Work Text:
05/22
Blinding lights engulf my vision. I hurriedly scan my surroundings in a drunken stupor. My satin, nonetheless uncomfortable heels hit the marble floor, creating an unpleasant noise with every step. I feel like vomiting, really. Somewhere along the repetitive tempo of heavy metal, a sophisticated woman came barging into my eyesight.
“Yoo Sangah? Yah, what are you doing here?” My words come out like a slur. A chunk of my hair overlaps my eyesight, and the towering author brushes it away, inches away from my bare skin. Yoo Sangah was usually an introverted person in the library. She read novels and pieces of literature most of the time. So us to cross paths in an ear-ringing pack of people, even so in a suit and tie?
Tonight was just full of surprises.
“What brings you here, Han Sooyoung?” She remarks. Her voice rushes through like a nice melody. She gives me a demanding look, expressing her desire for an answer
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I flop my hand over her face, annoyed. Something uncomfortable sticks to me. I repeatedly drag down my black dress in annoyance.
Yoo Sangah’s voice rings around the overlapping voices of young, drunk teenagers. “Han Sooyoung” She smirks, grabbing my wrist and plunging me down to the high chair. A pair of gentle eyes meet mine for the first time tonight. They looked like Latte. Sweet, just a tad bit bitter. Might you look further and catch a glint of hope in her eyes.
Her lips on mine were the next thing I knew.
(And maybe I hadn’t realized, but I fell into the euphoria of love)
—
I, Han Sooyoung, 25, never had anything remotely close to the concept of love. It was always just a series of work, cigarettes, and work again. I was never drawn into those cheesy webnovels that the old lady at the bookstore read, nor the more sophisticated ones that Yoo Sangah proposes to me.
Then, I met Yoo Sangah. She had light brown hair, pretty hazel eyes, and definitely looked good in black. She majored in creative arts, and published a book recently.
Everything after that one, specific night occurred like a blur. Somehow, here I am on a new soft bed beside a warm figure.
Somewhere along the way, I gained the courage to hold her hand.
And somewhere along the way, I got a girlfriend.
I wondered, how different would life be- if she was not by me?
“Love, what are you typing?” Yoo Sangah asks, I lean into her touch with the laptop positioned on my lap. One arm occupied by the brunette. It’s been around 5 months since we got together, sharing coffee and apartments on a warm Sunday afternoon.
“Just something. A book I’d like to publish”
“What’s it about?”
...I paused to think.
“Us”
“Aww, that's adorable. Can I see?” Yoo Sangah peeks in, I jolted my laptop away.
I wanted her to see it when it was already published. When we’d grown old together, with 10 cats or so. Reading the physical copy while hugging each other in our little worn-out apartment.
“You’ll see it soon, okay?” I give her a forehead kiss, seeing her pout turn into a gentle smile that makes my heart melt.
Was I always so sappy?
—
The lampost emits a golden-yellow light, making a shadow on the ground. I look at it while my mind panicks.
Yoo Sangah twirls her hair, holding my hand and walking through the park. A polaroid film in one of my hands. I grip it tightly, my heart beating faster than hers.
A box placed in my left pocket brushes against the cloth. I stop between my steps, Yoo Sangah stops and looks me right in the eyes.
“What's wrong, Sooyoung-ah?” Her smile becomes prominent. She’d always smile while looking at me. As if I were something she wanted to cherish
“I wanted to look at the scenery” I reply, tugging her hand thats still intertwined with mine. We both look at the scene before us.
It was perfect. Simple, and just us. Cherry Blossoms surround our field of vision, and worn-out street lights which light bulbs haven’t been replaced for what seems to be years.
Yoo Sangah gazes in awe. I quietly state at her, engulfed with the comfortable presence of silence.
“Yoo Sangah” I said, releasing the breath I've been unconsciously holding for half the time.
“Yes, Han Sooyoung?”
I kneel in front of her, letting go of my polaroid camera. It fell, an unpleasant noise echoed through the empty, snowy street. Maybe she’d taken the signal, her eyes widened in surprise.
I grab a black box from my pocket.
“Will you marry me?”
A little note was written at the top of the velvet box.
The woman of my dreams was crying happily, right in front of me. Nodding her head again and again
“Yes, Sooyoung. Yes, yes yes yes--”
It feels as if time stopped for a moment.
“ Dear Yoo Sangah
I’m sorry, you know I can’t really make up cheesy sappy words on the spot, right? So I decided to write to you. Yoo Sangah, if you see this, then you probably accepted my proposal right? What a relief. I mean- I never doubted you from the beginning anyways! From the moment I saw you in that library across the road, I felt weird. Iffy. Drawn into you…yeah. Then we met again. At the party. I honestly don’t remember much, I was drunk.. But, I do remember the taste of your lips on mine.
I fell in love with you, Yoo Sangah.
I’m still in love with you, Yoo Sangah.
I want to spend my days with you. Adopt cats, grow old together, everything.
I love you. So much. My wifey <3
Han Sooyoung”
I slipped the silver ring through her fingers.
—
So, I continued with my life. I got married to the girl I love. I continued to make that one book of mine. We renovated the apartment, got cats, 2 actually. Dokja and Joonghyuk. They bicker a lot, but there are moments I capture where they act all sweet with each other.
A collage of polaroid photos sit on my- our. Our bed. They’re pictures of us four. Dokja, Joonghyuk, me and Sangah. I glance at them ever so often, especially when writers block hits hard.
Too busy in my own thoughts, I didn’t notice the door creaking, and Sangah entering our bedroom.
