8 years
Title: 8 years, a long wait
Author: xoxo_nat_xx
Pairing: Eunhyuk/Donghae
Pairing: PG
Genre: Romance
Summary: 8 years...to pin for a childhood love...to wait for your first love.
(You = Donghae; He = Eunhyuk)
When you are seven,
You bounce around the newly bought house that your parents just brought you to, today, in this condominium, which seems like the whole world to you. You explore every single nook and corner of the house, which is still unfurnished, and you like it like that. Inhaling the fresh scent of wood from the cupboard, from the parquet, enjoying the cool touch of granite underneath your feet in the living room, widening your eyes in wonder as you dare yourself to take a peek from the window (you are young then, and the sixth floor does seem like such a great height to you, at the age of seven). You pretend you are the Columbus of your age, reaching new lands and charting new maps in your age. You giggle to yourself (a boy at seven can indeed giggle), and never once the thought never once cross your mind, that perhaps you need a friend around. Your elder brother seems enough for now, as both of you go traipsing across uncharted lands.
You threaten your parents with a glass of milk in your hands, pressuring them to give you the larger room at the side, instead of that tiny room at the end of the hallway. They laugh at your foolishness, and your brother playfully ruffles your hair, nudging you slightly so the milk doesn't slosh out of your cup. You laugh and push him back, and both of you roll across the floor of the newly furnished living room, setting the milk at a careful distance away. Life seems good to you at that time (someone at seven doesn't desire much), and a friend never cross your mind, at that moment.
When you are nine,
You reach home, a little down. The elementary school you are attending is perfectly fine, but you can't help but feel a little left out at times. It's the beginning of the year, and you are missing the friends you have made in grade 1 and 2. Grade 3 is a wonderful year (you listen goggle-eyed to your brother, with his avid descriptions of elementary school, he's 13 now), but you can't find that spark that makes it so special. Or at least, not yet.
You finish your homework in your room, the one which now you find so cozy and warm. It's like a habour for you, a lost ship after a quarrel with your brother or after a scolding from your parents, or right after those huge arguments that your parents are capable of, and they are indeed getting more frequent these days. Some voice inside you chuckles at your inner soul, wondering at the maturity level of it all. You pout back, and you can't help but say indignantly, that there's nothing wrong about being only nine. Your brother prefers his friends now, and frequently hangs out with them, while your father is pre-occupied with work, and your mother, with housework. You cannot not grow up by yourself, and learn how to think.
You make your way to the kitchen; perhaps, your mum may be in a good mood that she will offer you some cookies. It's only 3 in the afternoon, but you can't hold it in any longer; your stomach lets out a thunderous growl. Your mother whirls around in her apron, already preparing the ingredients for the soup that she is going to let it simmer for 3 hours later on (yummy), and she eyes you, a smile playing at her lips. You figure that your eyes are the best weapon on you, and you open fire by putting your most adorable puppy eyes on, hoping to coax some of those chocolate you see her buy earlier on. She waves you over to the sink area, which allows you to look out to the lobby right outside your house.
"Why don't you go play with that boy outside? He's playing with his football all by himself since they moved into the opposite apartment, and he looks around your age. Perhaps you may become best of friends?" your mum states, drawing your gaze to the young boy outside. He is wearing an oversized shirt, and his hair is in a total mess. He is kicking away at this football, and every single time it crosses the imaginary line drawn between his shoes, he lets out a small cheer and punches his fist into the air. You stand rigidly beside your mother, wondering if perhaps, you should just go out and welcome him into the neighborhood.
Your mum nudges you slightly in your arm, and you are jolted out of your thinking. She stares back into your eyes with this twinkling in hers, and you lower your gaze quickly. You are shy, that you are very sure of. You want to play with that guy outside, but you are too shy to just go out and make friends just like that. It takes a lot of courage, you admit, that you are unable to summon that much courage yet. You shake your head at the ground, and make your way out of the kitchen, while your mum exhales, sighing. Perhaps one day, you think to yourself, but you are never letting your mum know your thoughts.
When you are nine, and halfway through your school year,
You know his exact timings. He comes out of his house, and grabs his football that is lying right outside the door (as if he is not afraid that anyone will steal it, like, you, for example), and starts kicking it around. He imagines that he is against one whole group, one whole football team, and every time he scores a goal he goes all running about the lobby, imitating those famous football players (and you know that he shares your love for the same team, because he has their jersey). You find it comical, and you admit, you are drawn to his antics, but still, still, you are shy and it is holding you back from introducing yourself to him.
Every time the clocks strikes three, you push your homework away (making sure that you have already completed them before three) to the side of the table and make your way to the kitchen immediately, on the pretext that you are interested in what your mum is cooking for dinner, or trying to pretend that you are learning how to cook from her. Your mum continues to encourage you, continues to ask you to go out and join that boy in the lobby, because he looks a little lonely himself, and can do with your company. You discreetly shoot looks out of the kitchen when your mum is not noticing, and you observe him silently. It looks like a lot of fun, and you feel yourself tugged, just a little.
Before you can change your mind, or before that questionable wave of courage fades within you, you grab your favorite pair of sport shoes, arm yourself with your own football and gloves (you figure that he may appreciate some goalkeeper), and you pause in front of the door. Your mum gives you an encouraging nod, and you plaster your widest smile on your face, take in a deep breath, and open the door.
