Dandelion | Kang Mira

Yeonjun, through my eyes, since the first moment I saw him, was and has been a mystery to me ever.

It is the way he already has a defined, presumably exercised character, chiseled and framed, on the other hand me, a shadow fighting with the dark ambience of life, still dwells upon in which way I should present myself.

He has been always direct and exact minded on whatever needs to be done, how he should hold himself in front of others, how he needs to materialise the correct words at the tip of his tongue and somehow, let them be melting enough to catch hearts.

But Yeonjun, again, with his already nourished persona, still has several walls built around him that prevents him from opening up his heart to others. One can not notice it at the first glance, but after staring for quite a long time, it eventually gets discovered.

I can say that these walls were not made in a day. It took him days, probably months or even years to build whichever characteristics he decided to grasp for the rest of his life. Though my eyes, I can spot, unknowingly, that how the walls emerge in his ways of living daily.

The first wall that gets noticed by me is his reluctance on speaking about the scars on his back.

It is a triggering subject; none knows it better than me, who has same condition as him. Even if I am ready to hear, Yeonjun needs time, a lot of time at that. The spotted wall is miles long; we are at the opposite sides and waiting for a bridge to build up soon for us to communicate.

Yeonjun.

Why did I not notice this about him before?

His wavering lashes and bejeweled lips, unfurling like a terrified rose newly bloomed at the end of a forest which is at the verge of arson. He looks like a perfect man with a perfect life, but covers deepest imperfections adorned on his skin. But why does he think that he needs to be that, perfect, to get accepted to the world's eyes?

Who taught him this grave advice, and tamed his own mind to become something unknown to even himself?

As much as I want to navigate through that, things need to wait. Right after coming back to Auoran, Yeonjun's schedule changed drastically, giving him a little to no breaks to catch himself with me. I thought that day he would share the story of his scars, but things did not go that way. That was the first doubt I had within myself; a question that I asked to my mind.

Is he not confortable enough to share it with me?

Even if he said no,

and turned away,

I still feel like a dreamer when I watch Yeonjun. Him, my dearest poetry and favourite art to hold onto. Him, my piece of early sunshine when the sun is still young and rising; the whole world behind me yet to see its beauty. Him, a melody of stars singing when he speaks, stardust lying on his cheeks when he breathes, his mouth forming a perfect curve when he utters my name with such fondness, and let himself be the perfect man.

The topic again rises in a bright afternoon of early September, when leaves are emerald and ever falling, Sarang and Beomgyu are running around the garden with tulips in their arms, and I sit with Soobin under the huge maple tree; dusk has been welcoming us for quite a long time.

"Hyung's a bit fond of being perfect, yeah." Soobin watches the pair playing in front of us. When Beomgyu leans to Sarang to hand her one of his red tulips, Soobin curls himself into a ball, eyes finding mine as he asks. "Noona, do you find that troubling? Because all of a sudden, you're so serious about Hyung, and I can tell also very curious."

I take a moment to arrange myself.

"I think it's the best time to let each other know of things." I nod my head, legs tapping on the grass as I fumble with my fingers. "Because the days I have spent with him, although they are dearest to me like none and I don't think I'll ever be able to gain those from anyone else than him, I'm still worried. Worried that I can't become an emotional support to him as he is to me."

"Noona, take it easy, will you?" Soobin widens his eyes as he says this, and I can notice the bamboozled tone embracing his words. "Yeonjun Hyung is very happy to be married with you. I can't help but to say that you're overthinking!"

"Am I?" my question sounds rather like a quest referring to myself. "That's not what I meant, Soobin. I'm saying that as the days pass, I'm growing more attached to him, he is, too, but somehow, there's a great distance between us which I haven't noticed before. It confuses me that whether he hadn't noticed it really, or just wants to remain oblivious about it."

"Such as?" Soobin asks me, his eyebrows raised as he picks a dandelion near his feet. His gaze turns obscure, kind of hazy, as the sound of Beomgyu and Sarang laughing grows louder in our ears.

"From the start, Yeonjun has been my greatest support. He willed to marry me, treat me, grant me another life. I'm not searching for the purpose here, because love is purposeless. But, there's this one question nagging my brain, which is- why's he so persistent in behaving so perfectly with me?"

"Because... he loves you! Everyone wants to treat their loved one perfectly because they don't want to hurt them by any chance."

"I'm not denying that." I shake my head, a sigh leaves my mouth. "I'm afraid that he thinks that if he doesn't treat me with utter care and love, I won't trust him enough. He wants to create a perfect image of him in front of me, an image that brings me comfort no matter how grave the time he's in."

