Vengence
Blue Paper Plane
Based on the music video "Y" by MBLAQ
Blue Paper Plane
Cast of Characters:
Lee Chang Sun (Joonie)
Seo Hyo Rim
Yang Seung Ho
A/N: Hey, it's Blue. This is a fanfic I wrote a while back. I took a break from Anime and went to K-pop for this one. Please leave a review; that will make me happy. Flame if you want, but please note that these flamers will be mostly ignored.
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I never planned to marry ... To fall into your wrath ...
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It had been four months and sixteen days since they'd been married. Four months. It was hard to believe that it was just recently when Lee Joon had taken his best friend, Seo Hyo Rim on a walk in the park. Then it had begun to pour.
Screaming with pleasure and laughing even when they couldn't breathe, they'd sprinted together through falling ice rain, seeking shelter under a gazebo in the middle of the park. It had been then, when he'd seen her with her soaked dress, long hair glossed wet with rain, and bright eyes that he had come to realize how amazingly and so flawlessly beautiful she was— both inside and out.
The words just came and spilled out like champagne spilling over the edge of a tilted glass bottle. "Marry me, Hyo Rim. Marry me."
Joon hadn't gotten down onto one knee, he hadn't kissed her hand in an elegant or traditional manner. No, he had simply kissed her nose and held her surprised face between his hands, smiling, although the anxiousness and anticipation in his eyes had been palpable.
At first, she had been stricken, speechless. Then she had thrown herself into his arms shrieking, "yes, yes, I will, of course I will!"
They'd kissed then. It hadn't been a huge make-out session, but it was great in the way it was: a kiss, and nothing less. And it had been wonderful, unforgettable, because he had been able to taste the salt tears in that kiss— mixed tears that were both his and hers.
At the present moment, Joon was in his apartment, at his kitchen table. His wistful gaze landed at a plain vanilla envelope on the desk. He wanted so much to storm over and crush the paper in his hand, but something prevented him from doing so. Was it fear? Duty?
"Hi, Joon."
Across the room, he heard his name and the creak of the door swinging shut. Hyo Rim, walked into the room, carrying a couple paper bags filled with groceries.
"I bought eggs, rice, milk, bananas, and those Ritz crackers you like," she said, setting down the bags onto the kitchen table.
"Cool," Joon said, grinning ear-to-ear.
"We don't need anything else, do we?" Hyo Rim asked, looking up into Joon's expression. "What? Oh, no," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Please, wipe that eager look off your face-"
Suddenly, he ran up to her, and pulled get into an embrace. This brought about a round of giggles, as Joon lifted her off the ground and spun her.
"Wheee!" he cheered.
"Oh, Joon, you silly- eek!" She had scarcely missed a collision with the kitchen cabinet while spinning.
Hyo Rim smacked him in the shoulder when he finally set her down, but she looked pleased. Never would she know what sadness Joon was keeping hidden under his fatecious veneer.
Joon struck a finger in the air, like a cartoon with a idea bulb hovering over his head. "Cracker time!"
Rapidly, he searched the groceries for a bag of Ritz crackers, and tossed one into his mouth, whole. "Delectable," he proclaimed.
"You're ridiculous, Joon," Hyo Rim complained. "It's just a cracker." But a smile played at the corners of her lips.
"Ridiculous?" Joon questioned. He drew two more crackers out of the box and posistioned them over his ears.
"You look like a monkey!"
Joon shrugged. "Maybe I am."
Hyo Rim grabbed the round, sliced orange pieces left on the table at breakfast and set them over her eyes, like spa cucumbers.
Laughing, he clapped his hands together and did the same with his crackers. "Peek-a-boo!"
Once again, they leaned over, laughing so hard tears came to their eyes. They knew that they were acting childish, but what did it matter? Joon wanted the moment to last forever.
Funny how it was also the first time he ever got a clue.
"Hey, what time is it?" Hyo Rim cut in.
"Um, six. Why?"
"Six?" Hyo Rim gasped. "Omigosh! I'm late!" She bolted up from the table and rushed to her bedroom to pull on some clothes. "I promised I'd meet a friend at this time, ahh ..."
"You'd better hurry, then," Joon said, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't known of Hyo Rim's plans.
When she came back, frantically running a comb through her hair and dabbing on lipstick, there was nodding and one thousand apologies. And then she was gone.
The clock ticked on slowly from then. Joon sat down at his desk and turned on the computer. Then he brougt it up to an oppucation-finding website: at least he could pretend to try to be searching for a job.
