Prologue

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There was nothing quite like the view from the top of a tree house.

It probably wasn't the best idea to actually climb to the top of a tree house with no ladder in the state that Lisa was in, but she couldn't care less. There was anger fueling every single one of her steps and although rage wasn't good for accuracy, it was definitely good for strength and rash decisions. Her legs hoisted her up from a bedroom widow to the roof and for a moment she hung there, suspended in mid-air. The wood felt rough against her fingers and she could feel it starting to prick at her, but she kicked off one last time and swung her leg over to rest on the roof.

Getting herself out of that position proved to be both humiliating and painful and she released a string of curse words. But it was worth it. She could finally be alone. Lisa took her bag off her shoulders and emptied its content, leaving her with paper and some chocolate milk. The same chocolate milk that her sister used to pack her for lunch every day.

Lisa wished the chocolate milk was bitter so that she could make some pun about her feelings and the drink in her hands. But it was as sweet as can be, sending the rush of nostalgia that she ever so craved for in moments like this. She felt like a five-year-old and she really, really wish she still was. Because when she was five, her sister still lived with her and had not moved in with her stupid fiancee in a totally new city.

While dropping her sister, Myra, off at the airport last week, she had mentioned that Lisa should definitely come live with them if the university she ends up going to is anywhere nearby. Although Lisa humored the idea with her sister, she knew that she would never do that. She needed to separate herself from her sister because if she hadn't been overly attached, this would never have happened in the first place. That's probably why she decided to leave. Lisa was being a pesky younger sister. At the thought of this, she had to hold down a sob that crept up her though and sipped even harder on her chocolate milk.

"Lisa!" a voice whisper-yells from below her. She peers down to see Jae-Sun standing and a concerned look that etched his features. "Tree houses are for sitting inside of not on top of."

"Leave me alone," she hisses back. Speaking took a lot of energy out of her and she hated how weak her voice sounded.

"No."

"Why?" She tried to mask it as annoyance but the shakiness in her voice gave it away.

"You're drinking chocolate milk," he said, his voice softer now. "You only do that when you're upset."

"I'm not upset. I just like chocolate milk." Her voice sounded so small that she was surprised that Jae-sun had even heard her. 

With a sigh that people often let out in response to her stubbornness, Jae-sun started to climb the tree branches.

If it were anyone else, she would have hated them for interrupting her. She had ditched the high school party for solitude, not faux comfort. But it had been six years and Jae-sun was still loyal by her side. He knew how to comfort her as good as Myra did. Lisa felt a pang at the thought of her sister but pushed it down. She felt Jae-sun move to sit next to her and heard his heavy panting.

"How did you do that?" he breathes. "I saw you take some shots, you've got to be at least a little  drunk."

"I'm good at holding my alcohol." Which was true. She was better than most people, physically. But holding her emotions while under the influence of alcohol - that was a different story.

"Whoever built this thing was dumb. They didn't even make a ladder." Lisa could feel his gaze on her for several moments until he finally lifted his head and leaned back. "What are you so upset about?" he asks.

She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her head on top of them. "Nothing" was resting on top her tongue and ready to be spoken but she couldn't bring herself to actually utter the word. Lying was hard when there was a river of sadness waiting to be released.

But she still tried to hold it back. She may not be able to lie, but there was ways around actually opening up.

"It's stupid," she says.

"If it's gotten you this upset," he coaxes, "then it matters to me." Damn. He was good.

There was a pause where several thoughts run through Lisa's head. She could repeatedly bang her head against the roof. She could scream. She could kick and flail and break whoever's tree house this was and send them both crashing to the ground.

But she doesn't. Because she could feel that river start to leak and it was coming out through her eyes. They were running in drops down her cheeks and gathering at her chin. The dam was breaking.

My sister's moving out and I want to hate her because I need her so much right now because I've never been so lost in where I want to be in ten years and it makes me feel so alone but I can't hate her because she's doing what everyone's doing when they get into college and she's just living her life and I feel like I'm being left behind but it's not because living with your fiancee isn't leaving someone behind it's what you're supposed to do when you're-

"We should get married," she blurts in a wobbly voice. 

"Uh," Jae-sun pauses, "you sure you're good at holding your alcohol?"

"Not now," she explains, "but later in life. We should get married."

"This isn't the love confession I was hoping for."

She smiles a little at that. "I'm not romantically interested in you," she goes on. "But it's easier to move on - um - it's easier to move on with life when you're married. A new beginning." Lisa looks up to meet his eyes and smiles. "It'll be like a marriage pact. If we both haven't found a significant other by a certain age, we'll marry each other."

She expects a laugh of some sort but Jae-sun looks serious. It may have been the alcohol, but there seemed to be hurt in his eyes and a conflict that he was trying to solve. "What age?" he says at last.

At this, she takes a moment to pause and think. "Twenty-seven. We can have kids if we want but we'll be young enough for us not to be gross."

He's still looking at her intently. As if she's got some ulterior motive that she's not telling him about. There's a certain softness in his eyes that reminds her of defeat.

"Twenty-seven," he reaches out a hand for her to shake.

"Deal" she grins.




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