CHAPTER TWO Hwa-Yeon's Perspective
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I always wondered what it would be like to taste the true delight of fresh air.

Not the kind that we breathe in naturally. Oxygen played the same fierce role to Life as reality.

The ivory bones within my moth-bitten limbs, have long rusted from the toxic fumes of my mind. My vital organs are pinned together, by half-wilted stems of roses, that were still being watered by the Life that travelled through my veins. Each fragile rose petal held a piece of my precious memories. When I was happy. But as time always held a chokehold on everything that lived, the petals were wilting rapidly.

Admittedly, I was afraid of coming to the conclusion that my mind was corroded from the past.

I wanted air that felt identical to being free.

But, we all want something, don't we?

     The whirring of the ceiling fan prevented me from falling out of consciousness for the night.

     Fiddling and twirling the sleeves of my stretched grey t-shirt, mindlessly, it was a usual pattern that occurred during the night. I kept my knees close towards my chest. The thin material of my plaid, navy blue pyjama trousers was the only thing that covered my legs, causing, the lulling breeze from the electric fan to envelope my skin bitterly.

I was sprawled against the oak wood floor of the living room, and my senses were used to the unventilated fragrance within the house already. But, maybe that was because I left a reasonable gap in the balcony door earlier.

What I could admit, was that the change from Cheongsando to Seoul, was biting the back of my mind significantly. At every little alter to my routine that I had to make, I would proceed with heavy shoulders. It wasn't because of the condition that I was in— no, I was used to sleeping with only a thin sheet as my mattress, and with ants meandering through the cracks of the floorboards.

It was the fact that I was truly in the state of solitude. Isn't that what I plan to be for a while? Alone?

I could not sleep and imagine, as though a green filled pastureland was right outside my window any longer.

Oh yeah, I promised to give Auntie Seung-Wan a call when I got here.

Uncurling from the position that I was in, a hefty exhale released itself from my tight lungs. With an unfocused vision, I pressed my face into my palms briefly. Sinking my nose into the middle of them, my fingers tapped along the bridge of my eyebrows, almost syncing with the kitchen clock that was hung up above the cabinets.

A discomforting, sore sensation bled through my limbs, as I rose. A common consequence that follows after trekking all day. Raking my fingers through the thin stray strands of hair, that prodded at the curves of my cheekbones lightly, I unrolled my t-shirt sleeves. They had been ruffled from tossing around, in efforts to hit the hay successfully.

     I was trying to make myself look presentable, as if that could fool anyone through a phone call.

Without sparing a glance at the slightly tilted, and poorly nailed shelves on the wall, I kept my eyes forward. Taking the telephone, that was on the wall, I pulled it off the hook. The cool mint, green device sat within my fingertips as I pressed it against my ears. In a flurry, I was quick to jab at the metal buttons, dialling the number that I had memorised prior to the trip.

Leaning against the tinily torn wallpaper, I fluttered my eyes shut briefly.

The continuous buzzing of the line stopped. At that, I lifted my eyelids upwards, but it felt as though they were being held open with two tooth-picks, the rims sore from practically being nocturnal.

     "Hello? This is Jeong Seung-Wan— I have to say it is a bit late at night." I heard her fail to stifle a yawn, "if it's possible, please can you call tomorrow?—"

     "Oh okay. I'm sor—"

     "Wait!— Wait!— Peachy? Is that you?"

     "Yes."

     "Oh!— Thank goodness." There was a muffle to her voice, from either clamping her hands on top of her lips from pure relief. Or the fact that there was a little wind current that wobbled the loosely fitted satellite on the roof. "Yeonah, how are things? I know you said to not call until you called first—"

     "That's because if I didn't answer, you'd worry."