He stops his actions immediately, (probably in shock), and he stares at you, taking in your appearance. You silently curse (of course, at the age of nine, you probably don't have much choice curse words in your dictionary, but at least you know 'Shit', or something like that), and realize it is too late to turn back to the comfort of your room. Tentatively, you put on your shoes, holding his gaze all this time.
"Can I play with you? I swear I will not make any unnecessary trouble. It just looks fun, the way you are playing by yourself, and can I join? I will try to play along, and we can use your football or mine, and I brought gloves as well, in case you wanted a goalkeeper. We can take turns to kick the ball or something-"
He breaks out into the widest and purest smile you ever seen, one straight from the heart, and you see his gums hiding underneath his lips. You stop immediately, as you feel yourself calming down, and smiling back, as he nods at you, erasing all your previous fears, making them seem silly now. You pull yourself up, and set your football aside, as he holds out his to you.
During that short 3 hours (your mum has to open the door to call you in to bathe to prepare for dinner, and his mother has to call him in as well), you learn that he moved from Japan, as his father's company relocated him to Korea. You learn that he has a younger sister, who is currently at school (because she is just five years old, and her pre-elementary school starts in the afternoon). You learn that his mother is a housewife as well, and is superb at making Japanese food. You learn that he is attending another school, not yours, one for international students.
You learn that his gummy smiles soothes you instantly, even when you feel that you are kicking the ball wrong and hit him right in the stomach. You learn that no matter what, he will always be smiling at you, even when he doubles over in shock, or in pain. You learn that both of you share the same passion, the both of you love dancing, love the same television programme, love the same food (both Korean and Japanese), love the same computer games, and love soccer. (It may look like the case for every boy out there, but you only care about the two of you, now.)
At the very, very end of your first meeting, you hold out your hand, biting your lower lips in a grin. You offer your name, and he smiles back, pronouncing your name again. You like how he says your name, it is as if he is meant to say it, the way he says it is just so melodious, and you want to learn how to say it like him. "Lee Donghae," he says again, grinning.
He takes your hand and shakes it firmly, introducing himself. "Lee Hyukjae."
When you are ten,
You find yourself, outside the door, ready for the daily mini outings. He has this picnic mat folded in a corner of the place where his family place their shoes at, and you take it, spreading it out smoothly. You two pretend that you two are on a magical mat, floating around, transforming into famous and notable people, imitating their actions and tones, until the both of you are rolling about on the floor, and you are clutching so hard that it has started to hurt a bit.
His mum brings out some sushi for you two to eat when you play, and you swear it's one of the best sushi you have ever tasted. You mention this to him, and you take delight in seeing that smile light up his face completely. He raises his hands to cover his gummy smiles, because you know he is self-conscious of his gums. You reach out and tug his hand down, pulling it right to his side. You frown, and pout slightly, and he smiles apologetically.
"I like your gummy smile. Don't cover it, ever." You pout, making sure to get your point across.
He nods, trying to force the smile down by clamping hard on his lips. He fails in his attempt, and it results in the both of you playfully wrestling with each other on the picnic map. The both of you surrender at the same point, and sit facing each other, slightly breathless. He is about to say something, when his mum opens the door and calls the both of you in, your favourite show is about to start, she says. He closes his mouth and you look at him curiously, but he only shakes his head further and grins. He offers you his hand, and you grab it, pulling him right into his living room to catch that episode.
When you are ten and a half,
You recall all your outings. There was once he came to your house and the both of you baked cookies, and your mum didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the mess made in the kitchen, or the mess the both of you were wearing. He brought over his monkey-shape cookie maker, and he insisted on using them, only to push that monkey-shaped cookie right into your mouth straight from the oven, burning your tongue in the process. That resulted in a chase around the lobby, because your mum kicked the both of you out.
There was once you two played hide and seek, and he cheated, seeking the help of elevators. You decided that you deserve a break as well, and you use the stairs to sneak up from behind him. His echoes filled the stairwell, and you added yours to his and instead of a cacophony of noises, it sounded like a choir to you, perhaps because of that laughter that he was giving out.
There was once he led you to the maze below, and he shoved a spade right in your face, forcing you to dig with him. He dug till a certain depth, and he proudly took out two clumps of mud, declaring that they were clay, and he had prepared them especially a few weeks ago. He mixed mud with water, and placed them in the soil, waiting for them to become clay. You raised your eyebrows, a little skeptical, but you forgot all your doubts when he took one of them, and molded them into a mini figurine of you, and shyly gave it to you.
There was once someone took his bike, and he had to seek your help to get it back, because his smattering Korean didn't do him much justice. You had to communicate with him in broken Korean at times, and in English at times, revising the previous exercises you did in school. You went up to the other guy and adopted a strong stance, and he immediately returned it back. You push the bike back to him, and he smiled at you, and that smile lifted your heart, making you feel on the top of the world, like you are the hyung instead, taking care of someone who needed protection.
