"Seoyeon!" As my mother and I opened the door to my grandmother's apartment, I was immediately greeted by my grandmother. The familiar scent of an Asian household washed over my senses almost instantaneously. Yep, I was definitely back in South Korea. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thanks!" I replied in hesitant Korean, since speaking the language didn't come naturally. It took moments to switch my thoughts from my native English to Korean. It was apparently understandable, since my grandmother nodded enthusiastically. That was always a relief. Maybe I actually could survive here?
"Oh, you've grown so tall!" she continued to gush, patting my shoulder with such force that was nearly unnatural for such an old lady. "And you've just graduated high school. Oh, Seoul National University, ah? That's such a good school! You must be very smart, just like your mother."
I managed a forced smile. It was almost bittersweet to be called smart. It reminded me of everything I could've been at home.
I had been accepted into my dream university back home--one of only two students in my city--which was everything I'd ever worked for. After I had received the acceptance letter, I'd cried for a week straight with tears of joy. My mother had been thrilled, and it was the topic of every conversation. It seemed like my life was finally going in the right direction. All those nights of not having a social life and being alone at home, studying, had finally paid off! For once in my life, I felt happy to live my life, and I was happy for myself.
But my grandfather had died right after graduation, and my mother had to move back to support hers, and for some reason, I moved as well for support for mine. Mom had made me apply to the SKY universities in Korea, but I never actually considered them as a real option.
Of course, Seoul National University wasn't bad in any sense of the definition—it was a top university. But I never planned on living in South Korea. I wasn't too familiar with the culture, language, or social practices. The culture shock would make me an alien, at least in the beginning, and going to my American dream school wouldn't have been this difficult.
Why did I do it? I had no idea. That was the strangest part. It felt like an instinct, though I didn't know what kind of instinct made you give up your dream university. I even doubted its existence as an instinct--it was just like someone whispering that I had to in my ear. I had felt a strange, pressing feeling that felt like I was being forced to give it up. I was being dragged to South Korea against my will, but not really.
I'd experienced things like that before. Being selfless and empathetic wasn't out of the ordinary for a lot of people, but it seemed as if I didn't have an ounce of selfish substance in my body. I was always thinking about others, and even if it worsened my own situation; to me, everyone else was more important. My mother believed I was destined to save the world, but people were taking advantage of me left and right. It was the part of me that was never explainable, and no one ever bothered to fix or question it because it benefited them.
"Eomma, Seoyeon unpack first before you attack!" chuckled my mother, Jiyoung, lightheartedly. My grandmother huffed but obliged, hurrying to the kitchen, presumably to make all the Korean dishes that I enjoyed. I took the opportunity to drag my suitcase to my new room, which wasn't nearly as spacious as my old room back home, as it was an apartment, and unpack. My clothes went into the dresser, my jackets and dresses went into the closet, and all my toiletries went into the bathroom. The week before, the movers had already moved everything to Korea, so my room looked like a smaller version of my American one. There was the same white bed with pastel green sheets, white dresser with a giant mirror, and wooden desk with all the drawers that I loved shoving random things without a place into.
My eye caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked the same-long black hair in slight waves, incredibly pale skin not even hours in the sun could tan, upturned, innocent eyes, and delicate features, but now I was an official adult. I had kind of expected something; a bra size inflation, a face that didn't look like a young teenager's--anything. Anything to prove that I was in fact 18 and a high school graduate. But of course, I looked the same. I still looked 15, even though things were changing. I still looked like Scarlet Choi; valedictorian, teacher's pet, unpopular, and most of all now, foreign.
Needless to say, I stood out in Korea, with my height, heavy accent, and American attitude. I looked Asian, true, but I didn't look native. Unfortunately, being in Korea for three hours didn't change that. Not that I had actually expected it to. It was like doing five crunches and checking for abs... which I sometimes did.
I sighed and fell backwards onto my bed. It creaked under my weight, and I groaned. Would I be considered overweight here? This was East Asia, after all. With a loud sigh, I yanked my pillow over my face and tried not to think about how I might've ruined my life.
Well, Scarlet, I thought listlessly, closing my eyes and not caring whether I was suffocated or not, welcome to Korea.
-
Urgeksonwoxjhekshchwk.
I blinked open my eyes and stretched in my bed, making a raptor-like noise that would've spiked the curiosity of many zoologists if taken out of context as I stretched my back.
Gah, that felt good.
