PAPER HEARTS

03

Ryoko has no clue about Minjun. She only supposes that he and I have been neighbours-progressed to roommates, bleeding into a quick relationship since he started his period in S+ entertainment as a trainee almost three years ago. I don't think she would want to know the kind of person he actually is, even if I did make an effort to reveal to her.

She teases me with him - to the outside world at least, he is the kind of candy boy who makes every girl's heart melt from any cliche book. What she doesn't know is how his presence is enough to have my heart racing through a marathon of despair.

The story behind it all isn't engaging to a toddler's interests. I guess one could say that my parents nurture their trust in this fraud without a second judgment.

I discern a lamp being turned on from the window of our apartment as I stand at the entrance of the building with uncertainty. I feel my paunch jolt, both out of anguish from retching all its contents out without choice, and because I certainly don't want to go upstairs. 

Maybe if I could just get away with running off. Far, far away, where no one knew the first letter of my name or my reasons for hiding my identity away from the world. Maybe if Minjun wasn't an influential man, I would've stopped to throw my bag away and take off. I know he will make a huge deal out of finding me and I don't think the outcome will be too pleasing.

The elevator ride is my worst instance of triggering myself a good blow from my panic relapses. We live on the first floor, our front door hidden away in the remotest corner of the passageway because my boyfriend had insisted that he wanted some privacy for himself.

But I know better - he just doesn't want anyone knowing that he uses me for fulfilling his needs as a man.

"Shit," I swear, retrieving my earphones. I plug the pods into my ears, play a random song to calm my nerves before taking a few short strides towards the door, breath shallow.

My knuckles land on the door.

My chest heaves with every ounce of space I overwhelm.

A quick glance at my watch tells me it's nearly nine in the night, and that I'm just about dead as meat. But my enthusiasm towards getting away with leaving the house unattended, without permission - on a Sunday - halves when our housekeeper unbolts the door.

My eyebrows raise, "Is Minjun not home?"

She gives me a judging look, points toward his room and then advances to walk away. My shoulders slump in defeat as I take off my shoes, letting my feet get accustomed to the comforts of my stockings. A glass shatters against the floor and I roll my eyes to myself as I place my bag on the couch and make a shortcut into the kitchen for some water. I can't blame Haneul. She only does things around for the sake of doing it, not because she wants to be here and help anyone out. She is doing it for Minjun's money. He has everyone wrapped around his filthy rich fingers, believing that they would be in a competent cavity financially if they lingered on his safe side.

Everyone wanted Minjun only for his money.

Everyone but me.

Feeling indecisive, I sort of come to a blind conclusion. I don't even want to see if he has work to do tonight - which, I'm gladly willing to look forward to if he does so I can rest my thighs for one night. Twenty years old, and my greatest achievement is going at it for hours together at night with this guy.  I make a face at the absurd calculation. Minjun should be thrown behind bars for treating me like a bondman under his pawn.

A sudden crash of glass against metal interrupts my line of thought. My vision fades for a second and my blood runs cold when I realize that I'd dropped my glass into the sink. It takes me a full minute to collect my thoughts around my presence and my surroundings. When I pivot forward in time, my chest shrinks and my eyes well up with tears.