scandalous; jaemryeong

02 • beginning

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02 • beginning

•••

The memory of the accident haunted her.

On that night, the whole city had been a swath of white and gray. Moonlight had gleamed off the ice that coated the streets. The wintry chill had seeped into her bones and made it hard to breathe.

She'd been working her first job at Chaelin News in West Gimpo, reporting a series of ice falls as part of a weather report, when her phone had lit up with an urgent message.

dad <3
Hospital. Now.

Sometimes even this memory would snatch the air from her lungs, pressing against her chest so hard it ached. In the hospital, she'd found her father shouting his voice hoarse, one furious man outmatched by a crowd of stern-faced nurses. His eyes had been bloodshot, his face red as he turned, shoulders heaving, to phone their mother for the dozenth time. Their mother, who would never come.

She had seen him that night, too. Jaemin.

He'd pushed against seas of frantic managers, assistants, photographers, hair wild and eyes stricken, his body drawn so tight it seemed as if it would burst with pain any moment. When security had somehow quieted the scene, he'd turned, a breath shaking from his lips as he raked his fingers through his hair.

Then his eyes had met hers, and he had gone still.

She'd forgotten how to breathe. His hair disheveled, swarmed by the demands of a dozen prying strangers, his gaze had fixed itself upon hers, wide and desperate, mirroring hers.

It was the look of a lost child.

•••

The headline dried up her throat.

She hadn't heard Huang Renjun's name for a year now. The first and last time she had spoken to him was three years ago, at Gimpo University, when he had directed her to Jeno's dorm with a grin spreading across his eager face.

Chaeryeong snapped back to the present as Jeno's door clicked open in the distance.

"Fame's made you careless," she heard him say. "I'd be more careful if I were you." A moment later, his door clicked shut.

A long stretch of silence followed. Chaeryeong dared not to move until she heard Jaemin left―she'd learned to be patient, to remember that people took their time, and that the trick was in matching their pace. She pressed her back against the smooth hallway wall and waited.

Sure enough, a minute later, she heard footsteps fading into the opposite direction. All clear, she thought. She pressed her lips, held the kimchi box tight, and turned the corner―

―only jumping at the sight of Jaemin waiting for the elevator.

He'd drawn out a dark cap from the inner pocket of his jacket and jammed it onto his head, perhaps to shield himself from cameras. As he watched the elevator numbers climb, he rocked forward on the balls of his feet with a boyish eagerness, hands tucked into his pockets.

As if sensing Chaeryeong's startled gaze, he turned, his brows tilting up curiously. Her breath hitched. Instantly, she lowered her head and hurried away.

Chaeryeong had always prided herself in being quick to disappear. But this time, she was a second too late. She would not know until later that Jaemin had, in fact, glimpsed her face, and that―upon seeing it―he had remembered her. She would not know until later that the familiarity of her shy gaze tugged at him until he, too, found his own haunted sleep in the early hours of morning.