She lays a cup of coffee on my work desk, leaning down and kissing my head. I caught a glimpse of her. My eyes drift onto her fingers. A diamond ring perfectly placed on them. A smirk emerges on my face.
“Are you still writing that book of yours?”
“..Yes…”
“Remember to take a break, hon. Dokja misses you” She teases before leaving me alone in the room.
[ Yoo Sangah was a pretty girl.| ] The screen read.
—
I took her out for a morning walk. Just the two of us, the breeze paling our faces. It was September again, meaning our first anniversary was nearby.
“Fall is so pretty” Yoo Sangah starts a conversation, holding up a cup of coffee from the local starbucks. Her hair dancing with the wind.
“Yes, like you” I reply, holding her hand tightly and swaying it back and forth
“Don’t be such a sap” She chuckles softly
I didn’t realize it then. I had everything, everything I’d wanted. And maybe for not realizing so, someone up there punished me for it.
Blood dripped from her lips. She clutched my jacket tightly while slowly collapsing to the ground.
“..Yoo Sangah?”
—
I gripped the unconscious girl’s hand as hard as I could, putting it up to my head. The ride to the hospital was noisy, to say the least. Several pieces of medical equipment were placed near the stretcher where Yoo Sangah laid.
I looked at her again. I didn’t notice, but her face was getting..paler. Her lips turned light pink instead of red crimson.
How did I not notice sooner?
Was I supposed to hate myself for that?
What if…
What if…
My thoughts were interrupted again when she tugged my hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it out alive” Yoo Sangah mouths her words, coughing up more blood tainting her snow-white face.
“Han Sooyoung, yes? Right….so your rela- wife. My apologies. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but your wife….”
—
“Hey Sooyoung-ah.” She weakly raised her hand up at the sound of chimes from the door. I came to visit her again. The hospital room looked mute, lifeless. A flower was placed near the window still, a ring laid on the small desk near the bed.
“Hi.” I approached my ill wife, my wife, and sat on the guest chair, laying down food from the Chinese restaurant across our apartment.
“Do you miss me?”
“...A lot.”
“Joonghyuk keeps waiting for you at the door”
“Isn’t he adorable?” She weakly chuckles.
A sickening, tight atmosphere surrounded the two of us. Something changed. I felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts. I always did, but Yoo Sangah would always drag me out of that black ocean. Now, I had to rely on myself.
I had to get used to that feeling, too.
“...Don’t leave” I quietly stutter, placing my head on her tranquil body. A slender hand reached its way to the crown of my head.
—
There was a before you.
At that moment, all I could do was write. Songs, books, poems. It was everything I was good at, and everything I was valued for. All I did that one, chaotic night was attend a bar too busy to give myself a pity party.
Then followed with you.
It was a better time. You and I, under the moonlight. For some reason, you taught me there was more to just lines on a document. You helped me live a life I couldn’t, wouldn’t, and never forget. I would trade everything I owned in the world to have met you again.
That would be the end of every other story. Yet, I found a reason to write another entry.
Seeing the fact that, there was an after you.
After that one day at the hospital. I didn’t know what to feel. I wasn’t even with you in those last moments.
It was mind-numbing. What should have I felt? Remorse? Regret? Hatred? I wasn’t even able to finish that book I wholeheartedly dedicated to you. I wasn’t able to show you many things, actually.
For a moment then, I felt lonely again. I wasn’t used to coming back home without a “welcome back”, or a goodnight kiss.
I realized you left me with nothing. Just Dokja, Joonghyuk and I. Against the world.
And maybe that's when I learned to hate you. To hate everything we did together. If I wasn’t with you, what would I have done? Maybe I had lived a typically normal life back then, disclosed by the earth with an anonymous title.
I almost burned everything we owned. I almost switched apartments. Everything I saw, did, learned, heard. It all reminded me of you. You, you, you. I couldn’t live a day without thinking of you.
Then again, it was you who taught me, love. You who taught me I could be loved, and you who taught me how to show love.
If I could travel back in time, what would I have done? Would I have ignored your presence on that one day? Would I have acted indifferent towards you? Would I…Would I…Would You…
Would you have shown me love again?
Even the simplest things.
Like how buying that coffee machine saved us 5 bucks that year, or how you realized first the ceiling tiles were falling apart. Would you have said yes to my proposal? Would you save me again from drowning in solitude?
Then again, I didn’t possess the ability to time travel.
She was mine, I was hers....was.
I could only dream, again.
Solitude by Han Sooyoung
____________________________________________________________________________
Han Sooyoung, now a famed author, closes the book and tosses it toward her bean bag.
She puts on winter boots and a furred black coat, paired with denim jeans and a basic polo. Giving treats to Dokja and Joonghyuk. Their home feels uncomfortable.
It's missing something- someone.
Without a word, Han Sooyoung clicks her boots towards the wooden tiles, grabs her keys, and exits the apartment.
On her way, Han Sooyoung reflects.
Was she able to show Yoo Sangah love?
Was it really okay to write a book about what she felt for someone who’s already dead?
Then again, she loved them. So much.
—
Han Sooyoung stepped off the gas pedal, leaving her car on the sidewalk. A Starbucks coffee in hand.
Instead of Latte, it was Espresso.
Bitter.
Somewhere along her walk, she stopped in front of a familiar tombstone.
[ Yoo Sangah ]
[ September 4, 1996 - May 13, 2022 ]
“You left too early”
Knowing Yoo Sangah, she would have wiped off her tears with a little tissue and hug Han Sooyoung, whispering soft ‘sorry’s over and over again. Yet all that embraced the lone girl was the taste of salty tears and bitter air.