They're Made of Glass | SEVENTEEN

10 | sleeping beauty

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[ HANSOL ]

Every Sunday evening, mom would arrive home earlier than usual so that she could pick the old, worn-down book of fairytales out from the bookshelf in the corner of my room and read to me until I fell asleep. She was a very busy woman with most nights being filled with glamorous event after glamorous event, but Sunday nights were special - they were our nights. So because of this, she made an effort to make it home on time.

Although I acted embarrassed at some times, secretly I looked forward to the few hours of alone time I got to spend with my mom. She had a certain quality to her voice that made the tales of princes slaying dragons and wizards casting spells on unsuspecting villagers all the more entertaining than they already were. But she was also a hopeless romantic who - after twenty years - was still madly in love with my dad. Although she was a bit too descriptive at times, the story of her fairytale was one I never got tired of.

I remember her sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes tired as she smiled down at me. This particular day she took my hand in hers and began rubbing small circles on my palm while my eyelids grew heavy and began to slowly flutter shut. Then, as I was right on the edge of sleep, she leaned down and whispered, "Hansol, I hope you find your own princess someday."

I yawned and scrunched my nose up defiantly like any other seven year old boy would. Mom chuckled softly and gave my hand a squeeze.

"I'm not saying now." She continued. "But later on, when you're older, you'll start seeing girls differently. Just...promise me that you'll look past the exterior. Go beyond their eyes and their smile and the glossy makeup; look at what's really there. Find someone you'd slay a dragon for."

The book she had been reading at the time was Sleeping Beauty. You know the story, a girl gets cursed by some witch and falls asleep for a hundred years. Like all stories, this one ended happily ever after with a dragon-slaying prince coming and saving the day. I had assumed at the time that I would always be the prince. I would be the one to ride in and save the princess and we'd get our own glorified happily ever after.

But love, in short, was complicated as fuck.

I wasn't a prince, I was a naive boy who had been dreaming for the last ten years. It was at the Invitational when I realized this. It was at the Invitational when I finally woke up.

The first thing I noticed was the hair. Her hair was long and a deep chestnut brown. Already, I knew I was falling deeper than I should've. Chestnut is the way you describe the color of someone's hair you've spent way too much time looking at. It's the type of brown that goes beyond the shit-colored ordinary stuff you see everyday. And nestled in a frame of lovely dark hair was a feathered mask that was just like mine. Only hers was white and not black like mine. It matched her dress, a sparkly white one that hung off her body beautifully. For some reason I was reminded of an angel but that was ridiculous since angels, I'm pretty sure, didn't attend stupid Invitationals.

But I think it was then I understood what my mom meant. For this girl, even if it was just so she'd remember my name, I'd slay twenty dragons if I had to.

Looking at her made my heart stop. It just stopped beating. And for the first time in my life, I had that feeling. You know, like everything around you is floating as if you're on the moon, because that's how she made me feel, like I was on the moon. But while everyone and everything is floating and doing summersaults or whatever you do in zero gravity, here I am still lost in this girl's eyes.