Stay

Her eyes were locked onto yours. As she holds your gaze, you take your time to look at her face; to really look at her . The mole on her lower left cheek, the shallow dimples that appears when she smirked, even the crinkle in her nose. You try to memorize the bits of her that make her, her. You have to. This may be the last time you will lay your eyes on her. She finally speaks.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

Two weeks earlier

Jimin. Her name was Jimin. It is impossible that this girl, who was so peculiar, could ever have a name that mean gem of knowledge. She did the weirdest things like taking photos of armchairs, or eating hotdogs with a sauce made of a combination of cream cheese and strawberry jam. Like seriously, who does that? But no matter how odd she is, she is Jimin. As You get ready for the graduation rehearsal, you couldn’t help but remember the first time you met her.

You are sitting alone in the cafeteria when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and look to find a girl standing beside you.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit with you? There aren’t any other available tables.”

 “Uhm, yeah sure,” you say, taking your earphones off.

 “Thanks!” she beams. She sits down across from you, putting her meal tray on the table. There is a hotdog sandwich on the tray, along with a can of coke, a small packet each of cream cheese and strawberry jam. You have no idea what those last two condiments were doing there.

 “My name’s Jimin, by the way.” she says.

 “Y/N,” You reply. You weren’t much for conversation. You were always kind of a little shy. Okay, maybe more than just a little. She tries to say something, but you think she notices you weren’t up for conversation. You never understood why you have to introduce yourself when you share tables. It’s so… unnecessary.

 You take a bite out of your burger, trying to be careful not to be too messy. You are around a girl after all. As You savor the genius that is grilled beef, you notice she is spreading the cream cheese and strawberry jam on the hotdog. You freeze mid-bite. Who the hell does that? She must have noticed the confusion on your face because when you look up, she looks incredibly amused.

 “You should try it,” she suggests. And then she smirked. When she did, you notice the dimples that form on her cheeks. Something softens in the air – a warmth you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You notice how droopy her eyes look; in a tired, beautiful sort of way. You suspect that she notices you are staring a little too intently. You panic. You grab the hotdog and take a big bite. Bad idea.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she says in between her fits of laughter.

 “How can you stand to eat that?” you force yourself to say. You are coughing really badly and your eyes were watering.

 “It tastes amazing! What are you talking about?” She motions for the hotdog. You gladly hand it to her. She finishes the rest of it in about ten seconds flat. You must have looked really grossed out because she is smiling slyly as she wipes her face with a napkin.

 “So Y/N, do you always stare at girls so intensely?”

 “I wasn’t staring,” you protest. “It’s rude not to look at someone when you speak to them.” 

 “You don’t have to lie, I don’t blame you if you think I look pretty,” she says while laughing.

 “Shut up” You couldn’t help but smile. There is a real sense of humor on this one. She smiles back too. Not the coy smirk or the mischievous smile she had earlier. This one was genuine. It is was heavenly.

 “Yoo Jimin,” she says as she extends her hand to you.

 “Y/N Gener.” You reach out to shake her welcoming hand.

 “Well Y/N Gener, do you have any plans today or would you like to accompany me to the beach?”

 You were surprised by the sudden invitation. You just met, is she really asking to you go to the beach? Is this one of those scenarios your parents warned you about when you were a kid, you know the one where you shouldn’t go with strangers or something terrible would happen? But the more you look at her, the warmer you felt. At that moment, you knew. She had you. She had you with that damned smile.

 “Yeah, I’m free,” you say.

Her face lights up. “Let’s go then!”

You make your way to the auditorium taking the long route there. You are in no hurry. In two days, it will be time to leave all of this behind. You will no longer see the vast lawns towered by large trees where students will spend mornings and afternoons. A warm summer breeze kisses your cheeks as you trudge through the worn-out path leading to the main building.

It feels kind of surreal how you will leave what was your world for the past four years. Even now with the end in sight, it is hard to believe that you are less than forty-eight hours from graduating. It feels exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

You pass by the Fine Arts Building where you and Jimin had spent many nights developing her still photos. She showed you how to properly handle film in a darkroom. As much as you loved her photos, you loved it more when she paints.

The rain is pouring like crazy outside. The University declares a suspension of classes in expectation of a typhoon. Most students are in a good mood. It’s not everyday you get to miss class for legitimate reasons. You’re bored as hell. You try to call Jimin to see if she wants to watch “Friends” with you but she wasn’t picking up her phone. You try again, but still no answer. You decide to go to her room

You take the elevator and travel five floors down to the ground floor. You exit the lift and make your way out of your dormitory building. You pull open your umbrella and step into the rain. You’re walking really fast just in case the rain pours any harder than it already does. You sprint the last few meters that lead to Jimin’s apartment building. You take the stairwell since her room is only on the third floor. You practically lounge up the flight of stairs to save time.

