Neverland [one-shot]

ZERO.

I wonder where you are at…

Did God take you where you belong?

Did God take you to…

Neverland?

—

PART

The girl sat quietly in the large, cushioned benches outside the doctor’s office. She could hear her mother’s sobs and her father’s comforting words as she swung her short legs. Her legs were tired from sitting at the bench for so long. They were too short, so they didn’t touch the floor. Hanging and swinging like a pendulum, she waited for her parents to come out of the room.

As her mother broke into another chorus of cries and tears, Sae knew she would be waiting for a long time. But sooner than expected, her father came out the room with a mournful expression. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was something wrong. Sae popped off the chair and run to her daddy.

He gently embraced her as her mother hobbled out the office, guided by the doctor. Then with his strong arms, Mr. Lyu lifted Sae up and onto his broad shoulders. She giggled as her father tickled her sides. After squirming for a good while, Sae finally settled down.

“Mommy?” she asked quietly. “Are you okay?”

Mrs. Lyu looked up at her precious jewel. She felt the tears surging again as her daughter gazed down with large, crystal, innocent eyes. Lifting a handkerchief to her face, she dabbed her eyes to keep them dry. Then she smiled at her daughter. She motioned for her husband to bring her down.

Reluctantly, Mr. Lyu lifted his daughter off his shoulders. He placed her on the bench as Mrs. Lyu cupped her daughter’s hand in hers. She whispered in an attentive but agonizingly sad voice, “Honey, the doctors say you are sick. You might have to live in the hospital for a while.”

From afar, Mr. Johnson, their family doctor, the pediatrician of the town, shook his head. Another baby had fallen to the dangerous radio waves from the Hiroshima bombing. This case was more tragic than most, because the Lyu family had been forced to come by business reasons. There weren’t here for more than a month when their daughter was infected. It shouldn’t happen, figuratively but there are times when the God up there just works in strange ways.

What sadden him more was that this was the least of his problems. The biggest case was a boy named Peter. His traditional Japanese name was Yusu but he always wanted to be called Peter.

Peter was unique but he had no friends. They didn’t dare put him in a room with others because he was simply adored. He was such an adorable child that they were scared others would get attached to him. Johnson sighed as he opened the Lyu file once more.

Sae Lyu had leukemia – a common disease since the bombing. What Johnson regretted the most was that there was no more room in the hospital. If he could, he would have added a bed to another room but it was already crammed. With a regretful heart, he assigned Sae the same room number as Yusu.

Mrs. Lyu trembled as the car approached the hospital. Leukemia was not a genetic disease within the family. In fact, any type of cancer was nonexistent in the family genes. They were always a healthy group by she couldn’t help the thought that Sae would be the first to suffer.

Sae, on the other hand, had no idea what was in store for her. She was always an optimistic girl. Even though she hardly talked, her smiles and dimples made up for her voice. She watched the limousine pull up in front of the hospital. The doors unlocked as her chauffeur opened it for her. Mumbling a timid, ‘thank you,’ she then made her way to the front door.

706N

That was her room number. After many tears and kisses, Mrs. Lyu finally left the room. The only thing that dragged her out of the room was the constant reminder from her chauffeur that she had an important meeting with the CEO of Sony. Before tearing herself away from her daughter, she gave her one last wet kiss.

Sae looked around the room. It was empty but extremely clean. There was a strange blue hint to the place that made her feel calm and peaceful. According to the nice nurse, this was the nicest room in the hotel. Other rooms were painted a sickly, pale green. Sae smiled as she crawled onto her bed.

“Ow!” a voice muttered. “Get off me!”

Horrified, Sae quickly crawled off the bed. The nurses had neglected to tell her that she was sharing a room with someone. Sae shuffled herself to the corner of the room. She stood in the lonesome corner as the creature in the bed began to move.

The covers slowly came off to reveal a little boy, around her age. He had small eyes, a tall nose and firm lips. He glared at her with piercing, but sparkly eyes as he grinned. His dimples shouted greetings to her as he waved.

Shyly, she waved back. The boy threw the covers away as he jumped off the bed. For a moment, his knees buckled, almost completely giving way. But with a quick reflex, he grabbed onto the bed and steadied himself.

“Hi, my name is Peter!”

Sae stayed in her corner but looked at the cheerful boy. She muttered her name softly but the boy didn’t seem to hear. He slowly made his way towards her. Sae suddenly noticed how tall this boy was. For the age of eight, he was almost as taller than the grand piano that remained untouched in her mother’s recreation room.

“Sometimes the Japanese nurses call me Yusu, but I like Peter more.”

His mouth gaped open as Sae got a good look at his teeth. They were small and white, like the pearls around her mother’s neck. All of them were in place. Sae forgot about her shyness and pointed at the boy’s teeth.

“I lost some of mine,” she said. She grinned for him to see. One of her two front teeth was missing. “See?”

Peter laughed as he saw the gap. He rubbed his tongue over his tooth, trying to feel if it was lose. The doctors told him that he might not grow as fast as the other children. There were certain moments that made him distrust them, moments when he looked into the mirror and saw his abnormal height. Then there were moments that made him believe them, moments like these when he saw that his teeth were still intact.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

This time he got an answer.

“Sae.”

.

“Ah!!” Sae screamed as Peter chased her around the room. They were playing this game of hide and seek but there weren’t many places to hide in. It was either under the bed, in the closet or in the bathroom. After a while, they gave up and played tag. Her arms were flying in the air as Peter ran after her.

He had grown since the first time Sae had met him, that was a year ago. Taller and broader in most in ways, his shoulder had begun to widen and his face was becoming distinctly shaped. Peter’s blubbery cheeks had disappeared and become sunken in. It was a gradual process, so gradual that it took Sae a while to notice.

Peter finally caught her and swung her up in his arms. He could carry her now. He was strong enough to carry her on his back and run around for a good half n’ hour. These two kids were the only ones that the nurses allowed to run around in the park by themselves, partially because of Peter’s size and because they were the favorites of the hospital. Other kids began to hate them but they didn’t care. As long as Sae had Peter and Peter had Sae, they didn’t care.

—

“SAE!” Peter cried as the door opened. A nurse smiled weakly at Sae as she closed the door after Peter. With clobbering, clumsy feet, Peter ran towards Sae, who was sitting in her bed, reading a book.

She immediately dropped the book and gave Peter a hug. “What’s wrong Peter?” she whispered as the large boy buried his head in her lap. Even though he was too big for her bed, he liked to crawl in and share it with her. The bed constantly creaked underneath his weight but it remained stubborn and stood firm.

“They said they have to move me,” he muttered. Sae’s heart dropped. Move Peter? To where? He shook his head as the vibrations rang through her body. She felt her heart beat screaming along with his silent protests. “They said I have to go to another hospital. I don’t want to go.”

“Maybe it’s for the better?” she asked. She tried to be optimistic about it. After all, that was what her father taught her. Be happy, look on the bright side, every dark cloud has a silver lining. “Maybe you’ll get better in the other hospital.”

Peter’s head jerked up. He looked at her with teary, glossed eyes and stomped off to his own bed. Throwing the covers over his head, he yelled into his pillow. His voice had changed a lot as well as his physical build. It was slowly becoming lower as the days went by.

Sae made out a faint noise as Peter muttered.

“I don’t want to move. I wish I were an adult. I wish I could grow up. If I were a grown up, no one could tell me what to do.” His head peaked from the sanctuary of the covers. He stared at Sae intensely in the eyes. He held determination in his eyes as she stared back. “I’m going to grow up, then I can take us both away from this hospital and we will live happily ever after.”

Then he threw the covers back over and played through his temper tantrum. Sae stared at the bulk on the bed with sad eyes. She didn’t want him to move either. She didn’t want him to go at all.

But a few days later, they came and took him away.

—

Sae sighed as she looked out the window. Peter was taken away about a year ago and they never replaced his place. Not that she wanted a replacement. When they asked her if she wanted a roommate, she always refused. She wanted to keep this place empty for Peter, so when he came back, he would know what she was thinking.

I miss you Peter.

The door creaked open as an old nurse popped her head in.

“Sae?” she whispered in that crackly voice of hers.

Sae lifted a hand to show that she heard.

“There’s a new roommate for you.”

Sae pressed her cheek against the window, feeling the cool touch against her warm skin. It felt soothing. Then loud footsteps entered the room. Sae’s sense immediately perked. There was only one person who walked like this. Only one person she ever knew who clobbered into a room like he had just finished a twenty hundred mile marathon in five minutes. Daringly, she turned her head.

Peter.

There was her Peter, with the same cheeky grin but he was different. He was taller, broader, and stronger. And he definitely did not look like he was nine years old. This Peter fitted into clothing that her father wore to dinner banquets. He towered a good foot over her as Sae stared at him. His arms were open wide as he rushed forward to hug her.

“I told you I was going to grow up,” he said, linking her pinky with his.

They had a lot of fun times together. The nurses let them out more often because Peter was practically the size of a full-grown man. He carried Sae on his shoulders and gave her piggybacks rides wherever she wanted to go. Peter always stood tall and proud in front of Sae, as if to boast that whatever he said was magic.

But as time went by, Peter began to grow weaker and weaker. The doctors came in for more frequent checkups and soon began to take him away for days at a time. Sae could only watch as the treatments began to last over for weeks. She began to understand that there was something dreadfully wrong with Peter – and it had to do with his sudden growth.

Peter’s body kept growing. He had the body of a fifty year old but the mind of a ten year old. Even as they played in the park, they couldn’t get along well without people staring at them. After a while, they completely gave up the idea of going out. It didn’t matter though because Peter no longer had the energy to carry Sae. She was slowly growing as well.

“I wish I never made that decision,” he said tiredly, as the nurse left the room. “I wish I decided to grow up like a normal kid. I don’t want to grow up anymore.”

Sae didn’t say a word. She didn’t know what to say. With sad eyes, she watched her best friend disappear under the covers. She wanted to comfort him but there were no words for his situation. Sae wanted to reach out and give him a hug, for that’s what her father always did to her, but he was too large for her small self.

After that incident, Peter began to cheer up. As if a veil had been lifted, Peter began to beckon Sae to play with him again. Though his body couldn’t exercise too much, he spent as much time as he could with Sae. A year passed by quickly but changes were evident.

Peter’s body had shifted to that of a seventy year old man. Sae was the only one who didn’t fear him. She knew what he was like on the inside and that’s what she loved about him. As old as he looked, his appearance never stopped him from acting young. Every time she looked at him, her heart cried at the sight of his aging body. If only he hadn’t made that stupid wish…Miracles happen, but couldn’t they stop?

One day, Peter was gone. Sae rushed around the room, looking in the old hiding places. She looked under the bed, in the bathroom and even in the cramped closet. Peter was nowhere to be seen. Even when the nurse came in to take Sae to her weekly appointment, Peter didn’t come out.

Grief took Sae’s heart when the nurse shrugged at the mention of Peter’s name. She asked Dr. Johnson after her appointment but he shrugged as well. Peter should be in his room, he said. If not, then no one knew where Peter was.

Before going back to her room, Sae ran all over the hospital, looking for Peter. No one knew where he was. Even the children that once hated her gave her sorry looks as she rushed out of the room to look in the next. Finally, a nurse came and dragged Sae back to her room.