There was once he had to sleep early, and you sneak into your brother's room, shining a torch into his room. He scrambled for a torch as well, and you two communicate using light signals, although you don't know what you are trying to convey. You giggle involuntarily, and you see his gummy smile, crystal clear from your brother's room. His room happened to be right opposite to your brother's, and for that you kind of thank his mother for arranging this. He smiled back, and you two continued, until his mother came into the room, furious. Until she saw you across, and she, too, broke out into a smile.
When you are eleven,
He introduces you to his sister. You smile, and she is quite cute (only 9!), and you grin at her. She blushes, and you look to him, as he shrugs and grins back. You feel your eyes crease slightly as that grin picks up on your face, and you lean over to pinch her cheeks. (Adorable hamster-like cheeks! Who can resist?)
"You are cute." You offer, hoping that she will open up after you give her this compliment.
She does, and smiles back at you. She looks into your eyes, and you look at hers, finding the similar dark brown eyes, just like her brother's, and you find assurance and comfort there. You are too busy looking into those eyes, too busy thinking how much they actually resemble her brother's, that you never notice how he is trying his best to arrange his features and hide his emotions within a short span of 3 seconds. You never notice a slight discomfort in his face, before he wipes it away with a happy expression, happy that his sister finally joined in.
On his sister's ninth birthday,
Your parents bought a huge dolphin for her, and you pout, throwing a tantrum. You demand your parents buy one for you as well, because you really, really love the sea that much. When your parents initially refused, you run to your room, and hide in the cupboard, crying to yourself. They can't find you in the cupboard, and even if they do, they cannot convince you to come out from the cupboard.
They finally buy you one, and you are all smiles again.
One day, when he comes over, he sees that toy dolphin that proudly graces your bed, he stops at the door, and you turn around to see what's wrong. You never see that expression on his face, because you are busy wondering if he is coming up with a prank or something.
When you are starting Grade 6 in a few weeks,
You spot strangers going into his house, and coming out with boxes. You widen your eyes, and you rush to your mother, warning her of the burglars that are breaking into his house. She smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. (You can almost hear what is going on in her mind, that you are still so simple-minded after being on this world for 12 years.)
"They are moving, Donghae." She states simply, before returning to her preparation of dinner.
Somehow, you don't meet him anymore.
The last time you meet him, he comes over to your house to say goodbye. It is the last time his family will ever step into this condominium ever, and he comes to say goodbye. He scribbles a telephone number on your phone book (the one you kept since young) and pushes it back into your hands, smiling a little. You stand there stiffly, holding on the notebook, as you see them walk into the lift, with him being the last, as he waves one last time at you. You stare at the number above the lift, as it descends to the ground floor, and you just keep on staring, and staring, until your mother pulls you away from the door and drags you into the house.
You don't know what's going on in your mind, but there's something nagging at you, right at the back of your brain. You put your finger down on lost friendship, but somehow, it feels much more than just friendship.
You ask your mother, how does first-love feel like? She chuckles at you, and says that you are too young to understand. You ask your dad, but he waves you away immediately, motioning that he is on the phone. You ask your brother, and he offers some insightful advice. Only that you think that advice is bullshit, because every single thing he is saying coincides with how you are feeling now. And you are seriously only having a platonic friendship with him, nothing more.
When you are twelve,
Time doesn't hold that much attraction for you anymore. Especially at 3'o clock in the afternoon, no more.
When it is February,
When it is March,
When it is April,
When it is May,
When it is June,
You finally pick up your courage (once more), and pick up that phone to call him. Your parents are out shopping, and your brother is busy entertaining himself with World of Warcraft. You dial the number carefully, and you have to do it at least two times because your courage fails you at times. The ringing tone finally comes, and you settle down, never noticing that your breath is increasing, in quick little huffs.
"Yobseyo?" You swear that's his voice. Your breath hitches, and you find your mouth and throat very dry, all of a sudden.
"Hyukjae? I'm….Dong….Donghae here." You mumble.
"Donghae!" He exclaims loudly into the phone, and you feel that everything seems alright, again. You talk to him over the phone for a minute, and both of you suddenly lapse into uncomfortable silence. It has been long since you talked to him, but you never think that the two of you will become complete strangers after a few months. You try to make small talk by enquiring after his sister, and you hear her high-pitch laughter in the background. After 2 minutes, you know it's not working, and you hurriedly mumble an excuse and put the phone down.
You run to your room and hide in your cupboard, because that is the only place where you can find comfort, in times like this. When your parents cannot help you, when your brother is too busy by himself, when your friends are probably going out gaming somewhere, when you realize you depend, too much, too much on him, till it has become the point of being too over-reliant on him. And you don't know what to do, how to respond, when the two of you revert back to the previous status, before you make your way out of the door to join him for football, before he ever, ever came to this condominium.
Your brother, in the end, asks how it went, but you cannot answer.
You know, if he really wants to talk to you, he will call you one day, himself.
Time passes quickly.
When you are thirteen, you begin seventh grade, and you too, start to forget about him.
When you are fourteen, you don't find yourself missing him anymore. You enter the stage, where you start becoming rebellious, going against your parents whenever you can. You find yourself throwing away that phone book, and erasing that number away from your memories.
You wonder why he drew a fish beside the phone number he wrote down, with a smiley that you two created just for your own purposes. It holds a special meaning for you now, something that goes along the lines of 'I love you'.