You knock on room 304. You wait for a couple of seconds, but there is no answer. You knock again, this time a little bit louder. You hear a clutter of noise from inside. The door swings open, and Jimin’s head pops out of the room.

 “Hey, wanna watch Friends?” You ask as you wave your hard drive in front of her.

 “Uhm… I’m actually kind of in the middle of something right now.” She opens the door to let you in. “But you can watch them on my TV if you want to.”

 “Yeah, sure.”

You step into her room, closing the door behind you. She grabs the hard drive and plugs it into to TV. She motions for you to sit. You nod and arrange yourself comfortable on the couch.

 “I tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up,” you say.

 “Oh. Sorry, was just a little busy,” she replies.

 “What are you doing anyway?” You ask curiously.

She points to a canvas across the room. It wasn’t finished, but you could make out the image of an old couple. The painting kind of bugs you. There is something about it that look so familiar.

 “What you’re painting, is that the photo of...,”

 “The couple I took a picture of in the park last week? Yeah, it is,” she says, cutting you off. “I’m using the negative though, trying out a new way to paint. Anyway, you can just go watch your show while I finish this up.”

 “Yeah, sure. No problem.” You grab the remote and press play. You click the episode where Ross and Rachel get married in Vegas. You are really invested for the first couple of minutes, but you couldn’t help but watch Jimin paint.

She looks so calm, so peaceful. She remains silent while she paints. You remain still as you watch her work. She holds her brush to the canvas with such certainty it becomes an extension of her arm. Each stroke is brilliant, perfecting a masterpiece. You didn’t notice yourself holding your breath as you watch her. You hear Chandler tell a joke in the background, but you couldn’t care less. You are captivated watching her paint the same way painting captivates her. You feel the warmth in your heart again.

Here, in her room, she is not afraid to lay bare herself onto canvas, to put a portion of herself into her art. As she continued to work, you understand what true passion is. Her passion for painting makes her strong, vulnerable, spontaneous, and precise all at once. It makes her real. You see the real Yoo Jimin. Without all the notion of a peculiar, out-going, care-free girl. She is just as simple as you are – you both love something with an intense passion. For her, it is the arts. For you, it is her.

You fidget in your seat. You are minutes away from graduating. You feel nervous. It is so hot underneath this toga. You just know something bad is going to happen. You can just picture your mom and dad in the audience with their video camera. You are all but sure they would record you doing something inescapably embarrassing. This is why you hate public events. The only good part of today so far was seeing Jimin march. She looks so beautiful. More than the usual anyway.

The person to your left stands up. You look in that direction and the usher motions for you to come. You guess it’s time. You stand up and follow the line ahead of you. As you wait for your name to be called, you absent-mindedly play with your fingers. You are getting nervous. You can feel your palms starting to sweat. You see your parents in the crowd. They are waving like a bunch of tourists in Disneyland. It’s embarrassing to say the least. You also see your older sister, which was surprising. You never really thought she cared much about you. She is here now though, mouthing something you can barely make out as being proud of you. You appreciate it and force a smile.

 “Y/N Gener, Major in Business Administration.”

You barely hear your name being called. You suddenly feel woozy. Before you walk up the stage, you glance at the area where Jimin sits. You find her looking right at you, smiling. It’s that damned smile again. You can’t help but smile back. You compose yourself and march up the stage as confidently as possible. You take a bow, get your diploma, shake your dean’s hand, and have your photo taken. It’s over. You couldn’t believe it is over. You officially graduated.

As you carefully climb down the stage, you look back at Jimin. Her smile is gone. Her face looks uneasy. You know that look. You know the pain that brought it. You know how lonely she feels, despite the cause for celebration. You want nothing more but to sit right next to her and tell her it’s okay. You want to tell her that her parents would have been proud.

You want to go to the funeral. You couldn’t imagine allowing her to go there by herself. She needs you. You go to the train station to purchase your ticket. You are going with Jimin to her father’s funeral.

The previous night was a living nightmare. You were watching Star Wars. She has never seen it and you wanted to educate her that Han shot first. That’s when the phone rang. You pause the movie as she stood up from the couch and answered the phone. You try to make out what the call was about, but it was no use. She was suddenly so, so quiet. When she put the phone down, she remained still, looking down at the floor. You know something was wrong.