     A melodic chuckle rang through the line, and was also being blended by some crispy glitches. "I would, I would!— You always look after me well!— But please, have you been doing so for yourself? It's been nearly a whole night, what have you been up to Peachy? I was starting to worry—"

     "— You," I trapped my bottom lip under my teeth when I realised that I had interrupted her. With the cracking telephone wire just beneath my palm, I twisted the cord around fingers. Some exposed wires jabbed at my skin. "Don't . . . you don't have to worry," the faux bold tone to my voice dispelled, my sentence breaking only tinily. "I'm good. I'm okay." Despite her not being able to see me, the corners of my dull lips formulated into a feigned, serene smile.

     Aunt Seung-Wan hesitated.

     For a moment the insides of my body was drenched in glue, whilst heat soaked my body. I'm not believable enough—

     ". . . That's relieving to hear that. Are you at the apartment now?"

     All tension released itself from my overwrought muscles, and I let a built-up breath flee from my lungs.

     "Yes. Yes I am."

     "That's also a relief," her speech was slow, as if she could drift off to sleep at any given moment, but the words were lively. An unsettling feeling mixed with the acid within my stomach. I should have called her in the morning. The next day she would have to attend the peach fields again, it was the season of blooming, so the trees would be adorned with luxurious fruits to pick. She's going to be exhausted tomorrow. "Was the journey okay? Was it hard to get around?"

     "No, it was okay. Someone gave me a GS25 voucher today," tucking my lips under teeth, I watched at how the the curtain's shadow's played a light-show along the walls, "someone said 'enjoy Seoul' to me too."

     "That's wonderful Peachy. You know, Seoul can be full of different people, but it makes me happy that you are surrounded by good people. Have you had dinner yet? I wish I was able to spend your 18th birthday with you in Seoul— Not that this would make up for it, but, I had my half of the birthday cake for dessert today. Have you had your half yet? With candles?"

     A bulky, rocky lump nestled itself within my throat. It took all my efforts to lodge it down my throat, it scratched at the surface, causing my voice to sound scratchy— The cake and candles were inside the small suitcase that I lost. Lifting my chin up higher, the ceiling fan continued to whirl in my peripherals. I then lowered my hazy eyes again, whilst cupping the bottom of the telephone with my other hand, as I felt my other grow weak.

     "I," the syllable keeled over in a hoarse tone, I cleared my throat. ". . . Did. With um the . . . the 18 candles. It was so delicious, I really loved the strawberries. Thank you, Auntie Seung-Wan."

"There's no need to thank me," as fatigued as she was, her voice was still honey like. Being entrapped within an apartment with grey colours, she able to nurse me back to a stable state of mind. My aunt always did that back in Cheongsando. "Hearing you enjoying your birthday dinner is enough for me. Did you also have the seaweed soup that I put inside the Thermos? It should be behind all your blankets that I put inside the yellow suitcase."

     I didn't. "Yes, it was lovely and warm, thank you." Switching the weight that I put on my left foot to my right, I turned around to face the telephone box. "Did you rest today? Did you watch any TV?"

     Back in Cheongsando, I never missed out an opportunity to watch some television with Aunt Seung-Wan. Apart from plucking the most succulent drupes on the fields with her, and aiding her with any household activity, I never once passed on viewing dramas or outdated shows with my Aunt.

     Temporarily, my mind was able to be sedated, just by looking at the lives of the different characters that lived in a fictional world.

Temporarily, I was able to erase my own memories, and claim their life as my own.

It was easy, how my vulnerable head could be steered into a different mindset so effortlessly.

Sometimes, it terrified me.

Even though, most of the memories of us watching television was eclipsed with this notion, I found my schedule feeling empty. We would have watched TV together at 8:00PM today. Picturing snippets of Aunt Seung-Wan and I gawking at the television together, with any patterned roll cake that we made during the day, I found myself growing doleful at the fact that I was reminiscing it already.

Swaying tinily, I almost felt the sides of my mouth glide upwards, my eyebrows no longer furrowed.

But then my lips halted, the joy that could have graced it, began to dissipate.

     There was a strange itch on both the raw surface of my tired skin, which spread into the tissues of my muscles. It was as though the living room grew hands, and began to jab at my body with its outgrown nails. It drew invisible, yet permanent cracks on my skin, lines like the ones you see on arid grounds.

