"IT WAS GOOD MEETING YOU AGAIN."

APRIL 22, 2021 — 12:46 PM

I just finished my second lecture of the day, which gave me time to take a quick smoke break. My next lecture will be in two hours, maybe because I didn't take many electives. I had stuck to my minor being English and Psychology, but my major is in architecture. Even I...wonder why I decided to choose it.

I stroll outside, tying my hair up as I pull out the solid yellow lighter. My cigarette box leaves my pocket, the wind blowing the dead flame closer to my cigarette. As I click down on the spark wheel, the flame comes back, lighting up the bundle of nicotine.

As I inhale it, I quickly exhale it. The march air reminded me well of Junior year—maybe because that was when everything was going alright. No other year could beat the year of 2016, probably because of all the pain yet fun I went through. It was quite interesting being the total bitch of the class—even the boy at the time called me a bitch in front of the school.

"You still smoke?" I hear, causing me to slowly turn the feminine tone's way. Kim Yena stands next to me, exhaling heavily as she brushes her hair back. "I thought you stopped after a year. Sucks that you still do it after over five years."

"Sucks to suck, but I'd prefer to suck than looking less intimidating than I already do," I reply aimlessly, sighing out. Turning her way, she glows as per always—and it's a surprise nobody has seen her real self at the dorms. We room together nowadays since my roommate is out of town—but she also hates me anyway. "Don't you have a technology lecture to get to?"

"I do, but that won't take me long to attend—" She checks the time on her phone, stuffing it back in her pocket. "Yeah, I'll be fine. How are you?"

"I'm doing the same as usual—living, breathing..."

"I know you're thinking the same as I am, Yang Yihwa," She kept a straight face, rolling her eyes. "Have you been to the garden?"

"No," I don't hesitate to hate talking about that shit, fixating my gaze on a passing car. "I haven't since 2017."

"How funny," She giggles, stepping her tall ass heels together. "It's funny how much you changed during high school. I remember seeing you be the preppy, happy Yang Yihwa people knew you for—but by 2016, you became hopeless. Everyone in our class assumed you'd kill yourself."

"You'd be surprised what I attempted many times," I raise my eyebrows, yet, no emotion plays at my lips. "Why do you want to talk about him so bad? Wasn't it you who told me to move the fuck along?"

"It'd be fun to see what you think nowadays—considering you're graduating all over again. Maybe it'll be less of a tragedy this time," She pushes my buttons, hinting at what's been done before. "Do you still think the same as before, Yang Yihwa? Don't you think he's thrown away the bracelet, that all your promises were burned to dust?"

I keep quiet, not trying to get physical. I hate how she toys with the words playing at her lips, her stance playful as I continue to smoke. "Don't you ever want to try dating again? Not every guy is an abusive, manipulative bitch."

"I don't want to hear it," I press my lips in a thin line, dropping my half-burned cigarette to the ground before stepping on it. "I've always hated your playful tone—as if you like to play a cheap version of cards with me like you always like to push me off the edge. One day, I'll kill you if you go too far."

"See, even your words are played differently," She points out, causing me to roll my eyes as I walk away. I wasn't in the mood for the dead obvious. "Did he teach you how to be like this?"

"Like what," I pause, turning my head to the side just to see her glowing face briefly. She was as shiny as a star. "Like a bitch?"

"No," She denies, smirking. "Like you hate everyone who walked upon this world—including yourself."

I don't hesitate to agree, to be quite honest. "He taught me how to hate everyone—including myself."

She doesn't say anything, and instead, she walks away to the tech department. You'll hear me switch stances all the time, but right here, he was always a negative in that playful math sequence I always talked about, starting from the point I met him.

He was in no way meant to be perfect, and he wasn't perfect at all. The day I stopped him from burning the garden was the day I should've never told him my name. I should've never met that bastard, met his odd eye at the basketball game—and dated him. He was negative, there was no doubt.

However, I was also a pretty obvious negative.

It was plausible how innocent and naive I was in freshman year, thinking that Be- that he...was so into me. Whether it is true or not, things changed drastically the moment the basketball hit my nose. The memories didn't fade like a popped balloon—a statement Yeonjun used to tell me—and instead, I remember each receptor of pain I felt that day.

I was manipulative, I knew his weaknesses and ran with them. I thought it would be good to deal him enough pain as he once did with me—but instead, I had done more damage than he originally tried to do with me.

I still don't know to this day what positive came out of our negative-accompanied equation. Even with additional symbols, I think we'd still be able to reach an equilibrium.

I wish we did.

I don't even like saying your name, maybe because it reminds me of all the sick nicknames and that bracelet I gave you on our one-month anniversary. It reminds me of the permanent shock you gave Sanha that day—and also the permanent scar of you.

It's noticeable, it really is. The tone that stuck with me has changed completely, whether it be from the reality of toxicity or the reality that I've grown up. It was a blessing not to go to the same university as you, but I query where you'd be. Your questionable excuses and "discrediting" of me always baffles me, but I feel more baffled that I put up with it so well.

Fools we have been, fools we were.

I guess we should both feel a bit better since we're far away from each other, living better lives than the ones we intertwined with originally.

I don't miss our snowy kisses or the toxic ones. I don't miss the next day that you told everyone we kissed, that I felt the light turmoil grow in my stomach—and how I was ready to throw up because I felt as if I made millions of mistakes in the cracks of your cold lips. I don't miss when you threw me onto the curb, pretending I was the one fully at fault. I don't miss the overwhelming setback of your possessiveness—and I don't miss the feeling of being paranoid about what you'd overhear.