“Hey, what happened?” You ask you walked over.

“My… my…,” she tried to say, her head still looking down.

Suddenly, tears run down her face. She starts to fall, but you caught her. You held her in your arms. She felt good in your arms. You immediately put the thought aside. This wasn’t the time for that.

“Jimin, what’s wrong? Who was that on the phone?” You cupped her face so you could look her in the eyes.

She returns your steady gaze. “Dad. He’s gone,” she says softly, voice shaking.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin."

For a moment nothing was said. There was nothing that could be said. You both sat down on the floor, still hugging her. She starts to cry heavily. You gently guide her head to your chest, and then she starts holding on to you even harder. You kissed her forehead. Time seems to stop.

She glanced up at you. “You know my dad bought me my first art set?”

“No, I didn’t. You haven’t told me that yet,” you reply.

“When mom died, I was having a difficult time coping. I wouldn’t to talk to anyone. Dad was the only one I could really to talk to, but I didn’t want to talk to him about mom. I just think it is too painful, you know?”

You nod, remaining silent. You know she just wants to be heard.

“So, one day, dad came home early from work. He called me into his office. When I get there, he gives me a boxed set of art materials. He asks me to just in the chair to draw a picture of whatever I wanted.”

“What did you draw?” you whisper.

“My mom,” she says, choking back tears. “I have a picture of her in the locket she gave me before she died. I think she knew she was about to go.”

You looked at her. She is toying with the golden locket that rests on her neck. You never saw her without it. Now, you know why. She starts wiping the tears from her cheeks as she stands up. You stand up as well.

“Hey, do you mind if we call it a night? I think I just need some time alone,” she says quietly.

“Yes, of course. If you need anything from me, just call. I’ll be here,” you assure her.

You are in your room packing four years’ worth of stuff into boxes and bags. Your room is a mess. You are busy separating junk when there is a knock on your door. When you open it, you are surprised to see Jimin.

Would you go on a walk with me?” she asks.

 “Yeah, sure. Let me just get my keys.” You grab your room keys from your bedside table. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jimin leads the way, as she always does. She walks out of your building and heads to the park. She seems awfully quiet. You feel like asking, but you knew her better. She would tell you what is on her mind when she wants to.

 “So can you believe we’re actually graduates?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood. “We’re grown-ups now.”

 “Yes, and no. I mean sure I earned my degree, but it still doesn’t feel like I’m actually an adult now!” she exclaims.

You both laugh at the thought of you being certified adults – burdened by the responsibility of the world. You are somewhere in the middle of the park by now. Jimin makes her way towards a bench and you both sit down. You just sit there for a couple of minutes. Silence is something you are used to.

“I need to tell you something,” her voice soft and shaking.

You keep silent. You know that whatever she says, you probably weren’t going to like it. You look at her, but she wouldn’t hold your gaze. You look forward instead.

“I’m moving to London,” she whispers.

It takes you a second to realize what she is saying. You understand that you all have to go your own separate ways now, but London? That’s on the other side of the world. You start breathing heavily. You always do that when you were stressed. She must have noticed because she looks concerned.

“I was offered a job. It’s a really good opportunity. It’s a really well known firm, plus the project is only for five years,” she explains.

“When did you get the offer?” You ask.

“About two months ago,” she replies hesitantly.

Two months ago. She was considering a job in a different continent two months ago and she is only telling you now? You weren’t ready for this. You’re ready to leave university, and your other friends, but you didn’t think she’d be leaving you.

“When do you leave?” You ask.

“In two weeks,” she says, looking away from you now. She sounds apologetic. Like she knew her words felt like daggers.

You stand up from the bench and start walking away. Two weeks till she leaves. All you have left with her is two weeks. You’re angry with her for wanting to leave, but you know in your heart you’re really angrier with yourself for never telling her how you feel. You glance back at her.

“Congratulations, Jimin. I’m happy for you. I really am,” you say, feigning a smile.

Before she could respond, you start walking back to you building.

Present

The alarm blasts. It shocks you into consciousness. You feel too lazy to get up. It probably has something to do with Jimin leaving. No, it definitely had everything to do with Jimin leaving. You haven’t really talked since. She was too busy packing and fixing all the documents needed for her new job. You were too drunk on sadness. You preferred sulking than help her prepare to leave your life. So mature of you.

