The Memory

Just imagine: Your friends throw you the wildest birthday party of the century, so wild that celebrities seem to appear at random.

That could never happen to you. Your friends aren't that fun.

But your roommate invited you to this party, it is entirely too wild, and there is at least one celebrity of a sort across the room. You weren’t quite sure at first you understand the significance of it being Soojin, of all the possible Kpop idols, but you've heard, as much as anything can be heard amongst the clamor of several hundred rowdy guests, more than a few strangers' murmurings tonight.

"Why the fuck is she here? Who had the balls to invite her?"

"Didn’t that bitch get kicked out of the industry?"

“What an ugly face to show in public. Matches her soul, I hear.”

It seems, perhaps, that you should reevaluate your expectation of the woman's career. The vague accusations, judgements of character, and vicious commentary must be coming from somewhere. But you’re struggling to piece together any crime definitively enough to make your own call.

Being a rather passive enjoyer of the Kpop scene, you recognize her face. It’s distinctive, certainly, but there’s also the fact that you have a specific image of her burnt onto your retinas, years after seeing it. You remember the TV, serving as nothing but background noise in the salon. Her, the face you’ve only now put a name to, Soojin, weeping and smearing lipstick across her face like blood. You still feel that heat years later and you've recalled that singular, hair raising moment during many self-intimate nights.

That girl, that tragic poem in motion was now written in plain font, gingerly sipping at a glass of wine while pretending to listen to a story that the people sitting in a circle which didn't quite include her found amazingly amusing.

She wears a dull green barely-off-the-shoulder shirt, baggy jeans, and sandals so strappy that they'd simply be boots if you couldn't see pinpricks of her feet through them. Her makeup is about as low effort as your own. Eyeliner, deep red lip gloss, but most notably nothing that can be smudged through time, space, and your memory.

If she's heard the commentary, she doesn't let on. Her face is stone.

And that's enough of that! You turn away. You've been glancing in her direction all night, and you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of your roommate Jimin. She would grill you relentlessly in the morning if you did. You already know you can't get away with anything tonight, since Jimin announced to the entire party an hour ago that you used to work with her and now you live with her.

You check the time on your phone. It's not late. At all. Leaving for the sake of leaving would be a social faux pas, so you open your texts, praying that someone reached out to you in the last five minutes with some emergency. Your parents picked a horrible time to be completely fine.

"Hey."

The voice felt like it was right next to your ear and you, appropriately, jump out of your skin in response, swinging your arm around and holding your phone out like a knife.

The first thing you note is that it's Soojin in front of you. The second is that she was not at all close enough to have warranted your reaction, so you lower your weapon and strike up an apology. She speaks first though, as if she didn't even notice your strangeness.

"Are you leaving?"

You sputter as you try to apologize and answer her simultaneously, "S-sorr-no I was stay I m-mean..." You pause to quickly collect your words. "I was hoping for an excuse to go, yeah."

Never in your life have you seen someone's eyes move so smoothly. Normal eyes flick in the directions they want to look, or stay in place while the head moves. But no, Soojin's eyes glide down your body. You physically feel the gaze stroking your face, neck, and chest.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me," she says.

You gape, trying to think of a response, but her scan of your body is so distracting. You shiver as she passes your hips. It's not that you didn't want to talk to her, but you didn't specifically want to either. You were content with leaving her alone, not bothering her. Leaving her, unfortunate or not, to her pariatic fate.

"I... uh. No, I wasn't trying..."

"Oh," her voice and her eyes snap back up to meet yours, and then immediately to the side, "You've just been looking at me all night."

Your cheeks simmer. Now that is very true. "I-I-I, b-b... s-sorry."

Her posture shifts. One hip seems somehow closer to you than the rest of her body should allow. "It's okay. I was looking at you too."

Your cheeks boil. She was? You can't be that oblivious, can you? And why does she need to eye-massage your whole body now, if she's already been looking?

"Never mind, then," she says softly, pivoting further away, "I hope you find your excuse."

"No wait! I-I want to talk!"

