Main Characters in the Story:
*Kim So Hyun as "Athena" Myung-hee Park
*Tom Hiddleston as Himself
Minor Characters in the Story:
*Cha Seung-Won as Park Woo-bin {Myung-hee's father}
*Woo Hee-jin as Park Eun-hye {Myung-hee's mother}
Chapter XXI: None Of Your Business.
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The phrase "I am a terrible person" has yet to stop repeating itself in my mind. What in the world was wrong with me? I am not available! I can't just let guys kiss me! And I most definitely cannot go on and kiss them back! Dodaeche mwoya?! {What the hell?!}
"Myung-hee?"
I mean, did that seriously just happen? Actually, no. it happened three days ago. But it happened. That's the problem here. How did that even come-oh, yeah. I asked him if he was gay… but I didn't asked him to kiss me! He couldn't call up one of his ex-girlfriends, however many there may be? Ani-yo. {No.} He had to kiss me. That's how it works, right?
"Myung-hee."
And I responded! Not the way I was supposed to, though! I kissed him back. What in Loki's name made that an okay thing to do in my mind?
Wait… maybe… maybe I really didn't mean anything by it. Maybe it was just a reflex. His kiss did remind me of Tom's a bit. Jogeum deo budeuleobgo ... jogeum deo ... sul-e chwihan geosman ppaego ... geu Axe yeoss-eo- MANGHAL! ANI-YO! Geuleoji ma, Myung-hee! Negaissneun gos-eseo geuman hae, neo babo. {Except a little softer… a little more… intoxicating… Was that Axe—DAMN IT! NO! Don't do that, Myung-hee! Stop right where you are, you dumbass.}
"Myung-hee!"
"Mwo? {What?}" I snap, annoyed. But it was annoyance at my thoughts, not my eomeoni, and I instantly feel bad about reacting like that. "Mianhae, eomma. Naneun nae saeng-gag-eulo gil-eul ilh-eossdaneun tteus-i anieossda. I ban-eung-eun neoege uimiga eobs-eossda. {I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean… I was lost in my thoughts. This reaction wasn't meant towards you.}"
"Gwaenchanh-eungeoya, jagiya? Yojeum neo jasin-i aniya. {Is everything alright, sweetheart? You haven't really been yourself lately.}"
Did you really have to add that cliché in there? Was it necessary to you? "Ani! Naneun gwaenchanh-a. {No. Yes! I am fine.} Geunyang eum, geulsseugi. Naneun han dal an-e amu geosdo sseuji anh-assda. Naleul hwanagehagoiss-eo. {Just um, writing. I haven't written anything in a month. It's pissing me off.}" I cut off a huge piece of my untouchable pancake and shove it into my mouth. Hopefully, she will get the hint and not asking another question.
But of course, this is my eomeoni I am talking about. "Museun iyagi ya? Ama naega doul su-iss-eo. {What's the story about? Maybe I can help.}"
O, geugeon ani-yo. Ani-yo. {Oh, that's a no. no.}
"Ajig amugeosdo. Naneun amugeosdo gajiji moshaessda. {Nothing, yet. I haven't been able to come up with anything.}" I said with my mouth full, trying to make my message come across a little more clearly, but I doubt she would even picked it up.
"Hm… why don't you write about yourself?"
I smile, amused by her suggestion. I cut off another piece of pancake. "Naneun jeongjighage jaemiissneun geos-e daehae geul-eul sseugo sipseubnida. Sidohae jwoseo gomawo. {I honestly like writing about interesting things. Thank you for trying, though.}" I take in the next piece, staring down at the table.
"Eotteohge jaemi issji anh-a? Dangsin-ui sigan-e daehae sseusibsio… {How's that not interesting? Write about your time…}" I hear her swallow thickly. It is a very faint sound, but a noticeable sound nonetheless. I know what she's trying to say already, but I let her say it, anyway. "Jib-eul tteona myeoch nyeon-eul giloghasibsio. Dangsin-i han il, dangsin-i meomulleossdeon gos, mannan salam. {Write about your years away from home. What you did, where you stayed, who you met.} Salamdeul-i geugeol ilg-eul geos-ilago hwagsinhabnida. Geugeos-eun dangsin-eul chungbunhi yumyeonghage mandeul-eossseubnida. {I'm sure the people would read that. It's made you famous enough as it is.}"
I tried to ignore to ignore her, but I could not help but see her point. There's nine years to my life that only a very small number of people know about. And how many times will I be able to fascinate people with my story? It will get old after a while, and so will I. I nod my head approvingly at the idea. "Naneun siljelo geugeos-eul golyeohaeya hal geos-ida... gomawo, eomma. {I will actually have to take that under consideration… thanks, mom.}"
"Munje eobs-eo, jagiya. {No problem, sweetheart.}" She chugs down the rest of her coffee.
As I take another bite, I feel some kind of substance on my tongue. It's gooey, but it's not alarming. "Yeogie… yeogie ttalgiwa chokollis-i deul-eo issnayo? {Does… does this have strawberry and chocolate in it?}" I point at the pancake.
