Fool

(Norman's POV)

I walked into imo's room, holding the bag with fresh clothes and food I brought from home after I ate dinner at Gillian's. I needed a bath from all that's happened today, I might as well bring clothes for tomorrow. Imo had her gaze by the window, a book in her hand. She was finally reading Ms. Lee's book.

"Imo." I greeted, setting the bag on the couch. "How are you feeling?" Walking to her, she handed out the book and I placed it on the side table.

"Fantastic." She replied, breathing through her ventilator. I mustered a smile. "How's school?"

"So-so." I sat on the corner of her bed and massaged her legs. "Ms. Park packed us food. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head and breathed, her throat let out a rough sound. "Tell me about school. Please tell me that you made more friends, huh? Gillian's a dear but I'm getting sick of only seeing his face when you bring someone at home."

I chuckled and she joined, light and hoarse. I don't blame her, Gillian has been my friend since Imo took me in. "More or less."

"What more or less? That's not counted. Tell me." she whined, sitting up from the pillow she leaned on.

I sighed. "The—"

"What's her name?"

"Who?"

"The girl."

"Imo!" Look at this sneaky..

"Ya… You take some stranger here, at night huh, and talk for hours! And you expect me to not ask? Aigoo.." She flicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Speak."

"So you were awake the whole time and you didn't even say a thing?"

"And ruin your lovey-dovey? Babo! I'm old enough to have a grandchild, y'know?"

"Imo!" This made her laugh. I stopped massaging her legs and held her hand.

"Gwenchana?" I nodded and assured her. "Don't worry about me, huh? You focus on your studies. Your youth. Don't waste it." I nodded again and she gripped on my hand, her grasp weak and her hand soft, fragile.

"Sleep." I fixed her pillow and set her head comfortably.

"You sleep too."

"I will."

And I did. Once I got settled on the couch, I drifted to sleep. And I dreamed.

In my dream, I was in a fancy house. A huge chandelier hung above the staircase. Grand piano was displayed in front of the huge living room, next to the fireplace. Various vases and picture frames sat accordingly on top of the fireplace frame. Glass windows, despite wide and long, failed to illuminate the mellow, cold atmosphere of the room. Long, red velvet carpet occupied and covered the shiny mahogany floor. Expensive paintings were plastered on the walls, their golden frames glinting upon the light's reflection. Where was I?

I walked around, wandered in each room until I found a boy. A teenager. Compared to the rest of the objects in the surroundings, this room was simple and plain. With the floor length and width of four square meters, only a small cot bed and a chest fit the room. The boy laid on the bed had a bruise a size of a basketball on his thigh, just freshly inflicted. I turned around, my stomach curling and my chest weighing heavier the longer I looked. But as soon as I moved, the scene changed. No longer was I in that room or house, but in front of a shop. A cheap resto. And there the kid was, inside, sitting before an adult woman. Her curly hair was up in a bun, her fringes were all over the place. Her face was full of agitation and caution, as if anticipating danger. Next thing I know, gunshots were heard, windows were broken and people chased away, out of that resto. I moved forward, to a different scene again. This time I was kneeling under a plastic storage box. I peeked from the tiny holes, attempting to watch the happenings outside. The woman from earlier threw things at two men in suits infront of her. The unfortunate one caught a knife with his chest and he collapsed to the floor, the whole sharp parts dug in his flesh that he was careful not to pull them. The other one, indifferent and cruel, pulled the knife and aimed it at the women, ignoring the blood that splattered and gushed from the sheath body, like a fountain. Before he stepped forward, I closed my eyes and wished to escape. And there was silence.

Slowly, I flicked them open. I appeared now on the sidewalk next to a random woman, different from the one earlier. I looked ahead and watched as four medics raised a covered stretcher in the ambulance. As seconds passed, I felt the tears pour. They were both mine, and not mine. As if I was initially remorsed and devastated that the tears I held were all the apology I could express. At the same time, I was immersed in grief. Both reasons, I didn't know why.

Just when I thought it was done, I was in a car, the faces of strangers looked at me with great sympathy and compassion, both which seemed like a first time. The woman on the passenger seat looked like the woman who saved me. Beside me was a man, his dark arm enveloped around my shoulder and his face wore a gentle smile. And with that we drove off.