When she turns back to face you, ever so slowly, your cheeks ignite. That sounded weirdly desperate. More desperate than you intended, at least.

"Sure."

* * *

Soojin is pleasant enough to converse with, but she is not chatty, which poses a problem in conjunction with her severe lack of emotiveness. Her emotions are easy enough to read when she speaks. She's slightly monotonal, but she shifts up when she wants to know more, she lowers her volume when she's sympathetic, and when she responds to something she likes her voice sounds like it's smiling even though her lips don't match.

And her lips... they are something else. It feels like the desire to kiss her is so natural that it's just hard science. Surely there have been studies on lips like hers. It can’t just be you.

The other problem, which may not be a problem so much as an expectation of shier people in general, is that she offers no information about herself if not requested directly. You want to know about the murmurings you've heard, and about the situation with her having been or currently being a Kpop idol, but there's no way you can ask about it. She doesn't seem bitchy but you've known, whether personally or as a third party, countless people to be excellent liars. They reveal themselves to be total psychopaths at the most inopportune times. She does seem, in her own way, to be quite interested in your stories and your interests. Getting more information about you seems to be the only thing that gets her to speak proactively.

Through all of her reasonable, proactive questions, not once does she touch on anything that would naturally lead to a conversation about careers. No "what do you do for work" or "when was your last vacation," even. You know you can't be the one to open that can, and so you avoid it.

"And that's why I'm not allowed to get within fifty meters of a bagel shop on weekends," you finish your story with a statement which would compel any eavesdropper to demand the background info.

"Oh my god," Soojin says in the tone that substitutes for an actual smile, "A restraining order? Just for that?"

"No..." you drift off for dramatic effect before smiling devilishly, and the corners of Soojin’s lips actually twitch.

Before anything exceptional happens though, a body comes crashing into your side.

“Heeey~ where’ve you been all tonight?” asks a very, very drunk Jimin as she drapes herself over your shoulder.

You never really know what to say to Jimin, even at the best of times, and her slurred awkwardness makes it even more difficult. You try to respond with something witty, but all you manage to say is “H-here,” in a mildly nasty tone.

She chuckles through a heavy breath reeking of tequila and looks at Soojin. The bleary way she blinks slowly turns into a wide-eyed stare, and then an uneasy glare. “Oh…”

Soojin’s demeanor droops—you hadn’t noticed how lively her posture had become—and she doesn’t meet Jimin’s gaze. She puts a hand on the frame of the door she’s been leaning on and slowly starts to push herself away.

“What business do you have to do with to my friend?” Jimin blurts out.

“Oookay, nope.” You shove Jimin back. You try to be gentle-but-firm, but she stumbles dramatically backwards, and is prevented from a hard landing on her tailbone by an excessively burly man. By bumping into him, that is, not by being caught. He only gives her an annoyed scowl.

“Whatd the hell?” Jimin starts as she rights herself.

You strike up your apology quickly but there's no discussion to be had. Just a lot of Jimin shouting while you turn progressively more red. It’s impossible to keep track of everything going on at this party. You look back for Soojin but she’s gone. You lose track of Jimin when she ducks into the crowd, shimmering tears streaming behind her like the melodramatic anime protagonist you have come to know and share a house with. You’re not sure who the birthday boy or girl is. You’re not sure how you feel. This environment is, once again, too chaotic.

It’s clearly time for you to leave. Checking your phone reveals it’s half past midnight. That’s quite the shock. Three hours of conversation with a single person were gone in a flash. Some part of you wondered if it even happened. It wouldn’t be too hard for one of the many people here to have spiked the punch with something hallucinogenic. Not exactly a pleasant thought.

Between the lack of knowledge of the house’s layout and the sea of people, it takes you ten whole minutes to find the exit, and your taxi app says it will still take yet ten more minutes for your car to arrive.

The night air is so crisp it hurts to think about how stale it was inside. Just like the conversation you had with Soojin, you didn’t realize the state you were in until now. You distinctly remember the conversation being pleasant though. Conversely, the thought of the air makes you feel sick. Possibly literally.