A mysterious man, cold and cruel... never says a word to girls, and betrays his friends. Why?
Mei Min becomes curious and tries to pry into him for information, and she may end up resulting with more than just his answers, perhaps his love . . .
...
As soon as she started singing, I was captured. Her voice seems a lot more gentle than when she talks to me. I don't understand what language she's singing, and I'm really confused. Yet I feel some sort of reassurance? I don't understand her. What is her attitude towards me? I continued staring at her, and she let a small smile escape her lips as she got into the song. My eyes widened when I recognized one word in the language she spoke. "Promise". I know what language she's speaking now. It's not any kind of Korean dialect, not English, even. She's singing Spanish. And I understand. She's making a promise to someone. It's strange. How she catches me like this.
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She herself had a message. I smiled a bit to myself and lowered my head. How can she remind me of. . .her? The thought of her made me smile a bit. But then a rush of deep sadness swept through me as I remembered that very night. "Tae!" "Hold on! Hold on to me! Don't let go, love!" She screamed, and the expression in her face when she knew there was no way it was possible for me to save her. . .
Was agonizing.
"Tae. . ." "No, Rasha." "Tae. . ." The tears in her eyes said it all, she she pried my fingers off, and she disappeared from my sight. "Rasha!"
I peered up at the girl, and she was looking at me, with not fear, but with sympathy. She's just like her. This girl doesn't believe this is who I am. She thinks I'm someone different. She doesn't know what I am. She glanced at me, and her smile was wide, I felt a rush of sudden relief. Nobody has smiled at me in forever. I paid close attention to her eyes, a spark of hope lit inside me.
Dammit.
Am I that weak? Is she that similar? If anything there is one difference from the girl and her herself. When I end an argument, she usually complied, this girl though, pulled me back, she wanted to finish her thoughts. And for the second time in my life I. . . I felt weak. I felt that I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to. She'd continue anyway. I looked around me, and noticed that other people seemed just as amazed, though a bit confused. I couldn't help myself anymore. She is too much like her, I need to know her name. More of her is less pain. . .
Right? She stuck out her pinky, as if making a pinky promise to a little kid. She wins.