"Noona, I think I can understand you. A little, though." Soobin holds the dandelion between his fingers, lightly. "You think that Hyung's been so restless, trying to be honest and caring towards you, right? But this attempt is making you feel like he's been extra cautious and staying out of his comfort zone."

"Kind of like that."

Soobin looks up at me with a type of astonish that leaves him stuttering. "I never thought- I never thought someone will think about him like this. Deeply." he adds, his voice low.

My lips crinkle into a smile. A happy one at that.

"It's because I want him to loosen up in front of me. I really don't need to be loved in the most perfect way. Out of all things in the world, that will make me frustrated." Soobin continues to listen, a sheer amount of interest occupies his enlarged eyes. "Because I myself am not perfect, and don't prefer anyone to chase it, too. Trying to become someone else rather than yourself is more painful than you think. I don't want Yeonjun to feel that."

"Right." Soobin nods. "I will say the same, too. Hyung changed after the war, very and very."

"How was he like, before that?"

"He was a person who embraced his imperfections." Soobin answers the questions of my heart. "He was never afraid to make mistakes. He learnt from it, bawled his eyes out but eventually adapted. But after the war... he wanted- no, he started chasing perfection. I think his occupation plays a role here; to build up this new persona, because his mind is always tensed, you know? One wrong step and one life is lost."

"He's been stressing himself like this, for years then!" my eyes give up trapping my emotions in them any longer, and they burst out from barricades. "Why- oh, Soobin, why didn't you ever talk to him about this?"

"I did, Beomgyu did, but he didn't want to." Soobin laughs bitterly. "My Hyung has an disgusting trait in himself. He always keeps matters to himself and says everything is fine, alright, okay."

That's it. The thing I have been confused about; Soobin has confirmed it.

"So, Noona, I think the best idea is to talk with him freely, spend a quiet time and tell him what you want." Soobin smiles at me and gets up. His eyes linger before him for a while. "I'm sure he will listen to you."

"What makes you think that?" I follow his gaze, also getting up.

"Because he loves you." Soobin grins. "In a way he never loved anyone before."

The scars on his back glow under the fluorescent bulb that reflects light yellow on the walls, as Yeonjun takes off his shirt and heads to the washroom.

I have already memorized where and how many of the scars sit on his skin. If anyone has not seen them before, it will come as an utter shock. But I am tired of getting shocked and pushed away, so I wait while listening to the sound of water falling.

The crunch of sheets is low, almost unhearable, as after twenty minutes Yeonjun finally makes his way to the bed. He settles down in front of me, his eyes flickering tiredly yet managing to ignite a longing inside my heart. I put my hands on his cheeks and lean closer, until our foreheads touch.

"How are you feeling?" I speak in a low, soft tone, a boulder gets off my chest as he puts his hands on top of mine. "Yeonjun, do you want to share anything with me? I'm listening."

I'm listening.

The corners of his lips rise upwards; Yeonjun is smiling to himself. His cheeks are coated with sweat, but it looks like fairydust. His eyelashes are black and fluttery when he looks at me, but what I see is deep, hypnotizing charcoal pulling me into its universe, filling my soul with numerous waves of dazzling darkness that comes as a rare miracle.

It is a kind of darkness I have never seen before. Darkness, which I hated throughout my whole life, seems to be engaging to me only because it belongs to Yeonjun. He can trap me in an eternal slumber where my vision will forever remain black, but I will never be terrified, because it's him beside me. 

Yeonjun.

As the male does not answer me, I take a moment to adjust myself, and instead, press my lips on his forehead without speaking anymore. He relaxes instantly; a genuine reaction.

My lips reach the side of his forehead, putting another lasting peck there. His fingers curl around mine as I start going lower, trying hard to resist the butterflies in my stomach as I kiss his left cheek, bring my hands to his ears and caress them gently.

Maybe he needed this, because Yeonjun does not push me away, oh, he never did, but this time it feels like he has done it from his heart, too.

The feather light kisses linger on his face, I retreat. I watch him swallow slowly, his charcoal pupils try finding something between my waiting eyes. Can he spot it? That I am willing to listen, and to wait forever?

"Mira." he's voice is barely a whisper as he softly grazes his fingers over my palms. "You look... tensed."

I turn away. The sigh that leaves my throat is way deeper than I imagined it to be.

"Because, I keep feeling that you're stressing yourself, and not finding a comfort place to seek for some care." I speak quietly, the wetness around me eyes going further down while kissing my cheeks. "I intend to do that for you, Yeonjun. But... are you willing to accept it?"

Yeonjun stares at me for a moment, before replying. "Mira, you are... crying."

Yes, I am. But I wipe away the traces of tear with an adamant flick of my fingers. Because I do not want him to open up to me only because he wants to end my emotional breakdown. I want him to open up to me, because it is only the right thing for himself to do.

