i'll remember to love you
The Wait
Siwon/Sooyoung
Slice of life, fluff | 702 words
-- for sooriforever. Because we all have that someone ;)
Let me tell you something about myself. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a student. I am the one who sits far at the back of the class because I would block people’s view if I sit in front. I am the tallest in class and the tallest girl in my grade. A giant, my friends like to tease me. I am good at Mathematics and English but hopeless at Korean Literature. A weirdo, Yoona sometimes calls me. I am the class president, elected simply because Jonghyun, the troublemaker in class listens to me (mostly because of my height, some argued). I am a member of the school’s tennis club and am still an amateur. I am loud and shy, passionate and lazy, and funny and lame all at once. I am a lot of things, but one thing I am not is patient.
He is a senior, which makes him two years older than me. He is the tallest in his class as well, and the second tallest in school. He ranks first in his grade, and often I hear praises on him from the teachers. A model student, some people call him. He is good at almost every subject except Mathematics, and I smiled knowing that because Mathematics is everyone’s arch-nemesis (“Everyone except weirdos like you, Sooyoung,” Yoona once snickered at me). He is a member of the school’s tennis club and is quite a professional. He is also the reason why I joined the club.
He comes early to school every day. He passes by my class on his way to his, therefore I make sure that I arrive earlier so I can catch a glimpse of him. He sits near the window to the hallway, so whenever I need to submit homeworks, forms that we needed to fill out or anything to my homeroom teacher, I would make sure to walk by his class so I can catch another glimpse of him for the day. He spends most of the recess time in his class, but sometimes he hangs out with Donghae and some other boys at the cafeteria. I sit at the table across his, hoping for an eye contact but at the same time wishing for the opposite because I don’t ever want him to notice that I have been staring at him, or that I have been trying to catch glimpses of him all day.
I first met him on my first day as a middle school student. I accidentally went astray from the original route while admiring the blooming cherry blossoms on my way to school, and while I was struggling to study the map, someone tapped me on the shoulder, asked if I got lost and told me to just follow him. It was Choi Siwon, the model student, the tennis ace, the object of many girls’ affection. I tailed behind him obediently, and he even kindly showed me my class. I have liked him ever since.
Choi Siwon, my first love.
I exhale a sigh as I glance at my notebook, realizing that I have been daydreaming and scribbling his name all over the pages again (with the o’s replaced with hearts) instead of paying attention to the teacher and jotting down notes.
I fix my gaze outside, hoping that maybe he’d pass by although I can imagine him in class, listening intently to his teacher unlike me. I am not that studious and definitely not one to stay focused in class up until the final bell, but I still manage to cram enough to pass my exams and achieve good grades. I am not athletic, but I can run fast enough to not be amongst the last to reach the finishing line in school marathons or sports events, and I’m still hanging in there and doing my best during tennis practices.
I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a student who is supposed to be focusing on the blackboard instead of replaying that very scene in my head all over again. I am a lot of things, and I am in love with Choi Siwon. I may not be patient, I will wait for him anyway.
Daisy
Junho/Suzy (implied Wooyoung/Suzy)
Romance | 920 words
-- for se0ulmate I hope you like this sobs
It’s not necessarily romantic or anything she had in mind when she thinks of romance, but she likes it anyway.
The first time it came was somewhere near November, when tree branches should have already been bare and flowers should have long wilted which made him wonder where did the flowers come from. Just a nice small bouquet of daisies in a white pot just as small resting in front of the doorstep. Nothing else but the pot ― not even a tiny note bearing a message or the sender’s name.
It comes every week on Mondays. She would arrive at the library where she works in the morning and find a small white pot holding a bouquet of white daisies. Always the same colour, always the same size.
She tried coming early several times just in case she would run into the secret sender. She even came an hour early once just to wait for him (or her to arrive), but the one she met was someone from the florist who only came to deliver the flower. When she asked him about the actual source, the guy only shrugged and told her a payment has been made in advance for the deliveries to be done.
Eventually, she gave up trying to find out about the actual sender despite still being curious. She also found out that white daisies bear the meaning of secret love, and it made her smile even more at the thought of having someone having a crush on her. She finds herself looking forward to Mondays, and it became a good thing for her because she doesn’t really suffer one of those Monday blues anymore.
It stops, however, somewhere two springs later. She thinks it’s strange because spring is supposed to be the time where flowers are easiest to get. She wonders at first if perhaps the sender ran out of money, or if he just stopped liking her. It disappoints her, in all truthfulness, to arrive at the library every Monday morning and find the space at the doorstep empty. Somehow there’s a hollow gap in her heart as well.
It is not until a particular breezy morning later in summer that she finds a young man waiting for her in front of the library door. There’s a smile on his face the moment he sees her approaching ― one that turns his eyes to tiny crescents and makes him appear like a child. She realizes then that he’s holding a small pot of daisies, all white in colour. Her heart skips a beat as she takes another look at the man.
“Suzy, right?” he begins.
She nods instead of answering because she doesn’t trust her own voice, especially this early in the morning.
He extends a hand to initiate a handshake but changes his mind before it’s halfway out. “That would be too formal,” he mumbles, more to himself, scratching the back of his head using the same hand. He smiles again and before he continues. “My name is Wooyoung.”
Suzy tilts her head, her brows furrowed together in confusion. Even with her bad memory at remembering people’s names, she doesn’t think she has met him before or even knows anyone by that name.
“In case you’re wondering, no, you don’t know me,” he adds upon seeing her puzzled expression. “But you may recognize this.” He hands her the flower pot, and almost spontaneously she brings it close to her nose so she can inhale the sweet scent of the bouquet. A smile immediately emerges across her lips. She has missed the smell.
“Are you the one―”
“It wasn’t me.”
Wooyoung later explains the whole story after she invites him in and offers him a cup of coffee. It’s still early in the morning anyway and it’s Monday, so no one really comes in that early. He tells her about Junho, his best friend who fell in love with a girl at first sight. It sounds unlikely and maybe a bit too cliché but he did fall for her when he passed by and saw her reading out a story book for the kids at the hospital’s children ward. He found out later that the girl works at the library and comes to volunteer at the hospital every once in a while. Junho is never a man of courage, so instead he sends her white daisies every week with the hope that they would put a smile on her face.
Suzy asks Wooyoung where is Junho now, and why he didn’t come on his own. Wooyoung only flashes a rather sad smile and points upwards. She doesn’t get it at first, but then she recalls their first meeting place.
“He passed away last March,” he says at last. “The deliveries didn’t stop until around May because he’s already paid for them in advance.”
When people start to come in later, Wooyoung gets up from his seat and prepares to leave. Suzy places the pot on her desk by the computer, the usual place where she always puts her daisies, and thanks him for dropping by. “I don’t know Junho, but I’ll miss him.”
Wooyoung only smiles hearing that, shoves a hand into his pocket and scratches the back of his head although it is and was never itchy. He asks her what time she gets off work, albeit a little too hesitantly. She holds out five fingers, and when she tells him she knows a good coffee shop around the block, his smile widens.