Then I woke, eyes dripping with water. Tears. Everything felt like it was real. Like I was personally there. Like I was the boy. Why? This is the second time I dreamed. And not just dreamed. It was as if I was there myself. Everything that happened was my memories. How? Were these really mine? From my past lives? Can past lives be actually real?

I sat up and checked the time. Imo isn't awake yet. Walking out, I pondered deeper.

...….

"Guys, please tell me college hasn't started yet." Sam whined, chewing on her mushroom patty sandwich. "My two prof from my other class already gave a bunch of activities. Two each! Am I the only one who have this?"

"It is the second week." I commented and sipped on my sparkling water.

Gillian nodded, also munching on his takoyaki. "Speaking of second week, Rorim," Rorim widened her eyes at him, "When's the party?"

Party?

Sam lightly slapped Rorim's arm with great enthusiasm. "Please tell me there's a party."

Eyes on Rorim, she swallowed on her orange tempura, her sauce-glossed lips puckering. She had this bandage over the wound from yesterday. Whatever excuse she said to Sam for not pestering her with questions, she must've gotten away with it. "There's no party."

Dejected, Sam and Gillian exchanged expressions.

"What are we talking about exactly?" They must've talked about it when they went to her house.

"Rorim's birthday. This weekend. The audacity to not have a party." Sam rolled her eyes and ravaged on the last of her sandwich.

I wanted to ask why she didn't want to have a party. But thinking about the moments yesterday, I felt the already-built wall just grew taller between us. As much as I wanted to know, I don't think I'm in the right position to do so. The avoidance in her eyes could speak for itself.

We were about to tidy up when Ms. Lee stopped beside our table. "Great lunch, writers?" From the corner of my eye, I catch Rorim stare at her, her awe written on her face. "May I borrow Hyde for a while?"

"You can have him all you want Ms— Ow!" She glared at Gillian until she realized her words. "I meant you may, Ms. Lee."

Ms. Lee nodded and motioned me. I stood up and followed behind her. She went outside, next to the empty outdoor benches faced me.

"This'll be quick." She squinted and pointed to her lip and mine. I wiped them with my hanky and found a red sauce on it. "I checked this with your aunt and I'm advising you just so you know."

"Okay?"

"I'm going to hire an assistant for your aunt."

I was already shaking my head before she could finish. "Th—"

She raised her hand into a halt. "Like I said, your aunt knows. It's her request. I was against the idea as well but you know how stubborn she is, there's nothing stopping her." She breathed in and tapped my shoulder. "There's no one to look after her if we're both busy. You know that. And you know how she wants you to prioritize your studies."

I looked at her eyes, serious yet concerned and nodded. "Why didn't she tell me? I was with her last night."

She frowned and rubbed my arm, her rough palms consoling. "She didn't want to worry you anymore."

I know. But the least she could've done was telling me herself. Of course, I couldn't say that.

"Have you found one yet?"

She shook her head and released her hand from my arm. "I'll spare some time to post a notice and gather applications. Your imo will be the one to interview them when we found a few."

I nodded, still bothered.

"This is just until she get's fully better."

"I understand, Ms. Lee." I faked a smile and she returned it.

"I only have one favor to ask."

"What is it?"

"Please tell me once you find the candidates, I want to observe them myself as well."

She thought for a second and nodded. "Alright. Of course. But do respect your aunt's choice once she has chosen"

"Okay." I'll try.

"You may go back now." She tapped and I bowed and left.

As I returned to our table, only Rorim was left. My eyes went to her wrists, the lock patterns has already faded. She was writing on her notebook, an exact replica of the one I had in my bag. I was aware that a lot of people are probably using the same notebook, of the same brand and variety. Still, why does it feel weird? In my head, I can picture her writing those stories herself.

"Where did the two go?" I faced the view of the outside but I watched her in the corner of my eye. She only shrugged and continued writing.

"What are you writing?"

Again, ignored. Last I remembered, I should be the one angry.

"Why did you not want to have a party?"

