Traces and Storms

viii

   I saw Jongin a week before the new term began. He was in the local park, holding somebody else's hand. Their backs were turned on me, and I had no idea why, but I pointed my lens at them, focused on their intertwined hands, and took a stolen shot.

That was the last image I placed in my portfolio.

Jongin, wearing a plain, white shirt and a pair of skinny jeans.

Jongin, with friendship bands wrapped around his tanned wrists.

I had no idea who the girl was. I didn't even want to know. Still, I wondered if she felt the calluses on Jongin's palms; I wondered if she liked the roughness of his hands against her face; I wondered if they already kissed—if she was better than me.

"You compare, you lose," a voice boomed behind me, causing me to jump at the slightest. I craned my neck, only to see Myungsoo, facing the opposite direction. He peeked through the viewfinder of his DSLR, and took simultaneous shots of a crow gliding through the air, slicing the brilliance of the sapphire sky—like a dark blade.

"I wasn't comparing," I mumbled.

He glanced at me, and scoffed. "Are you even human, then?"

I looked down, rather embarrassed.

"I saw them walking around earlier," Myungsoo filled in. "I sort of hoped you wouldn't bump into them."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't know how to deal with it, if you cried."

I cocked my head. "What made you think I'd cry?"

"You cried back then," he quietly returned. "That night, when I saw you in the park."

"That was then," I emphasized on the last word.

"Those 'thens' have a weird way of creeping up on you in the most unexpected way," Myungsoo ruffled my hair, and a smile played across his lips. Still, it didn't reach his dark eyes. "Let's go."

He took the first step forward when I blurted out, "Are you okay?"

"Why do you ask?"

I shrugged.

"Do you think I'm not okay?" he pushed.

"You give me the impression that you aren't," I confessed.

"How so?"

"Gut feelings."

Myungsoo laughed, and in that moment, the warm wind blew. He started walking, and I struggled to catch up. He was only a few inches taller than me, but his pace was fast. He glanced back at me, smiled at the slightest, and slowed down, matching his steps with mine.

"The last time," he began. "When you stayed on the porch. Did Sungyeol say weird things?"

"Not really," I said. "But my answer could change, depending on how you define 'weird'."

He chuckled. "Then it doesn't matter. He's on a break right now, by the way. Sungyeol."

"What's wrong?"

"His dad's in a critical state. If he sends the go signal, we can come and visit them. Are you okay with that?"

"Of course."

"His temper's quite short at the moment. If he does something reckless—especially towards you—tell me. Don't hesitate, all right? Just tell me."

I nodded quietly, but my thoughts mostly focused on Sungyeol's family.