The room was dark. The curtains were pulled and the lights failed to turn on. Sae turned around to complain when she saw a flicker appear from the bathroom door. In front of her, stood Peter with a birthday cake in his hands. He sang a beautiful song for her in his raspy voice as he took careful steps. He trembled as he lowered the cake onto the top.

“Happy birthday, Sae.”

She smiled with teary eyes as she rushed forward to give her king a hug. He warmly embraced her as her whispered softly into her ear. Words that made her heart jump and cry at the same time. Word that she hadn’t heard from a long time, even from her parents. Words that were enough to make a girl buckle with joy.

“I love you.”

Three months later, Peter disappeared.

—

INFINITY.

It took me five years to find him again.

After my parents decided to move me to America where professional doctors could treat my leukemia. Two years of chemotherapy and a year of rehabilitation took away three years of my childhood. I played with other children but no one could capture my attention the way Peter did.

I graduated from UC Berkley with an outstanding GPA. I majored in biology and became a pediatrician with a PHD. I was hired to work in a hospital in Hiroshima with children who suffered from the after effects of the atomic bomb. The pay wasn’t much but what drew me there were the memories.

After working there for a year, I came across the old files of Dr. Johnson. I discovered various files on the children that I had encountered with when I was eight. Most of the diseases were types of cancer. Just when I was about to give up, a confidential file dropped out of the stack. Written neatly in print, in dark ballpoint ink, was the name I hadn’t heard in years.

Yusu, Peter.

Mother – Sayuri Toyota, deceased. Father – Kenneth Johnson, Head of the Hiroshima Children’s hospital.

Birth date – July 2, 1972

Weight – 30 kg.

Height – 4″5

Condition – Suffering from Progeria.

I quickly put away the files and slipped Peter’s with me. Running to my office, I rushed in and locked the door behind me. I sat at my computer as I researched this foreign word.

Progeria, other wise known as the Hutchinson-Gilford Progeria syndrome. More accuraltly known as the ‘alcelerrating aging’ disease. The Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome causes great physical changes over the years to the sufferers. This disease affects about one in four million newborn children. Most carriers of this disease die within ten to thirteen years of live. There is no known cure.

Did God take you where you belong?

Did God take you to…

Neverland?

little soul 1

chapter one. holden
part one

“we are all of us resigned to death. it’s life we aren’t resigned to.” – graham greene

“How do you know Hayley?”

I hardly recognized any of these people. They do not recognize me either. In fact, no one knows who I am until our mutual friend, Hayley’s best friend, introduces me to her immediate family and closer friends. No, they’ve never heard of me, but “Oh you’re Lena’s friend from university. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall Hayley ever mentioning you. Well, thank you for coming anyway…” That’s a telltale sign that says I don’t belong, that maybe the deceased means more to me than she should’ve. In my head, there are plenty of explanations. There’s a). we only knew each other for a brief amount of time along with b). that we already had mutual friends that knew everything and c). just because she didn’t talk about me didn’t meant that I didn’t matter – and letter list continues to z until we repeat again by naming reasons alphabetically.

From the fresh whitewashed walls to the polished wood of the church pews, I know this place is too top-notch and clean. I can see Hayley digging her fingernails into the wall just for the sake of making an ugly scar. Then there’s the reception of faux acceptance. She would’ve hated it. Fake smiles and numerous amounts of people made the room feel as if we were in a congested tunnel. Social pollution collects like pollen on wool, but understandably, this funeral isn’t for her. It’s for the rest of the world to have closer from her departure. It’s for me. For her father in front of me. For her teachers behind me. For the empty seat beside me. If Hayley Tangles really held an iron fist in directing her funeral, her ashes would be composed of not just blood and bones but every single document and photograph of her existence. She would wish to die the same way she spent her birthdays, and perhaps disappear like the way things decay. Slowly, slowly, slowly… until you don’t remember what used to be there and until you don’t remember at all.

I yelled through the phone.

“Happy Birthday Hayley!!”

“Sh!” she hushed in an urgent tone.

“Oh…sorry?”

“I want today to be the most boring, average day of my life.”

I hesitated. Then flirted. “Then how should I celebrate the day an awesome person was born?” Well, the attempt to flirt was charming.

At least, she found it so. She giggled and I imagined her hand over her mouth as her voice returned muffled over the receiver.

“If I’m not awesome, then just appreciate me everyday. I can’t be here forever you know.”

I realize that now.

“How much did you love her?”

I look up to see Finn Matthews to my left, staring at the empty seat next to me. This is – was – her best friend, on of the only companions that could ever understand her twisted mind. Compared to him, I probably wasn’t even ranked second best. Despite his asymmetrical head and slumped composure, he had the aura of a Novel Prize winner. His intelligence exceeded his Quasimodo sweetheart appearance. Finn grew on you the way a gifted flower looks prettier and prettier every day you see it. I remember her saying that he grows into something wonderful whenever he smiles. “The world is brighter when he smiles.”

I glance quickly in his direction. He isn’t smiling and the sky is dark.

He sits down next to me, a block of black and white, disrupting my peripheral view. “Do you think you ever really loved her enough to stop and wonder why she was so destructive?” I look at his ashy hands fidget with themselves. His tone is accusing. I feel like I’m bleeding into the maroon cushioned pews while he continues monotonously. “At times, did you ever think that maybe her insanity wasn’t an act?”

“I – ” can only stutter, finding no words as he looks straight into my eyes. Then it dawns on me. Of course you fool! I realize he isn’t asking me. He’s asking himself. This is Finn Matthews, the best friend, the one who knows or thought he knew everything there was to ever know about Hayley Tangles. At least, she made sure that he knew every breath she took. The guilty weight of knowledge must rest on his shoulders – and even if I love her, there is that chance that I don’t matter.

“She asked me once if I thought she was insane.”

“…”

His black suit is a shade darker than mine, as if he was mourning harder than I was. The neatly pressed and ironed cloth looked sharp and slick compared to the wrinkled, oversized shoulders that covered my body. Without looking at me once, Finn continued to speak, almost ignoring my presence. This was a church, and I have become the confessional.

“I told her that I thought she was okay. Should I have told her that she needed help? I didn’t want her to get help because becoming normal is exactly what dilutes us. Hayley is the most concentrated special in a soul I’ve ever met.”

“I know. Me too.”

He laughs. “She was crazy, that bitch. Mentally disturbed. That’s what I told my girlfriend every time Hayley came to me with one of her stories.” In that bizarre relationship of mutual acceptance, Finn and Cassie seemed to share the one thing Hayley envied. They had the only type of beauty she was too scared to destroy.

She has a habit of letting her short legs swing over anything that allows her legs to move freely as if they were swimming. “Don’t tell her I said this because she’s my best friend, but you know I have to be honest. As cute as they are together, they never seem to be together when the reality knocks on their door. Nobody likes a hidden relationship, even if its the first honest one in our circle. That’s enough dirt on such a snowy love.”

We turn at the exact moment, looking straight into each other. He holds my eyes for a long time and we understand perfectly everything that wasn’t said. He loves her. I love her. We all love her so much that the plastic figure in the casket can only be a copy of the true relic.

She had told him she loved him and at some point, “Everyone said I was too good for her,” he explains. He shrugs casually and leans into the pew as if it had to eat him up and become his coffin. Silently, he rested his head, never asking me another question when I wanted to ask him everything. There was so much more to Hayley that I didn’t understand, that I didn’t see – and the one that mattered the most seemed to accept the fact hat she was gone. Finn sat in the silence vacuum, sucked into another dimension of his mind where he could see her again. His face is straight-laced with longing and sorrow, like the salt crusted along a martini glass. It’s sweet that he truly cares for her. It’s cruel that he has to sit next to a stranger in order to grieve properly.

Here I am, a boy that only knew her for the last two months of her life, but the overwhelming burden I feel amounts to the way Finn does. It’s only right that I can mourn for her with the one who knew her the best.

She could really turn your world inside out, that Hayley. Upside down, black and white, in just short amounts of time, she made sure you saw the world through a kaleidoscope instead of the looking glass.

I watch the black and white mannequins move across the room. Greetings, consolidating and smiling tightly, they glide aground the marble floor like ballerinas in a music box. Everyone moves with slow purpose as if talking was the glue on a band-aid that sealed the wound so it could heal. I forget how long this funeral is supposed to last but I figure I can stay until the end. After all, this is the last time I would ever be with her, even if it is figuratively.

Someone stands behind us, a girl in a soft black, and clears her throat. Oh. Cassie, Finn’s condescending and slightly stuck up girlfriend, so I hear. She’s the complete opposite of Finn and thus logically a counterpart to his soul. Well, if you believe that soul mates exist, then they are the worlds most perfect match. They are just school-mates pulled together by the idea that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Even in this wake, Cassie holds the impression that no one can be as heartbroken as she is – that perhaps she knew something we all don’t. My lips crack at the idea that Cassie’s death is the only way to make her the greater tragedy.

Only Hayley would say something like that – only she would have found death upon death more amusing. Oh God, I miss her.

“Hello Holden,” she greets stiffly, “Hayley would have loved knowing that you came.”

Do you mean that she didn’t expect me to show up? I force a smile on my face and nodded in acknowledgment. “She would have wanted me to, wouldn’t she?”

“Well,” Cassie begins in her 4.00 GPA tone, “you hardly knew – ” She stops with a cough, choking on her own words. I see Finn nudging her in the ribcage and she quietly calms down, looking away from me. Actions do speak louder than words, and I could finally see how Hayley saw them. As long as Finn had the patience, and Cassie had the loyalty, they could be forever together.

The metaphor hit me as Finn stood up and avoided Cassie’s searching hand. Her desperation for comfort in the presence of her dead friend seemed contrived. Not right now, his eyes seemed to say as Cassie tried to hide the pain of her rejection. Kaleidoscope. Hayley’s view of the world was like looking through the lens of a kaleidoscope. Shattering, splicing and changing the world until beauty was not in the simple but in the breaking of the normal. She would have found Finn’s rejection tragically … wonderful. Am I right?

“If you’ll excuse me,” I mumble, “I need to look for Lena.” I didn’t wait for Cassie or Finn to reply but I heard their voices behind me. They made no attempt to cover up their conversation.

“How does he know Hayley?” Finn asks.

Cassie spoke loudly, using a persuasive tone in her voice even though it wasn’t important. “Remember Lena’s friends from university? Holden is the one that asked Hayley out even before they met. We visited them before in May… before Hayley left. You know.”

“Oh. Him”

Yes. I asked her out even before I knew her.

I hear Lena speaking, “So we have this homecoming dance every week and I need to get a pair of heels,” to her computer. While she remains absorbed in her conversation with her friends, I sneak behind her and listen to her conversation.

“Oh, so Lena are you going to have a date?”

The voice was soft and light, almost way I imagined a fairy’s to be.

Before Lena could answer, I yell in her ear for a her friend to hear. “Want to go to the dance with me!” It was more of a statement than a question, but just like that, I met Hayley Tangles. Yes, I asked her out even before I saw her face, but when I did put an image to that voice, I think I liked her even more. She may have been mildly disappointed with mine though.

little soul prologue

after. a/beautiful/mess

“the goal of all life is death.” – sigmund freud

At the age of nineteen, Hayley Tangles died from drowning.

