Smile: On Im Seong-hui

i.

your smile is infectious. it always has been.

you smile as much as you can. you do it throughout your childhood until your pre-teens, then your pre-teens until your adulthood and whatcomes after.

you aren’t quite sure when smiling becomes a mask.

but it didn’t matter, did it? smiling was what you did best. your parents relied on you to keep your sisters happy, to shield them from harsh truths when needed. you smiled despite the odds. you put on a smile to perk them up when necessary. seong-won and seong-mi teased you for it constantly and mentioned that all the smiling made your dimples come out; teased that you would get laugh lines when you were older.

but they appreciated it, at least. you know this.

the smile remains even after days and nights of balancing academics and part-time jobs, even after nasty breakups, even after your parents pass shockingly early. you embrace your sisters tightly on the first night and whisper words of comfort. you would be there, you would be there, you would be there.

when they peek up at you, eyes red and puffy and sore, they’re a little shaken to see you smiling despite your own tears.

(you make sure to grieve later on, when you’re sure that they’re asleep.)

ii.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what again?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” E̴u̷n̷-̸h̴a̷ glances at you, reaching up to stroke your cheek gently. She squints her eyes at you in suspicion and you simply stare back, raising your own brows. “Seong-hui.”

“I’m not doing anything.” You feel her pinch your cheek rather harshly and frown at the stinging sensation. “Really. I’m okay.”

“...if you say so.” She removes her fingers from your cheek and cups it instead; you can’t help but smile at the concerned look in her eyes. She sees. “That’s better,” she murmurs. “That’s much better. I like it when you smile like that.”

“Like how?”

“Genuinely.” You try to ignore the swoop in your stomach upon hearing that. She can tell. E̴u̷n̷-̸h̴a̷ sighs, just a little bit, and all you want to do is push her back down and enjoy the rest of the night with her. But she won’t let you, and you know that. “Hey, I didn’t offend, right…?”

“You didn’t.” She couldn’t offend you. All she wanted was the best, after all. You try to understand. E̴u̷n̷-̸h̴a̷ had always wanted the best for you; she had made that clear since the two of you had become close friends a long, long time ago. You never understood why; it was clear that she deserved more, that she deserved a lot better than you ever did. Yet here she was with the best and the most golden of intentions.

You take E̴u̷n̷-̸h̴a̷’s hand from your cheek and press your lips to her knuckles. Soft, warm. She smiles as you do so. “Hey, Seong-hui…”

“Mm?”

“You know that you can tell me anything, right? You always keep it all in when you shouldn’t.” She pries her hand from yours and puts it back on your cheek. Warm, still. “I mean it. You keep being there for everyone. Try to be there for yourself, okay?”

“I…”

“And I know what you’re about to say,” she interrupts. Your cheeks flush. “You’re going to say that you’re going to try, but you’ll forget anyway.”

“...you didn’t have to say it like that,” you mutter. But you know she’s right, and she knows that you know that she’s right. That’s how she is. E̴u̷n̷-̸h̴a̷ cocks a brow at you.

“I know. But I have to. You keep forgetting.” To lessen the bite in her words, she smirks. “Maybe it’s because you’re getting old.”

“Old? Excuse me—”

The rest of the night follows from that point onwards.

Your smile is genuine as it can get.

You’re with E̴u̷n̷-̸h̴a̷.

That’s all that matters.

iii.

m̷͈̈́a̵̯̓k̵͈̆o̴̫̚t̷̘̀ö̵̩́ and ả̴͜k̴̘̊í̵̺r̷͉̎a̵̭̔

ả̴͜k̴̘̊í̵̺r̷͉̎a̵̭̔ and m̷͈̈́a̵̯̓k̵͈̆o̴̫̚t̷̘̀ö̵̩́

the phone rings.

the phone rings and rings and rings.

the phone rung, rings, keeps ringing.

e̵̛̳ū̶̦̋͐̚n̶̘͌̔-̶̢̦̺̪̔h̵͇͉̫̜́͒a̵̺̔̅̓?̴̟̤̑̽͂͘

“The number you have dialed is not in service. Please try again later.”

the phone rings.

the phone keeps ringing.

iv.

smiling is difficult.

you barely smile at the new recruit on the way to the hotel. she attempts to make conversation about the city, the airport, and the car, but you don’t answer much. she sees you flinch when she mentions the “picture of the pretty lady” and there isn’t much talking after that. Good.

from the corner of your eye, you watch as she fidgets with her fingers.

you don’t know why you had accepted the task to begin with. eri had insisted that it would help and the admin seemed to think so. you don’t know. The last thing you needed was to watch over someone who could be ripped away from your arms again and again and again

at a red light, you find yourself looking at her again.

she looks so, so small. it makes you wonder why she had signed up to work for hq in the first place. the thought makes your eyes soften, your mouth to sink into a sympathetic frown. she could be elsewhere. She could be elsewhere, somewhere else, anywhere but here.

Neither of you talk much for the rest of the trip.

you try to ignore the guilt, guilt, guilt piercing your chest when the new recruit—aether, her name is Aether—so clearly forces a smile on her chapped lips and makes you leave.

It looks familiar.

(on the way out, you almost see h̵̗̙̀ḛ̸̗͠ṙ̷̗̙̓̕ in the crowd. almost.)

v.

your smile is infectious. it always has been.  

you know this and smile as much as you can.

you know and are aware that it has become a mask. you know this well. the bi-monthly sessions would be a waste if you didn't.  as a result, you try to smile when you mean it. you try to smile when you feel happy and smile when you genuinely want to. 

you go a day sometimes without smiling, and that's okay.

you find yourself forcing it on heavier days. close friends like Eri and Aether let you know when it comes off as forced.  they mean well. 

you know this. 

you really, really do.