You acknowledge that Hyukjae may be your first love, and you will one day, find a more significant and memorable love than him, again. Hyukjae has given you one of the best times in your life, protecting you, sheltering you from your family. Even though you are young, you already learn how to recognize and understand how this society works, and you know, that you have been lying to yourself from the start.
It's love, and now you acknowledge that.
You don't expect to see him, ever again.
Until you are seventeen.
You have successfully managed to enter this company, and you think it is rather promising that you may debut. You always sing to your father at times, when he needs some relaxation. (You know his favourite song by heart, every line perfectly, capturing them in your photographic memory.) And that's when you see him, again. Someone leads you to the dance studio to do the introductions, and at first you are too busy bowing to everyone, and there seems to be a lack of time to just look at their faces. Until you see a familiar voice greeting you, and your head snaps up in shock.
You think it's him, you are rather sure it's him, initially, but when, when did your "Lee Hyukjae" become "Lee Eunhyuk"? When did he start looking at you with this stranger and distant look in his eyes? When did he start treating you so formally? And someone seems to have taken over your place in his heart, someone by the name of "Kim Junsu" is standing beside him, and you are left all alone, by yourself.
You practice with them, and you realize that he has improved tremendously over the years. His dancing skills are now really good, and he is now all so foreign to you. You cannot stand it anymore; you rush out of the room during a water break, muttering an excuse to rush to the toilet. You wash your face; you splash water all over your face, rubbing your eyes, rubbing your cheeks, pulling your eyelids down, as you survey this pathetic person in the mirror. Somehow, you seem to be the only affected, and he has moved on. Perhaps you should do so too, you think to yourself. You take in a deep breath, and plaster another smile on your face, and you push yourself away from the sink.
"Donghae?" Someone asks, outside the toilet.
You freeze, because you know it's him. You stand by the other side of the door, listening. You accidentally knock into the door a little, and you wince, knowing that he is still at the other side. You close your eyes and lean against the door, too tired to keep up this front. You still love him, you know it, it's deep down within in your heart, and you cannot deny it.
You cannot hide it anymore; it's threatening to burst out from within. You open the door, and look right into his eyes, letting him see your red eyes, those eyes that once cried badly for him, those eyes that are now too tired to assume or resume that sparkle you once had, for him.
"You…remember?" You croak out, wincing at the harsh sound you make. He tilts his head to the side, and you get the message immediately. He has never seen you, like how you see him, and he never will. You sigh, brushing past him and walking towards the dance studio, leaving your heart behind.
He does something completely unexpected; he grabs you by your hand, just like the old times. He then pulls you into his embrace, and you stiffen, not knowing what this hug actually means. You try to take in a breath as discreetly as possible, because you just miss him so much.
"I'm sorry. Sorry for not replying, or calling. But I don’t want to act anymore, it's not me, and I know you know it. But…I don't want to raise your hopes, then smash it. My dad told me we were going back to Japan, I didn't want to just leave you again." he mumbles softly, and you have to try so hard to pick up what he is saying. You struggle against his grip, frowning hard to yourself as you do so; you don't want to believe what he is saying. It only results in him hugging you against him even tighter, and you have to resort to stepping on his foot to get him to let you go.
"Donghae…" he admonishes quietly, and you see it in his eyes, within that instant, that there's this hope, that, that perhaps, he does feel the same way after all. You see the pain in his eyes (and you are sure it's not from you stepping on his foot), you see the way he gazes shyly at the floor, and you are reminded of all the times you two had together, since you were nine, and he was nine. Since you were young, naïve, and clueless, since he was innocent, youthful and shy.
And you see how much he actually feels for you, since a tender age of nine.
You recall all those stupid times, when you miss those gazes, when you do something, when you mention some other girl, or just simply ignore him at times. You feel like an idiot, waiting for another 8 years and only getting your answer now.
It's not surprising how you seem to manage to wrestle all the answers from his eyes, because they are just so expressive, and you never forget once, ever, how they manage to twinkle, even in the night.
He stares at you, smiling a little, and pulls you back into his embrace.
You kick him in the shins, a little angry. "You tell me only after freaking 8 years?" You glare at him, and he winces and squeezes his eyes shut.
"You never told me either! I actually freaking thought you were interested in my younger sister! Gosh, my younger sister actually had a crush on you!" He grounds out, and you stare back, surprised.
"Then why tell it to me now?" You ask, still not fully satisfied with his answer.
"Because…" He drags over his answer, a playful glint in his eyes, one that you miss seeing for such a long time. "I'm not satisfied with just watching you from afar. And now I'm going to fight with my sister for you." He finishes, and you feel a blush creeping up your face, and you cough awkwardly, pushing yourself slightly out of his embrace.
"Donghae…"
"Hmm…?"
"Love you." He mumbles, before bending down quickly to press his lips to your forehead, and running off to the dance studio.
You cannot help the grin that is spreading across your face rapidly now, as you raise your hand to touch your forehead.
8 years. But at least you know, these 8 years are not wasted, never.
-------
A/N: took me quite some time to get this out, because it is rather personal. I used to have a japanese neighbour, and I now wonder where she is. We did do all those idiotic stuff together. But eunhae is just eunhae. Eunhae moments are solely Eunhae moments. Haha.