…or maybe it was electrocution, excessive bleeding, carbon poisoning, strangulation or drug overdose. The autopsy never revealed this mystery about her. It was as if all the incidents happened at once, and in the end everything happened exactly the way she wanted it to. To her, a suicide is composed of two mysteries: how and why. People only deserved the right to understand one composition of the issue. You can guess that she burned charcoal, took over thirty bottles of sleeping pills and slit her wrists before plunging herself into a deep tub, but the fact of the matter is that everything happened at once. So while she knew why she was dying, you know she figured along the way that she didn’t want to know how. Now the world knows how she went but no one understands why.

When you’re with her, her mouth runs off like she’s racking up miles on a race car. She talks, smiles, laughs and gets you to join her in her stories but when it comes down to it, you realize she’s told you nothing at all. The story of how she’s scared of riding bicycles because she drove hers into a river doesn’t say anything other than a good laugh but … didn’t she tell you that she’s too prideful to show people that she can fall?

Under that façade, the skeleton was cracking, the soul was bleeding and it was all a beautiful mess.

 

little soul: chapter one

Half Moon Bay

Click here to start from the beginning

Half Moon Bay 3

Chapter 3. Maiden in the Tower

I twist her black tendrils around my finger. This is the fifth time we’ve been together over the course of several weeks. Her hair slides off my finger despite how many times it is wrapped around. I remember asking her what she used to wash her hair, and she replied, “Water. Why?” I didn’t know the absence shampoo could be so beautifully effective on hair. This is the fifth hour I’ve stayed since we’ve slept together. Been together? Had sex? I don’t know what to term to coin the relationship we have together. Fuck?

I remember the first night when I kissed her so suddenly. She wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t experienced. She didn’t cry out for me to go harder, faster or anything sort of movement at all. I found myself aggressively attacking every inch of skin so that she would make a noise. Any noise. But I was still gentle as if I were treating an endangered butterfly. The moment never asked for urgency or desperation. I moved slowly, feeling, savouring as if the taste needed to be kept forever in my mouth. If I never stopped, it would never need to end. She created a sigh, a moan, a giggle and another sigh like a orchestrated melody meant to soothe the heart. When we finished, her voice was a soft mewl of content. Her eyes glossed over with words, “I’m happy.”

No scream. No cry.

Just slow release as if prolonging love through time.

I stroke the back of her hair gently while remembering our first time. She’s sleeping in my arms, exhausted after all the energy I made her exert. Her face tickles deep into my neck. And I realize, five times too late, that I’m doing something I never do. That I’m caught up in something I never have been before.

I’m holding her.

After sex.

A tragic meeting between Romeo and Juliet, our schedule has always revolved around Hyo. According to Kyon, he used to never leave her alone, but during the past three weeks, he only came back early four out of the seven nights. “I think it’s a girl,” she said as she traced my chest with her hands. She never looks at me directly when she speaks about Hyo. When I ask why he has the guts to leave her alone when there’s a serial killer, she looks away. So guiltily. Swallowing. I have to ask.

“Is Hyo the Heartbreaker?”

“Oh god, no!” Kyon replies quickly. She turns to look at me, her face contorting with anger that I dare suggest such a thing. Her hands push against my chest and she slides to the side of the bed, lying flat on her back. I rest on my side with my head against my propped arm and watch her. Her eyes are closed; her features smoothening out. “He’s just in love with me. A bit.”

I balk. Only the idea of being near her keeps me from retreating with disgust. “He’s your brother!”

“Not blood related. We’re second or third cousins, so there’s hardly any blood relation.”

There is a soft hum in my ears that retaliates against the deathly quiet. I continue looking at Kyon who slowly becomes aware that I’m still stuck on the fact that Hyo Lee loves her. The bed is sinking underneath me and I can smell us in the air. I’m slipping to be engulfed. She opens her eyes, turns so that she’s resting on her side, and smiles. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it,” she says, as if I were the female in the relationship.

My ego is bruised.

I smile slowly, knowing how my body is lounged like a regal cat. We are exposed. I know it, and I watch her expression change as she slowly becomes aware of it. I am never as vulnerable as she is when we’re naked. She moves too slow for my hungry arm that consumes her waist. Her tiny body lies in the crook of my arm while I wait for her to look up at me. It takes an eternity but my heart is breaking into smiles as she does. I’m holding the most beautiful thing in my arms.

It only takes a kiss to tell her who is in charge. I punish her, albeit it was more like a reward for her cheekiness, with a slow kiss where she can feel me smile. Where she can feel how happy she makes me. We’re just kissing. No urgency, no communication of desire. Just a stall in time.

When I pull back, I ask her more about Hyo.

“Does he still love you then?”

Kyon puts her head on my shoulder. “I don’t think so. He’s been going out a lot recently. Late at night too. It started when he came home and told me that some girl asked to photograph him for a men’s magazine. Now he’s going out at least two times a week to see her. I think he likes her.”

“Good. I don’t want to share you.”

She just smiles and turns so that her face is hidden. “We’ve only been together for a short time,” I hear her say softly. I feel her breath speak to me through my skin. “With your reputation, you might not want me by the end of this month.”

“Girl, I’ve been with you for three weeks already. This isn’t counting the previous three weeks that I’ve been wanting you. Six weeks, that’s like two months,” I calculate with teasing sincerity. “With my reputation, if this gets out, I’ll be ruined!”

Kyon laughs musically. Her whole body shakes and I love the feeling of it against me.

“Then what’s the longest you’ve ever been with a girl?”

I think about this very clearly. There are two answers in my head. Six months is the first one that comes into mind. Six months with my high school girlfriend. I broke up with her when we hit our six months because I knew if we went beyond that, then we would have to get serious. And I didn’t want that. From then one, my relationships had a time limit. Maximum: four months. And there was no minimum … are you kidding me? The second answer makes me go quiet, even though I’m not speaking. Four to five years.

With Sarah.

“Six months,” I say. “You?”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

Kyon shakes her head and repeats herself. “Boys liked me. I dated them. I just didn’t date them long enough.” I’m staring at the top of her head, looking at the swirls in her hair. It’s unbelievable that this beauty got away from the wolves only to fall into my hands. Something dawns in my mind.

“Kyon?”

“Hm?”

I hesitate for a second, remembering the first night we were together. “Was I your first?”

Her body is heating up. We’re skin to skin, next to each other. It’s not hard for me to notice every move she makes. Regardless, I’m watching her movements. How could I have missed the fact that I was her first? She didn’t have her hymen, the tissue barrier, nor did she cry or complain when I entered her. Her actions, sure not the best or exactly ideally responsive, told me that at least she encountered some form of sexual interaction before.

“Yes.”

Completely life changing. I freeze and remain solid.

She grips the bed sheet and whimpers into my chest. “Does that change things? Do you not want me anymore because of that?”

I close my eyes and think about her breath on my beating heart. I swear I’m ready to lie to her but something churns in my mind. I hear clicks outside the apartment, and almost believe that my brain is rearranging its train of thought. I don’t say a word, but all I can do is think about how differently things could be if I found the one I wanted. Suddenly I know what people are talking about when they speak like idiots.

Is this possible?

My heart is speaking.

***

Unfortunately Kyon slipped a letter underneath my door this morning and told me that Hyo was going to be home. So I order Chinese take-out and stop by Blockbuster before I go home. Broccoli beef is simmering in the seat next to me with a side order of spring rolls. My stomach growls, ready to eat itself inside out, and I hit the acceleration pedal harder just to save five minutes of my time. I run back to my house and crudely shove the keys into the door so that I can drop the things on the coffee table. In light of recent events, I got the movie Pathology with Milo Ventimilgia and Se7en with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. I’ve seen the second one and heard crap reviews about the first one. Ah, well, such is the life of a bachelor when there’s no one around. My mind rumbles as I start the movie.

I think about Sarah too.

It’s been a month since the last time I’ve seen her. I’m waiting for her to text, call, instant message but she hasn’t done either of those things. Hell, I’ve even gone onto Facebook just to see if she wrote on my wall, but when I tried to look at her wall, Facebook told me that she’s deactivated her account. I wonder how she’s doing. I know she’s alive because she still talks to Leon. At least she’s alive.

Just as I replace the Pathology movie with Se7en, my cell-phone rings. The lingering smell of food simmers in the air. A battle between rationality: laziness tries to over take duty. A battle between sense: smell tries to fight hearing. God, my stomach is talking to me again. I ignore the phone call. I press play and sit back in my seat as the film begins. I dig through my dismembered rice, taking a bite before my phone rings again. I complain to myself as I lean over to pick up the phone.

“Come to the hospital right now.”

It’s Dr. Vickers. His voice leaves no room for questions as he hangs up on me without waiting for my reply. I’m ready to scream when I hear the dead busy tone. Shoving food into my mouth, I temporarily satisfy my poor stomach. It doesn’t taste as good as it could’ve been. Then I take the box of white rice and empty half of it into the box with broccoli and beef. It takes me five minutes to reach my car, with a box of Chinese food in hand. I better not get pulled over today. I’m going to fucking eat and drive.

It takes me about fifteen minutes to reach the hospital. I look at the night sky. It’s littered with stars like a sheet of glittering wrapping paper. Between a wash of translucent clouds, there’s a full moon glowing. It doesn’t mean anything to me. Sarah loves the night though. I eat as I drive down the street. Oh shit, I realize as I remember Dr. Vickers’ phone call. I turn on the radio just in time to hear the news report.

“The Heartbreaker has struck again. This is the fifth victim. Her body was found behind Club Eight Seven this morning. Police suspect the body has been there for at least two days. Like the previous four victims, her heart has been very precisely cut out. The victim’s name is Andrea Martinson; she’s five foot seven with green eyes and brown hair. If you know anything about her please contact the Los Angeles Police Department.”

Fuck.

There the Heartbreaker goes again, on his killing spree.

There the media goes again, dehumanizing the one who’s dead. Dying by a killer is evidentially no glorious matter. Your body, instead of being returned to your parents, is shipped to the forensics lab. You’re cut, drowned, filled, sewn and left for several days before perfected once more so that your parents, or whoever still loves you, gets you back as if you’ve never been touched. But there are still signs. Like the puncture hole in the back of the head… the stitches that are covered up by the clothes … there’s that telltale sign of the eyelids sewn shut. Someone has tampered with the body. It’s no longer yours.

So, I want do die fucking naked. Or I can settle for cremated and have my friends scattered my ashes in every single illegal spot in the world.

By the time I reach the hospital, there’s an ambulance, two police cars and news reporters waiting outside. This can’t be a good sign. I drive past them towards the garage, but there are police present as well. I brake softly while they start heading over to grab my i.d cards from the glove compartment. They reach here, I give them what they need, and with a “Thank you officers,” I’m off to see how the last person died.

Dr. Vickers is already examining the body. We have no idea what weapon this guy uses. It’s something we never seen before. To use the word “cut” might actually be a misnomer. I grimace for a second when I see her lying on the table. Left breast missing, slender body, long brown hair the colour of a sparrow’s feathers, she’s the kind of a girl I normally sleep with. Take a breath there, I stop myself, give some respect to the dead. And I do respect her, it’s just hard not to think these thoughts.