Breathing felt like a liability.

A glossy photograph was clipped up onto a string of dimming fairy lights, with a wooden peg. With the thin, laced sheets as curtains, the pale blue lampposts managed to emit a wraithlike lighting onto the furniture of the room.

Since there was a lone tree next to the side of the apartment, it casted a teetering dark shadow against the bottom of the photograph, but the rest of the figures in it gleamed under an indigo spotlight.

For a moment, I became ignorant to the reason why I was there, in Seoul. Everything that I felt, contradicted the plans that I made for myself.

It seemed, that I had overstayed my stay at the apartment.

Being confined within it for only so long, I began to degrade the weak abilities that I had with withstanding the unexpected.

At that, I feared that the nail scratches from the living room's long claws, would form scars and infectious wounds all over my body. I feared, that I wouldn't be able to keep myself together with the impact of those injuries, compared to the feeble power that I had with keeping myself at bay whilst being smothered by my own thoughts.

     "Oh no, no," my Aunt clicked her tongue, the sharpness of the sound pierced my ears, which pulled me away from my thoughts. A half-thunderous yawn emitted from her lips, causing the line to sound fuzzy, "I was quite busy. I was ironing all day and preparing food for tomorrow. The aunties in the village want a gathering in the house. They want to talk about how 'we're' planning on doing a 'town litter pick up' every Saturday. I think it's lovely, but— I'm not getting any younger, I can only do so much during the day."

My words got tangled within my voice box, the volume disintegrating, "oh." I would've been able to help— but I'm here instead— I blocked that thought temporarily by trying to make my breaths float above my regular breathing pattern; I was neither inhaling or exhaling for a few seconds. "You should be resting right now. I'm sorry."

"No, no, I should be! Plus, why would I do that when I can talk to my niece— You're alone in Seoul on your birthday too, I'm sorry again. I really hope this makes up for it." Some sheets rustled in the background, she was probably shifting on to her side, causing the phone under her ear to be blanketed by her pillow. There was a pause. "I missed you today Peachy."

"I missed you too."

"18 years old . . . The years have really gone by quickly."

"They really have."

     I was staring at the photograph again. Four pairs of eyes peered back.

     This time, I really thought that the living room had mangled both my mind and my body with its callous grip.

     "Oh the times." After her audible yawn, I could almost hear the wistful smile that infected itself across her lips. I could also imagine the indents on her cheeks deepening, as they did quite often when she grinned.

     "Auntie Seung-Wan?"

     "Yes Peachy?"

     "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

I knew that she was trying to grapple against the growing fatigue that clouded her attentiveness, but I could not help my selfishness. "Can we . . . can we call for a little longer?"

     "Well," sort of hoarsely, the last of her words began to meld with the static on the phone line, "it is quite late . . ."

     I felt a farewell tickle at my throat, and it left my mouth immediately, "oh. It's okay then, we can call tomorrow."

     "You sure? It's okay, we can talk some more, I can let the farm know I'll be missing the morning shift—"

     "No," despite her not being able to see it, I placed a small smile upon my lips, "no. It's okay, I'm getting tired too. I'm sorry for calling so late. Goodnight Auntie Seung-Wan."

A row of opal filtered refrigerators glared up at me, their cold hues scintillating into my eyes as they displayed their finest desserts. With one hand clamped on the side, my fingertips growing raw from the ice that clung onto the plastic wall of the refrigerator, I let the other grab a vanilla Fanfare ice-cream.

The sugary treat laid inside my palm as I made my way over towards the cashier. I switched hands when the remainder of the ice on the packaging melted, some miniature droplets of water rolled down my wrists.

     "Oh good choice! I used to have these all the time when I was in high-school. I always had trouble choosing between the chocolate or vanilla . . . Ae-Cha used to love the chocolate . . . Whatever, but aren't they sweet? But not too sweet. They're just right. You get what I mean? I mean, you can try the chocolate too, I can give you a 2 for 1 deal!"

