“Why me?” You think Donghae must not be very smart if it takes him so long to think of such short things to say.
“Don’t be stupid, Hae. I consider you my best friend.”
“O-of course.” Then Donghae stands up really fast and starts mumbling-you catch bits of “I have to go something blah something”, and Hyukjae stands too. Donghae starts to leave, but Hyukjae suddenly grabs him and hugs him very tightly. Donghae doesn’t hug back and kind of just hangs there like the rag doll you always have tea parties with, and the thought of a grown-up man hugging a dollie makes you giggle. The sound makes Donghae finally notice you, and he pushes the other man away.
“I’ll see you later, Hyuk,” he says, and walks away. Hyukjae stands there for a long time, watching him leave. He’s completely still, and you wonder if he’s turned into a statue. You want to poke him just to check, but mommy would say that’s a rude thing to do.
Well, Hyukjae is too quiet and Donghae is gone and it’s all so boring now, so you turn back to your sandcastle. Grown-ups talk about such strange things. But then again, grown-ups are very strange people.
*
Your daughter is coming home for dinner this weekend-you can hardly believe she’s already twenty-three, grown and beautiful and mature, not when you can still remember singing her lullabies and scolding her for getting her Sunday dress dirty when she played tag after Mass, not when you remember her kindergarten graduation just as well as her high school and college ones, and oh, where does the time go?
Laughter outside the window breaks you from your reverie, and you lift the pink curtain to see that sweet boy next door, Donghae, down below, sitting with his friend on the steps of his front porch. The other boy is named Hyukjae, you remember, and he’s a pure gentleman-he helped you with your heavy groceries once on his way to Donghae’s house. The two must be starting high school now; they are wearing their uniforms and the awkward look of teenage boys in the middle of their growth spurt, all gangly limbs and jutting elbows and knees. They’re talking and laughing, and you smile at the carefree grins on their faces.
Then, everything happens so quickly, perhaps because you hadn’t expected it at all, but one moment the two are sitting side-by-side, and the next their lips are pressed together with all the awkwardness of a first kiss.
You stagger back (the curtain falls down with a soft swish), pressing a hand to your faint heart-dear Lord, those two nice boys are homosexuals!-, and collapse into a chair. Donghae had always been such a polite boy, if a bit of a dreamer, and you had never suspected that he was… like this. Half of your mind tells you to call his mother right at this very minute and inform her of what you’ve seen. Instead, you snatch your rosary off the drawer and murmur a prayer for their souls.
*
You and Hyukjae have been best friends since elementary school, and you don’t like his newfound closeness with Donghae at all. The weekly movie dates at your house-a tradition strictly adhered to for the past four years-have been effectively interrupted by Hyukjae’s sheepish “Sorry, Su, I already promised to hang out with Hae” and Donghae’s cheerful but apologetic smile as the two waltz off, leaving you in the dust yet again. All in all, it makes you want to break something.
No, it’s not jealousy, of course not, but rather a sense of betrayal that your best friend could abandon you so easily for someone else. You are extremely loud in vocalizing your displeasure at the whole thing, letting everyone and their mother know just how affronted you are. It’s a bit unfair to Donghae, you suppose; it’s not really his fault, and he is nice, but it feels good to blame someone. You might have gone overboard, because Kim Heechul finally corners you one day in an empty hallway after school. He’s only a bit taller, really, and certainly skinnier and undeniably girly, and you two sort of share the same group of friends. You’re still terrified.
“Are you blind or just stupid?” he demands with all his usual charm, towering over you with flashing eyes. You’re neither, of course, and you find enough of your voice to tell him so, offended he’d think such a thing. He sighs and runs a hand through his long red hair, killer aura dissipating. “Just… open your eyes a bit, okay?”
That’s not much advice, and you don’t really remember asking for advice in the first place, but you still decide to give it a try. When Heechul tells you to do something, it’s usually a very good idea to obey. You watch Hyukjae and Donghae more closely, and there’s nothing different, not at first. Then you start to see the small smiles, the casual brush of hands, the way Hyukjae’s eyes linger a bit longer on Donghae than strictly necessary. You know for sure when you lean down to pick up a pen and see the palms of their hands touching underneath the table.
Oh. Oh. Well, it could be worse, you suppose. As long as Hyukjae doesn’t hit on you or anything, you don’t really mind.
*
Growing up meant growing apart. You all went your separate ways when college came around, and while you kept in touch, it became difficult to remember who went where and who was doing what. You were surprised when Shiwon called. “A little get-together,” he had explained, “so we can all catch up. Please come, Kibum.”