“Come here,” Dr. Vickers says without ever looking up. “Come here and look at these cuts. It’s either a very sharp and heavy blade on fire or there’s something that can just melt the flesh away. Look at the arteries and veins. If they were cut they should split in half right?” He’s not waiting for me to answer. “Why didn’t we notice this before? Or he simply just changing his method? These wounds are sealed, but not burned, it’s like he glued them together. Quick, get me the photographs of the other bodies.”

I grab them off the table and hand them to him. He’s looking through them carefully, frowning. I stand next to him. He hates people peering over his shoulder. I’ve done it once and he reprimanded me very carefully as if I were three years old and still picking my nose. Now I know that he’ll lean over and talk with me after he’s done processing his own thoughts.

“How did we miss this? He’s slopped up on this body, fellas. The previous four were carefully done. The wounds were sealed off so blood wouldn’t come pouring out of them. The heart is like a puzzle piece. So we’re not just looking at some master blade wielder. He’s an artist!” Dr. Vickers turns to me and hands the papers. “Come, tell me what medium this is. He’s not sewing or burning them shut.”

“Glue?” I propose.

He picks at it softly. With scissors, he snips off the end of an artery and seals it in a plastic bag. “Take this to the lab and tell them to look for any identifiable material.”

“Should we tell the police?”

“Not yet.” He sighs and zips up the body. He pulls off his latex gloves. They go into the trash while he washes his hands. “We’re going to tell them that this is still the work of the Heartbreaker. It’s a work not as fine as the others. So someone must have interrupted him. Someone saw him. We’ll tell the police that, but for now, we don’t even know how he really kills anymore.”

I bite my lip.

We never knew much from him to begin with. The only hope there is of him stopping is that he gets tired of killing. That’s the way it was with Jack the Ripper. Maybe this is his ghost reincarnated.

***

I throw rocks at her window. I’m sure one day it’ll shatter, but for now I throw pebbles to get her attention. The light turns on and I see her silhouette. It’s graceful like the mould of a ballerina. She opens her curtains, then her windows, removing barriers one by one until it’s only air and distance. Kyon’s lips part into a blossoming smile as she leans out the window like Juliet. She is the sun that chases away the moon.

“Oh Juliet,” I cry with honeyed sarcasm, “Oh Juliet.”

She laughs with a voice that chases away any song. “Come on up. Hyo’s not here.”

And so I run after her. For her. It’s so simple.

The door is already open, like always as I walk into the house. She greets me with a hug, kiss, smile, jump and I hold her up so that she doesn’t fall. Her legs wrap around me. I’m like a tree. She’s my branches. I think if this works, we’ll grow together and touch the sky. I bring us over to the couch and sit down. She sits between my legs and I put my arms around her. She smells sweet. Taste salty, I think when I nip her neck.

We’re working at it again as if we could never have enough. I’ve been counting the days we spent apart. It’s so much longer than the times we spend together. When I’m not working, I spend my time doing math calculations. Perhaps for every day not spent with her, it relates to every hour I do. Perhaps it’s a ratio related to this forbidden relationship. Reward and punishment. Of course, the reward is so much shorter than the punishment. We’re making our way to the couch because the bedroom is too far away.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. Knockknockknockknockknock!!

“Kyon, open the door!”

It’s fairly obvious whom the voice belongs to. I’m halfway between her dress and her skin. My fingertips brush against her smooth and flat stomach, reaching down to where her legs connect. I’m trying my best to ignore the urgent sounds her brother is making, but she’s fully aware. Her hands are holding mine, stopping me from touching her any further. I groan and bury my head in her neck while she whispers sorry over and over again.

Hyo is yelling this time. His knocking is like a hammer to my head. Kyon slowly moves up, despite the frustration channelling from both sides of the house. She glides as if the floor is made of liquid, and she’s the wind rippling it. I button the pants she’s worked halfway through and sit tensely on the couch. There is no sexual tension in the room, I tell myself, I’m not hard and ready to drag her into the bedroom. Thinking like that does me no good. I think of fat people and wrinkly skin. Almost immediately the hard-on subsides…

Fuck.

“I refuse — ”

“Sh,” Kyon hisses. “JungWoo is here.”

I hear him even before he speaks. His footsteps are as obnoxious as his sister’s, loud, clambering – I smirk as soon as I see him. This is why I carry your sister to the bedroom instead of letting her lead the way, I taunt, even though he can’t hear me. The expression on his face is wonderful. Just the fact that I’m here causes the shadows to grow in patterns around his face. The anger, the wrinkling of his brow, creases his flawless skin until its a mask of imperfection.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

I wave my hand in front of his face. “Don’t speak to me as if I’m four. I understand you fine without that staccato.” I stand up, pretending as if I had no intention of staying for longer. Without facing Hyo, I manoeuvre across the room to stand beside Kyon. “I’m just visiting Kyon. You should be careful. There’s a serial killer out there you know.”

“I know. Kyon’s safe in the house.”

“You never know.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth as the words slid out of the jail they were in. “She’s safe as long as I’m here.”

Hah. “Well, where were you tonight?”

“My girlfriend’s.”

“And what if your girlfriend asked you to stay the night?”

“Then I would,” he mutters. His features lighten a little at the mention of his girl.

I cross my arms. “You see. Then what would happen to Kyon? You’re lucky I’m here as a neighbour. There’s no telling what would happen to her if no one was watching over her.” I don’t wait for him to reply. His caveman answers don’t interest him. How does he get along with his girlfriend anyhow? For someone who appears rather charming at first glance, but doesn’t talk much, can’t be that great of a lover. I turn around and slip my shoes on. While Hyo is focusing on me, I stand in front of Kyon so that he can’t see me touching her. I caress her hand for a bit before regrettably letting go.

“Good luck with that girlfriend,” I say while I turn around to look straight into Kyon’s eyes.

“Well you should know how it goes. She’s your friend.”

I freeze as if Kyon’s holding my gaze. But Sarah is on my mind. Slowly, I turn around, knowing the expression on my face is hideous. “You. Are. Dating. Sarah?” I choke, couch and splutter but the words still come out. I’m afraid of the answer.

“Don’t talk to me as if I’m five,” he jeers. His lips are twisted into a sick, sick smile. He brushes his hair back from his face and I can see there is blue nail polish on the side of his hand. Sarah wears a pastel blue nail polish. It’s pale, light and soft as if it was plucked from the colours of sky. It’s still wet. I want to call him a fag. Did he put it on for her? I’ve never done that before.

“And yes,” he confirms, breaking me from the panting nightmare I am in, “I’m dating her. What’s it to you? You didn’t see what was right in front of you.”

“You’re not to touch her!” I yell, startling Kyon. I see her body jump from the corner of my eye, but soon that all fades to red. I’m seeing green, red. Envy and Anger. It’s fucking Christmas. I stalk towards him. I know Sarah. She’ll fall for him because she falls for guys who are sickeningly sweet to her at first. Then she’ll be irrevocably in love with them until she sees someone new. He’s going to hurt her. I know it. “You’re not going to be any good for her!”

He snarls. “Hah, and you are? Who are you to her? No wait, that’s not the right question. It’s: Who is she to you? When nobody wants her, neither do you? Now she wants someone else and you have to keep her to yourself?” Hyo stands tall, looming over me. He’s much taller than I am. Much, much taller. I can see Sarah hiding behind him even though she’s not there.

I feel Kyon touching my arm, but I yank away from her grip. I walk to Hyo, trying my best to match his size. That’s right, I think as he tries to glare me down. I might be shorter than you. I might not hold as much charisma, but I never slack on working out. I’m not afraid. “I’m keeping her until she finds someone better, and Hyori Lee, you’re not much better than I am. If you can ditch your sister for a girl, you’re not better than I am.”

“If you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be saying that.” He perks my curiosity, because – what is the truth? I turn my head to look at Kyon. Her eyes have become darker than usual. I noticed that whenever she started to feel strongly, her eyes always darkened. Or maybe her pupils get bigger. I’m not too sure, but I did learn that the pupil dilates in a time of arousal. She’s not aroused though.

He takes a step towards me, forcing me to back up.

“Who are you to judge? You left Sarah alone since she confessed to you. You left her to me. And where have you been since then? Three weeks. She spent two of those weeks waiting by her phone, but you never called. Maybe we are the same, JungWoo Kang. You just realized too late what you had.”

I could start a fight right here and now. I could take this skinny anorexic fool down if I wanted to. It doesn’t make a difference that’s he’s bordering six two and I’m only five nine. A rock can destroy a weedy tree. I clench my fist. My chest is rising up and down, up and down, caging my pounding heart. Three weeks, you fool, I think. Three weeks and you completely forget about her. She comes into my head like a radio song on repeat that I never bothered to look up. Part of Hyo’s smile makes me want to pummel him to the ground, the other half reminds me of exactly how incompetent I am.

In blind rage, I rush towards him.

And I hear a sharp yell.

“STOP!”

You can’t even imagine how the voice sounded. Half pained, cracking in the midst like dusk approaching a morning too early. I can hear tears, joys, wishes and the could-have-been’s in that voice. It’s Sarah’s voice, breaking over a bridge that I destroyed.

Hyo walks past me. He doesn’t bend to whisper in my ear, but I hear it anyway.

“This is how I am better.”

He’s taken her with him.

Completely.

She’s holding his hand.

Consumed.

And she’s looking at me as if I’ve been just placed right outside her heart. I’m knocking but the sign says: No vacancy. The letters are large and bright like her eyes. She’s standing by Hyo’s side and there is Kyon standing behind me. Kyon touches my arm, and I nearly flinch until I see that it’s just her. I know she’s trying to comfort me, but can’t you see? My mind is in shambles right now. Everything I’ve known has just fallen apart. My world is collapsing and I need time to put it back together. Fucking isn’t going to get me anywhere, no matter how good it feels.

“I just need some air,” I say and walk out the door without looking back.

There are footsteps behind me. I know they don’t belong to Kyon or Hyo. They’re soft and gentle like a ghost’s steps. Only Sarah walks so softly. She treads as if there are babies lying all over the room, napping sensitively with their sweet dreams. Before I reach my door, she’s touching my shoulder. I can feel her breath all over me. She ran. So quietly to catch up with me.

“I never thought I would see you fight.”

Her arms are crossed. There’s nothing different about her. Maybe she looks prettier than the last time I saw her. I’m altogether not too sure. Her bangs are flat against her head before coming down in long controlled waves. They used to just look like limp wrinkles on a t-shirt. I start to think that she’s a liar. If she did hold an interest in me, then why did she dress like such a slob at times? I become tempted to ask whether or not she wore those blue tights for him, but this isn’t a time for jokes.

I used to tell her everything. From the fighting that I did for fun to the fights that I had for real. She saw the bruises, the cuts and the dried dusty brown blood, but never once had she seen me in action. In all technicality, I hadn’t fought Hyo yet, but in Sarah’s eyes it was all the same. Did she think of me any different or am I still the same to her? I can’t be all too sure anymore.

She’s not the same.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

I walk away as if those were the best ending lines to a story. It doesn’t take a camera or some special effect for me to understand that the distance between us was more than metaphorical. For a moment, I remember my roommate’s girlfriend back in college. She used to tell me to treasure Sarah. “She’s going to leave you before you know it.” I laughed it off then. I thought nothing would ever change. But. I need a fucking beer. My fridge is empty and I remember that Sarah trashed all my drinks a month ago. I never got around to going to the grocery store because I could always order takeout.