After that was done, he flipped his notebook to a blank page and began to write.
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It was two o' clock when she arrived back.
The next morning.
Seven hours.
Seven hours of waiting, worrying, wishing, watching for the door to swing open.
There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to put into words as Joon watched his wife finally come in. He wanted to jump up from the chair right next to the door. "Where were you?" he wanted to scream. "I was worried sick!"
"Well?" Hyo Rim asked. She stood before him now, dressed in a crisp scarlet jacket, uggs, and a Burberry scarf, her long, dark hair framing her face in loose ringlets. Her eyes were liquid, like milk chocolate pools, but the image was ruined when he looked closer and saw that they were dull and tired.
Joon ran a hand through his hair. "Welcome back," he said casually, his usual goofy grin plastered on his face. "Did you have fun where you were?"
"You're not mad." It wasn't a question.
"No, love."
"Why? I mean, why not?"
At this, he rose out of his chair, and walked slowly toward Hyo Rim. Her eyes were unreadable, rosebud lips parted.
Joon planted a soft kiss on those still lips.
"Because I love you," he answered with a smile, pulling back and gently stroking her cheek with his hand, "and I trust you."
Those words left her looking puzzled. Joon kissed her again, and left to go to bed just as confused.
It was the first time he'd drawn her into a kiss, and she hadn't kissed back.
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"Rise and shine," he whispered in her ear.
Now it was early morning, and warm, crimson-tainted sunshine poured onto the bed on which Hyo Rim lay. Her eyelids lifted halfway, then shut again.
"It's eleven in the morning and time for breakfast!" Joon exclaimed, tugging playfully with both hands at Hyo Rim's limp wrist. "I made your favorite, American-style pancakes, with the thick, sugary syrup and fresh-squeezed orange juice! Come on, love, let's go eat and—"
"No." That single, solitary word wasn't reluctant, in a way that was jesting, witty, or good-natured, it was curt, flat, sharp.
Joon's hands went slack, and his wide grin faded.
Immeadiately, Hyo Rim bolted up in bed. "Sorry, Joon, I'm just tired." She then smiled that irresistable smile. "I'm looking forward to eating it."
There was a breif moment of hesitation. Joon forced another grin, just as he had the night before.
"How about breakfast in bed?" he asked.
"That sounds amazing." Her impassive tone didn't fit her words, but she was probably still tired. Besides, she was still smiling.
"Allright, coming up. In a minute." Joon climbed into bed with Hyo Rim, and bent his head to kiss the nape of her neck, then both cheeks.
She hugged him tightly back, kissed his lips, and asked him not to leave when he left to get her breakfast from the kitchen.
"I'll be be back soon. I love you," he said, grasping her delicate wrist tight.
"Love you, too."
He kissed her hand. He didn't want to let go.
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"I'm home," Hyo Rim called from the living room one afternoon a week or so later, making her way across the carpet.
"Good!" Joon shouted from the bedroom, slapping his notebook shut. "How was work today?"
"It was great," Hyo Rim gushed, coming up to Joon's desk. "I got a promotion!"
This news made Joon drop his pencil. "Seriously? You're not messing with me, are you?"
Hyo Rim scowled.
"Kidding, love. That's fantastic! I'm ecstatic for you!" They embraced, both elated.
"Hey," said Joon.
"What?"
"You know what we do when we're this happy, right?" His eyes were swimming with pride.
"What do we do?"
"Dance, of course!" Joon shouted, turning on the radio. "It's the Wonder Girls! Nobody! I know all the lyrics to this song!"
"Why?" Hyo Rim said, scrunching her nose. "That's a girly song, Joon."
"So? Come on!" Joon grinned, moving his arms, dancing and singing to the song. "Want nobody nobody but you, I want nobody nobody but you!"
Hyo Rim rolled her eyes. "You're just prancing around making a fool of yourself."
"Sway your hips, girl!" he cheered, twirling her around and around. "I've seen you move before."
"Joon," she warned.
Cheerfully, Joon cocked his head. "Yeah?"
"Turn the damn thing off."
His brow furrowed. "I don't wanna. Come on, dance with me, dance with me..."
Hyo Rim freed herself from Joon's grasp, stormed over to the radio and clicked it off.
"Aw man," Joon complained. "Why'd ya do that?"