You’re glad you decided to show up; you had nearly forgotten how good it felt to laugh with them again, once the initial awkwardness and formalities and “how have you been”’s were bridged. Hyukjae is the only one missing-he had called an hour ago to say he’d be a bit late-, and it’s difficult not to notice how reserved and fidgety Donghae is.
A loud shout from across the restaurant announces his arrival, and you look up. His hair is blonde now, he’s a bit taller, and there’s a wide grin across his features. However, all of that is lost on you, because there’s a girl standing next to him, and their fingers are intertwined.
“Hey, everyone, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Yeonhee,” he says. She bows and smiles and says all of the correct things for a proper introduction. Shiwon nods and smiles warmly in greeting, Heechul plays with his hair, Yunho drums his fingers on the table. Junsu hugs Hyukjae exuberantly, Jungsu looks out the window, and Sungmin busies himself going through the messages on his phone. They’re all pointedly refusing to look at Donghae, and you realize that you know exactly what they’re doing because you won’t look at him either. You turn to glance at his face.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Donghae says with a brittle smile that sets your teeth on edge.
*
You drag him all the way across the hall to the couch, where you drop him with a scowl, not even bothering with his shoes. God, Donghae had better appreciate this in the morning; you do not enjoy being woken at four in the morning to rescue your inebriated childhood friend from a bar so dirty you could feel the STDs in the air. Not that you don’t know what all of this is about; you’ve already received an invitation.
“Heechul, Hyukjae’s getting married,” Donghae slurs, head lolling against the window. You keep your eyes on the road, hands firm on the steering wheel.
“It’ll be okay.”
“He asked me to be his best man,” Donghae replies with a wide grin. You don’t know how to respond. “He told me it was because I was his best friend,” he tells you, and laughs. It grows louder and louder and increasingly hysterical, until you’re not sure whether he’s laughing or crying.
You go to the kitchen to get a damp washcloth, and when you return, he’s writhing and groaning on the couch, streaks of dried tears still evident on his cheeks.
“Hyukjae, Hyukjae, I l- I lo-”
“Shush,” you cut him off quietly, brushing the hair back from his face and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Hyukjae always was a fool.
*
This wedding, it’s simply the most gorgeous affair you’ve ever seen. The flowers are lush and fragrant and the decorations are extravagant, but the most beautiful of all is the blushing bride, adorned with creamy silk and lace. And the groom is just so handsome, and you’re sure they’re the most beautiful couple you’ve ever seen. The bride fits perfectly against the groom’s side, and the scene must be directly out of a fairy tale. Of course, you don’t really know either of them, you’re a friend of a friend of a cousin on either the bride’s or groom’s side-you can’t remember-, invited by obligation, but that’s inconsequential.
You burst into tears when the two exchange their vows-you always cry at weddings-, it’s just so beautiful. Beside you, your husband sighs and adjusts his tie and passes you some tissues, and you jab him in the side with your finger, hissing that he could stand to be a little more romantic, and was he trying to look rude?
The guests erupt into cheers when the groom pushes back the veil and kisses his bride. The priest pronounces them man and wife, and the two turn to face the crowd as a married couple. A fresh flood of tears bursts forth and you dab your eyes ferociously.
As the newlyweds walk back down the aisle hand-in-hand, smiling and waving at the well-wishers, you catch a glimpse of the best man through your tears. Such a handsome young man, you think, and reportedly the groom’s single best friend. He would be such a good match for your niece; perhaps you can introduce them at the reception. He is wearing a wide, bright smile, brighter than anyone’s in the room, even though he looks a bit pale-perhaps he’s sick?-, and it warms your heart. It’s so touching to see a man’s happiness on his best friend’s wedding day.
*****
A/N: This was written as a short story for my Introduction to Fiction class last semester. My TA's reaction to this was pretty amusing. XD
SuJu - Hyukhae
2018 words; PG
A look at the course of a relationship through the eyes of others.
You pack down the sand into the bucket with your pink plastic shovel as tightly as you can and flip it over-careful, careful!-, and beam when a perfect sandcastle slides out. You want to show mommy, but she’s on the other side of the playground talking to another lady, and you know how boring grown-up talks can get. So you smush the sandcastle flat with your shovel and start a new one; maybe you can make this one even more perfect than the one before and draw doors and windows on it with a stick and decorate it with grass and pebbles.
There are two men sitting on the bench next to the sandbox and they’re talking boring grown-up talk too, but you think they’re handsome-not as handsome as daddy, of course-, so you don’t mind too much.
