title. The Theory of Love
author. musiclover3
a.n. I probably shouldn't be writing this, mainly because I just wrote, like, two other Hetalia one-shots about a week ago.
But, yeah, I couldn't resist.
I was reading this multi-chapter a few days ago with South Korea dancing and singing around the city with his headphones and winking at pretty girls and just being a teenager, and I was pretty inspired.
So, because of that scene, I wanted to write something about South Korea, and, since a friend of mine has always wanted me to write something about him, (she's obsessed with K-Dramas and K-Pop, you know.) I decided to write this.
This story will be two chapters, mainly centering on Taiwan.
Because, hey, I ship her with both South Korea and Japan, so why not write a story with both pairings in it?
(Even though I totally hardcore ship Taiwan with Japan, I didn't feel like I could ship South Korea with anyone else, so yeah.)
ratings/warnings. To for Romance. More specifically, first romance. (Not to say that this is the first romance fic I've ever written; more on the lines of the characters in this experiencing love for the first time.)
So, to be more specific, T for First Love and First Heartbreak.
(And Poland, because it just isn't a love story without Poland.)
dedication. To Dream-chan, who has wanted me to write about South Korea ever since I told her about Hetalia. And, really, she's just a total sucker for romance and seems to only like my writing when it is so.
playlist. Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran.
summary. Listen to me- the ending is always surprising, and love is no different.
(How you wish it might be so, but love lasts not forever.)
"You like someone who can't like you back because unrequited love can be survived in a way that once-requited love cannot."
- John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson
Mei Wang has always been strange.
She is a pretty face with brown eyes seeming almost too big to fit, and her lips are almost always pulled into a sort of almost smile, too delicate and too gentle to be laced with the term. She is of colors like pink and red and full of general bright skirts and hipster glasses, and she almost seems like some kind of princess.
(-But she's not, really.)
Her hair is of a dark shade and is always carefully sewn into a braid, cascading down her back and seeming plain when compared to the eye-popping colors surrounding it. She wears Western-style boots, and her skirts billow around her knees as she walks, her steps seeming to light up the pink flower that is always clipped to the side of her hair. It is somehow spunky and gives her an almost sweetheart air, matching with the smell of her lilac perfume.
She is pretty, yes, but she is not beautiful.
(-No one has told her so.)
It is always 'adorable' or 'cute' or even the occasional silent 'pretty,' but it is never beautiful.
Perhaps it is because she rarely ever speaks, for males seem to only believe that females with a lot to say and not enough time to say it are worth fighting for.
It almost kind of hurts.
She spends her days at school in the library, hidden deep in the Sophomore Hallway, where no one seems to really realize exists. It is always silent, besides the occasional gentle folding of corners of book pages and the soft whispering of words, and Mei likes it. She has always liked it like that- beautiful and colorful silence; her clothes never speak. She spends hours in there, in her little corner of the room, sitting besides the large round window that always reflects just the perfect line of sunlight, hiding behind the tall bookcases that seem almost like giants, and everything seems to almost dance off of the pages she grasps tightly in her hands. No one speaks to her, no one notices her, and she is suddenly just a pretty girl with her hair reflecting quiet sunlight and her eyes resembling starshine. But, even so, her words are not golden.
(-She just wants to be called beautiful, because she isn't sure that she is; if it is a lie, it will be a beautiful lie.)
She is seventeen- a senior, who wears vibrant colors and smiles like magic but has rarely ever spoken a word outside of class.
In the library, in the silence, reading words unspoken, she is beautiful.
(-Just a little bit.)
He is not like her.
He is cheerful and a strange refreshing sort of loud and sings and dances like no one is watching, and he is just so un-Asian that just the sight of him makes her smile, because he is a living contradiction; a failed stereotype.
He is the kind of boy she feels she could fall in love with; she has read countless stories about boys like him, whose smiles blind the eyes and who could make anyone and everyone fall in love with them.