"God, Joon! Answer me, okay, tell me! Tell me why it's so impossible for you to act mature around me! There isnt a single day that passes without you cracking a joke. Really, my middle school crush at least acted like a boyfriend. You treat me like a child, like a daughter instead of a lover. You kiss me like like a daughter too, we haven't even discussed the possibility of having kids. You don't even bother to look for a job ... Well, Joon. I'm your wife. You asked me to marry you. Tell me, how much do you love me, Joon? How much?"
With that, she broke off, out of breath. Tears clogged her voice and rolled down her cheeks. Joon struggled to keep his face free of emotion and his voice beneath a layer of ice.
Finally, "my love for you is unconditional. I had no idea you felt this way, I'm deeply sorry that my additude making you feel like a child. But Hyo Rim, asking me how much I love you ... You're kidding, right? I love you. There are different kinds of love, yes. But I can never love you more or less. One day, I don't love you 25% of the time and another, say, 60%. Love doesn't work that way. In amounts. You love someone or you don't. Understand? My love for you never wavers, or changes. Love, it—"
"Don't call me that, Joon."
Dead silence. "What?"
"Don't call me 'love'. I don't like it, my great aunt calls me that. I never told you, but now might be a good time. Please refrain from calling me that, it reminds me of familial love instead of romantic."
At this, Joon broke.
Dejectedly, he sank to his knees. He could not hide the shock, the desolation and misery from seeping heavy into his eyes and into his gaze.
Silence. "I've called you that ... Since forever."
Silence. "I know," she said quietly.
Silence. "Ask anything of me. Except that."
Callously, Hyo Rim turned away. She did look back, once, in time to see the anguish written all over his face tangible enough it should've melted her.
But only once did she look. She turned away again, grabbed a change of clothes off the bed and slipped into the bathroom.
Just then, the phone rang.
In a daze, he made his way to the kitchen counter. "Hello?" he managed.
"Lee Chang Sun?"
"Yeah, that's me. Who are you?"
"My name is Mir."
"Who?"
"Mir. That's all you need to know."
"Whatever. I don't know anyone by the name of—"
"Mr. Lee, I know a secret about your wife, Seo Hyo Rim," Mir stated.
Pause. "Okay, let's hear it."
"Follow her when she leaves the building tonight and you'll find out. Oh, and also, you have the gun, right? Kang Seok-Chul wants it done tonight."
"You work for Kang Seok-Chul? Ah, figured. Tell him to find someone else to do it for him," he growled defiantly.
"They'll kill you if you don't. You know too much." The man's voice was a monotone, yet it was persistent.
Joon sighed. "I'll take the gun, okay?"
With that he hung up, before Mir could say anything else.
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"Oppa," Hyo Rim whispered.
He smiled, lifted his lips from the can of beer, and kissed her neck.
The lights were blinding; a brilliant white, flashing intermittently throughout the club room. The beat of loud music pounded the air, and the entire place reeked of alchohol.
Lee Joon stood in the doorway, as if invisible. He wore a pale blue button-down shirt, black slacks and a matching jacket. His wispy, mahogany hair hung in his eyes. His expression was hard. His mouth was dry. His fingers were tingling in his pocket, tracing gingerly over the smooth, graceful dip in the gun's trigger.
Hyo Rim was sitting over there kissing and laughing and smiling that smile for that man. That stranger.
No. He couldn't take her. She was his. Why the hell hadn't he seen it before? She wasn't his any longer, she wasn't his. Never would she love him again.
An affair. That was what Mir had meant. The truth came with a sharp pang, like something in his heart had just disfunctioned and shattered inside him.
However, he was no longer afraid, like the way he'd been on the way to the club. He closed his eyes and willed himself not to scream. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't, so stood stiffly in the doorway, with compassionless passerbys sauntering on.
He took a moment to compose himself, drawing in a quivering breath. When he was ready (or somewhat composed enough not to kill the guy kissing Hyo Rim's neck) he strode over to the couch on which his cheating wife and the stranger sat.
"Hello, love," he said simply.
The couple looked at him standing before them. The stranger looked perplexed, his cursed arm strung around Hyo Rim's thin, pale shoulders. "Who are you?"
Joon didn't answer. He kept his gaze on his former love, who was winding a strand of her long, glossy straight hair around her finger. Her face was utterly unmoved, and her eyes darted from side to side in disinterest. She didn't even try to feign guilt. No "sorrys". Nothing. Just chillingly, bitingly, undeniably cold.
"My name is Yang Seung Ho. Now tell me yours," the stranger demanded, scowling.
"Lee Chang Sun," Joon replied, his focus elsewhere. Impulsively, he grabbed Hyo Rim's wrist and began to pull her away.