"Mira, I- I never thought-" Yeonjun's eyes say that he has understood my feelings. "You were gonna dwell so long in this... like I thought my past never mattered, because I think yours was more painful than mine! Why are you willing to know it- I did nothing great in the war, or nor these scars have a specific story-"

"It's not just about the scars, it's about yourself." I become more persistent to break the walls he has build around himself. "The scars are only a phase. The thing I want you to know that is, Yeonjun, you don't need to create another persona to become a perfect husband to me. I don't want that. I know, you will say that you're always honest about your feelings- and I'm not denying them- I believe you! But that's not what I mean. What I mean is- well, Yeonjun, I don't want you to pity me, because I'm pitiable."

The charcoal in his eyes swirls fast.

"Pity me because I'm sick, pity me because I have an ugly past." I continue sincerely. "Many will suggest that handling an abused person like glasses is the best way to treat them right, but to me, it's not. You don't need to see me as a fragile, yet beautiful woman. Because I'm, really, none of that. You can call me pretty- trust me, I can never express how close I feel when you say that to me. But now, Yeonjun, I want you to treat me because I'm just... me. Mira. Who can give emotional support, and be an attentive listener to you."

When Yeonjun still does not say a thing, I try again, desperate, "So, please. Please, don't push me away, Yeonjun. I want to know you, the real you. The pre war Yeonjun who was careless about many things. I want to know how you lived, lived and lived, until living became your favourite. I want to know all of it."

"Because Yeonjun, you matter to me. Your scars and your pain matter to me. Your ways of living life matter to me. I hope you don't have any doubt on that."

With this, I halt. A tear runs down to Yeonjun's cheek, his gaze is oddly twisting.

"Because love isn't about only treating someone good or telling them the brightest and good sides of us." I take a deep breath, caressing his cheeks softly. "To me, love is to be yourself without having the worry of getting judged. If you're true, and your love is true, I believe there's no problem to share your dark sides to your partner, because I think they will understand."

My eyes are desperate as I inch closer to Yeonjun. His eyeslashes are moistured and breaths are quick when he gazes at me with a yearning look, his adam's apple bobs up and down as he wipes the tears away.

"Because love is better when there's rise and fall." a wildfire of emotions is sent down to the alley of my heart as I speak this. "Yeonjun, please, just be comfortable around me because you feel relieved that it's me. Your wife, Mira. I know you're always being pure to me, but I want you to be pure to yourself, too. I don't judge people based to their way of treating me. Their mind comes to me first."

The wildfire inside me keeps burning. Will Yeonjun listen?

"Why I hate my father, isn't only because he abused me or such." the whisper that leaves my mouth sounds trembling. "The hate lies deep for him even from far old times. He was never a true father figure, and I was an emotional wreck. I could actually guess what he felt at times and why he felt that. But my understandings for him never justified what I've been through."

He is listening.

Yeonjun is listening to me with such pure eyes, and giving an attention like no other spectator in my life. My fingers weave into his silky hair, brushing the edges softly with my thumb.

"Only reading your mind won't be enough, Yeonjun. I need to understand it. So you can store all of your stories in my scars, and I can store mine in yours." I speak in an assuring voice, full of hope. "Trust me, scars are far pretty when they have exhanged stories of their loved ones. They suddenly turn normal to accept, when their other half accepts them, too."

Yeonjun stares at me for a long moment.

"Mira." he leans closer, putting his hands on my neck and pulling me to his chest. With my head tucked safely in his shoulder, he finally starts sobbing, a sniffle so light that it twists my heart and makes me gasp. "I have no words. None said that to me. None thought that about me. I'm- I'm so glad that you did, Mira."

This is the first time I have seen him breaking down like this.

And this kind of person needs to be more emotionally secured. They have broken out from their own chains at last, which is a brave decision. And I welcome it.

My arms slip under his and rest above his back, as I begin patting him softly.

"Soobin did, Beomgyu did." I whisper near his ear. "Yeonjun, a lot of people did, but you kept pushing them away."

"No, I- I thought- what happens with me doesn't matter. As long as I treat others well, they are gonna be happy, and that's what I always wanted." He sobs and sniffs, his fingers tremble on my nape. "But never, anyone, thought that I may be hurting deep inside, because I furnished myself like that, perfect to everyone."

"Yeonjun, I think about you. If you just- let me and others in, you'll be happier. To yourself, for being able to be free." I mumble quietly, words falling from my mouth like a fountain. But I let them be, falling. "So, don't be afraid anymore. Okay? Let me come inside."

He nods; a man freed from his barriers. I am glad that the walls I have spotted between us are finally becoming lower.