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I. Want-Need
All her life, Jooran is needed.
In her house where her older sister is sick, someone needs to fill up the maternal role left by their mother who lives on by selling gossip. In her theater group, Maeran, someone needs to fill the empty spot on stage so that lights would not blink on awkward spaces. In her part time job, someone is needed to take over multiple lapses on other workers' frequent absences.
In all those, she fit her body as if it was liquid, letting the situation mold her into a person that works less as a human but more like a sentient plant. Jooran learned not to ask more, she was thankful she could work and provide money for her sister. She was even more grateful to have a part in the production, regardless of how small it is, for the stage is her home— a place where her interpretation of an extra's role is all hers, where she can be part of something moving.
Sensations bury like an ant digging its way onto dry soil. Her hands claim the skin outside her beating heart as her eyes betray the principles of what is a girl to another girl, as dictated by whatever standards society lay. Jeongnyeon's bright and sparkling eyes held her gaze— catching the stars that has been dormant for god knows how long— in their practice room.
Though all cushions were neatly stacked on one side, the table stood still, and all the doors welcomed the night air; the space is closing up on her. With every line that her dearest friend says, all has been caught, swift as the way Jooran caught the shift of Jeongnyeon's glance from her eyes to her lips— when she graze her chin.
The walls have closed up on her, as if she was back to her mother's womb, sucking thumb and hearing her own heartbeat echo and echo. Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub. Her nose does not know how to inhale and exhale. It was as if the vibrations closed the openings for air. Then, it burned her ears red and plummented her heart to her stomach. Even her lips have stitched themselves together lest a string of words, sprung out on her like a loose thread on tight fitting clothes.
Jooran lets Jeongnyeon touch the foregrounds of her hands, lets her surface upon callouses and wounds from overexposure to laundry and dirty dishes, lets her to the ooze of sweat and the pressure of her thin fingers that came to embrace back.
Her mouth parts like a bud at the sight of the morning sun. Her feet, close to moving in the shade, had all its will escape.
'But how is it possible for the sun to be present at night? No, it isn't through illuminating the moon. That can't be,' Jooran's thought pass through.
The sun tugs her, the sight of her flower-lips now in partial bloom is Jeongnyeon's permission. Jooran's face now inches away from its blazing heat, each freckle magnified, each strand pulsing through the gush of wind. The slope of her nose, the lips sunburned pink— Jooran's hands twitch, awakening the slumber of a desire suppressed in a way she had not realize was chained all along. Jeongyeon's feet touches her and an electric surge of some kind of power flows.
' Solar, It must be ,' Jooran thought before she hears her control her breathing.
"Jooran-ah," Jeongyeon says, as if she were talking to the lily pads that one specific morning she requested the clouds to cover her up so as not to accidentally burn her.
"Huh?"
"How's my Gomigeol?"
She shakes her head, brooming away thoughts that dust her vision.
'More ,' she wants to say. ' More, I want more ,' she shouts in her system.
"It's good," her tongue forces out, mouth now in half bloom.
Jeongnyeon jumps, the sun that she is.
While she stares at her, smile blossoming. This is when, she wanted something.
II. Fingers
The bus makes all the other girls kiss the windows, open up hinges and let their faces out of it while their gossip and shrill thrills spitted marks of saliva crushed by moving wheels.
Though conversations rattle as much as the metals clang and crunch the rust of bolts and screws of the car, it seemed as if there was a cloud that hung around their shoulders, relaxing the build up tension from practice and chores that now, in Jooran's delicate shoulder lay Jeongnyeon.
There was a soft snore that escapes ever so lightly from her lips. There was the scent of seas and flowers linger at her hair. There was a strand that grazes her nose. Jooran tucks it back to the side of her face. She lets her finger run along her locks long enough for the scent to attach at the lines of her fingers.
Jooran keeps her hand on her inner thighs as she leans to Jeongnyeon's head. The soft hair as her pillow.
Jooran awoke mentally when she and Jeongnyeon sat together at a wedding of a fan of their senior, Okgyeong. It wasn't the type of wedding where plum circles were around the bride's face, or where colors littered around for abudance and life, nor where there a clang of ancestral instruments awaking long lines of the family tree to welcome the soulmates— no, this one was of pianos and soft halos from stained glasses. The bride wore a veil that covered her face and a trail of long pearl-like dress sweep the red carpet to the altar where the priest stands and the groom waits.