I sat up and looked at the clock. After training my eyes on the screen for a few moments, it processed in my head that it was two in the afternoon. Two in the afternoon?! I absolutely despised getting up late--I'd already wasted half of the day. Using the pillow as a muffler, I screamed quietly, letting my voice go full-on screamo. Oli Sykes, eat your heart out.
Nevertheless, I cleaned up and got dressed in a sky blue tee, dark wash skinny jeans, and black hi-top Converse. My messy raven hair was tied up into a high ponytail, and I felt like I had no reason to wear makeup, so I left my face bare.
When I got to the kitchen, my mom and grandmother were already eating a sort of noodle that I didn't know. It irked me that I was the last one to get up, but my mother liked to beat jet lag as quickly as possible, and she had probably set an alarm for the early morning, so it wasn't all my fault.
"Good morning, Seoyeon!" said my grandmother. My mother echoed her and gestured for me to sit down. I dragged a chair from the table, the legs screeching against the floor, and planted myself in it.
"Good morning." A bowl of noodles was placed in front of me, and I began to eat. It tasted like soy sauce. A lot of soy sauce, which meant it was probably soy sauce noodles. It tasted like my early childhood, when my grandparents came to help raise me. My grandmother most likely made it, since she was one to overdo on flavors, so of course, it reminded me of the times I'd spent with her. I ate quickly to avoid being the last one at the table, which was another thing that bothered me, shoveling dark noodles into my mouth as soy sauce splattered everywhere, which was quite classy of me.
"So, I'm taking your grandmother to the hospital today," announced my mom. "You can explore the neighborhood and get accustomed to this place, okay? Spare keys are on the counter."
"That sounds good," I replied between mouthfuls of noodles. When I finished, I put the bowl in the sink. "When are you leaving?"
"Her appointment's in an hour, so we're leaving now," replied Mom. "Let's go, eomma."
"Bye, Seoyeon," called my grandmother as they went out the door.
"Bye," I returned, watching the door close quietly.
I sat back in my chair, sighing. Exploring the neighborhood did sound like a good idea, actually. Might as well get accustomed to the city before the school year started. There was no telling what kind of jokes would be made if it was still painfully obvious that I was a foreigner when I started university in the fall. I grabbed the spare keys from the countertop and walked out the door, down the stairs, and out of the apartment building. The streets were bustling with South Koreans going about their day, and the street noises were almost overwhelming.
I really hoped that I wouldn't get lost, so I stuck to the little street and walked along the wall of apartment buildings. Eventually, I came to a little grassy knoll with a park. It was far enough from the street, so it seemed pretty peaceful. I proceeded to take a rest stop at the park and sit in a swing and ponder about my life. Yep, instead of doing that at home, I was doing that in public in a foreign country. What an upgrade. The scenery did calm my mind, though, and I could almost pretend that I was in a pretty music video where I was the sad main character.
Am I gonna like this place? I wondered, staring at the opaque cloudy sky.
LOL, bitch you thought, it returned. I snorted quietly. If only it had actually said that without me imagining it to. If it had, the sky would be my first friend.
I was deeply embedded in my thoughts, wondering if I would ever like South Korea. For a split second, I thought of everything I left behind. An Ivy League university, my friends, my language, my customs, my name. In my heart, I knew that I truly preferred my homeland. So then why did I agree to move here? I was an adult, and I could do what I pleased. Yet, I moved here out of the goodness of my heart to remain with my family?
I looked up and saw a boy my age walking on the sidewalk.
Oh, I thought. Maybe Seoul's not so bad.
He had rough features that looked like he was cut from diamond. Even though he had a smug demeanor, his eyes were puppy dog eyes. His black hair was swept in a fringe to one side. And wait for it--he seemed to be taller than me. Score.
The boy radiated edgy. He wore a black t-shirt, which was pretty normal, but there was a gold chain around his neck that fell in front of his shirt, which either screamed "What a tool!" or "Bad boy!" and I truly hoped it was the latter. He wore black drop crotch pants and white athletic hi-top shoes, and I knew he was totally out of my league. In his ears were bright red tapers. I couldn't tell if they were fake or not, but either way, he was perhaps the coolest guy I'd seen so far in the country. That didn't say much, though, since I'd been here for less than a day.
I liked nice guys. I liked guys that were kindhearted and smart, the ones that cared and fussed over your every move. I wanted husband material, borderline mother material.