I wish I took Kai's advice—and took Taehyun's anger seriously.

I wish he had slapped enough sense into me for me to run away—but I think I'm ready to admit that it was an experience I'll never forget with open arms. You taught me how to be stronger, how to put up a front—and while you taught me to disassociate for even the most painful reasons, it taught me how to understand distance and know people's feelings.

There are so many good things that came out of leaving you—but none of them could total up to the math equation I loved talking about.

My phone rings, stopping me from moving farther. As I read the name, I chuckle in disbelief. Pressing the "accept" button across the screen, I slide my phone up to my ear. "It seems like everyone from high school is conversing with me these days. How have you been?"

"Has Yena been up your ass again? Is that why you're nitpicking with me again?" His voice sounds like velvet these days, a slower laugh than it usually was before. "I've been okay. I'm outside your college right now—and I see you standing outside. Does lunch sound nice to you? I'll pay."

"Sure, I shouldn't deny when you're already here, stalking me," I joke, causing him to laugh again as I search for his car. Seeing his convertible, I raise an eyebrow. "Found you. I'll come over."

"Kay'," He replies simply before ending the call, my phone going back in my pocket. I threw my empty cigarette box in the trash can as I passed by, resisting the urge to throw his lighter too.

"There's my favorite girl!" Yeonjun laughs dramatically, waving as I open the car door, placing my things in the backseat in an attempt to ignore his growing smile. Closing the door, I put on my seatbelt with his overpowering stare. "I missed you."

"I'm not your girlfriend, and you only miss me because I'm the only girl you seem to enjoy conversing with—now drive."

He bites his cheek, chuckling slightly as he bites his bottom lip. He puts on his sunglasses, sighing out. "Let's go, then..."

We sit in a diner together, my hair tied up as I redo it from his stupid open roof. "Do you still smoke?" He inquires, his eyes on the menu as he flips the menu around. "Or have you quit?"

"You both ask me the same things—I still smoke," I utter, placing my hands together. "What did you call me out here for? You know my university schedule, so it would be no surprise if you came here on purpose. Spill it."

"Ah... well..." He scratches his head, laughing awkwardly. "They're having a high school reunion for the kids who were present in 2013 to 2014—not the graduates, everyone. I wanted to see if you wanted to come—"

"Would he be there?" I inquire, raising my eyebrows as I keep a straight face.

Yeonjun blinks, gulping as he raked back his raven-black hair. "Possibly—he's thinking about it, but he said it would depend on your answer."

"Then I'll think about it as well—but it'll probably be a hard pass from me."

"Well, he'd be going whether you're going or not," I knew the truth would slip out of his mouth eventually. Scumbag. "But don't worry, all of us except Kai will be there to ease the tension if you do decide to come."

"Kay'," I reply, staring at my hands. "Is that why you came out to take me to lunch? To tell me about the reunion when you could've just texted me as per usual?"

"Don't push it out of context, I still wanted to hang out with my favorite girl."

"Again, I'm the only girl you favor talking to," I warn, pointing my finger at him. "To be honest, you've changed too."

"Oh?" He laughs slightly, propping his chin on his hand. His elbow connects to the table, his face showing curiosity. "How did I change to you?"

"You're not... fuckboy-ish, anymore at least," I comment, causing him to frown as our milkshakes arrive. "You're more natural—almost like you've found your motto in life. It's a bit scary how fast you change. It's been around five years, but you look like you're doing well. You're even out of community college, majoring in medicine as I told you to."

"You should say the same for yourself, too, love," His comments don't change, though (sadly.) "You're more straightforward, more formal. You don't seem like the type to have people cross you anymore. Did my attempts to steal you from him help you?"

"Steal me, my ass," I don't even look at him, staring at the old, retro radio. "You made 2016 a bit better, but also worse. I guess I can give you the credit for being one of my favorite stages of grief."

"I wasn't that bad—stage of grief, my ass," He frowns, but soon after, he leans in. "Which stage would I have been?"

"Stage 3, Bargaining," I look him in the eye, his eyes immediately flickering lower. "When you negotiate with someone of a higher power that has some power over the situation—to make it all stop."

He knows what I was hinting at, the boy sighing softly as he looks away. "Again, didn't you like me during that time, right? That's why you offered me your services—not only for pity but for love."

"It's so obvious, but must we talk about it right now?" Yeonjun whines, sipping on his milkshake. "You just looked...helpless...being with him—so I thought it was out of pity. However, as we compromised and it looked more like you made a deal with the devil, I had fallen for you. It was wrong at the time, so I gave up the moment I felt overwhelmed by it."

"I see," I blink, staring at him. "Then, Yeonjun—what do you feel like now?"

"What do you mean?" He asks simply, fixing his gaze on someone passing by before he looks me in the eye.

"Do you like me now?" I ask, unamused. He stiffens, straightening up as he licks his lips. "...I knew it."

"You and I know you're not ready, so don't jump to conclusions," He warns, pointing at me. "I stopped liking you—until I saw you again on the curb crying. Besides that, I don't want you to give me chances out of pity nor because you think you're ready for relationships. I have years to wait for you, so don't feel pressured."

"I don't," I reply simply, giving him a chuckle. He raises his eyebrows, a grin growing on his face at my little emotion. "It'll be interesting to see how long it takes for you to get over me."

"I know that it'll be hard to wait, but you're the only girl I ever talk to anyways," He mocks me, nudging me. "I just hope that when you see him... nothing will flicker in your mind to go back to him."

I hope I don't switch sides either.

But I know that if I do see him, it'll just be for good.

I hope.