You look at the clock, and it’s almost ten in the morning. You grab your phone from your bedside table, checking her flight details again. Her plane noon. You then check your notifications and see you have a message from Jimin from late last night.

“Hey, my plane leaves at noon tomorrow. Do you think we could grab breakfast before I go?”

You check your phone again and you had three missed calls – all from Jimin. Suddenly, all you want to do is go see her. You want to tell her goodbye. You want to tell her you’re sorry. You want to tell her you love her. You look at the clock again, 10:05. Shit.

You call Jimin a few times, but she wasn’t picking up. You decide to just go to the airport and hope for the best.

“I am so sorry, I fell asleep and my phone was on silent. I’m heading to the airport now. Meet me before you get to immigration?” you text her, as you go outside and start hailing a cab. You get in and pray you weren’t too late. Your phone dings 10 minutes into the ride.

“I’ll be waiting.”

You get to the airport almost an hour later. You hurry past security. You check her text message again to make sure she’d meet you before immigration. You race your way through the walkways. You check your phone again. You run faster.

As you get to immigration, you scan the faces for Jimin’s. You see her among the seats across the entrance to immigration. She is immersed in a book. You couldn’t really make out the title. You inch your way towards her.

 “Jimin.”

 “Y/N,” she says, as she looks up from her book. Her eyes boring into yours, like it was reminding you of the past two weeks you did not spend with her.

You steady yourself. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the past few days.”

 “Y/N, I know you’re mad at me,” she starts, looking at you with a tired but knowing expression. “But you need you to understand, there’s nothing left for me here. My mom, my dad, I have nothing left here.”

“I’m here,” you say softly. You regret it as soon as you say it.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she replies. She looks right at you. “I sorry, Y/N. Please, don’t be mad at me. I have to do this for myself. To see what’s out there for me.”

You stay silent, processing her words.

“I think it’s what my parents would want. I think It’s what I want,” she says gently as if trying to make it less painful for you.

“I’m not mad at you. Not at all,” your voice is trembling now. “I’m mad at me.”

“Huh? What do-”

“Let me finish,” you interrupt. “I know that there’s nothing left for you here. That’s why I’m mad at myself. I never gave you something to hold on to. From the day we met, you have always enchanted me. It’s the things you say, and the things you do. It’s you. I know it’s too late, but I come to say I love you, Jimin. I have been in love with you for a very long time.”

She looks stares at you. Scrutinizing everything you just said, as if your confession was something she couldn’t believe. You were afraid of this. This is why you never told her how you felt. You knew rejection well, but you couldn’t take it from her. You somehow knew that if you acted on your emotions, she and you would drift apart.

 “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that?”

 She could see the confusion on your face as your jaw drops a bit.

 “Why are you surprised?”

 “Because. You’re you. You’re the most amazing person I know. And I’m, well me.”

 “Are you really that stupid?” she hisses.

 “What?” You say. The hurt in your voice is evident.

Remember when you were in my room that one day it was raining so hard?” she presses. She didn’t let you reply. “I let you inside while I finished my painting. It was the first time you saw me paint. I hate it when people watch me paint. You know that. So why do you think I let you in?” Her voice is rising now. Her eyes changed, filled with something you hadn’t seen before.

 “Or even when my dad died. I took comfort in you. My relatives came to pick me up, but I stayed with you. I wanted you to console me. No, I needed your comfort, your embrace, your warmth. I let you in to the most personal parts of My life. You’re my best friend, but I’ve always thought of you as more than that.”

You just stand there. You don’t know what’s happening. You just stand there looking at her, and you feel tears running down your face. You try to speak, but you couldn’t. You feel warmth in your heart again. Only this time, it felt stronger. Like a fire was about to ignite.

“I love you, Y/N. I knew I loved you the moment you held me when dad died,’ she says as tears start forming.

You couldn’t fully digest everything she said. She wants you. She needs you. She loves you. Did she still? You brave yourself. You draw her closer to you. You hold her face to yours, and you look her in the eyes.

Her eyes were locked onto yours. As she holds your gaze, you take your time to look at her face; to really look at her. The mole on her lower left cheek, the shallow dimples that appears when she smirked, even the crinkle in her nose. You try to memorize the bits of her that make her, her.

She finally speaks.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

And you do. You lean in and kiss her. All the years you’ve been keeping your feelings in finally poured into that kiss. You feel her respond with a passion of her own. Like she had been waiting for this just as long as you have. Her lips are soft and tender. Her lips taste like hotdog and cream cheese and strawberry jam.