Author: xoxo_nat_xx
Pairing: Eunhyuk/Donghae
Pairing: PG
Genre: Romance
Summary: 8 years...to pin for a childhood love...to wait for your first love.
(You = Donghae; He = Eunhyuk)
When you are seven,
You bounce around the newly bought house that your parents just brought you to, today, in this condominium, which seems like the whole world to you. You explore every single nook and corner of the house, which is still unfurnished, and you like it like that. Inhaling the fresh scent of wood from the cupboard, from the parquet, enjoying the cool touch of granite underneath your feet in the living room, widening your eyes in wonder as you dare yourself to take a peek from the window (you are young then, and the sixth floor does seem like such a great height to you, at the age of seven). You pretend you are the Columbus of your age, reaching new lands and charting new maps in your age. You giggle to yourself (a boy at seven can indeed giggle), and never once the thought never once cross your mind, that perhaps you need a friend around. Your elder brother seems enough for now, as both of you go traipsing across uncharted lands.
You threaten your parents with a glass of milk in your hands, pressuring them to give you the larger room at the side, instead of that tiny room at the end of the hallway. They laugh at your foolishness, and your brother playfully ruffles your hair, nudging you slightly so the milk doesn't slosh out of your cup. You laugh and push him back, and both of you roll across the floor of the newly furnished living room, setting the milk at a careful distance away. Life seems good to you at that time (someone at seven doesn't desire much), and a friend never cross your mind, at that moment.
When you are nine,
You reach home, a little down. The elementary school you are attending is perfectly fine, but you can't help but feel a little left out at times. It's the beginning of the year, and you are missing the friends you have made in grade 1 and 2. Grade 3 is a wonderful year (you listen goggle-eyed to your brother, with his avid descriptions of elementary school, he's 13 now), but you can't find that spark that makes it so special. Or at least, not yet.
You finish your homework in your room, the one which now you find so cozy and warm. It's like a habour for you, a lost ship after a quarrel with your brother or after a scolding from your parents, or right after those huge arguments that your parents are capable of, and they are indeed getting more frequent these days. Some voice inside you chuckles at your inner soul, wondering at the maturity level of it all. You pout back, and you can't help but say indignantly, that there's nothing wrong about being only nine. Your brother prefers his friends now, and frequently hangs out with them, while your father is pre-occupied with work, and your mother, with housework. You cannot not grow up by yourself, and learn how to think.
You make your way to the kitchen; perhaps, your mum may be in a good mood that she will offer you some cookies. It's only 3 in the afternoon, but you can't hold it in any longer; your stomach lets out a thunderous growl. Your mother whirls around in her apron, already preparing the ingredients for the soup that she is going to let it simmer for 3 hours later on (yummy), and she eyes you, a smile playing at her lips. You figure that your eyes are the best weapon on you, and you open fire by putting your most adorable puppy eyes on, hoping to coax some of those chocolate you see her buy earlier on. She waves you over to the sink area, which allows you to look out to the lobby right outside your house.
"Why don't you go play with that boy outside? He's playing with his football all by himself since they moved into the opposite apartment, and he looks around your age. Perhaps you may become best of friends?" your mum states, drawing your gaze to the young boy outside. He is wearing an oversized shirt, and his hair is in a total mess. He is kicking away at this football, and every single time it crosses the imaginary line drawn between his shoes, he lets out a small cheer and punches his fist into the air. You stand rigidly beside your mother, wondering if perhaps, you should just go out and welcome him into the neighborhood.
Your mum nudges you slightly in your arm, and you are jolted out of your thinking. She stares back into your eyes with this twinkling in hers, and you lower your gaze quickly. You are shy, that you are very sure of. You want to play with that guy outside, but you are too shy to just go out and make friends just like that. It takes a lot of courage, you admit, that you are unable to summon that much courage yet. You shake your head at the ground, and make your way out of the kitchen, while your mum exhales, sighing. Perhaps one day, you think to yourself, but you are never letting your mum know your thoughts.
When you are nine, and halfway through your school year,
You know his exact timings. He comes out of his house, and grabs his football that is lying right outside the door (as if he is not afraid that anyone will steal it, like, you, for example), and starts kicking it around. He imagines that he is against one whole group, one whole football team, and every time he scores a goal he goes all running about the lobby, imitating those famous football players (and you know that he shares your love for the same team, because he has their jersey). You find it comical, and you admit, you are drawn to his antics, but still, still, you are shy and it is holding you back from introducing yourself to him.
Every time the clocks strikes three, you push your homework away (making sure that you have already completed them before three) to the side of the table and make your way to the kitchen immediately, on the pretext that you are interested in what your mum is cooking for dinner, or trying to pretend that you are learning how to cook from her. Your mum continues to encourage you, continues to ask you to go out and join that boy in the lobby, because he looks a little lonely himself, and can do with your company. You discreetly shoot looks out of the kitchen when your mum is not noticing, and you observe him silently. It looks like a lot of fun, and you feel yourself tugged, just a little.
Before you can change your mind, or before that questionable wave of courage fades within you, you grab your favorite pair of sport shoes, arm yourself with your own football and gloves (you figure that he may appreciate some goalkeeper), and you pause in front of the door. Your mum gives you an encouraging nod, and you plaster your widest smile on your face, take in a deep breath, and open the door.