She thinks that she could fall in love with him.
She sees him one day, from her hidden spot behind a bookcase, her fingers having paused lightly on the spine of a book- Verity's Love Theory (it is about a girl named Verity- truth- and she believes in love, which is just enough)- and he comes in with his brilliant vibrato and charming secretive smiles and it suddenly breaks everything that has always seemed to make sense to her, because he acts as if it has not always been silent and unbreakable; he shatters everything quiet, and his smile sends a strong gust of wind into the room, sending shivers down her spine, her heart beating faster.
He spins on his paint-splattered, Sharpie-drawn shoes, and his lithe and slim body seems to almost move out of its own accord, as if no matter how or which way he deems to move, it will always stay above the ground.
His eyes are like skies and his smile like hot air balloons.
His hair is a shaggy mess of black and blue-frosted tips, and white and gray headphones wrap around his shoulders as if he had been born with them- his heart seems to pound with sound, in a rhythm all its own. Mei could hear his shoes tapping songs.
"Sweetheart, I think I left a piece of my heart in your dresser," he sings, his voice loud, the sound beautiful. He spins in a way that almost seems to defy the laws of gravity, managing to maintain a position in which his heels were the only things touching the ground, his body leaning backwards, his hand placed in a sort of swooning motion over his heart. "In case it suddenly starts to matter, I have always loved you, Sunshine." And his eyes start to sparkle, like pools of chocolate brown skies, and it is almost like they are kids again, as if Mei has always been a part of his life- a part of his fondest memories.
The librarian, an old and classical sort of woman, with round glasses of almost stereotypical precision and pencil skirts of the darkest hues, shushes him, but he continues, only sparing a sparkling grin towards the old woman.
"Starshine, if you've never loved me, then me neither." And he looks at Mei- in her general direction- and his eyes light up as if he knows she is hiding behind there, listening to him sing. He does not, obviously, but she still continues to pretend he does. "But if you love me-" He suddenly makes an almost graceful sort of spin, his feet somehow seeming to lift off of the ground, twisters circling his ankles and drawing silver skylines and cities in the air, and he plucks a pink flower from the vase on the librarian's desk, so fast it seems to almost have been imagined by the eyes.
He smiles and, suddenly, he is kneeling before Mei, her astonished and wide eyes fixed on his face and his stolen flower.
(-Had he seen her this whole time?)
He dips his head down, as if he were a knight and she a princess- like in one of those many fanciful books she has read in that very library, and, when he places the flower gently in her hand, she wonders how he had known that pink is her favorite color.
He looks up at her, and her reflection looks beautiful in his eyes.
"-then no one could ever take me away from you."
He presses his lips to her hand.
(-It is not love at first sight, but it is something.)
He visits every day, but he never speaks to her.
He gives her the occasional wink, the airy smile, a casual wave of his hand, and it is silent between them, but Mei finds her heart fluttering and her lips moving to say a word-
(-Hello.)
He never hears it, but he sends her a look that makes her believe he does.
It has never been completely silent in the library since he had first appeared that day- Sixty days, eight hours ago- and she can now hear more than just pages crinkling and folding; she hears breathless singing and friendly laughter, because he is popular and cheerful and everyone in the school knows his name- Im Yong Soo- and he is a musician (he plays guitar and sings and pretends he knows how to make music from drums) and a soccer player and someone everyone wants to befriend, and Mei wonders how she had possibly become so lucky as to have been able to be a small part of his life- that little memory of the quiet, pretty girl who is always hiding in the library with pink square glasses that always fell down the bridge of her nose and a new book in her hands every day; she wonders if he will remember all of those little details someday in the far off future, because she will always remember him.
(-He is made up of breathless smiles and eyes like fireworks, and she believes that if he were the wind, she would be a hot air balloon.)
In a strange, beautiful sort of way, he acts like the person who could lift her off of the ground and keep her there.
But, even so, she does not love him.