“You don’t understand. So much of your relationship is based on how she treats you. Then there’s going to be that one day where she finds someone else special, and she can no longer treat you the same. Don’t you understand? …don’t you get it?”

I lie on my bed and reach out, remembering that one night Sarah and I shared a bed. She was in her day’s clothes while I wore my wife-beater and pajamas. I couldn’t sleep. Every time she fucking moved I felt the world echo with her breathing. I wanted to smash the damn heater because she cuddled with it. Then in the middle of the night, I felt her move towards me. Her small soft hand gently resting on my shoulder. Her skin against mine. All I wanted to do was turn to my side and put my arm around her. I wanted to hold her, but not have sex.

I didn’t sleep the whole night. It wasn’t until seven in the morning I realised how insane this was. I couldn’t hold it any longer. It felt as if I was holding my breath until my chest would combust. So I turned to my side and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her up towards my chest. Her breathing became the rhythm, metronome, my heartbeat as I tried to breathe with her. When she moved, I leaned forward and nuzzled against her. My face against her soft and fragrant hair. And finally… I must have fell asleep.

In the morning, she was gone.

Half Moon Bay 2

Chapter 2. The Tin Man & His Heart

“My brother had threaten to kill your girlfriend with his chopping knife before she would leave.”

My keys nearly hit the ground, but I caught it before that happened and all that was heard was a jingle. It only takes a second to regain my composure before I smile. She’s standing there, in a light blue dress this time, as if to mock me and say, ‘Hey, even if I bleed now, you can’t tell.’ I’m not fooled that easily. I hesitate before I step closer to her, looking around and listening for any sign of her brother.

“Brother?” I ask much more happily this time. “I thought that boy was your lover.”

Her arms are crossed and she’s leaning her head against the door frame, treating it as a pillow. Strands of her black hair lie all over her shoulders. She’s like a willow near a lake, a perfect picture. I can’t stop watching her. She looks nothing like the girls I fuck. So innocent and small. And her blood is blue. It’s fucking blue. No, it’s prettier than blue. Damn my limited vocabulary. Blue is blue, but Kyon’s blood is just a new word on its own.

I can’t get that picture out of my head. She moves like a photograph, twenty four frames per second as her mouth shapes her next words.

She frowns. “No. He always acts like that. He’s my brother.”

“So I take it you’re single then?”

“What do you mean?”

Oh god. “As in you don’t have a boyfriend, a lover. You’re unattached,” I define with each step. And with each new step, I make sure I get closer to her. Close enough to be at the distance I want to be.

“No,” her voice doesn’t confirm or deny. She continues speaking about her brother while looking at her feet. I’m still here, I think. Look at me, I try to will. Her mouth keeps moving, and her eyes continue darting. “He only acts like that to keep guys away. He’s protective like that.”

“He’s not doing a very good job of keeping me away.”

Her eyes shine. They almost twinkle and I feel my knees buckle. She gives a half smile that makes me want to chase for the rest of it. “Maybe you’re just hard to keep away.” She brushes some hair out of her face and steps forward, closing the door behind her. I don’t mean to smell her, but I do. She smells like the ocean, another form of blue… “Aren’t you going to invite me into your home?” Her voice is strong and forward.

Hell.

Where did she come from?

“Why don’t you follow me then?”

She lowers her head to hide her smile. I see it anyway, the globes of her cheeks flush pink and reveal her charming secret. I walk ahead with long strides. While I pretend that I don’t care if she’s following me, I open the door quickly and walk in without looking back. Besides, I can hear her from a mile away. Despite the fact that she looks as delicate as a flower, she walks like a troll.

“Close the door.”

When Kyon turns around to get a good look at my apartment, she starts laughing. My apartment is not made to make women stay for long. The only person that can stand it is Sarah, and that’s because she ends up cleaning it whenever she’s here. It stays clean for about a week and then I invite her to my house again about a month’s time.

My Pound Cake is lovely.

She does my laundry.

I do thank her.

The floor plan alone, not including the rooms, is in the shape of a T. It’s a small square apartment that has a very tiny rectangular hallway which splits towards three doors. One room is a small cramped space that I had remodelled into a closet. Across is the bathroom, which is almost as tiny and inconvenient as the closet, but big enough for someone to spread their arms and turn three-sixty. In between those rooms is my bedroom. When it’s pre-Sarah, my home is the rest stop for Hurricane Katrina and Gustav when they’re not out destroying the world.

I pretend that it’s perfectly normal as Kyon gingerly walks around.

“This place is filthy. Do you ever clean up?”

“No. At least, I don’t.”

“So you have a maid then.”

I laugh, knowing Sarah would cringe. “No, but are you offering?”

Her voice is velvet, made for attention when she laughs. I want to slip in and out of consciousness. Instead, I hold my ground and walk into the kitchen. I hear her behind me and then next to me. Kyon stands beside me as I open the fridge. “Orange juice, cranberry juice, milk or water?” I offer. She asks for water and I take the pitcher of filtered water. I offer the cup to her and she thanks me. I get myself a box of lemon tea. While I rip the straw from the box, I make small talk with Kyon.

“So what made you move to L.A.?”

Really, the question I should ask is: what made you decide to move to earth?

She’s walking around my house, gently moving my clothes around and placing them on the couch. With both hands around her cup, she drops herself down on my couch and looks straight at my face. I wonder how she sees me. Most girls tell me they’re interested within the first five seconds by the way they act: either they’re extremely shy or extremely forward. Kyon does half of that, but I almost feel as if she wants me to do the chasing. That’s all right, I think.

“My brother and I decided that a new environment would be better… after our parents died.” She doesn’t sound sorrowful, but I hear enough stories to know that parents could possibly mean nothing to a child.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

I move next to her. She shifts over so that I can sit comfortably. Very casually, I lean back and let my arm rest behind her. I don’t have to say a word, neither does she. We both know that my arm is there, and we both know that she can lean into it. It’s blowing my mind that she’s sitting up straight as if she was born in a nunnery. I lean to the left a bit so that she can feel my body heat. Every movement is silently calculated and I am forever watching.

“So are you a student in university or are you working?”

I close my lips around the straw and take a few sips of the sweet tea. “I’m taking a break before going to graduate school. I was a pre-med major during undergrad, but now I’m just interning at a hospital. What about you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t work. My brother does though. He’s a manager at a hotel somewhere downtown.”

“Lucky you then.”

Suddenly she gives a light gasp. “Oh my god, I never introduced myself,” she holds out her hand and puts the cup on the coffee table, “My name is Kyon Lee.”

I bit my lip to refrain from making a joke about her name as well. Ken Lee, if you’re wondering, is what you should google on YouTube, but something tells me this girl will have no idea what this video is about. I sit up and tell her its a pretty name before noticing her cup. The water in her cup is almost gone. Blinking, I realize that I don’t remember her drinking at all.

“Let me get you some more water.”

“Thank you.”

She says thank you in that soft, yet stable, voice of hers. I place my box drink on the coffee table and take hers up. As I move towards the kitchen, I realize that the cup I offered her is chipped. The possibilities just tempt me to act upon my impulse. Quickly, I take the knife from the sink and chip it further. Then I fill the cup with water. Making sure that she places her mouth on the edge with the chipped part, I hand the cup to her with all intentions of making her bleed.

I just need to prove something.

Kyon doesn’t notice and her mouth touches the jagged edge. Her pink lips close around the broken part. There is an “ow!” My eyes focus on her lips that peel away from the cup, and it’s unmistakeable. I hear my voice even before I think.

“Damn, I’m always right! Fuck! Your blood is blue!”

It’s the brightest azure I’ve ever seen.

***

With summer coming along, it’s going to be hard to stick with my internship. The past twenty years of my life, summer has always been an official holiday. Now for a good forty, they’re going to be stolen from me. I groan as I enter the parking lot and find a space. My car rumbles as I park it in front of Sarah’s building. There lights in this area are bright and annoying. My eyes narrow as I wait for my car to stop sounding like it’s going to spit mucus before locking the doors and climbing out. Double checking the doors, I run my finger along the blue paint of the car, noticing how there’s a new key scratch.

Fuck my life.

Work has been slowly building up to horrible stress lately. It’s been a while since L.A. had a serial killer, especially one with such precision. Because of the careful cuts in the human bodies, the police have been cracking down in our hospital ever since. There’s are officers stationed twenty-four seven in case anything occurs. Everyone who knows anything about surgery, medicine and knives is interrogated. Even the local butchers in Chinatown’s wet market are questioned.

It’s disgusting. The serial killer, who the cops have nick-named “Heartbreaker,” targets only women. Young women. Most of them are attractive, or rather once attractive, intelligent woman from the university area. From what I learned, since my mentor, Dr. Vickers, is highly involved in the forensics of the case, Heartbreaker had only one purpose. The heart. There was no sign of semen, sexual intrusion or struggling, which baffles the police even further. Someone out there has a very odd obsession of collecting hearts. It sounds stupid to conclude that Heartbreaker possibly suffered from childhood heartbreak and needed physical consolation, but it’s not a guess that the police are willing to drop. Either way, some weirdo is out there and I have to drop by Sarah’s every night.

The woman needs to get a boyfriend.

I call Sarah to let her security guard know that I’m coming. The man knows my face by now, but he sticks to his job and refuses to let me in until Sarah confirms. As I walk by his post, he taps the window to get my attention. I see him holding the white clipboard with a bunch of signed names and crease my brow. Since when did we have to sign in? Knowing that he won’t let me pass, I walk towards him. He slides his window down and hands me the sign in sheet.

“Sorry, condo’s new policy now. It is a woman’s building and we can’t have random men claiming to be brothers, boyfriends or even friends just waltzing in and out. It wouldn’t do any good to have a girl from this building die you know? We’re the safest complex in the city right now.” He sounds proud of himself. It takes a lot to hold myself from patting his back. All done in good sarcasm.

I sign my name and hand him my driver’s license so he can confirm my identity.

While he’s checking my license with the list of names that Sarah wrote, I see a familiar name signed in two slots before mine.

Hyo Lee 6:47 pm RM 204

That’s Sarah’s room.

“Excuse me, but do you remember this guy?” I slide the clipboard out and hand it to him. Impatiently, I tap at the name Hyo Lee over and over. He peers at it like he’s one of the three blind mice, taking much longer than I’d like him to. Snapping, I mutter, “It’s in English, it can’t be that hard to read.”

“Tall, model-esque looking man. Yeah, went right up to Ms. Lee’s apartment. She okay’d him right through.” He slowly hands me my i.d. card through the window.

I glare at him. “Can I go now?” I ask as I snatch it from his hands. I actually don’t wait for his reply and begin running. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Kyon or Hyo out of the house. However there are times I hear yelling, shouting and the sound of things breaking next door. I thought I made a lot of noise because of my sex life, but those two get more complaints than I ever did. Before work on early mornings, and late night on weekends, there are times I see Hyo taking out the trash. All he does is nod grimly, but we don’t exchange any words.

For about every day of two weeks after the blood incident, I found myself standing in front of Kyon’s door, wanting to knock. After I yelled in exclamation about the colour of her blood, she covered her mouth and gazed at me with large doe-like eyes. She looked so frightened, I immediately regretted making her bleed. My mouth stuttered and my hands shook while I tried to help her. I just made a fool out of myself. Kyon pushed my hand away, keeping me at a constant arm’s length. She left my house and I never saw her again.