He stops his actions immediately, (probably in shock), and he stares at you, taking in your appearance. You silently curse (of course, at the age of nine, you probably don't have much choice curse words in your dictionary, but at least you know 'Shit', or something like that), and realize it is too late to turn back to the comfort of your room. Tentatively, you put on your shoes, holding his gaze all this time.
"Can I play with you? I swear I will not make any unnecessary trouble. It just looks fun, the way you are playing by yourself, and can I join? I will try to play along, and we can use your football or mine, and I brought gloves as well, in case you wanted a goalkeeper. We can take turns to kick the ball or something-"
He breaks out into the widest and purest smile you ever seen, one straight from the heart, and you see his gums hiding underneath his lips. You stop immediately, as you feel yourself calming down, and smiling back, as he nods at you, erasing all your previous fears, making them seem silly now. You pull yourself up, and set your football aside, as he holds out his to you.
During that short 3 hours (your mum has to open the door to call you in to bathe to prepare for dinner, and his mother has to call him in as well), you learn that he moved from Japan, as his father's company relocated him to Korea. You learn that he has a younger sister, who is currently at school (because she is just five years old, and her pre-elementary school starts in the afternoon). You learn that his mother is a housewife as well, and is superb at making Japanese food. You learn that he is attending another school, not yours, one for international students.
You learn that his gummy smiles soothes you instantly, even when you feel that you are kicking the ball wrong and hit him right in the stomach. You learn that no matter what, he will always be smiling at you, even when he doubles over in shock, or in pain. You learn that both of you share the same passion, the both of you love dancing, love the same television programme, love the same food (both Korean and Japanese), love the same computer games, and love soccer. (It may look like the case for every boy out there, but you only care about the two of you, now.)
At the very, very end of your first meeting, you hold out your hand, biting your lower lips in a grin. You offer your name, and he smiles back, pronouncing your name again. You like how he says your name, it is as if he is meant to say it, the way he says it is just so melodious, and you want to learn how to say it like him. "Lee Donghae," he says again, grinning.
He takes your hand and shakes it firmly, introducing himself. "Lee Hyukjae."
When you are ten,
You find yourself, outside the door, ready for the daily mini outings. He has this picnic mat folded in a corner of the place where his family place their shoes at, and you take it, spreading it out smoothly. You two pretend that you two are on a magical mat, floating around, transforming into famous and notable people, imitating their actions and tones, until the both of you are rolling about on the floor, and you are clutching so hard that it has started to hurt a bit.
His mum brings out some sushi for you two to eat when you play, and you swear it's one of the best sushi you have ever tasted. You mention this to him, and you take delight in seeing that smile light up his face completely. He raises his hands to cover his gummy smiles, because you know he is self-conscious of his gums. You reach out and tug his hand down, pulling it right to his side. You frown, and pout slightly, and he smiles apologetically.
"I like your gummy smile. Don't cover it, ever." You pout, making sure to get your point across.
He nods, trying to force the smile down by clamping hard on his lips. He fails in his attempt, and it results in the both of you playfully wrestling with each other on the picnic map. The both of you surrender at the same point, and sit facing each other, slightly breathless. He is about to say something, when his mum opens the door and calls the both of you in, your favourite show is about to start, she says. He closes his mouth and you look at him curiously, but he only shakes his head further and grins. He offers you his hand, and you grab it, pulling him right into his living room to catch that episode.
When you are ten and a half,
You recall all your outings. There was once he came to your house and the both of you baked cookies, and your mum didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the mess made in the kitchen, or the mess the both of you were wearing. He brought over his monkey-shape cookie maker, and he insisted on using them, only to push that monkey-shaped cookie right into your mouth straight from the oven, burning your tongue in the process. That resulted in a chase around the lobby, because your mum kicked the both of you out.
There was once you two played hide and seek, and he cheated, seeking the help of elevators. You decided that you deserve a break as well, and you use the stairs to sneak up from behind him. His echoes filled the stairwell, and you added yours to his and instead of a cacophony of noises, it sounded like a choir to you, perhaps because of that laughter that he was giving out.
There was once he led you to the maze below, and he shoved a spade right in your face, forcing you to dig with him. He dug till a certain depth, and he proudly took out two clumps of mud, declaring that they were clay, and he had prepared them especially a few weeks ago. He mixed mud with water, and placed them in the soil, waiting for them to become clay. You raised your eyebrows, a little skeptical, but you forgot all your doubts when he took one of them, and molded them into a mini figurine of you, and shyly gave it to you.
There was once someone took his bike, and he had to seek your help to get it back, because his smattering Korean didn't do him much justice. You had to communicate with him in broken Korean at times, and in English at times, revising the previous exercises you did in school. You went up to the other guy and adopted a strong stance, and he immediately returned it back. You push the bike back to him, and he smiled at you, and that smile lifted your heart, making you feel on the top of the world, like you are the hyung instead, taking care of someone who needed protection.