(-But, in her heart, she wants to.)
"I've never really believed in love."
His words startle her because, even though she is used to hearing him speak to the various students who stop by, (and she loves his voice- she really, really does) it is different now, because they are the only ones there at the moment.
She cannot see him from behind the bookcase, and he cannot see her, but it is obvious that he is speaking to her.
She grips her book- Verity's Love Theory- tighter in her hands- "There's no such thing as love at first sight or sparks flying when you kiss or fate- there is just you and him, and, as always, you start to wonder if what he is saying is just a beautiful lie, when you so desperately want it to be the truth- the verity."
"It's kind of stupid," he says with an embarrassed chuckle. She imagines him ruffling his black hair awkwardly, the blue tips getting stuck between his fingers. "I'm always singing about love, so how can I not believe in it, right? Everyone does." He sighs, and it is almost like all of the air is releasing itself from her lungs. "I guess that's why I've never believed in it- I don't go with the trend, you know? I go my own way, do what I want, believe what I want to believe- that's how my life has always worked. You know what my philosophy is, Mei?" It is the first time he has clearly acknowledged the fact that he is speaking to her, and she almost falls out of her chair at the suddeness of it. The fading sunlight outside of the window shines upon the crown of her head.
He lets out a laugh, almost sounding a little sad, as if he wishes the lights would never turn off. "'Live out loud, break the rules, and don't get caught.'" She imagines him shaking his head now, his bangs falling over his eyes like curtains covering the image of an incoming storm. His voice is like rain. "I've dated tons of girls-" She winces. "I've told them I loved them- each and every time, every single girl- but I don't think I ever really did. You get me?" He didn't get a response, and she imagines that it is almost like a relief to him, really, to finally get everything that he has always wanted to say off of his chest, even if it is to a girl who does not talk. She wonders if he knows just how much she cares.
(-Her smiles are rare and when they appear they are delicate and small, but they light up her face like morning stars. His smiles speak 'hello's' and 'I love you's' and it's almost as if he is singing. It makes her wonder if he knows that she has always wanted to smile for him and talk to him, because he is just so him and he makes her feel beautiful; like she matters.)
He is the most beautiful lie.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is- I didn't ever believe in love, not the kind that always happened in books. You know- love at first sight, kissing in the rain, pretty words that no one ever really says- that sort of stuff. I never really believed in it. Sure, I liked a good love story every once in a while- who doesn't? But I never really believed in it, you know? I didn't date girls thinking that I would find love."
She almost sees the crooked smile on his face, and she realizes just how amazing a smile can be- how much it can truly hide.
"I've got to admit- I'm a romantic." She almost laughs at his words, because somehow he is a romantic and somehow he is not. "I like to think those things will happen, but I know they probably won't." He pauses, as if thinking over his next words- why is her heart beating so loudly? "I think I'm in love with this girl, Mei..." She stares blankly at the bookcase, thinking that what she must be feeling is love in its finest form, because his heart suddenly seems to be the exact same size as hers. "She's pretty- no, she's beautiful, in this weird sort of way, but she doesn't realize it, or, if she does, she doesn't acknowledge it. She's been sort of aloof towards me, and doesn't talk much. She's the kind of girl guys go after all the time; she's a challenge, and she's a lot greater than she probably gives herself credit for."
She can hear pretty words and song lyrics in her mind, and she wonders when she had started crying. Her cold fingers grip onto her long skirt tightly, grabbing fistfuls of flower patterns and spring, and she can suddenly see the sky.
"There is only one person out there for you- that person is your sky and your heart and you. That person might not always understand, but he or she will always try to do so, because this beautiful, messed up person loves you so much that all of the walls you have put up only seem like another reason more to love you- this person can see behind your broken smiles and cheerful lies- and still love you and think that you are beautiful."
For all of her life, Mei has always believed little of herself.
