v e r n o n
Flashes of seconds before now filled my eyes. It drove my heart crazy when I remembered our lips smashing against each other. With every peck on Catherine's blood-stained mouth, embers of my soul ignited.
Making out with random girls is not new to me, but this was different. This time, it felt too overwhelming, too addictive. It’s not just a temporary high and cravings of the flesh. It’s not something that I would want to be sober from.
I was running out of breath while breathing in too much at the same time. Foreign feelings I have never once felt towards anyone introduced their familiarity in my body. As if telling me that this very feeling, it won't be over shortly--or ever. I had a feeling that the way my heart pounded when I held Catherine, it's going to pound even harder in time
c a t h e r i n e The next Monday morning was drawn with grey dusty skies and fog-enveloped roads. Loud rainfall played along with car honks, and water splashed on concrete roads. It was my favorite weather. Everything under the greyscale is calmingly gloomy. Ironically, the absence of life appeared to me more consoling. The sullen yet still fast-paced crowds drove past me as I deliberately headed for the train station, figuring it would be less crowded than the city buses. The train took minutes to arrive. Inside, there were a lot of empty seats given my earliness. I rubbed my palms together when they felt weary of the frozen air. Papa used to drop me off at school, but he had stopped for a few months now after I insisted that I could just ride the bus instead. That way, I could go on with my own schedule and not
c a t h e r i n e Vernon’s intensifying gaze held me still, its cruelness was almost competing with the gruesome hail outside the glassed walls. Both were cold. But the latter drove my heart hammering against my frail chest. His bold proclamation was making me flush profusely, I wasn’t able to come up with any sensible response. He was always so vocal about liking me but I never really cared. But now, with what he had just said, my stomach turned for his utter seriousness. I can’t believe he actually had the audacity to say to my face that he would have hooked up with me if I consent to it. “You know you don’t have to say things like that out loud..” “Why? It’s true--” “Okay, okay, I heard you,” I held my palm to his face
c a t h e r i n e We were utterly quiet in class. For everyone, it was a surprise to see Vernon back in the classroom. To me, it was rather tormenting. I couldn’t get myself to comprehend what the teacher was saying. Vernon’s dark façade on the corner of the classroom kept on stealing my attention. He was sitting beside the window. The gloomy skies before him heightened his apathetic air. Just like that. I couldn’t see anything else. It was just him, the rain, and how they perfectly sync. How both looked sad yet comforting. I never thought something so sullen could also feel like salvation. He was hail, and blizzard, and hurricane, and all things sad and scary. He was a personification of gloomy weather. He was a bad omen, it gives most people a shiver down their spine and drives them away-- to a safer path. But I like danger. I like sadness. I like the snowfall and the treacherous roads. I like all the metaphors he embodies. And so I brought the ink of my pen to my paper, and
c a t h e r i n e He got suspended. I saw how he felt ashamed about admitting it, and I felt guilty. Before he even had to explain, I already knew the reason for it. "Was it because of me?" I asked the obvious. Vernon quickly shook his head. He tried to act nonchalant but it came out as a struggle. Beneath his hazel brown eyes was the concealed dismay, and perhaps, the overbearing sadness. Funny how I read him now. Days before, I would have a hard time comprehending his emotions which were always unforeseeable behind his high walls. Strangely, we've come to this point--that it was just a number of days yet it felt long enough to know him. And I’ve come to this point where I could no longer care less. It’s almost as if it was inevitable for us to be this close.
c a t h e r i n e In my attempt to understand his sudden impassivity, my gaze lingered on the resurrection of Vernon's ice-cold facąde. He seemed a master of putting on and off the mask of joy and apathy, I noticed that too well. It seemed to me as though such emotions are nothing but accessories which he'd purposely display on chosen occasions. Right now, his air of playfulness has vanished and so is the tricky grins and the sardonic humor. He stood across me still, his expression fixed firmly for the coldness he was trying to mask. The late sun rays from the Victorian windows shadowed Vernon's face in bastard amber. Amid how serene it was supposed to look, he feigned his austerity. His hard expression, a reflection of the customary warmth gone faster than the dying sun in the late afternoon. I could have forced him to be honest but I remained mute opposite to him. How is he like this? One moment, he’s all jokes and flirting, but in situations like this where I am purposely try
c a t h e r i n e My walk towards the principal's office took me to the far memories of my relationship with my father. Along the corridors echoed my mother's dialogues to me when I was a child. "It's not that your father doesn't love you, Catherine.." Mom would often say every time my dad scores so well in proving me unimportant. Both of my parents were just 16 when they had me. They were never married, of course. Eventually, both of them had their own families. I had often felt like I was stuck in the middle, as I belonged nowhere. I feel like I wasn't supposed to exist in the first place. My mom took custody of me. My dad, on the other hand, promised to fulfill his responsibility to me but they remained just that--promises lacking actions. His consequent absences on all of my birthdays and all of the other special occasions are just the surface of his failed parenting. "It's just that he has a hard way showing it. Love can be tough, you know?" Mom, in her ever pleasant and u
v e r n o n “Good for you, you’re suspended,” Mark mumbled in between munching his kimbap. I shook my head, ignoring the fact that I just told my friends about my suspension and they are rather amused or envious about it. Weird enough, on different days, I might have celebrated this too. But you see, I’m a changed person. I hold importance to my studies now. Well, that might not be entirely true but I am trying. “Fuck it. I’m getting a part-time job to make use of my time.” The dirty apartment floor welcomed my indolent and worn-out body. It was a bad thing, for in the ground lies all the rubbish of Mingyu’s shabby apartment. “Hey! Who gave you the rights?” Mingyu slapped Wonwoo’s cheek as he began to eat the ramyeon which he had just served at the center table. The cold and timid elder pushed his rounded spectacles farther up the bridge of his nose. His lips protruded and he glared at Mingyu before abandoning the steaming hot ramyeon. “What the f--” I prevented a cuss when
v e r n o n “I can’t remember what happened, sir.” “Here are your photos.” Mr. Jung pushed a few photographs lying on his table towards me. I had to prevent a scoff. Kudos to whoever took these. I feel like we were damn celebrities. The photos were rather blurred. They were when we first entered the room, and we appeared as though we were arguing. That’s when I was dragging Catherine away as she was determined to find Jackson. In the last photo, Catherine was leaving the room. Her hair was an unruly mess of tangled strands atop the disarrayed dress, and on her face, a shadow of distress. One could easily throw conclusions that we made out in that room. We did anyway. Not all the way though.