This was clearly not the case for this guy. He had headphones on, and he was moving to the beat as he walked, his confidence spilling out of every pore. I saw him smile, he was probably listening to a song he liked, and his smile was mischievous and kind of playful, though it was more of the smile you'd see on the class clown, not Asian Justin Bieber. He was pretty much pure swagger. He had the walk of the overconfident guys-the ones that thought they could win any fight and the heart of any girl they wanted.
So I knew that he wasn't what I usually fell for, but there was something that pulled me towards him. I couldn't look away.
As he passed directly in front of me, he looked up and we locked eyes. I wanted to look away because it was completely mortifying to be caught staring, but I couldn't. I actually couldn't. My eyes were glued to the boy. A little devious smirk crept onto his perfect rose petal lips and he started making his way towards me. Oh no.
I finally dropped my gaze, my face burning. Since I was so pale, it was probably really obvious that I was blushing, something all my friends loved to make fun of, so I tried to make it go away, but to no avail. I clenched my teeth and I heard the swing next to me move.
"Hey," he said, nodding at me, that smirk still on his face. I forced myself to look up. His headphones were around his neck, and his gaze seemed to be burning straight into my soul. Then, in accented English, he said, "I like you."
He winked.
Beat.
"Oh, wow," I snorted, subconsciously switching to English. After realizing that I had changed languages, I willed myself to go back to Korean, clearing my throat. "I mean, hi."
"You speak English?" he asked in Korean, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, and he cracked a sly grin. "Do you like Chris Brown?"
There was a slight pause in which I was getting over my shock. He was talking to me? It didn't matter if the question was probably the dumbest follow-up to finding out that someone spoke English, because this guy actually had approached me and started up a conversation.
"I mean... I guess," I replied. Complete lie. I didn't know a single song by him. "Why?"
The guy started singing Chris Brown, and my heart nearly stopped. His voice. It was... beyond words. I didn't hear the lyrics or the melody or anything. I just heard his beautiful voice. It was nearly angelic, but it was different from that. His voice was like a siren song, and I was pulled towards it like a magnet. I prayed that he wouldn't ask me to name the song, because I couldn't, and it wasn't like I knew any in the first place.
"Wow," I murmured in English again before switching back. "I... That was amazing."
He grinned. "Really?" he asked. "Do you know that song?"
Oh crap.
"Uh... I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to the song," I admitted, laughing breathily while searching for a way to recover. "I was... paying more attention to your voice."
"Oh?" The boy smirked. "I guess you're just as smooth as I am."
I blushed deeply. "N-No, I didn't mean it like that," I stuttered, ducking my head down so he wouldn't see my tomato cheeks. "I was being honest."
"I know." What did that mean? Okay...
"Anyways, I'm Jungkook," he said, turning his body to face me. I lifted my head. "What's your name?"
"Well, if you couldn't tell by my terrible Korean, I'm a foreigner," I began, twisting the chain links of the swing with clammy hands. "My name is Scarlet, but my Korean name is Choi Seoyeon."
"Scarlet, huh?" he mused, looking at the sky, the remnants of a playful smile lingering on his lips. I cocked my head to the side curiously. Before, when he spoke English, he had an accent. He'd said my name without any problem, and I could've sworn that he sounded completely American. My Korean relatives usually messed up my name one way or another, since they weren't good at pronouncing the "r," but he had said it perfectly.
"Alright," he said, nodding. "Choi Scarlet."
"You don't have to call me by my English name. I'll probably be going by Seoyeon from now on anyways, since I'm attending university here."
"Ah, really? I am, too! Seoul National University?"
I nodded, and Jungkook pulled his sarcastic smirk again, making my heart flutter. I groaned inwardly. With my luck, I'd probably be obsessing over this guy for at least a year as he flirted and pulled other native girls.
"I guess we might be classmates, Scarlet," he remarked, flashing me his dark eyes. I almost fell out of my swing. Now that I was looking closely, I noticed that his eyes weren't the typical dark brown eyes you'd see on people usually. They were unbelievably dark like the night sky in the woods, and they held so much power and emotion. I couldn't decipher exactly what emotions, but I realized that I had been staring into his eyes for too long. I quickly averted my gaze, my blush creeping back.
"Really, you don't have to call me Scarlet," I protested, blushing wildly. "Seoyeon is good."
"But Scarlet fits you," noted Jungkook. "It's the color of your cheeks when you look at me."