Feeling a little overwhelmed with the questions, my chin tilted a little at their enquiries, "yes, they are so, and yes please. Thank you." Stretching the line on my lips across my cheeks a bit, I fished around within my pyjama pocket, for the GS25 voucher that I got earlier that evening.

"No worries! People tend to look around and not buy anything, but oh boy oh boy, they're missing out! You get a deal, that's on me," he pointed his thumb towards himself, "and extra food! People like you are a treasure . . ." He paused, before adding, "wait a second . . ."

I glanced upwards, briefly.

"Yes?"

"I saw you earlier! Do you remember me?" He re-enacted the exchange that we had, and created different voices as he did so. "'Excuse me,' 'sorry sir,' 'sir? Me a sir?' 'Oh sorry!' 'No worries, enjoy Seoul!' Guy?"

"Yes," I was the embodiment of an overripe peach, the entirety of my cheeks were a deep shade of pink, so they did live near. I bowed hastily, "I'm so sorry about earlier."

"No, no! In all honesty, being called a sir makes me feel mature. My Father always nags at me, and tells me that I should act my age more, so that enlightens me. He nags at me all the time, 'you should promote the store more! Or, 'the sales graph line declines every day because of your shifts are too short!' All the damn time."

     To be quite frank, their words were being drowned out by the sentences inside my head. I had set a task for myself. Fiddling with the thin floral scrunchie on my wrist, I let the fabric woven hairband comfort me, as I tried to run over the lines within my head. With the sentences that I rehearsed in my mind, during the time I tried to select a dessert of my choice, I let some words flow from my mouth, as though I were reading a script from memory.

"Yes," I cleared my throat, "also, um. Just wondering, I saw uh, a sign outside the shop. Are you still hiring?"

     Their energy intensified at this, their voice almost matched the song that played in the background. I didn't know if my pulse was beating rapidly from my uneasiness or his booming voice. "Absolutely! We do!— Are you interested? Is this for you or someone else? Or both?"

     "Myself."

     "Perfect! Oh my Father's going to be over the moon!— You know, this shop is our lifeline. Since business is quite slow nowadays, my Father nearly threatened to close the shop. But, this is wonderful! Thank you!" They clapped their hands together and then pointed his fingers at me with his palms pressed together, before fist pumping the air.

     "Oh— Of course. Of course."

     "You see . . . there's another convenience store down the road, and people tend to go there since it's five minutes away from the centre of Seoul. So, tourists go there all the time— but not you of course, because you're here. What about us? We're always left in the dust! Goodness, you should see the rage my Father goes through, when finds out that the only things that goes missing from our shelves, are the expired food. Why? Because I have to toss them out! Why do I have to toss them out you may ask? Because nobody buys them! It is such a waste."

     "Oh my," I had only purches the ice-cream a few seconds ago, but I swore that I felt some drip down the back of my hand.

"Tell me about it. I can't wake up without feeling dreadful about the whole catastrophe!"

     "Tell me about it."

     "Exactly," he stood to the side for a moment, as though he was taking his time to go over the conversation in his mind. "You know, I'm glad you agree with this. You see, you remind me a lot of someone . . . He's such a nice guy. But, then he stopped coming one day. He always bought a lunchbox and a chocolate Fanfare ice-cream. He's a funny one let me tell you, he always arrived with a beanie and face mask— Every time I saw him, I used to think he was a burglar! But, now he doesn't visit our shop . . . I wonder where he is."

"Oh."

The shop-owner hummed, before sliding the thin piece of paper, that I had flattened onto the table, towards himself. "Hm, this is a lunchbox voucher, I'm afraid I can't use this on the ice-cream." As though the voucher was a suspicious money note, he held it towards the light, "and I am so sorry, but, . . . this is expired." Their tone drooped downwards, but it was obvious in the way that they double glanced, that they were trying to mask it with their hesitant grin.