Still ignored. I gazed at her pouting lips, her focused eyes and her scrunching forehead. Adorable…

"Why are you ignoring me?" Are you still mad?

She sighed and closed her notebook. "Which question do you want answered? Pick one."

Finally..

I held my smile and leaned forward. "Why did you not want to have a party?"

"Do you want the real answer or the honest answer?"

"What's the difference?"

"Depends on your choice."

"Both."

Quicker than I can follow, she made a fist, raised up her index, reloaded it and pointed at me, like a gun. "Just one."

"The real answer then."

She dropped her hand gun and fold her arms. "I lost my parents and my brother last year, on the night of our birthday."

Our? She had a twin?

"Did you tell the two about this?"

She shook her head and returned her notebook in her bag. "No."

"Why not?"

"Three questions. You're done here."

Something warm erupted and spread in my chest. Beaming, I remembered not long go I was consumed by raging flames. This warmth was more preferable, if not contradicting. "I'm lucky then."

She looked at me with particular eyes, unreadable. "Those two are taking a while." She crossed her arms and stood up. "Are you not going yet?" she asked, her stance forward but her neck turned to me.

Shaking my head, I bit my lip. "No. You go ahead."

Nodding, she left.

I wanted to ask what the honest answer was, but I didn't want to push my luck. Three questions after all. I was already fortunate enough to know that secret of her, I just need to take it slow. Like a fool, I hid the smile under my palm.

...….

Gillian and I were walking, heading to a bookstore. We were already dismissed and he asked me to accompany him to buy some manga. The least I could do was indulge him, after him offering me dinner at their place yesterday.

We just entered and he started browsing through books.

"Hey, 'man?"

"Hmm?"

"Your aunt is good friends with Ms. Lee, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

He picked up one random book and answered. "Nothing."

I looked around and browsed as well. For some reason, I also wanted to ask him something.

"Hey."

"Yep?"

"Have you ever liked someone before?" He froze while holding a book and eyed me. "A real person okay? Not a freaking 2D character."

This earned a snigger from him. It actually took a while and it was loud that some of the customers around ogled at us in casual disdain. I could only smile and smack his arm.

"Sorry, sorry." He wiped the tears on the corner of his eyes. "I don't know what's funnier, you asking if I liked someone or if I liked someone real. Why ask me anyway? Don't tell me you like someone?"

I avoided his eyes and spoke nothing. Now I regret asking him. I was already waiting for another burst of his nasal laugh but I heard none. Instead, his arm tapped my back and held my nape.

"I'm not an expert, but I feel like an uncle witnessing his nephew blossom into a teenager." I elbowed him and he gasped, snorting lightly. "Kidding aside, I'm not gonna answer that. What I will tell you though, is that from all the romance illustrated novels I've read, only you will know when it hits you. Most of the time, it makes sense. And if you're lucky, they might secretly like you too."

"Why does it feel embarrassing to hear you tell me these stuff? This isn't high school."

He grabbed my neck this time and knuckled my head. "That's because you mature backwards, grandpa. You were a stringent, miserable man before you bloomed into this," his hand waved up and down on me, "heart-struck teenager, which you are, but you're nineteen? I was almost losing hope for your youth."

I rolled my eyes when he let go. "How do you make them like you then?"

His eyebrow raised, neck backing away. "For the first time in our friendship, I can actually read you. As clear as crystal."

I walked away, ignoring his lack of better figure of speech.

"No, hey hey, we're not done, bud. How do you make them like you? Have you seen yourself? Any girl or gay or women-identifying person would glance back on you anytime of the day. I can smack you right now for seeing it as—"

"Park," he let go of my arm and went serious, "you know what I'm talking about. That's not the same. You, of all people, know I hate those."

He held out his hand to the air between us and walked back. "My bad. But in reality, you can't make someone like you. At least, that's what I believe. You just need to be honest with your feelings, and yourself, and if they appreciate that, they might just like you."

What if they hate me already though?

"What?"

"Hmm? I said I really forget that you're smart." I smirked and paced ahead, not before he gave me a poker face.

"Ya! Just because I look attractive doesn't mean I'm dumb!" He whined from behind as I looked at more books.