“Yeonhee and I are getting married, Donghae,” the one with yellow hair says. The one with the brown hair is quiet for a very long time, and he doesn’t look very happy. In fact, he doesn’t look much like anything at all; he just stares at his shoes and is very, very still. You wonder why, because you’re old enough-five and a half-to know that getting married means there will be a pretty wedding, and weddings are always happy.
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations, Hyukjae, I’m happy for you,” the brown-haired man, Donghae, finally says to the other with a small smile.
“I want you to be my best man.” Well, you’re not quite sure what that means, because daddy is the best man in the world and everyone knows it. There’s another super-long pause.
“Why me?” You think Donghae must not be very smart if it takes him so long to think of such short things to say.
“Don’t be stupid, Hae. I consider you my best friend.”
“O-of course.” Then Donghae stands up really fast and starts mumbling-you catch bits of “I have to go something blah something”, and Hyukjae stands too. Donghae starts to leave, but Hyukjae suddenly grabs him and hugs him very tightly. Donghae doesn’t hug back and kind of just hangs there like the rag doll you always have tea parties with, and the thought of a grown-up man hugging a dollie makes you giggle. The sound makes Donghae finally notice you, and he pushes the other man away.
“I’ll see you later, Hyuk,” he says, and walks away. Hyukjae stands there for a long time, watching him leave. He’s completely still, and you wonder if he’s turned into a statue. You want to poke him just to check, but mommy would say that’s a rude thing to do.
Well, Hyukjae is too quiet and Donghae is gone and it’s all so boring now, so you turn back to your sandcastle. Grown-ups talk about such strange things. But then again, grown-ups are very strange people.
*
Your daughter is coming home for dinner this weekend-you can hardly believe she’s already twenty-three, grown and beautiful and mature, not when you can still remember singing her lullabies and scolding her for getting her Sunday dress dirty when she played tag after Mass, not when you remember her kindergarten graduation just as well as her high school and college ones, and oh, where does the time go?
Laughter outside the window breaks you from your reverie, and you lift the pink curtain to see that sweet boy next door, Donghae, down below, sitting with his friend on the steps of his front porch. The other boy is named Hyukjae, you remember, and he’s a pure gentleman-he helped you with your heavy groceries once on his way to Donghae’s house. The two must be starting high school now; they are wearing their uniforms and the awkward look of teenage boys in the middle of their growth spurt, all gangly limbs and jutting elbows and knees. They’re talking and laughing, and you smile at the carefree grins on their faces.
Then, everything happens so quickly, perhaps because you hadn’t expected it at all, but one moment the two are sitting side-by-side, and the next their lips are pressed together with all the awkwardness of a first kiss.
You stagger back (the curtain falls down with a soft swish), pressing a hand to your faint heart-dear Lord, those two nice boys are homosexuals!-, and collapse into a chair. Donghae had always been such a polite boy, if a bit of a dreamer, and you had never suspected that he was… like this. Half of your mind tells you to call his mother right at this very minute and inform her of what you’ve seen. Instead, you snatch your rosary off the drawer and murmur a prayer for their souls.
*
You and Hyukjae have been best friends since elementary school, and you don’t like his newfound closeness with Donghae at all. The weekly movie dates at your house-a tradition strictly adhered to for the past four years-have been effectively interrupted by Hyukjae’s sheepish “Sorry, Su, I already promised to hang out with Hae” and Donghae’s cheerful but apologetic smile as the two waltz off, leaving you in the dust yet again. All in all, it makes you want to break something.
No, it’s not jealousy, of course not, but rather a sense of betrayal that your best friend could abandon you so easily for someone else. You are extremely loud in vocalizing your displeasure at the whole thing, letting everyone and their mother know just how affronted you are. It’s a bit unfair to Donghae, you suppose; it’s not really his fault, and he is nice, but it feels good to blame someone. You might have gone overboard, because Kim Heechul finally corners you one day in an empty hallway after school. He’s only a bit taller, really, and certainly skinnier and undeniably girly, and you two sort of share the same group of friends. You’re still terrified.
“Are you blind or just stupid?” he demands with all his usual charm, towering over you with flashing eyes. You’re neither, of course, and you find enough of your voice to tell him so, offended he’d think such a thing. He sighs and runs a hand through his long red hair, killer aura dissipating. “Just… open your eyes a bit, okay?”