     Ever so, my fingers were letting the Fanfare ice-cream roll across the counter top, and it stopped mid-way when it got stuck against some sellotape, that was used to stick some advertisements across the table. The deepened warmth against my skin intensified, as the figures around me seemed to enhance in colour within my peripherals.

     "Oh I'm sor—"

     "Please! Don't be! I am the one who is sorry, I am very, very sorry. Look, don't worry, this happens all the time! You see, tourists come and go a lot, and at least 60 percent of them hand over fake vouchers! You know why? Because they get fooled by scammers on the street, so you're not alone. Those poor people, they miss out on our new lunchboxes and snacks. Scammers are too cruel, you know? My Father calls them, good-for-nothing bastards."

     "O— Okay," digging my front teeth into the inside of my mouth, I played around with the balance that I had on my shoes subtly. Rummaging around inside my pocket, I failed to find the shiny surfaces of my pennies. How stupid can I possibly get? How could I leave without getting my backpack? My eyes drew towards the vivid poster on the table. 'New flavour! Kim Hye-JA's Lunchbox! Deluxe meal pack, freshwater eel with rice!' The bold reds and whites were what held my attention for almost ten seconds, until I finalised, "I'm sorry, I won't have the ice-cream."

     "My Father is going to love me for this one," I could hear him sigh, "it's alright. You know what? I can ring you up and pay this with my account! You must have this ice-cream, especially since the whether is a little gloomy tonight. Ice-cream is meant for any season. A good friend of mine told me once." Taking the cone into his hands, he held it out to me, "here, hopefully it'll lighten the mood a little bit. I always feel like myself when I have a good snack. Can you believe that people hate on ice-cream? Especially Fanfares? Outrageous. I call that a felony. I mean, I do believe in human rights, but Fanfare creates the most delicious vanilla ice-creams. Who—"

     "I, I can't take that. I'm sorry—"

At my refusal, they waved the ice-cream in front of my face slightly more, mushing the whipped cream inside the lid a little. "Don't worry about it!" Then he stopped all of a sudden. I could feel his eyes shift towards my face, they narrowed as his expression morphed into more serious one, as though he were examining my every movement. "Hang on a second! Now I know why you look so familiar! Has anyone told you about celebrity lookalikes? You know, I get that all the time, some people say I look identical to most of the members in Exo! I guess I do look a lot like Chanyeol! Say, you probably know this idol, since the late singer—"

An arm extended above my right shoulder.

Shrinking away, an unacquainted rhythm pulsed inside my ears. Almost as though, things were drumming were instruments within ears, and they played a tune that only my heart knew about. It could be compared to an sullied flower beating its head against the zephyr winds, though it is unaware of it doing so.

     My eyesight blurred as I recoiled, only a little too far, for the back heels of my shoes knocked against the front of that person's sneakers.

"Cut the rubbish Pil-Su, nobody thinks that. I'll pay for it."

"Hey!" Pil-Su, it seemed that the shopkeeper was named this, dropped the ice-cream onto the table, forgetting that it was a soft dessert. With broadening eyes, I stared at the remainders of the ice-cream that I didn't get the chance to buy— melted, mashed and in a gloop. "I was talking to someone! My future co-worker to be exact!" He emphasised the term 'co-worker.'

"Dude, you're holding up the line here. I was just doing your co-worker, customers and Chanyeol a favour. Nobody wants to hear you talk for another hour about your life story, or what-not—"

     "What does Chanyeol have to do with this?!"

     Moving the sides of my hair out of my face, my eyes followed the lengthy train of people behind me. Customers with either navy business suits, even pilot uniform, or some in neutral coloured pyjamas like me. They mumbled their protests at the unnecessary wait. Even though the headstrong customer skimmed through the line to interrupt Pil-Su's endless chatter, he only increased the wait time as they went back and forth with their disagreements.