There was once he had to sleep early, and you sneak into your brother's room, shining a torch into his room. He scrambled for a torch as well, and you two communicate using light signals, although you don't know what you are trying to convey. You giggle involuntarily, and you see his gummy smile, crystal clear from your brother's room. His room happened to be right opposite to your brother's, and for that you kind of thank his mother for arranging this. He smiled back, and you two continued, until his mother came into the room, furious. Until she saw you across, and she, too, broke out into a smile.
When you are eleven,
He introduces you to his sister. You smile, and she is quite cute (only 9!), and you grin at her. She blushes, and you look to him, as he shrugs and grins back. You feel your eyes crease slightly as that grin picks up on your face, and you lean over to pinch her cheeks. (Adorable hamster-like cheeks! Who can resist?)
"You are cute." You offer, hoping that she will open up after you give her this compliment.
She does, and smiles back at you. She looks into your eyes, and you look at hers, finding the similar dark brown eyes, just like her brother's, and you find assurance and comfort there. You are too busy looking into those eyes, too busy thinking how much they actually resemble her brother's, that you never notice how he is trying his best to arrange his features and hide his emotions within a short span of 3 seconds. You never notice a slight discomfort in his face, before he wipes it away with a happy expression, happy that his sister finally joined in.
On his sister's ninth birthday,
Your parents bought a huge dolphin for her, and you pout, throwing a tantrum. You demand your parents buy one for you as well, because you really, really love the sea that much. When your parents initially refused, you run to your room, and hide in the cupboard, crying to yourself. They can't find you in the cupboard, and even if they do, they cannot convince you to come out from the cupboard.
They finally buy you one, and you are all smiles again.
One day, when he comes over, he sees that toy dolphin that proudly graces your bed, he stops at the door, and you turn around to see what's wrong. You never see that expression on his face, because you are busy wondering if he is coming up with a prank or something.
When you are starting Grade 6 in a few weeks,
You spot strangers going into his house, and coming out with boxes. You widen your eyes, and you rush to your mother, warning her of the burglars that are breaking into his house. She smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. (You can almost hear what is going on in her mind, that you are still so simple-minded after being on this world for 12 years.)
"They are moving, Donghae." She states simply, before returning to her preparation of dinner.
Somehow, you don't meet him anymore.
The last time you meet him, he comes over to your house to say goodbye. It is the last time his family will ever step into this condominium ever, and he comes to say goodbye. He scribbles a telephone number on your phone book (the one you kept since young) and pushes it back into your hands, smiling a little. You stand there stiffly, holding on the notebook, as you see them walk into the lift, with him being the last, as he waves one last time at you. You stare at the number above the lift, as it descends to the ground floor, and you just keep on staring, and staring, until your mother pulls you away from the door and drags you into the house.
You don't know what's going on in your mind, but there's something nagging at you, right at the back of your brain. You put your finger down on lost friendship, but somehow, it feels much more than just friendship.
You ask your mother, how does first-love feel like? She chuckles at you, and says that you are too young to understand. You ask your dad, but he waves you away immediately, motioning that he is on the phone. You ask your brother, and he offers some insightful advice. Only that you think that advice is bullshit, because every single thing he is saying coincides with how you are feeling now. And you are seriously only having a platonic friendship with him, nothing more.
When you are twelve,
Time doesn't hold that much attraction for you anymore. Especially at 3'o clock in the afternoon, no more.
When it is February,
When it is March,
When it is April,
When it is May,
When it is June,
You finally pick up your courage (once more), and pick up that phone to call him. Your parents are out shopping, and your brother is busy entertaining himself with World of Warcraft. You dial the number carefully, and you have to do it at least two times because your courage fails you at times. The ringing tone finally comes, and you settle down, never noticing that your breath is increasing, in quick little huffs.
"Yobseyo?" You swear that's his voice. Your breath hitches, and you find your mouth and throat very dry, all of a sudden.
"Hyukjae? I'm….Dong….Donghae here." You mumble.
"Donghae!" He exclaims loudly into the phone, and you feel that everything seems alright, again. You talk to him over the phone for a minute, and both of you suddenly lapse into uncomfortable silence. It has been long since you talked to him, but you never think that the two of you will become complete strangers after a few months. You try to make small talk by enquiring after his sister, and you hear her high-pitch laughter in the background. After 2 minutes, you know it's not working, and you hurriedly mumble an excuse and put the phone down.
You run to your room and hide in your cupboard, because that is the only place where you can find comfort, in times like this. When your parents cannot help you, when your brother is too busy by himself, when your friends are probably going out gaming somewhere, when you realize you depend, too much, too much on him, till it has become the point of being too over-reliant on him. And you don't know what to do, how to respond, when the two of you revert back to the previous status, before you make your way out of the door to join him for football, before he ever, ever came to this condominium.
Your brother, in the end, asks how it went, but you cannot answer.
You know, if he really wants to talk to you, he will call you one day, himself.
Time passes quickly.
When you are thirteen, you begin seventh grade, and you too, start to forget about him.
When you are fourteen, you don't find yourself missing him anymore. You enter the stage, where you start becoming rebellious, going against your parents whenever you can. You find yourself throwing away that phone book, and erasing that number away from your memories.
You wonder why he drew a fish beside the phone number he wrote down, with a smiley that you two created just for your own purposes. It holds a special meaning for you now, something that goes along the lines of 'I love you'.