So what is her fucking brother doing at my friend’s house?

The building is like a chime in my head, mocking me. Almost every bit of paper I see tacked to the wall is blue. The stairwell is painted half blue half white like Chinese porcelain. The tiles that run along the steps themselves are different shades of blue. This colour is supposed to make me feel calm and collected but all I can think of is: What if my neighbour is the Heartbreaker? What if Sarah is next? And there’s that life without Sarah, I don’t know if I can do without. So I run, as fast as I can, but like always, it never feels fast enough.

I’m breathless and panting while slamming my fists against the door. The first knock was really be my body slamming into the door, then the second, third, fourth and fifth just run consecutively with my fists. Why was the hallway so quiet? Not even a flicking light, a curious neighbour or eerie silence. I hear Sarah’s frustrated voice with a “Wait, wait… WAIT!” Then it’s quiet because I’m waiting and I don’t know what to say when the doors open.

“What are you doing here?”

She looks at me, puzzled, licking her pale lips. Her cheeks are pink.

“Yo, what do you mean by that?” I sneer when I see that she’s okay. She doesn’t invite me in this time. The format is often this: She steps aside, I walk in, she closes the door behind me, I take off my shoes and she puts them in the corner. This time there’s another pair of shoes in my place and Sarah uses her feet to kick them aside. I glare at her, but her big eyes just look at me for the longest time as if nothing is going on.

As I walk into the living room, I keep my head moving. My eyes constantly searching for any sign of Hyo. And then I hear the toilet flush, the door unlock and footsteps against the padded floor. Our eyes meet just as he looks up. The hallway remains dark. His hand reaches out to turn the light on, but I stop him. “Just leave it, how long do you plan to stay in the hallway anyway?” Without waiting for his reply, I turn around and make a bee-line for the couch. I know Sarah is standing there with a “what the fuck” look on her face.

It’s all right. I have the same expression on mine.

“What are you doing here?”

I pick up the fashion magazine and flip through the pages, stopping whenever I see some voluptuous model. “I come here every night to check up on you. You know that.”

“I texted you and told you that you didn’t have to tonight.”

“Oh? And so this stranger was going to stay the night with you?”

Her jawline is set.

“You didn’t even read it, did you?” She sighs and leans against the marble countertop. Her tapered fingers rest against her arms as they cross. I know she’s staring at me but I pretend not to notice and resume being consumed by half clothed two-dimensional women. “No wonder you didn’t reply. I sent you that message like four hours ago!”

She’s checking her phone as if she needs to prove it. I brush my fingers through my black hair and scratch my scalp, only out of annoyance. Naturally, Sarah has a soft and airy voice, but once she gets mad it turns shrill like a siren. In a good mood, she’s like a mermaid singing and brushing her hair. Her voice is so pleasant to listen to. Then when you pester her, her voice has enough power to break glass. Sirens and mermaids, her voice flips between the two.

“I know. I saw it.”

“Then why are you here,” she finally softly.

This change catches my attention for the first time. Normally Sarah would continue to yell until I yelled back at her, telling her to stop yelling at me. It only took my voice as a reminder. Never. Never did she automatically adjust her voice … unless there was something else? I knew I couldn’t look at her face. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did so anyway. Movies, books and photographs are all liars. I couldn’t read her eyes. They weren’t glistening or drooped. They were hard set and smaller than usual, but they told me nothing.

It was her mouth.

Creaseless around the edges and pressed together like frozen quavering.

A long time waiting.

We both knew one day we would have to face it. I waited four years on the edge of my seat wondering when she would say those words, but she never did. At the end, she said something about being a good friend and I thought it was over with. I didn’t give a thought when she asked me if I wanted to move to L.A. with her. From New York City to Los Angeles, it’s practically an entire country between home. Maybe it’s the thought that I owed her some happiness that I followed her.

She repeats, “Why are you here,” not caring that there’s a stranger in the room.

I always imagined that it would be just me and her. Then I remember that back in college, there was always someone in the middle. Someone who meant more to me at the moment that she forced herself to conciliate with. It was never just us two until I followed her all the way over here. Even then, I realize now, that I come and go with whomever I pleased while she made sure that every other part of my life was in order.

“I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

I can see Hyo walking out of the darkness now. The light shines on his face but it doesn’t colour it. His skin is still as pale as when I first saw it; his eyes still like obsidian orbs. The look flickers from me to her and back again before he moves his hand, like a white claw, to rest it against the wall. Hyo doesn’t say a word. His presence is louder than a million voices singing towards a climatic ending. I just want to shut him up. It doesn’t take long for me to channel my annoyance towards him. It’s telepathy. He steps back into the shadows to watch what doesn’t concern him.

“Well you know now. Are you going to leave?”

“What’s with this attitude?” I ask calmly, trying to play the situation so that things would rewind, “Are you on your period?”

Sarah splutters. Her hands are in her face now as she doesn’t know how to answer.

“So you are.”

“I’m not!” she yells. It’s the screeching again. I don’t have the heart to tell her to stop yelling because the sadomasochist in me wants to hear her say it. It’s going to hurt and glow at the same time. Be hilarious and painful. I’ve been on the edge for four years wondering why she would never open up. Instead, she’s running again. “Ugh! So go, okay? You’ve seen what you want to see.”

“What’s that? You with another guy?”

My eyes look to the side and I see Hyo standing in the living room. “Can you leave us alone for a second?” I growl towards him.

“Leave him out of this. There were always people there when it was between you and me. There’s always something between us. I don’t know if you knew but it wasn’t just me and you. There’s always someone there and for once I don’t mind. Jonah stays.” Her clammy hands grab my arm, slicking it with sweat. It’s a strong grip pulling me towards the door. I didn’t realize she was that strong. I also didn’t realize that one day she wouldn’t want me. She stumbles towards the door, feet tripping over itself, fumbling for the handle that doesn’t move.

“Please just go right now. I don’t want to see you.”

“You always want to see me.”

“That was before.” She’s still not looking at me.

“What? Now because you have a new boy?”

It has immediate effect.

“You’re not one to get jealous,” she says slowly. Her voice is soft again like the sounds I’m used to hearing. “No matter what kind of people I hung out with, you never did get jealous. So what’s with the attitude now? Don’t play this game with me.”

I challenge as she tries to open the door with her left hand. “That’s because you never went out with any boys for me to get jealous about!”

Sarah pauses for a short second. She thinks for a moment and then tries to shut the door in my face. I stop the door with my foot. When I look at her face, I’m forced to notice that Hyo, Jonah or whatever, is standing in the background. Always a third person there. Always someone else there. And now she’s looking straight into my eyes and I’m reading them. Not her lips but her eyes. It’s always been there. I see it now. For four years, she’s been looking at me like this and now it’s going to fade.

“I never liked anyone enough to go out with them because I had you.”

Like a signal, those words made my feet go weak. At any other time, Sarah would’ve shoved me out the door, but we stand still. She’s not looking at me anymore but I’m staring at her. We wait for a few seconds. I wait for a few seconds while she thinks.

By the time she looks up again, she’s asking a question, “Do you know what that means?”

I know Sarah. She was only waiting for the right words to spill out this monologue that she’s been practising for years. These are the words she’s imagined herself saying for years but never found the chance to. I know her. She’s only saying these words because this scene, this scene where I get jealous and care, is what she’s been wishing for for four years. Only the outcome can never be what she wants. I know this.

“Yes.”

“And…?”

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I know I’m going to regret the next two words.

“I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t look as broken up as I thought she would be. Sarah just smiles, that sweet waiting one. She tilts her head and her eyes are grinning so hard that I can’t read past the mask anymore. “Then we pretend like nothing happened,” she replies and moves to close the door.

“Wait what?”

“Don’t worry, you can still call me. You know I’ll come running.”

Her face is replaced by the wooden slab. The blue walls around her door frame amplifies our distance. Although I’m standing one inch from her door, I can feel her walking far away towards some stranger that might replace me.

It’s a good thing, I tell myself as I stand alone. I can’t believe she finally said it. I can’t believe it was that anti-climatic. I spent a lot of my time wondering when she would tell me that she liked me. I expected her to be extremely talkative, constantly shooting off words to try and explain herself. In the end, I would have given the same reaction.

It’s so silent that there’s a strange humming sound. It rings in my ears like a tuneless song. This is the eerie noise I’ve been waiting for. I let my head drop against Sarah’s front door. Thump. The sounds echoes and breaks the silent hum for only a second. The hallway is like a hollow drum and my head is the drumstick. I’m the shit drummer. No one is responding to my beat. On the floor, my shadow stretches long and far down the hallway. The ground is a white backdrop. There’s also the shadow of the window pane that reaches my shoulder’s shadow. Other than that, my black silhouette is still alone.

She says nothing changes. That she’ll still come running when I ask. She makes it so difficult for me to feel guilty. I want to be able to say “It’s true. You don’t know you have it until you lose it.” However she’s made it quite clear. It’s the crux to why I never feel the need to run to her. She’s not going anywhere. It’s a dark secret but I know. Deep inside I’ve always known. Even if Sarah got married, even if she loved another man very much, if I just asked. She would run and leave him. My shadow is alone for now. Just now. Not forever.

***

Halfway between my house and Sarah’s, Sarah’s words kept nagging in the back of my mind. They hang in suspense like the art mobiles that slowly twirls when the wind blows. It spins so slowly that if you’re not watching, you don’t realize that its moving. But once you know it’s there, it refuses to leave. Hanging, hanging, hanging… I can’t stop thinking about them. Why is she so hopelessly devoted? I slam my foot against the breaks to park the car. It screeches into the dark night. In static, jerky movement, I yank my car keys out and make sure the whole world hears me shut my car door. From a distance, my black car looks grey. The full moon throws a silvery glow across everything. It looks like the world is a supernatural place, but that’s just an illusion.

It’s only fucking L.A. Compared to NYC, this city is like a black snow globe. When you shake it, turn it upside down, all hell breaks loose. There’s earthquakes, hurricanes and fucking pollution. Why am I here? Why am I here? Why didn’t I just go to graduate school in Columbia with Leon when he was accepted? How in the world did Sarah convince me to come all the way to UC Irvine… damn her, I thought. I had no one here but her.

The neighbour’s door is halfway open when I get there. Remembering that Hyo is at Sarah’s house, I wonder who is watching over Kyon. They live so exclusively I wonder if Hyo is even aware that there is a serial killer out there. If he knew, he wouldn’t have left his precious sister behind. My mind blew the first time I heard they were siblings. I would have sworn my left pinky that Hyo held an interest in her. A romantic one. I pause outside the open door. Should I invade to see her? No one would be there to stop me.

“Hello?” I ask loudly as I push the door completely open. The entire house is dark. I take tiny steps while I wait for my eyes to adjust to the light. “Hello?”

“Ow!”

I walk faster towards the sounds, which are coming from the bedroom. I swear there’s a whimper when I open the door. There’s no light entering in the room. The window shades are pulled down and sealed so tightly that the only light is the small glow around the curtains. I see Kyon on the bed, wearing the same blue dress I last saw her in. Her figure is small, slim and almost lost in the darkness of the night. I reach to flip the light switch on, but she notices me there.