Jooran heard of Jeongnyeon's preference to stay with their culture.
'Would Jeongnyeon like it if she sees me with red dots over my cheeks and one on my forehead?' Her fingers rest on her lap.
She stares on. The whimsy ringing of bells have caught the veins of her heart, pausing the beats. Now she had to manually take her breathes in lest she'd cause more danger to her already churning stomach and sweaty palms. The image of Jeongnyeon in a dress pearl-like at first then colorful the next were all in a panorama inside her. The transitions could not, would not erase the three dots of plum red on her face as she twirled around, layers and layers of her clothing follows her as if it were the waves from Jeongnyeon's hometown.
She could smell it, fresh fish held in an array of plates. The steam of boiling stew reaches their guests, perhaps, the whole troupe can be there and maybe her mother and sister too. She could hear it, the mix of piano and violin to the thumping of barrel drum and whistling of their own sound instruments. She could feel it, the way their hands entwined like twigs on pile of leaves. The leaves are the layer of their dresses as they walk their way to make their vows and finally, finally have it sealed in one lawful kiss.
Then came the aftermath of weddings— the array of dishes came about in porcelain plates, its steam waving to the air, wafting to their senses with all spices blending through. She sees her, eyes wide with sparkle as their turn of getting their serving came. Jeongnyeon's face was inches away from the food as all the girls at their table started to get a bit of this and a lot of that. Jooran stares as she took pieces of meat to her plate and then, a large piece landed on hers.
"Hey, the food's yummy right? Eat some," she taps her shoulder— the sensation lingers.
Her hand does the work for her, she spoons rice in her plate and only a teaspoon of seasoned vegetables, 5 pieces, to be exact. Her eyes stayed at the way Jeongnyeon pursues mouthful of what seems to be mountains of food. The chopsticks, warmed by her fingers, linger at the edges of her lips. Then in every gulp, the flow of food from her throat causes the slightest bulge and a thirst that cannot be satiated overpowers Jooran.
'What it's like to be the chopsticks? What it's like to be swallowed food?'
"Ya, here's some more food, I don't know what it's called but it came from Okgyeong Sunbae's table," Jeongnyeon whispers as she serves three whole spoons, the accent rolls of her tongue.
Jooran wanted to be that.
"Thank you, Jeongnyeon-ah," she awakes in her reverie and gulps down the pool of saliva.
The night of ghastly whirlwinds and of twinkling moon came, Jooran sat outside with the coat embracing her. The stars seem to be calling out to her, (Tell her), they shouted. (Tell her), they whispered.
'Tell her what? ' She answers back but deep within, she already knew what she wanted to say.
(Don't let fear take you).
But the uncertainty is too much. What if it breaks their friendship? What about their mothers? What about being on stage together?
There's a wall she can't seemed to climb over when it comes to acting with her. It was only one time then, one time but with all the sensations rushing through her, the consciousness being blurred by a mist of echoing heart beats and burning ears— it seemed impossible. It cannot be, Jeongnyeon's into the character so much and so much of that she can't see Gomigeol, there seemed to be only she in front of her. All the rushed she feels, it can't be from Gomigeol (Youngseo's version didn't feel that way to her), it must be from Jeongnyeon, really.
'But what could this mean? It can't be that right?'
Her heart shakes and so her blood seems hesitant to pursue the veins, her palms began to sweat again and bubbles of it appeared on her forehead.
Footsteps break the spine of the wooden floors, she stares at Jeongnyeon's face brightened up by her red cardigan as she occupies the space beside her. Jooran eases her hands, rubbing her fingers together.
"Why are you still up?" She asks looking over the stone path in front.
"It's been a while since I've been near the sea. I can't seem to sleep." There was a pause, Jooran hears a tree snap a dying branch. "It reminds me of my hometown."
"Jeongnyeon-ie, do you ever regret leaving your home then?"
She looks at the side, shakes her head and then speaks, "Not really. I do miss my family and feel sorry whenever I think of them but if I were to turn back time, I would have made the same choice."
"Me too," a smile eclipses her features. Glad she was to have her be sure of her decisions and that following her dreams is her second nature. Perhaps, in that trail to stardom, there was a sliver of chance that it was all made more worth it because in it, Jeongnyeon met her.
That was Jooran's truth as well, without her, she were made to be stagnant, a frozen rock amongst celestial beings. It was only through Jeongnyeon where her core was awakened, where her body burned bright, where she saw the possibility of galaxies and supernovas within her.