     Looking at the space between them, I trained my eyes on the window, the people that were sat by the tables grew unfocused, until all I could see was the mirrored logo of GS25. It's getting very late, I should head back. I should cut-down on snacking to save up— I lowered my back apologetically and in a repeated manner. "Thank you, thank you."

The subtle aroma of microwaveable meals soon dissipated from my senses as I made a haste beeline towards the front.

     Quite benevolently, the door was being held open by an approaching customer. It gave me an advantage, since I was hurrying away from the store that had an overbearing sense of uneasiness. I couldn't get ahold as to why my intuitions urged me to make a bolt towards the nearest exit, but this was not a newly discovered trait of mine.

"There you go Miss."

"Thank you." It only left my lips in a weary tone, my drifting voice planing into the muggy winds.

From a young age, I had yearned to know if the clouds above were more habitable compared to the Earth. To be amongst them, and let my fingertips trace the delicacy of each ephemeral cloud, the swirls swathing my very own limbs. I would neither be floating or standing, just existing amongst a groundless plane of the atmosphere.

Would the set of lungs, that was entrapped within its cage, be filled with pristine air at last?

I could only think, from a person who was slumped within the land of rock bottom, that this was an addition to the infinite list of things that I wanted to grasp onto in my life.

However, those hopes seemed minuscule as the bitter biting air grazed my cheekbones. The wisps that slipped from my loose low-ponytail, waved along with the never fading winds. Miniature bumps nearly arose, as droplets of rain decorated the surface of my skin. For a moment, I thought I could taste the woody scent, that usually enveloped the air in Cheongsando after a heavy rainfall.

I was only half a block away from the apartments. I felt that I couldn't keep letting a clean current flow into the living room. For the original scent was vanishing, slowly, even if I detested the stench, I could not bring myself to blend the present into apartment that housed so much of the past.

Raindrops pooled around my palms, as I gripped on to the mossy grey bars of the bridge. A wonder of electric red and white streaks whizzed underneath it, as the vehicles sped across the highway. It was only a brief analysis, for I only let my pupils behold the darkening clouds. The hazy sapphire was growing moonless, the damp weather did not seem to be leaving so soon.

For a city so wide, I would have thought that people would pave this bridge often, but I was wrong.

Despite it being a gentle and clear weather before, it was much more easier to breathe when it was teeming down with rain.

As I have mentioned to you before, with thorns for veins within my chest, there was not one moment without my bloodstream being filled with the venomous liquid of my mind. Whenever I tried to get rid of the re-occurring, garish thoughts within my head— by practically wringing my brain until they seep away from my memory— they would not leave my body, but plague my lungs.

     Despite wanting to feel the art of breathing with fresh air, I came to a conclusion that that was not my main concern, but the idea of the rose petals within me being plagued too.

     Not by time, but because of myself.

That too, gnawed at my being.

I wanted to scatter that plague by dissipating it through the winds— to scream. But, the honking of the cars within the misty distance, was the loudest thing that accompanied me. The the rain was too mellow, like dandelion seeds dispersing across a faint foggy landscape. It wasn't even enough to mask the sound of a dove scoring through the sky, let alone the sound of a yell.

     I only let the watery weather etch at my skin, its sharp droplets marking at my skin.

     It tasted saltier than usual.

     I stayed until it felt like I was inside a blank, dark void, and I was facing the side of it, the only things decorating the inside were the luminous lights on the highway.

     A vicious sound of an engine blared behind me.

     The disturbance penetrated the composition in which the rainy evening was creating. Dissonance clashed with the major melody of the vehicles hurtling down the roads underneath. I only sunk into melancholic weather even more, despite it being far more merry than I was, and soon I was able to block out the sounds around me again.

     "Excuse me . . ." I didn't know if it were my mind or a faint call that was being done behind me.

I wanted to leave.

The getaway was intended to be an opportunity to cleanse my mind, but it only brought agitation upon both my mind and inner core.

Even though the grey-blue clouds grew indistinct, it was almost a healing to see a similar night sky to the one in Cheongsando.