You acknowledge that Hyukjae may be your first love, and you will one day, find a more significant and memorable love than him, again. Hyukjae has given you one of the best times in your life, protecting you, sheltering you from your family. Even though you are young, you already learn how to recognize and understand how this society works, and you know, that you have been lying to yourself from the start.
It's love, and now you acknowledge that.
You don't expect to see him, ever again.
Until you are seventeen.
You have successfully managed to enter this company, and you think it is rather promising that you may debut. You always sing to your father at times, when he needs some relaxation. (You know his favourite song by heart, every line perfectly, capturing them in your photographic memory.) And that's when you see him, again. Someone leads you to the dance studio to do the introductions, and at first you are too busy bowing to everyone, and there seems to be a lack of time to just look at their faces. Until you see a familiar voice greeting you, and your head snaps up in shock.
You think it's him, you are rather sure it's him, initially, but when, when did your "Lee Hyukjae" become "Lee Eunhyuk"? When did he start looking at you with this stranger and distant look in his eyes? When did he start treating you so formally? And someone seems to have taken over your place in his heart, someone by the name of "Kim Junsu" is standing beside him, and you are left all alone, by yourself.
You practice with them, and you realize that he has improved tremendously over the years. His dancing skills are now really good, and he is now all so foreign to you. You cannot stand it anymore; you rush out of the room during a water break, muttering an excuse to rush to the toilet. You wash your face; you splash water all over your face, rubbing your eyes, rubbing your cheeks, pulling your eyelids down, as you survey this pathetic person in the mirror. Somehow, you seem to be the only affected, and he has moved on. Perhaps you should do so too, you think to yourself. You take in a deep breath, and plaster another smile on your face, and you push yourself away from the sink.
"Donghae?" Someone asks, outside the toilet.
You freeze, because you know it's him. You stand by the other side of the door, listening. You accidentally knock into the door a little, and you wince, knowing that he is still at the other side. You close your eyes and lean against the door, too tired to keep up this front. You still love him, you know it, it's deep down within in your heart, and you cannot deny it.
You cannot hide it anymore; it's threatening to burst out from within. You open the door, and look right into his eyes, letting him see your red eyes, those eyes that once cried badly for him, those eyes that are now too tired to assume or resume that sparkle you once had, for him.
"You…remember?" You croak out, wincing at the harsh sound you make. He tilts his head to the side, and you get the message immediately. He has never seen you, like how you see him, and he never will. You sigh, brushing past him and walking towards the dance studio, leaving your heart behind.
He does something completely unexpected; he grabs you by your hand, just like the old times. He then pulls you into his embrace, and you stiffen, not knowing what this hug actually means. You try to take in a breath as discreetly as possible, because you just miss him so much.
"I'm sorry. Sorry for not replying, or calling. But I don’t want to act anymore, it's not me, and I know you know it. But…I don't want to raise your hopes, then smash it. My dad told me we were going back to Japan, I didn't want to just leave you again." he mumbles softly, and you have to try so hard to pick up what he is saying. You struggle against his grip, frowning hard to yourself as you do so; you don't want to believe what he is saying. It only results in him hugging you against him even tighter, and you have to resort to stepping on his foot to get him to let you go.
"Donghae…" he admonishes quietly, and you see it in his eyes, within that instant, that there's this hope, that, that perhaps, he does feel the same way after all. You see the pain in his eyes (and you are sure it's not from you stepping on his foot), you see the way he gazes shyly at the floor, and you are reminded of all the times you two had together, since you were nine, and he was nine. Since you were young, naïve, and clueless, since he was innocent, youthful and shy.
And you see how much he actually feels for you, since a tender age of nine.
You recall all those stupid times, when you miss those gazes, when you do something, when you mention some other girl, or just simply ignore him at times. You feel like an idiot, waiting for another 8 years and only getting your answer now.
It's not surprising how you seem to manage to wrestle all the answers from his eyes, because they are just so expressive, and you never forget once, ever, how they manage to twinkle, even in the night.
He stares at you, smiling a little, and pulls you back into his embrace.
You kick him in the shins, a little angry. "You tell me only after freaking 8 years?" You glare at him, and he winces and squeezes his eyes shut.
"You never told me either! I actually freaking thought you were interested in my younger sister! Gosh, my younger sister actually had a crush on you!" He grounds out, and you stare back, surprised.
"Then why tell it to me now?" You ask, still not fully satisfied with his answer.
"Because…" He drags over his answer, a playful glint in his eyes, one that you miss seeing for such a long time. "I'm not satisfied with just watching you from afar. And now I'm going to fight with my sister for you." He finishes, and you feel a blush creeping up your face, and you cough awkwardly, pushing yourself slightly out of his embrace.
"Donghae…"
"Hmm…?"
"Love you." He mumbles, before bending down quickly to press his lips to your forehead, and running off to the dance studio.
You cannot help the grin that is spreading across your face rapidly now, as you raise your hand to touch your forehead.
8 years. But at least you know, these 8 years are not wasted, never.
-------
A/N: took me quite some time to get this out, because it is rather personal. I used to have a japanese neighbour, and I now wonder where she is. We did do all those idiotic stuff together. But eunhae is just eunhae. Eunhae moments are solely Eunhae moments. Haha.