"Ye. {Yes.}" My eomeoni shakes her head. "Chokollis chibgwa jal honhab doen ttalgi sileob. {Chocolate chips and well blended strawberry syrup.}"
I close my eyes, pretty pleased about that. "Joh-eun. {Nice.}" I comment.
Once I have finished my lunch (Yeah, I said lunch; got a problem with that?), I clean up my area and run upstairs to the bathroom. As usual, I stub my freaking toe on the threshold and swear loudly at the impact. I have yet to go a day this month without doing that, and I am very close to standing it down to nothing pretty soon.
My phone buzzes like crazy next to the sink. I forgot I had even left it there. Tom shows up on the screen, and I quickly pick up before the ringing stops. "Hello?"
"Hello, beautiful." Tom greets me.
I smirk. "I'm sorry. You must have the wrong number."
"Do I? What a shame. I'll just go then."
I roll my eyes. "Hey, babe. What's up?"
"On my way to Starbucks. Are you ready yet?"
Oh, God! Oh God! Oh God! OH GOD! I completely forgot about our date. How the hell did that slip my mind? "I am so sorry. Eom-ma-ya. {Oh my god.} I forgot about Starbucks. I have been so stressed, I… Eom-ma-ya. I feel so terrible. I am so sorry, Tom."
"It's alright."
"You don't understand." The scene with Michael starts playing out in my head, and I do everything I can to stay away from it. "I told you I would go today. We hardly ever go on our dates. I messed up, babe. I really did. I feel so terrible. I'm a terrible person."
"Myung-hee?"
"I should have called you, been like 'I am so sorry, but I can't go today. My brain is packing it all in.' But no. I have waited 'til the last minute. It did not even cross my mind to let you know. It hasn't crossed my mind to do anything right, lately. I am stressing over my writings, I miss all of my friends, and I kissed-" DAGCHYEO, MYUNG-HEE! BABO! {SHUT UP, MYUNG-HEE! YOU IDIOT!}
"I'm sorry, what?" O ani-yo, {Oh no,} he caught that one. He caught that one instantly.
"Mwo? {What?}" I say it casually and breathlessly, my heart pounding in panic.
"That last thing. What was that?"
"I miss all my friends?"
"No. After that."
I keep quiet, thinking of a way to cover that up. What is something I could do that would start with "I kissed" without getting myself in trouble? Oh God, did I really mess up that one. Suddenly, it just hits me like a miracle. "Oh… I kissed my friend by accident! Marilyn. Is that what you are talking about?" Please take it. Please take it. Please take it.
It's quiet on the other end for way too long. Either he is contemplating on that, or he is currently occupied with, like tea or something. He's just as addicted to it as he is coffee. Well, when he makes it. "Now there has to be a story behind that." He finally says.
I close my eyes in relief. I am so grateful, I could cry right now. "She was peeping over my shoulder, and I turned my head too quickly. It was a little kiss. A scarring kiss, but a little one."
"That must've been pretty awkward for you two." I can hear a wide smile in his voice.
"Yeah, it was at first. Then we just laughed it off and forget about it. No big deal, not worth obsessing over. A meaningless kiss. That's it."
He chuckles at my babbling. "You sound so nervous. Are you sure it meant nothing?"
If I didn't know he was joking. I would come clean here and now. Would he be so kind-hearted about it if he knew it was Michael and not Marilyn? That's what makes it all the more nerve-racking to even continue on this subject. "Positive." I forced out. I can't leave him hanging on that question. My situation will come out much worse.
"Alright. So do you want to make another date anytime soon?"
"What kind of question is that? Yes, I would love to. Just text me the time and place, and I will be there."
"Will do. Don't go kissing any other girls, now. At least, not until I can be there to see it."
I roll my eyes. I know he would love to see that. "You have got to be kidding me. Araso. {Alright.} Sarang haeyo. {I love you.}"
"Judo sarang haeyo. {I love you too.} Bye." He hangs up right after that.
I slide my phone into my back pocket. I flicked the mirror light off, and right as I turn to face the door, I jump back against the sink in surprise. "Eom-ma-ya! {Oh my god!}"
My Abeoji is leaning against the door frame with a stone-cold poker face. "Myung-hee, neoneun nuguleul saranghani? {So who is it that you love, Myung-hee?}" He asks me, his (honestly handsome aged) look the most intimidating thing I have ever seen in my life.
"Neo museun soli ya? {What are you talking about?}" My eyes are wide with panic, which is not every helpful on my side of things.