I picked at my palms, then at the hems of my sleeves, feeling the icy water ooze from the material and down my arms.

Then the rain stopped.

"The view sucks tonight, doesn't it? If you want a better view, you should go to Namsan Tower, when it's not raining, obviously."

     The gaze that I held upon the roads slipped away, as did my fingers from the bars of the bridge.

     Shrinking away, my chin levelled up higher, almost shakily, as I moved my shoulders only slightly. With my eyes glazed with a water, perhaps my tears produced from my restlessness, or the rainwater, I could see a fist wrapped around the body of an umbrella to the right of me.

     I was unable to scan for the person's face, for their other hand that held a carrier bag, blocked my line of vision.

     "Seoul's much better during the daytime." Managing to let the beating sound of the rain diminish ever so from my ears, I focused on their voice. It wasn't my first encounter with this voice. They spoke again. "Here, from earlier. I don't keep what doesn't belong to me."

     There was no need to peer inside the GS25 carrier bag to know what was inside, or to give me a hint at who that person was.

     I didn't reply. I only bored my eyes at the white bag that surely contained a box full of Fanfare ice-cream.

    "If you're thinking of how to re-pay me, it's fine, you don't need to."

     My lips parted, as though to say something, but no sound left them.

Whether the rain slowed or not, their voice grew far more distinct. The end of their sentence was said in a heavy tone, clearer and louder than before. "Though, it's too cold by the bridge. Have the ice cream at home."

     Wavering on my feet subtly, from either the cold or startled by the other person's presence, I glided my eyes upwards further. But, after having no luck with capturing their features, I then travelled my eyes towards the right. The key charm that swung to and fro from their bracelet, gleamed within the light that was emitted from the faint street lamps that towered over us.

     With that, I saved that notion within my mind, in case we encountered each other again.

     The muscles within my face seemed to have benumbed from the unfriendly rain, still, I aimed to let an amiable smile spread across my lips. It didn't quite reach my eyes though, but it did affect them. They narrowed tinily from my growing smile, and I hoped that my expression showed at least the grateful feelings that warmed within me, but I couldn't accept the gift.

     "I'm sor—"

     "It's okay. Just take it," only slightly, they swung the bag to and fro. "I would, but I already have some at home. These would probably rot inside my fridge."

     Without a choice, I felt obliged to accept the gift.

My hands extended slowly, as though a piece of me was reluctant after the events that dawned on me that day. They placed the handles of the bag on my wrist instead, and it slid down towards the middle of my arm. Pinching my eyebrows together in a vague manner, my fingers began to curl into my palm.

     But before I could close them completely, the thoughtful stranger they gave me their umbrella. The handle was still warm, from where they gripped it with their hand.

     "Enjoy the ice cream."

     Glancing upwards briefly, the darkened night sky greeted me through the transparent umbrella, that was adorned with a thousand rain droplets. When I drifted my eyes in front of me again, I was met with a motorcycle that was scaling smaller into the distance, its rear lights being the most illuminated subject within the night-scape.

Sylvia's note. I adore writing for this fic so much. Thank you so so much for your kind comments in the last chapter, I didn't expect people to give this book so much love. I hope this chapter was just as okay as the last!—

For this, it was not really a filler, but sort of. I wanted you guys to see more of my character's life and slowly feed that into the plot. I feel that it would be too rushed if I began with the school setting straight away. For this, I want to make chapters that feel as though you are going about life with her, it's slow, I know, but I'm trying to incorporate that sense into it!

Could you guys make any guesses as to who the person was? I think it's obvious already, but I would love to hear about what you think.

Also, the cover for this may be what it is for a while, I quite like the simplicity of it. But who knows, I may make a cover soon!<3 (Depending on if I have time).

Thank you for your patience with my slow update, you see, I would rather plan and write a chapter that is well written and thoughtful, rather than rushed ones, this is so that I can meet both yours and my standards<3

And thank you for your time with reading this, it means so much.

See you in the next one, lolsies :p