“It’s okay. Don’t turn the light on.”

Her voice is still the same as I remember.

I move away from the switch. She doesn’t move at all. Not knowing what to do, I stand still and watch. The bed looks soft as it forms a gentle cushion around her. Her hair is just as long as before, if not longer. Straight like a falling waterfall that ripples into beauty. “You can come sit next to me,” she says tentatively. She wipes something off her face and then pats the spot next to her. There is a darkened spot on her hand that’s slightly glossy.

Is that blood?

“What happened to you?”

I rush to her side immediately and grab her hand. There’s no open wound or sign of bleeding. My eyes have grown used to the darkness by now and I see every detail of her being. Then I feel something different. Her hand is deathly dry to a point that it feels like scales. “Kyon, are you okay?” My voice is almost pleading with worry. “Why are your hands so dry and cold?” Please don’t tell me she’s dead, I beg to whoever is listening. I swear I heard her speak. Don’t tell me she’s dead.

“I forgot to put lotion after I showered.” She whispers without looking at me, “Can you pass me some tissue?”

It’s right next to her, so I don’t understand. I reach over her and tear out a few pieces from the box. They sound like a large piece of cardboard being ripped apart in a large empty room. She takes them with her left hand, the one that wasn’t covered in blood. “Thank you,” then she wipes her nose.

“You have a nose bleed?”

She nods.

Without thinking, I grab her chin and force her to look at me. Her hair covers her eyes again so I brush them back with one hand and tilt her head back. There’s red blood, as red as rubies, as dark as dried roses, running down her nose. It’s smudged a bit, but it’s no doubt red. I show my disappointment while wiping away the rest of the blood from her face. What happened to that lovely blue colour? Was I just imagining it all along? I assess her face once more. Every feature is smooth and her skin glows in response to the leaking light. I am a fly attracted to the glow, wanting to become clean.

“I’m sorry about the time before,” I say while I gently work at the blood that’s smeared around her nose. “I just thought, well, you know…”

I feel like a grade A asshole at the moment. I’ve wounded many girls emotionally, emotional abuse even, before but never have I hurt them physically. Even though it was a mild mistake, it weighed on my mind ever since I began to realize that I never see Kyon.

The light reflects in her eyes, and they’re glistening. Creases form around her nose and mouth as she smiles and tries to speak. Her head shakes while I’m still cleaning the blood for her face. Some of it is dried a dull brown. Did she wake up to a bloody nose? The bedsheets, the blankets, the pillows are completely clean, probably cleaner than my bed next door.

“It’s okay. I just have very light coloured blood. It’s really more purple than red.”

Her eyes are looking towards the side. We don’t speak as I try to wipe off the last bits of the blood. When I’m finished, I put the tissue on the countertop next to the bed. Then I look back at her and see her staring straight at me. The moment is perfect. I know it. I know she can feel it. It’s the type of staring I always engage in but this one has the right amount of tension and the right amount of positive outcome. I know when I lean forward, things are going to change.

She tastes like salty iron and I realize she’s crying
and it’s her blood that I might be drinking.

It doesn’t cross my mind that she’s had a bloody nose. All I can think of is her lips underneath mine and the way she gently complies. She moves back, allowing me to take complete control. Every time I lean forward she leans back. Then I push all the way and she lets herself drop against the bed. I feel like commander of the world as I completely envelope her small body. It’s a world within a world, and no one else is here.

 

Chapter Three: Maiden in the Tower

Half Moon Bay 1

Chapter 1. There Lived a Boy

I didn’t give much thought to the girl in my bed after the sight of Kyon’s blood. It was a pale, pretty sky blue with a hint of violet as if were breathing. I know, I know. Naturally, blood is a purplish blue colour until it touches oxygen, but her blood was surrounded by oxygen and it was still so fucking blue. People are often intrigued by the beauty of the eyes, but I remember her blood. A delicate blue against pearl skin. A gradient of pale to the next shade of pale.

The sunlight leaks through the curtains in a stealthy manner, in the same way I’m watching the couple outside. For a second I think about looking away, but my eyes can’t turn away from the girl. Hah, what a joke. If she didn’t bleed such a wondrous colour I don’t know if I would have noticed her the next time around. Just as I was about to turn away, I hear the boy call her name one more time. “Kyon!” It sounds quite pleasant coming from him, but the girl doesn’t react to his voice and just disappears into the building. I know in two minutes, if she’s taking the elevator, I will hear her opening the door next to mine.

I hear the slut in my bed groan and think about casting her out. But that’s not exactly the impression I want to give to my stunning next door neighbours. So while she calls my name, I tell her to shut up and grab my t-shirt off the floor. The footsteps in the hallway are obnoxiously loud, pounding as if the person was just learning to walk, each step made of uncertainty and lead. I move quicker, pulling at the corner of my shirt so that it looks less ruffled.

It’s like fate.

When I open the door, she’s touching her hands and staring at her door knob. I smile flirtatiously even though she hasn’t even looked at me yet. Always one step ahead, I’d say. “Hello,” I inject into the silent air, filling rather than breaking it. She doesn’t look yet, and so I add: “I guess you’re my new neighbour.”

When this Kyon looks up, I see big black pupils like those girls who wear those awful circle lens and white makeup, only she has naturally large, charcoal carbon black pupils and I feel myself sinking where I stand. Her head reaches the bottom of my chin, perhaps a little less. Her black hair barely grazes her eyes, but it’s so black that it makes her eyes look like endless pools. This is the first girl I’ve noticed who looks so… how do I put it nicely when I actually do mean to be nice? Kyon reminds me of a ghost, but a beautiful one, like the kind that old men dream of when they want to see their dead first love again. Her skin, like I said so many times before, is pale, but instead of being flaky and dry like rice, it glows almost as if its transparent.

She doesn’t say a word, and I stand straighter.

“My name is JungWoo Kang. I’m your neighbour.”

I hold my hand out and step forward so that she knows I’m serious about letting her touch me. I dream for a second when she stares at my hand. I dream about her white skin touching my tanned one and nearly melt just at the thought of contrast between her and me. There is nothing sexier, more erotic, more sensual than fantasizing with possibilities.

She’s blinking again, looking at me with those large empty eyes. Two seconds and I feel my smile falter, shake. Is she blind? I wonder. She’s not even looking straight at me. Or maybe she’s deaf. But that doesn’t make sense because that boy called out her name so clearly. Then again she didn’t respond. I tighten my lips and smile again, shaking my hand in the air a bit so she’ll get the point. She looks down at my hand, and then – finally – takes her out and touches mine.

Something is different.

I’ve touched many women’s hands before. Most of them are girls who spend their days in the mirror, so their hands are amazingly soft, almost like baby’s skin. I nearly shrink back at the touch of her hand. First texture: The back of her hand. It’s dry, almost scaly, as if she’s been living in winter. Second moisture: The palm of her hand. It’s clammy and rough, as if she’s been underwater for too long. My lips thin again, and I force my hand to stay there. Third illusion: When I slide my hand away, I feel it just as soft as baby’s skin and I want to touch her again. I’ve never met such a degree of attractive repulsiveness in a single girl before.

Then I remember that she hasn’t smiled yet; neither has she given me her name.

“Don’t you have a name?” I ask. I gaze at her through my hooded eyes, knowing she’s beginning to feel uncomfortable. I like watching girls squirm for me. But she doesn’t move, she just looks away, towards the end of the hall where the light is shining in. It’s almost as if she’s waiting for something. Like in five, four, three, two…

“Stay away from her.”

- one. He’s faster than I thought he would be.

Unlike lover girl here, he moves with ease as if he’s gliding on air. I hardly heard him coming. Unfortunately for him, I heard him breathing about a mile away. My senses are impeccable, really. Sight, taste, hearing scent and feeling. I need to for quick and easy getaways when jealous and angry boyfriends come looking for me. And no, feelings aren’t a sense because you should already know by now

I don’t feel very much in the chest at all.

Her storming boyfriend comes in a wild array. I almost expect the wind to come in after him like a dramatic effect, and for a second it does feel that way. The hallway is chilly, probably a draft, I reason. I try not to think about the fact that it’s dead in the summer, and in L.A., there’s hardly any breeze at this time.

“Who are you?” he demands. His jaw is tight and the angular planes of his face are sharpened in the course of the light. He’s exactly the kind of guy that can attract a follower of girls but only dedicate his heart to one. You can read it all in the face. The darkness, the mysterious quality, it’s all a tell-tale give away that says stay away. Only a foolish soul mate would have the guts to chase after him. When I haven’t replied yet, because I’m blatantly staring at him, he growls at me. Each word short and harsh.

“Who. Are. You.”

“I’m your next door neighbour.”

His face softens a bit and I realize that Kyon has been under his grip. When he releases her arm, it almost looks bruised and discoloured. Then I blink and it goes away like a dream. I look at her face, so passive and submissive, but she’s looking away like nothing’s going on. I know there’s a spirit in there. Just a dead one that needs revival.

“I’m sorry,” he coughs to get my attention off his girlfriend. His eyes have darkened again. So he’s a possessive freak of nature.

I can tell I’m already unwelcome. And I can hear the girl getting out of my bed and heading towards the front door.

“It’s all right. The name’s JungWoo. If you ever need help around the neighbourhood, I’m here.”

I don’t offer my hand, but I smile. He returns it grimly.

When I turn to look at Kyon, she’s gone. The door of their apartment is swinging open and I can hear the clattering footsteps come to a stop. Wherever she stopped. Her lover boy notices that I’m staring into their house and side steps so block the view. He gives me a nod, as if to say, You’re done here. I narrowed my eyes in response. What an ass.

A polite neighbour would turn away and never bother them again, but I’m not a polite neighbour. I’m a raunchy, seductive, selfish, “king of the neighbours because I have the landlady in my palm” neighbour.

With one loud step forward, I make sure my foot falls in between the door and its frame. His eyes grow thinner,, in anger, and even darker, if that was possible. “What do you want.” His knuckles are protruding from his white hand, and his fingernails were digging into the door frame, already marking indentations that were never there before.

“Well, it’s only polite that you introduce yourself, isn’t it?”

He blinks.

Finally, “Last name Lee, first name Hyo…”

He’s got to be joking.

I nearly spit in his face from laughing. “Hyo Lee? Do you realize how close your name is to HyoRi Lee? Do you get made fun of all the time for that?” And that is definitely not the number one way to impress your new anal neighbour. He looks like he’s about to slam the door in my face and crush my foot so that there is a blood fountain splurting everywhere. I can see his knuckles turning whiter and the tightness in his jaw coil. Then…

it went away like a sigh.

And I heard a soft voice.

“His English name is Jonah. That’s harder to mock isn’t it?”

There she is, standing to the side with her eyes as empty as forever.

“It is, but I guess that’s why I’m going to know him as Hyo from now on.” I try to smile without smirking but I doubt I am successful. My foot is still in the doorway, and I can feel Hyo begin to put more pressure against the door. I lean forward a bit and try to get a glimpse of her.

“How about you, what’s your name?”

I think that was the last straw. Hyo grimaces, the expression about as attractive as a dying vampire and kicks my foot away. He slams the door in my face and I hear soft voices inside. There’s a bit of shouting, coming mostly from him, and then a shrill “Tell me when you want to grow up!” before another door slam. I guess he’s not getting any tonight.