"Dangsin-eun 'neoleul Sarang haeyo' lago malhaess-eo. {You said 'I love you'}. Naneun neoleul deul-eossda. Geuleoni naege geojismalhaji malgo naegahaji anh-assdago malhanda. {I heard you, so don't lie to me and say I didn't.}"
"Geulaessji. Waenyahamyeon geugeos-eun malillin-ege iss-eossgi ttaemun-ibnida. Geugeos-eun danji hanaui il-ibnida. {You did. Because it was to Marilyn. It is just a thing.} Geugeos-eun gajang chinhan chingugahaneun il-ibnida. Geuge daya. {That's what best friends do. That's all.}"
"Jeongmal? Geuleom nega hyudae jeonhwaleul bolkka. {Really? Let me see your phone, then.}" He grabs for the cellphone in my back pocket.
I swat his arm away. "Geugeolhaji anh-eusigessseubnikka? {How about you don't do that?}" I give him a daring look, or I hope it looks daring. That's what it feels like to me.
"Mwo? {What?}"
"Neoneun nae mal deul-eoss-eo. Yeogin nae jeonhwa ya. Dangsindo geu jung hanaleul kkeul-eonael su eobsda. 'Gisuljeog-eulo, geugeon nae jeonhwagi ya.' ileon jonglyuui. {You heard me. This is my phone. You can't even pull any of that 'technically, it's my phone' kind of shit.} Neoneun geugeos-eul saji anh-assda. Geuligo dangsin-eun gajang hwagsilhage geugeos-eul cheong-guhaji anhseubnida. {You didn't buy it. And you most definitely don't pay my bill for it.}" I move past him and head to my room.
"Eojjaessdeun nuga geu jeonhwaleul sasyeossseubnikka? {Who did buy you that phone, anyway?}" He is angry. I can hear it in his voice. Do I care? No.
"Gwihaui bijeuniseu jung amu geosdo. {None of your business.}" I throw my door closed behind me. I reach under my bed and pull out my laptop. Loading it up, I start to think about Michael. The way he looked at me, the way he jokes around with me, how emotional he got when telling me about his family; it was a side of him I had never seen before. And the fact that I noticed all of this just proves that I deserve to be guilty as I am. I know it was just a kiss, but kissing Michael is a massive deal to me. I promised Tom that I was his. And I made him promise that he was mind no matter where in the world he is. I went and broke my own promise.
I can't handle this right now. Before Michael takes over my thoughts again, I toss my laptop aside (carefully, of course) and run out of my room. I dash down the steps, not even caring that I scare out my parents with the sound of my feet pounding down on the steps. I force my sneakers onto my feet, ignoring the uncomfortable and strange feeling of not having my socks on. Just my luck, my eomeoni left the kitchen door open to let dome cool air into the house, and I burst out the door and dash down our driveway. I take a left and start sprinting down the street, the air rushing over my skin as I rip through it, I go down past the little park across my house, down the street, down past the houses with some residents staring at me in wonder as I zoom past them in I have got nowhere to go, and I have no intention to go anywhere in particular. I just want to run as far as my legs can take me.
After less than thirty (I can assume that long) minutes of running, I don't last very long; my legs begin to ache as soon as I reach my high school. It's about a mile from my home, but my legs feel like I just ran ten. I want to keep going no matter how much pain is in my underused legs, but the thought occurs to me: what am I doing? I am running… for what? What's that going to solve? Nothing. It will solve nothing. I shot out of my house and down several blocks to realize I have got no one to run to. I don't have anyone to tell about this. I can't tell Marilyn, because hell no. I am sure as hell not telling Tom. I can't tell my parents. And Michael is obviously off that list right now… I am running from myself. I created this problem. This is my fault. If I hadn't kissed him back, I would have not been in this little self-collapsing mess of mine. I made the mistake. And, instead of approaching it and taking care of it like I have to, I decided to run from the pressure that was crushing me in my room in hopes that I will just forget about it and move on. And I have no doubt I am giving my parents a mini heart attack right now because I kind of spaced out without a warning. I am running from a problem that's just going to follow me until I get rid of it myself.
I had forgotten my phone was in my pocket until I started to feel something buzzing on me. I check all the pockets I have, forgetting which one I put in. my right pocket, like always, is the size of a thin brick. I pull the phone out and see who is calling me now, of all the freaking times they could.
Of course it would be Michael.
I don't want to reject it, and I don't want to answer it. I want something to happen spontaneously to make him forget about me, like him finding another girl or a sudden memory wipe of any member of female species name 'Athena Park' or 'Park Myung-hee'. That would be nice. But this is reality. That does not happen in reality. I look out at a grassy front yard of one of the residents living just outside the school. I stare down at my phone for a moment. Michael's picture is there on my screen, smiling at me, because he jokingly insisted I have one there so I couldn't say I didn't know it was him calling. I decided to take the first action that pops into my head. I take my phone and throw it as far as possible into the unnecessarily giant yard without hitting the house. It lands somewhere between the grass and the flower bed lining the front of house, the screen still illuminated for a few more long-lasting minutes silent seconds before fading to a black screen. I stare at it blankly, literally nothing on my mind because there is too much to think about it at once. So I stand there, staring at my discarded phone, letting the dead silence of my little section of town consume me until I feel almost too relaxed and numb to move, and if only that feeling could last forever.