"Hey! HEY!" Seung Ho yelled. A few clubbers' heads snapped to their direction, and pretty soon they had a decent-sized audience.
"Joon, leave me," she growled acidly.
"Let's get outta here," he muttered, pulling tighter.
"Joon! Stop it! Please, stop it!" Hyo Rim cried, turning her head to her boyfriend. "Seung Ho, help!"
"Whoa, wait a sec. Do you even know Hyo Rim? Who are you to do this? Stop it!" Seung Ho cut in, rising from his seat.
Joon glowered at the man. "I'm her husband."
This had Seung Ho staring at him, blinking in disbelief.
"That's a lie! A lie! He'll just assault me!" Hyo Rim struggled against his grip, but it stayed firm. "Ah, let go!"
"Just leave her alone. Let her be." Apparently Seung Ho was convinced by Hyo Rim's pleas.
"I said, let's go, Hyo Rim." Joon ignored the requests of both.
"Hey! She said no!" Seung Ho shouted.
He hit Joon.
It was a blow to the mouth, inflicted upon him with all the anger Hyo Rim's boyfriend could muster. And it triggered something within Joon. His eerie collectedness melted, like the calm of the sea before a storm, replaced with a burning, burning hatred. He hated this man. He hated him.
Joon punched back, the fire flickering bright behind his eyes.
Seung Ho staggered, groaning, but he remained defiant. "Go away, bastard, she doesn't want you—"
Before he could finish, he was slammed onto the floor. Joon struck again, in an indomitable frenzy.
"You bastard! You stole her!" he screamed, his tense fists clenched.
Immobile, Seung Ho stayed on the floor. Joon turned to Hyo Rim on the couch again, and reached for her wrist. Adamantly, she pulled her arm away, disregarding him. Avoiding him.
His heart was breaking. Inevitably, his vision was misted over as he reached over and watched in despair as she rolled her eyes and pulled away again.
There was a clawing sensation that felt as if it was ripping through his entire system. The once blue sky that was once his to fly had been torn down, now nothing but a dense gray fog. Now he was empty. Now he was helpless, defenseless, defeated by a boundless love that he now knew to be one-sided.
"Leave," Hyo Rim spat.
Again, his heart was crushed, and he knew his emotions were plastered on his face right now just the way all the fake smiles of the past few days had been. But Hyo Rim was heartless. He no longer knew who sat before him: this cold woman who was loving another without trying to hide it from her very husband, expressing sheer indifference toward his feelings.
Joon knew the options, he just didn't know what to do.
So he forced himself to blink back his tears and glare with harsh contempt into the eyes of the expressionless girl. Lifting the gun from his jacket pocket, he pointed it at his cheating wife.
Hyo Rim froze.
"You're quite the apathetic one, Miss Seo," Joon said with such utter disdain it made her cringe visibly. "I daresay I'm rather shocked. A little brokenhearted, too. I'll be fine, though. It's only yourself you should be worrying about, and I'm sure that won't be difficult at all. You obviously do it on a regular basis. You self-centered, malicious little bitch.
"I'm an assassin, Miss Seo. I work for a company that finds your very existence rather ... annoying," he explained. "You were assigned as my first killing."
Seemingly, Hyo Rim heard none of this. She cowered, her eyes now wide, flooded with dread, horror, fear, dismay, anguish. A thousand emotions played across her face, dancing in her eyes. Joon kept his glare, but averted his eyes. She was terrified of death, just as he was. She didn't trust him, she never had.
"I never schemed to fall in love with you, Hyo Rim," he continued, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I guess it just worked out like that. Funny, huh? Where you find love, I mean. Where you least expect it. Yes, dear, I did love you, I still do. But unfortunately you didn't. Now I am just dying for revenge. And this works out rather conveniently, doesn't it?"
Long, dancing white fingers grazed the trigger. He shifted his aim slightly to the left, smiling. Stoic, justified.
The emotion locked away in her eyes overcame her stiff form. Hyo Rim screamed. "No, Joon! NO!"
"Sweet dreams, love," he whispered.
He cocked the gun.
Bang.
Hyo Rim collapsed to the side, her chocolate eyes closed and her gold-painted rosebud lips still and her pale body limp.
Slowly, Joon broke into hysterical laughter, aloud and alive in the dead silence. He ignored all the horrified stares and gasps and screams, as the people around realized what they were witnessing. Laughing and laughing and laughing. Then he stopped. No point in carrying it on; it was all a lie anyway.