When there’s a long silence, I go back to my room, to the girl whose name I don’t remember.

But at least I remember she’s there.

***

Sarah is late again.

It might surprise you to hear that I do have a female friend who hates my sexual escapades but adores me. Her name is Sarah Lee. Yes, like the cake brand, so it shouldn’t be shocking to hear that my nickname for her is “Pound Cake.” It’s also my substitute for calling her fat, like I used to do back in university. Now she’s anything but, but I don’t tell her that. I met her in university during my freshmen year when I was in her roommate’s bed. Lucky for her innocent eyes, I was clothed and just taking a nap, but when she saw me, she naturally assumed the worst. That’s the thing with Sarah. To her, everything is about as clear as black oil.

The wind chimes ring again and I look towards the sliding door of the Japanese restaurant. Not Sarah, I note and turn towards my cup of green tea. My phone reads two thirty. That girl is thirty minutes late. Where the hell is she? I turn my wallet over in my hands and think about leaving when my phone buzzes with a text message.

sorry will be here soon.

order beef teriyaki for me first.

SORRY!

Rolling my eyes, I raise my hand and the waitress immediately totters over. “Two beef teriyaki lunch sets, and a rainbow roll,” I say without ever looking up. I hear a “would you like any drinks with that” and shake my head. Just as she collects the menu, I remember that Sarah likes spicy tuna. I speak quickly, “Oh and add a spicy tuna roll” and the waitress nods.

It never fails. Each time we’re here, Sarah manages to be late but every time the spicy tuna rolls come to our table, she bursts through the doors apologizing. I expect it to happen again this time. As the waitress approaches with the sushi on a single plate, I hear the door sliding roughly open as if Godzilla had decided to come in. There’s a “Oh shit, sorry!” and the clanging of the wind chimes on the floor. I roll my eyes, knowing that Sarah has forgotten to duck when entering the restaurant. The manager knows too. He just laughs it off and tells her to sit next to me.

We’ve been here so many times. I never ask why she likes eating here so much. I tried once and she just said that because we loved Japanese food so much. I doubt that’s the real answer because she’s looks away whenever I ask. Sarah hardly evades the questions I ask her. Then again, I hardly ever ask her anything. If I was really interested, I’d be asking her why she’s still my friend.

The wind chimes ring continuously as the manager fixes them above the door. This restaurant is pretty authentic in terms of décor. Almost everything is separated by wooden frames filled with paper and if you lick your finger you can pierce a delicate hole and look at the people sitting next to you. Sarah told me once and I dared her to try it. Of course she did it.

She does everything I tell her to, sometimes I wonder if she thinks about it. It’s cute though. Really adorable sometimes. Especially when she stares at me with those brown eyes and then laughs because she has nothing to say. She just wants to look at me.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late.”

“For any other girl, Pound Cake, I would have been out the door the moment you were five minutes late. Usually girls are waiting for me.”

She wrinkles her nose. “All right, big guy. I get it. You’re the shit around town.” Her fingers are twisting a strand of charcoal auburn hair. That girl dyed her hair so many times it’s about to fall out. It doesn’t even grow naturally black anymore.

I hear her shoes thud against the wooden floor and know she’s taking them off like she always does. In a second I see the top of her knees as she hunches over them to pick at her tuna rolls.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” I ask when I see her bright blue tights peek from the top of the table. Sarah has a tendency to wear the strangest clothes but there are always people who follow her fashion trend. It doesn’t make sense to me, but at the same time it does. It makes sense that she’s never had a boyfriend – and a shit load of female followers. Her goal is work as a stylist for Nylon magazine, but for now, she’s a stylist assistant for some modelling company.

Hot men surround her, including me of course.

But when she pulls out those blue tights, everyone must run. Right?

Only today, the blue reminds me of the girl next door and when Sarah just laughs it off, I decide not to comment. Kyon. Her name is just as unique as the colour of her blood. I run it along my mouth, tasting it. It works out awkwardly at first but the more I think of her name, the prettier it gets.

While she’s pushing a roll of sushi in her mouth, she speaks. “These tights got me my job, okay? So shove off and place that mouth elsewhere. Besides, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have that internship at the hospital. And guess what I was wearing that day? These blue tights! Damn, I should just call them my lucky tights.”

“Just don’t wear them around me.”

“Whatever. You love them,” she says.

Our lunch sets arrive and we work on those. We always eat one piece of sushi and save the rest for last. I watch Sarah eat, a habit I picked up since our freshman year when we ate together. Occasionally she looks up and notices me staring, and just smiles before looking away. Her mouth moves in small movements as she nibbles her food. She eats like a rabbit but she holds her food like a fairy. Fork in one hand, straight up, as if she’s going to eat cotton candy.

“So how’s your new girl?” she asks slowly, chewing her food.

“Why, Pound Cake? Jealous?”

“As if! I get to look at hot men all day.” Sarah brushes her hair back and stabs at her rice. “No, I’m just being a nosy woman. Can’t I do that? Isn’t that part of the criteria to be a woman?”

“This is why I can’t live with women. All you females do is talk.”

“Hey!”

She pouts and kicks my leg from underneath the table. I laugh it off, using my legs to grab hers and try to pull her under.

“Stop playing around. I’m eating!”

“You started it.”

“Oh grow up, you’re already 21.”

Our conversation continues with bickering before she finally asks again.

“So how is Jamie?”

“Oh, that’s her name?”

She growls. “I could strangle you, you ass!”

That’s her favourite nickname for me. Ass. When she’s realy pissed, she’ll add the “hole” afterwards.

“Forgot about her. Done with.” I wave my hand to dismiss the conversation. Sarah looks at me solemnly as if I just broke her heart. “What?” I exclaim, dropping my chopstick in the bento box. “I told her it wasn’t anything serious. She doesn’t care. So I stayed with her a little longer than others. She’s hot! And why are you looking at me like that!”

“One day you’re going to let some special girl slip out your hands.”

I hate it when she uses that tone on me. That tone where she talks as if she’s suddenly Ghandi reincarnated, coming to shed enlightenment on the world. Whenever I act vapid, especially in relationships, she gives this sigh and just regurgitates a philosophical life altering, religion finding, kaleidoscope clearing quote. And this girl swears she’s never had a boyfriend before!

“Who did you dump Jamie for?”

“No one.”

I reply just as the waitress comes to take away our finished lunches. The plate of rainbow and spicy tuna roll sit in between us. Sarah opens the box of wasabi. The amount she takes is enough to make a grown man cry for his mother, but all Sarah does is tear when she eats that amount. I take a healthy dose before closing the box.

While we aren’t talking, I wonder why I don’t tell her about Kyon.
I tell Sarah everything.

At least, I used to.

The silence gets to a point where I know we’ll laugh if we look at each other. So I decide to steal her food so we have something to laugh about. I lift my chopsticks to get a piece of her tuna roll and she attacks me with hers. Her eyes are playful, glowing even, as she stops me from stealing some of her sushi. I grin as I let go and wait for her guard to lower. Once it does I dash forward again but she moves hella fast for the damn sushi. Sarah smiles widely again, and we laugh. In the end, she picks one up and puts it on my plate. It looks solitary without any dressings of soy sauce and wasabi. And as if Sarah realizes this, she takes the decorative flower from the serving plate and puts it onto mine.

 

Chapter Two: A Tin Man and His Heart

Half Moon Bay Prologue

Chapter 0. Once Upon a Time.

***

New neighbours moved in next door today. The last ones, two elderly ladies, complained about my quote-unquote “raunchy” lifestyle all the time and, rather than telling me to get out, the landlady told them to pack their bags and leave. It helps to be charming, it helps to be drool worthy gorgeous: it helps to fuck your way to the top. My last girlfriend is right. I am completely amoral.

That irony is that means nothing to me, because I am amoral.
It’s like telling a blind person that they’re blind.

I smirk at the thought of her fist hitting my chest, because no matter how hard she hits. I find it funny. I find it hilarious that she thinks I care when she’s the one who knows I don’t feel. On day uno, I told her, “You can stick with me if you want. You can call me your boyfriend, and I’ll call you my girlfriend. If you want. But don’t expect me to stay faithful.” And even though her friends call me up to scream about how I’m twisting that knife into her, I don’t feel guilty. Do you feel guilty when you watch someone build their own guillotine and then use their own head to test it out? No. There’s a certain degree where actions cross the border from conveying pity into stupidity.

You know I’m right.
But back to the new neighbours.

I look through my cheap plastic curtains, peeking at the moving van and the two figures standing in front of it. It’s a boy and a girl, both tall and lanky like they are built out of the same mould. I don’t have to be blind to notice the way the boy stands behind her. He’s taller than her, with carbon black hair and creamy white skin. His eyes are hidden underneath the shadow of his bangs. The shadows on his face are hardly black, but he’s dangerously thin, like an emaciated supermodel for a fashion runway. Looking at him makes me want to shove a hamburger down his throat and break that fine nose of his.

Something bangs and I hear the sound of metal shaking. There’s a shout “Watch out!” and I watch a glass coffee table tumble out of the raised truck towards the pale couple. My eyes raise in amusement because the boy is already moving. His arm reaches out as he steps to the side, and the girl, wearing a white chiffon dress, is dragged along with him. It’s very dramatic. The pale skin couple spin and now the boy’s back is facing the shattering glass. His arms cave around the girl and she is completely enveloped. His height against her body, I notice that she’s actually tiny. If his back was towards me, she would completely disappear.

He’s holding her exactly in the way every girl wants me to hold them. Close to his body so that her face is pressed against his neck, his chin is on top of her head, and his arms cradle her tightly as if they were undergoing the apocalypse and he was her only shelter. In other words, lovingly.

When the sounds of shattered glass stop, I see them part. The girl looks at him angrily, accusingly, but she doesn’t say a word. Her eyes are dark. Even though they’re visible, they feel as hidden as the boy’s eyes. Gone, swept away gone, by the bangs that just fall short beneath her eyebrows. She glares, her lips tight, at the lover boy, who stands still. They ignore the shouting movers who repeatedly apologize until the boy raises his hand and waves them away. I stare at them, an outsider, and watch them lock their gaze on each other as if nothing else in the world existed. If only they knew their world was slowly being penetrated.

I watch the boy make a move for the girl’s arm but she flinches and steps back. Her sandals crunch against the broken glass as she steps backwards. She’s not watching where she’s going, but I am. I hold my breath as I see her walk into the table, silently waiting for her to bleed and stain that perfect white dress. So sue me. I wanted to see her in pain, clutching hard for something as if she was slowly experiencing some orgasm. Her right leg swipes against the jagged edges of the table, and I hear three things cry out simultaneously.

“Kyon, watch out!”
the ripping sound of her dress,
and the soft cry “ouch” from her slender throat.

She turns quickly, and I swear I’m seeing things. Her boyfriend moves quickly to cover her wound and when his hand is lifted, what I saw seems to have disappeared. The rip is still there, the bits of her dress hanging by strong threads. She says nothing to her boyfriend and walks away. Then I see it.

A small blue stain, the colour of forget-me-nots along the seams of her dress.
Evidence that I’m not blind.

This girl, Kyon, has blue blood.

Click for Chapter One

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