That’s not much advice, and you don’t really remember asking for advice in the first place, but you still decide to give it a try. When Heechul tells you to do something, it’s usually a very good idea to obey. You watch Hyukjae and Donghae more closely, and there’s nothing different, not at first. Then you start to see the small smiles, the casual brush of hands, the way Hyukjae’s eyes linger a bit longer on Donghae than strictly necessary. You know for sure when you lean down to pick up a pen and see the palms of their hands touching underneath the table.
Oh. Oh. Well, it could be worse, you suppose. As long as Hyukjae doesn’t hit on you or anything, you don’t really mind.
*
Growing up meant growing apart. You all went your separate ways when college came around, and while you kept in touch, it became difficult to remember who went where and who was doing what. You were surprised when Shiwon called. “A little get-together,” he had explained, “so we can all catch up. Please come, Kibum.”
You’re glad you decided to show up; you had nearly forgotten how good it felt to laugh with them again, once the initial awkwardness and formalities and “how have you been”’s were bridged. Hyukjae is the only one missing-he had called an hour ago to say he’d be a bit late-, and it’s difficult not to notice how reserved and fidgety Donghae is.
A loud shout from across the restaurant announces his arrival, and you look up. His hair is blonde now, he’s a bit taller, and there’s a wide grin across his features. However, all of that is lost on you, because there’s a girl standing next to him, and their fingers are intertwined.
“Hey, everyone, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Yeonhee,” he says. She bows and smiles and says all of the correct things for a proper introduction. Shiwon nods and smiles warmly in greeting, Heechul plays with his hair, Yunho drums his fingers on the table. Junsu hugs Hyukjae exuberantly, Jungsu looks out the window, and Sungmin busies himself going through the messages on his phone. They’re all pointedly refusing to look at Donghae, and you realize that you know exactly what they’re doing because you won’t look at him either. You turn to glance at his face.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Donghae says with a brittle smile that sets your teeth on edge.
*
You drag him all the way across the hall to the couch, where you drop him with a scowl, not even bothering with his shoes. God, Donghae had better appreciate this in the morning; you do not enjoy being woken at four in the morning to rescue your inebriated childhood friend from a bar so dirty you could feel the STDs in the air. Not that you don’t know what all of this is about; you’ve already received an invitation.
“Heechul, Hyukjae’s getting married,” Donghae slurs, head lolling against the window. You keep your eyes on the road, hands firm on the steering wheel.
“It’ll be okay.”
“He asked me to be his best man,” Donghae replies with a wide grin. You don’t know how to respond. “He told me it was because I was his best friend,” he tells you, and laughs. It grows louder and louder and increasingly hysterical, until you’re not sure whether he’s laughing or crying.
You go to the kitchen to get a damp washcloth, and when you return, he’s writhing and groaning on the couch, streaks of dried tears still evident on his cheeks.
“Hyukjae, Hyukjae, I l- I lo-”
“Shush,” you cut him off quietly, brushing the hair back from his face and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Hyukjae always was a fool.
*
This wedding, it’s simply the most gorgeous affair you’ve ever seen. The flowers are lush and fragrant and the decorations are extravagant, but the most beautiful of all is the blushing bride, adorned with creamy silk and lace. And the groom is just so handsome, and you’re sure they’re the most beautiful couple you’ve ever seen. The bride fits perfectly against the groom’s side, and the scene must be directly out of a fairy tale. Of course, you don’t really know either of them, you’re a friend of a friend of a cousin on either the bride’s or groom’s side-you can’t remember-, invited by obligation, but that’s inconsequential.
You burst into tears when the two exchange their vows-you always cry at weddings-, it’s just so beautiful. Beside you, your husband sighs and adjusts his tie and passes you some tissues, and you jab him in the side with your finger, hissing that he could stand to be a little more romantic, and was he trying to look rude?
The guests erupt into cheers when the groom pushes back the veil and kisses his bride. The priest pronounces them man and wife, and the two turn to face the crowd as a married couple. A fresh flood of tears bursts forth and you dab your eyes ferociously.
As the newlyweds walk back down the aisle hand-in-hand, smiling and waving at the well-wishers, you catch a glimpse of the best man through your tears. Such a handsome young man, you think, and reportedly the groom’s single best friend. He would be such a good match for your niece; perhaps you can introduce them at the reception. He is wearing a wide, bright smile, brighter than anyone’s in the room, even though he looks a bit pale-perhaps he’s sick?-, and it warms your heart. It’s so touching to see a man’s happiness on his best friend’s wedding day.
*****
A/N: This was written as a short story for my Introduction to Fiction class last semester. My TA's reaction to this was pretty amusing. XD