Suddenly, hysterically, he broke into sobs. He covered his mouth with one hand and let the warm, salt tears roll over and between his fingertips and burn at his tounge. No one stopped him as he sprinted out of the building and drove away in his car.
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The sun's rays broke through the snow white clouds like an opal ribbon late the next morning, tinging them to ivory. Joon drove his car on the freeway, a vanilla envelope clenched in his left hand. He threw his arm out the window and let it go sailing away with the wind.
There goes my ride out of the country.
He smirked weakly.
"I'm such a godamn coward."
Again started the tears, suddenly, stinging in his eyes. How he desperately wanted that fleeting sense of romance, dangerous and guilty yet so beautiful like a sweet secret ... But it was beyond him now.
"Did she ever love me?" he asked aloud desperately, a bit afraid of the very question. His voice was ragged and faltering.
There was a bridge high over a wide blue lake of rippling waves. Joon pulled over his car, and swung open the door.
A mild breeze whisked through his hair. Distraught, Joon walked to the bridge's edge and stared out at the glistening waves. And stopped in his tracks.
By the time he realized he was screaming, it was beyond irrepressible.
He screamed. He screamed out in agony, and wept in despair. To God, to Kang Seok-Chul, to everyone. To Hyo Rim's stupid affair that had brought about all of this and his impenetrable co-workers that would come and drive him to an inevitable death. A death he was absolutely and irrevocably terrified of.
Curse everything. Curse everyone.
Except Hyo Rim. Because, somehow, he was going on loving and loving and loving her. Even though she had cheated, the thought of her sprung happiness through his pain and confusion. Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes. He knew he loved her, and he knew that he wouldn't have taken back those poignant memories for everything the universe had to offer.
Now the gun was clenched in his fist, glinting silver in the bright sunlight. He let it slip from his grip into the rocks and shallow waves bellow.
He let himself go, let himself scream. For he could not care if a soul could hear him.
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"I heard he died last night," Seung Ho was telling her. "I don't know if it's true or not, but I overheard someone saying his name."
Hyo Rim nodded. "Shot and killed by a blow to the head. I'm, well, I was his wife. I was told."
They were at her apartment on an evening a few days later, sitting in the living room. Orange hazy sunlight poured in through the large open window, causing the white-painted furniture to seem to glow a light gold. Sweet air rushed in from outside, with the many curious aromas of the city.
No one took any notice of this, of course.
Hyo Rim's face was awash with tears, and Seung Ho's mouth was set in a tight line. "So, you were married. You were having an affair. With me."
"Yes," she admitted quietly.
Seung Ho sighed, and Hyo Rim crossed her arms.
"I love him," she sobbed. Her hands covered her eyes.
"If you loved him, why'd you cheat?"
"I— he died for me, Oppa. He failed to kill me that night at the club, hr just shot the couch to my left. I was so terrified, I just blacked out. Seung Ho, he didn't shoot me! And that stupid, awful, corrupt company he got messed up with killed him for it!" Hyo Rim cried.
Except for Hyo Rim's sobs, it was silent. Seung Ho spoke up.
"Listen, honey, I don't appreciate or respect a woman who cheats on her last husband. And if it takes someone to die for you, to get you to truly love that someone, then I'm not your guy."
Hyo Rim stared at him. Her chocolate eyes pleaded him to stay. "B- B- but I need you now ...!"
"Hyo Rim," Seung Ho said firmly, ignoring her, "you need to learn from your mistakes. I wish I could help you. But I can't. Try to understand, I don't want to get involved."
"Wait, I—"
Footsteps. Then the door slammed shut.
Hyo Rim didn't try to come after him. Instead, she rose from her seat at the kitchen counter, and went to her bedroom. There, a looped rope hung from the ceiling, right above the bed.
Biting her lip, she climbed up onto the bed. She smoothed back her hair and peered into the mirror for one last time. Mascara and tears stained the right side of her face, and her hair was an unwashed mess. She looked pale, and noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes. A thought breifly flitted through her mind. Should she care how she looked when she died? What was the most respectful way to leave the world?
She decided that she couldn't give a damn about her looks right now. Glancing around the room, her eyes lingered at Joon's desk. Something caught her eye. His open notebook.
On the edge of the bed, she sat down and pulled the notebook into her lap. Her eyes scanned over the words; the tears came falling like rain.
"I'll give you one last chance," read his untidy scrawl. It had been written and dated five months and three days after they'd been married.