They both shared a laugh.
"We really are something," Jooran says.
"What am I supposed to do? I really do feel sorry but I love the stage so much."
She nods, she loves the stage as well.
And then, a prickle of hotness pinched through her skin. Warm finger broke the layer of ice and melted the icicles that had already pierced through the crevices of her hand.
"Oh my, your hand is so cold, you must've been here out here too long."
Jeongnyeon holds her hand and places it at her thighs. Jooran's grip yearns to slip. It was as if it gained ice skating blades and her thighs became a body of frozen river. There was a flower in its deepest, she wants to caress it, separate the delicate petals apart, linger to smell all sourness and sweetness, taste it.
"I'm okay," but her breath stilled.
"We still have some shows left. It'll be bad if you get a cold."
Tender flesh upon her knuckles, the touch of the sun's lips. She burns awake the petals, the flowers in her garden now in full bloom, fluttering as Jeongnyeon blows a fiery wind that makes hell seem cold now.
There was the appeal of engraved teeth marks on her palms. There was the satiation of having her fingers silken by her tongue. There was the beauty of having the frostbite, frozen underneath the layers of hand forgotten, abandoned be inside her machinery of a mouth.
Jooran resists as Jeongyeon's eyes are caught by her cousins at the sky and so she follows and does the same like what planets do to the sun.
"Wow, you can see a lot more stars here than in seoul."
'You attracted them here, Jeongnyeon-ah ,' the thought appears as though a shooting star.
III. Projection
Jeongnyeon's presence burned her back as she sat near Youngseo, the script in her hand. Jooran glances at her, biting her lips and swallowing the weight of her sigh.
"We need to talk now," Jeongnyeon exclaims, massive fiery air exhaled through her blaring nose.
Jooran nods at Youngseo and soon the room where all of it started was theirs again. She faces her, finally, the barer of her heart.
"I can't believe this, I thought you're partnering up with me," Jeongnyeon pauses only for a scuff. "So why are you with Youngseo now? Answer me."
Jooran looks at her and the folds of clothes start to fall down, a possibility, a reality began to twist and wrung and twist and wrung in front of her, tugging her insides and pushing her guts out of her mouth.
The stars from few nights ago still speaks, (Tell her), they say. (Admit it, now.)
Jooran held a ball of fabric from her pants and stilled her silence.
"Why are you partnering up with Youngseo instead of me?"
"I'm," she answers, locking the stars in a dark place behind her head. "afraid of you."
'I'm afraid of myself'
"What do you mean. What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid that you might get too immersed in your character again."
'I'm afraid that acting with you might immerse me to the feelings I'm too scared to admit now.'
"When that happens, not only you end up devouring your character, but also your partner's character, and the whole show."
'When that happens, I'll end up in ruins. Ill fall even mo-'
"And then the only thing left is you." Her knuckles are turning white, the fabric choked. "I can't be as grounded as Hyerang and save the scene."
"Is that why you chose Youngseo over me?"
She looks away.
"Youngseo is stable. She calculates how to act with the whole narrative in mind and doesn't stray from that," her eyes envision a stage where Jeongnyeon acts with her. Her hand on her own. "I can relay on her but I can't relay on you."
'I can relay on you, Jeongnyeon-ah but I can't say the same about me.'
Jooran looks back at her, convincing that this is the truth. Yet, when her eyes were budding with anger and sadness, Jooran's hand wanted to chase even the slightest moisture out of sight. She wanted to do what the stars have been urging her too.
Her mouth wants to erupt lava that aims to reach the sun. But, she does everything to keep her stance until the sun turns her back and now, everything runs cold.
IV. Marriage
She stands with the light from stained glass windows that were cemented on top of oak wood doors. The bouquet from her mother held between her twig-like fingers. Her face heavied by the smile that the lines of her lips deepened the shadows of her nose as the wrinkles of her eyes dragged her eye bags.
"My daughter is so pretty," she hears her mother speak to her soon to be mother-in-law.
She takes that as a cue to move forward. Her feet enclosed on heels so tight that if she were to remove it, the skin would peel off as well. Her sister, bound to a wheel chair, smiles at her, nodding with so much grace while her hand, bruised from multiple dextrose needles, lay on her chest.
"Thank you," her sister mouths and Jooran nods.
She looks in front, her groom fixes his stance and smiles at her.
"He really is no more than a perfect match for my daughter," her mother said as she finally faced him.
