SEVENTEEN | Imagines

Jeonghan (II)

Jeonghan

Jeonghan always thought you were an angel. You couldn't disagree more.

. . .

He had first seen you at a random park, just sitting there completely motionless as you read a book. There were only the small movements of flipping a page or the tiniest of breezes ruffling your hair. You were so still that there was a flock of pigeons pecking at a spilt bag of popcorn at your feet.

You were so serene and tranquil that Jeonghan resisted the urge to rub his eyes to confirm if you were indeed human; the grace you sat in was akin to that of a lady in a painting. The scene was so entrancing that he couldn't seem to look away or move further.

Suddenly a young girl that had a crown of flowers placed on her little head ran towards you. The quick little trot of feet scattered the panicked pigeons that flew up in a flurry of grey and white feathers.

When the birds disappeared from view, he looked back at you only to be hit with some foreign emotion. You were smiling broadly as you gently ruffled the long hair of the small girl before the other playfully batted your hand away. She was smiling as she fixed the position of her crown.

Then you laughed, Jeonghan couldn't hear what your laugh sounded like, but he now knows what it looks like, and it took his breath away.

He was so sure.

You must be an angel.

Suddenly the girl was leaning over her knees, seemingly exhausted. Your face was filled with worry as you quickly picked the child up before immediately leaving the park.

. . .

"You're an angel," parents would tell you this all the time and each time you would wave it off with a good-natured smile.

They didn't mean it. It was only natural, after all it was your job to help their children.

But you truly were no angel.

You were more flawed than most, both on the outside and on the inside. So, it took some willpower the first few times you heard the comparison to not burst into bitter laughter.

No one knew who you were, you didn't let anyone. You had learned to protect yourself with a sharp tongue and an even sharper attitude. You had the uncanny ability to look past the farces that fellow adults took great pains to put up and you rarely saw anything you liked.

Maybe if you tried, you could have accepted them and realized that the flaws they had were no different than your own. But you didn't want to, social interactions were so filled with superficiality that you had no energy to spare on such a trivial matter.

You remembered trying. When you were little.

You had so desperately wanted to fit in, or blend in, or even just being a wallflower. It didn't work, the purplish marks that you bore on your right arm ensured that someone was always looking at you. They would gaze with maybe curiosity tinged with disgust if you were lucky, if you weren't, there would be blatant emotions of utter revulsion.

It was the little ones, the innocent ones that would look with open fascination and draw shapes on your marred skin and tell you they could see pretty flowers there.

These words washed some of the other labels away. Labels such as 'plague' or 'mold'.

You found yourself caring for such children, and it became your passion, a passion that fueled you through nearly a decade of post-secondary school. And it paid off, you could now protect the very ones who looked at your birthmark and didn't see it as a blemish but something to be proud of.

You helped children. You didn't help anyone else, you didn't want to help anyone else.

You couldn't forgive. You didn't want to.

You remembered when Wook appeared in front of you, eyes begging and pleading for your aid, for your sympathy, for your kindness. A better person would have obliged.

You weren't such a person, all you could see was the heartless smile he gave you when he called you a rotting hag. You didn't forgive, nor would you ever.

So you only smiled very genially when grateful parents hugging their children proclaimed you an angel.

You were no angel.

. . .

Jeonghan had to see you again.

And so fate shall oblige him.

. . .

Jeonghan had just purchased a small container of ice cream from a truck located at the entrance of the park when he turned to see you pushing a little boy on a wheelchair. He was watching your smiling face intently, listening to rapt attention to your words.

When you drew closer Jeonghan could see it, the sprawling purple that drew designs on the entirety of your right arm. They were beautiful, he wanted nothing more than to run his fingertips over the natural markings, he was mesmerized. Although, he still thought your natural brightness caused it to pale in comparison.

When you awkwardly reached forward over the boy to receive the two twist cones who had ordered as a little treat, a pale hand reached past you and took the ice creams. You twisted your head to your side to see a pair of sparkling eyes that were crinkled lightly by a sweet smile.

"Let me get that for you," his voice was soft and even sweeter than his smile.

You gave him a grateful nod and wheeled your way to a low table with a couple of stone stools. You had subconsciously begun to tug at your white sleeves, wishing that they were longer so that the beautiful man beside you couldn't see them.

You usually wouldn't care. But for an inexplicable reason, you cared.

When Jeonghan saw what you were doing, he rested his hand lightly onto your exposed wrist. "Don't try to hide them, they're lovely to look at." You had to stop yourself from scoffing at his comment, you had heard similar things from people who always had another motive in mind. You couldn't scoff at the genuine look in his dark brown eyes.

Your voice was subdued when you replied, "Thank you."

After you settled yourself and your little charge, the man spoke, "I'll take my leave, but I'd like to give you something before I go."

He proceeded to hastily scrawl something onto a little piece of paper before he reached for your hand. You felt his warm fingers slip something into your palm.

"Read it," he winked at you before he left.

. . .

After you returned home, you fished out the note (which you now realized was just a receipt) out of your pocket. You opened it to see:

I'd love to meet you again and I'd rather not leave it up to fate.

Call me?

A smiley face accompanied the phone number.

You grinned.

. . .

It had been years before Jeonghan finally told you.

"I thought you were an angel," he seemed to just blurt this out randomly when the two of you were cuddling at night.

You chuckled, "You should know better than anyone that I couldn't be further from an angel."

He hugged you tighter to his chest as he whispered, "That's what other people think. You are perfect for me because you're my angel."

You sighed, "Your idea of an angel is warped beyond saving."

But you gave him a kiss anyway, for saying something so sweet to you.