Although she has never been bullied, teased, or made a mockery of, her life has always been kept behind cold stone walls; her heart is a castle with no entrances. When she had been a child, she had always been so cheerful, so lively, so bright, and so much like him, and she wonders when it had all crumbled down right before her eyes.
She has always been sheltered and protected by her older brother- a Chinese businessman with an honorable exterior and a heart softer than clouds. Having been adopted from Taiwan, she had lived in China with her older brother up until she had turned ten, and then, suddenly, they moved to America.
She had not known the language, had known no one, and, frankly, had not wanted to know either.
Slowly, the words had just stopped coming out. It had been a small act of rebellion on her part, the first sign in a long line of many that would show her brother that she was growing up. Slowly, the small crack she had made would grow larger and larger, until she could not even bear to be in the same room as her guardian- the man who had cared for her and loved her but had never let her go- had never given her her freedom.
(-Im Yong Soo is freedom.)
In her own little way, she had managed to keep a cherished part of her childhood with her by wearing as many bright and lively and happy colors as possible without seeming tacky. She braided her hair as her brother had once braided it in the mornings before school in China, and she wore poofy skirts and decorative boots to show a personality that she wished she had been able to maintain.
But, it was the flower clip that she wore every day that had really meant the most to her.
It had been given to her by her brother on one of the first few days that they had arrived in America. It had resembled a pink Chrysanthemum, the flower that Mei had always loved as far as her memory went. It reminded her of her home, of she and her brother gardening on sunlit days, of smiles and laughter and moments when her brother had seemed like the most wonderful person in the world.
He had never understood her, and he still does not.
Still, she keeps the clip, because even though it is not the real flower, it is something and that is close enough.
(-Mei is somebody and Im Yong Soo is the somebody, and one day, Mei hopes that they will just become 'them'.)
"You're really quiet, you know that, Mei?" Im Yong Soo chuckles, his voice becoming light-hearted once again, as if everything that he has wanted to say has been said, and everything is alright in the world. "That's cool. It's kind of refreshing once in a while, to have some peace and quiet. You're good company either way."
Her heart feels light, because she feels that he is refreshing as well.
"I'm glad we're friends, Mei- well, best friends I should probably say; we've spent enough time together to be that, right?"
(-Her hearts stops.)
"You should smile more." His voice sounds like a smile. She wonders if she has ever really seen his real one. "You look pretty when you smile."
(-Pretty, but not beautiful.)
"Thanks for listening to me ramble on, Mei," he goes on, not seeming to realize that the world is slowly breaking apart and the cracks in the wooden floor are opening even wider- the sun is quickly setting. "I feel a whole lot better now that that's off my chest. I guess we'll just see how it turns out, eh?"
She nods absentmindedly, and she hears the library doors opening and the quick footsteps of the students entering, and she can imagine the friendly smile on Yong Soo's face as he bursts out with a happy 'hello,' but all she can think about is how he has finally confessed to her that he loves a girl but that girl is not her.
It has never been her.
(-She has never been beautiful, even in a lie, and his smile has never been truly for her.)
She sees him sometimes.
He passes by her in the hallways, but he never says 'hello.' He brushes past her, and she always finds herself staring after him as he walks away.
He is still smiling, he is still singing, but it is never for her.
He sends her the occasional greeting every so often, when the situation calls for it, when they are both alone and no one else seems to be bothering him.
She feels more than hurt, and perhaps that is what love has always felt like. Perhaps a person can only realize that they are in love when they feel hurt.
But, maybe, her situation has never been love in the first place.
Yong Soo is just a boy with a smile that resembles happiness and Mei is just a girl that is in love with it- in love with the possibility that he could be the one to fall in love with her, too.
It has never been love on his part, but, in a way, it has always been for her.
She wonders if she ever crosses his mind; she hopes so.
He is always walking with another girl now. She doesn't know who she is- she has no classes with her but has seen her around the school every so often- but she has never spoken to her. Mei does not know her name, her personality, her anything-
But Yong Soo does, and he loves all of it- all of her.