The echoes of the door of Maeran replaced the ringing of bells. In her hand now was her bag and in were her clothes— the pin of their promises pinned on her coat. The sun finally faced her, the leaves that had gone to the wind came blossoming back at her skin, her petals grew alive and well, the air she drew in gave her heart its everlasting beats. She is alive now.
"You really think you could just say goodbye with a note?" Jeongnyeon said, the twilight feels like day.
Jooran laughs, there was relief in her withering system. "I'm really glad I get to see your face before I leave."
"What are you smiling for?"
She takes her smile back and sniffles her tears.
"I'm not here to see you off. I had to see you with my own eyes to completely forget you."
Pang , some of the trees in the vast garden of her heart rattles. She nods, "Yes, I get that, I know."
"I can't wish you well. I want you to feel guilty. That's the only way you won't just forget me."
Her hand tingles, she wants to wipe her tears away.
"Am I wrong? You're going to forget me and everything we went through here and live on."
"No. No, I really won't," her heart breaks, the garden floods.
"I don't believe you! I won't believe anything you say now." Jeongnyeon looks far, her feet uneasy.
"How could you..."
Jooran's hand could not take it anymore, the bag meets the ground, dust particles lift from the air. She held her by her shoulders and when she lifts her face in a second of sweeping all the tears that threathened to erase the freckles that Jooran adores, the mouth that whispers her name meets her own.
Just as how a flower would bloom to each other, their lips were the petals that had opened up at the warmth that rushes all over them. There was the taste of buns shared, of rice balls, of laughters and secrets at the lines of their lips that both exchange on savoring it as their tongue sweep over like bees to a golden pollen. Jooran's hand explored her back, the layer of cloth melting as she traced her spine, as she memorized her curves in every caress. Her name slipped in between their groans only for Jeongnyeon to catch it back as she bit her lips and tugs at her shoulder, closer and closer that even their chests are making contact, pulsing electricity at their skin. Then, both of them rested on each other's forehead, exchanging their breaths.
"Jeongnyeon-ah, live on your life and forget about me. I promise I'll spend my whole life feeling guilty. I promise to always suffer whenever I think of you."
She moves away as she makes Jeongnyeon's fingers close to her mouth, leaving a mark of saliva and an imprint of her lips. "Goodbye, Jeongnyeon-ah."
Jeongnyeon's grip tightened, she gives her one last caress before letting her twig-like fingers branch away. She turns her back, the sun's rays grew a gentle light on her as she grabbed her bag and finally went out.
Now, as the lips of the groom met hers, sealing the promises that poisoned the moisture of her mouth, the garden that Jeongnyeon blossomed came crashing down. Yet, the beats that still call her name, went to work already, rebuilding what was there and strengthening her core.
All of her family members and the husband's clap, celebrating her funeral.
V. Letters
Jooran had finally wiped all the plates that littered the table. The husband had got out to work thirty minutes ago and would not be back at least until the clock hits 4:30. So, she had ran through their shared bedroom, opened a box of writing materials and got the book that was hidden upon layers of her clothes.
She leafs out a fresh piece of paper and her trusted pen, the one that Jeongnyeon borrowed when the two of them wrote letters for their sisters.
Her fingers remember Jeongnyeon's and it was as if, in this moment, her hand was guiding hers. Smile breaks through her lips as she wrote the first syllable. After, the book was opened and in the center of words was the dried out forget-me-not. She sticked it at the empty space before sealing the letter in a brown envelope.
Jooran stands from the table, checks herself in front of the mirror before leaving their house. At a nearby store, a florist greets her and soon she pointed to all the flowers she would like Jeongnyeon to see and asks the florist to make it to a bouquet.
With the bouquet at hand and the letter drowning in all of the flowers' scent, she approached the guard that's in stand-by at the theater that once was her home. She kissed the plastic wrap and then handed it over.
"Please give this to Jeongnyeon-ah."
The guard nods and soon she blends with the people, walking and walking until she is back again at the house where laundry awaits her and dust begs her to clean.
Her mind drifts and drifts where she and Jeongnyeon acts as the leads where like Okgyeong and Hyerang, their lips would seal the show to its end. Yet the cloth of the husband wraps and traps her hand, the weight of folded linen and comforters on her lap settles her to the sofa. Even the clock nearing the man's arrival rushes, reminding her of the path destined to be hers where she needs to ignore what her heart wants and longs for.