It is obvious, really, by the way he stands so close to her, the way he smiles at her, looks at her, interacts with her, spends so much time with her- it is obvious that it is love, and some part of Mei hopes that the girl does not love him.
But she knows that she does, because it is impossible not to love him in some sort of capacity, because he is beautiful, inside and out, and Mei is just the 'other girl' who had misinterpreted his signs.
It is still just Mei.
She still spends her time in the library, but she sits anywhere but that little corner by the window now, because it still reflects sunlight, but it burns her eyes and her hands, and there is really no one to hide from now.
She sits out at one of the desks, but she still does not talk much. She is still quiet and pretty.
That is all.
(-And, in a way, everything both makes sense and breaks apart in those moments.)
"Can I, like, sit here with you?"
Mei looks up from her book- the same one she always gets, the same one she had been reading when she had first encountered him, because even though it hurts to look at it and read it again, it reminds her of some memories that she still loves to remember, because all of the greatest and most loved memories always hurt to remember.
"Okay," Mei breathes out, like cold air. Her voice is soft and quiet and would have been inaudible had it not been the fact that the two were in the library.
He sits down in the seat across from her, and she notices that he wears an abundance of pink and everything matches in a sort of spontaneous way and it is almost laughable, really, but Mei sees so much of herself in the way he acts and is, so she stays silent and does not laugh.
She has seen him every day during their lunchtime in the cafeteria, talking animatedly to another boy, much plainer in looks. He now seems to be almost shy, as if he has never spoken to any other person besides that other boy, and Mei suddenly thinks that they could become friends.
"I'm Mei Wang," she says, because she finds it easy to talk to someone like this- like her.
The boy looks surprised, but, then, he smiles, like she has just done him the greatest favor in the world. "I'm Feliks Lukasiewicz." He almost looks embarrassed. "I'm from... Poland. If that explains my last name."
Mei smiles, it is small and delicate, but it shines on her face. "I originally used to live in China, but I'm actually from Taiwan."
"Really? That's totally cool!" Feliks beams.
(-He is like her and she is like him, and, somehow, that's okay.)
"Being in love is kind of like obsessive-compulsive disorder or something."
Mei raises an eyebrow behind her glasses- 20 days and ten hours later- and asks him what exactly he means by that statement.
"You know," Feliks babbles, looking up at the ceiling, his green eyes shining dimly in the sunlight illuminating the library, "it's kind of like how you always have this inclination to know where that person you're in love with is or what they're thinking about or what they're doing. You're always, like, thinking about them and wondering about them and just plain obsessed with them. It's not like you exactly want to always think about them, or maybe even feel that strongly about them, but that's how you feel, and you just want to totally find them and spend all of your waking and sleeping moments with them and just love them in general, so it's sort of like obsessive-compulsive disorder in that way. It's kind of annoying, but it's also somehow really beautiful- love, I mean. Not OCD."
He looks almost embarrassed, really, and Mei would usually be amused by his babbling and awkwardness, but it's different this time, because she finds herself agreeing with everything he has just said.
"If you love me, then no one could ever take me away from you."
"Yeah," she says softly, brokenly. She hears singing from the hallway. "I understand."
(-She is pretty and quiet and understands, and she hopes one day that someone will say she is beautiful.)
a.n. There, Dream-chan. You've been pestering me to write this, so there. I'm sorry- it isn't as good as I wanted it to be.
Not to sound bitter or anything.
(And I totally stole the library location in the Sophomore Hallway from our school. And I based some of this off of the boy-who-shall-not-be-named. You now... the guy. That starts with a J.)
There's no shipping. Obviously.
(And I honestly just added Poland in here because he's awesome and I've wanted to compare love to OCD for a while now and it's always been him who is the one who says it in my mind. So, yeah. He and Taiwan have this friendship thing. Next chapter is Taiwan/Japan.)