Chapter Text
You might have heard of childhood friends. Or childhood sweethearts.Those sweet, cliché stories where next-door neighbors grow up holding hands and end up deeply, pathetically in love.
Yeah, this isn’t that story.
Have you ever heard of childhood enemies? The kind where your first memory on earth is fueled by pure, unadulterated spite?
At age five,
In the local park, Ryu Sun-jae, a giant of a five year old, had snatched the pink plastic shovel from Im Sol’s hands—who had just been getting started on building her sand castle in the sandbox. He didn't even want to build a sand castle of his own. No. He just wanted the pink shovel because Im Sol had it.
However, Im Sol didn't cry, she didn't run to her halmeoni to complain. She had shot upright and practically lunged at Sun-jae with the grace of a rabid dog, her baby teeth digging into the flesh of his forearm. That day, Ryu Sun-jae’s cries could be heard three blocks away.
Their parents had apologised frantically to each other. But the children had no remorse or regret. Im Sol had been standing behind her halmeoni, sticking her tongue out at a quietly sobbing Ryu Sun-jae.
At age seven,
Ryu Sun-jae had “publicly” banned Im Sol from playing with his friend group—which basically consisted of more than half the children in the neighborhood. Im Sol’s eyes had watered up, Sun-jae smiling smugly at his “enemy”.
What transpired after was a blur, all the kids in the park screamed in horror and ran to call their parents. By the time Im Sol’s mother and halmeoni and Ryu Sun-jae's mother had arrived at the park, both the kids were on top of eachother, their hands entangled in each other's hair, clothes dirtied by rolling around in the dirt. Both of them were teary eyed from the force pulling at their hair, but both stubbornly refused to back down.
It had taken a lot of effort by the three of the elders to entangle the children from each other—who ended up wailing loudly, speaking in gibberish as they complained to their respective guardians.
Again, their mothers had spent the afternoon apologising to each other.
At age 11,
Im Sol was headed to her extra lessons, with Lee Hyun-joo tagging along. The girls were talking excitedly about some new movie they had watched, and then—suddenly, something cold, squishy collided with the side of her head, drenching her in cold, chilly water.
Hyun-joo watched with wide eyes, a soft gasp escaping her past her lips, “Im Sol!”
Im Sol rubbed her hand across her face. A sharp giggle came from the right side—Ryu Sun-jae, hanging off the brick wall, a wide grin grazing his lips as he let out a satisfied giggle. He was still holding a neon-green water balloon in his right hand.
“Sol! Looking nice!” he yelled over the wall.
Lee Hyun-joo stepped back cautiously. She could feel steam blowing out of her best friend's ears, her face red in anger.
“You!” She shouted, pointing at Sun-jae.
Ryu Sun-jae just grinned and charged another balloon at her. But Im Sol ducked, dodging the balloon. The water balloon hit Hyun-joo right in the face. She gasped as water burst all over her face. “Yaaah!” she shouted.
Im Sol grabbed her hand and they ran—before Sun-jae started throwing more water balloons on them—leaving a laughing and absolutely elated Ryu Sun-jae behind.
Later that night, Im Sol had sneaked in, with a rat clutched tightly in her hands and had ushered it into Ryu Sun-jae's room, an evil grin plastered on her face. When she had heard a loud shriek from inside the boy's room, she shut the door and blocked it with a chair before rushing down the stairs, laughing gleefully.
At age 14,
Nearing the end of middle school, Im Sol and Ryu Sun-jae had been paired up for a science project. They had spent the weekend fighting for every single slide. Im Sol had scolded him for picking plain white slides as they were completely bland and had no “aesthetics”.
While preparing for their presentation, they bickered at every little thing. From the slides’ colours and themes to the contents of the presentation.
At the day before the presentation, a frantic Ryu Sun-jae had asked Im Sol, “where's my mechanical pencil?”
Im Sol looked up from her plate of fruits—they had been working in Ryu Sun-jae’s room and his father had given them some fruits, “which pencil? I don't know.”
Ryu Sun-jae narrowed his eyes at her, “I know you took it.”
“Prove it.” She said simply, stuffing a small piece of apple inside her mouth. A victorious grin spread across her face as all Sun-jae could do was watch her eat.
Later during the presentation, Ryu Sun-jae was tasked with clicking through the slides while Im Sol gave the verbal presentation. Im Sol was speaking confidently and professionally. Suddenly, the class had burst into fits of laughter, even the teacher couldn't hold back a smile.
Im Sol turned around, expecting the worst. And the worst was what she got. Across the screen was her, a photo of her— around 6 years old, covered in mud from head to toe, front teeth missing and glaring at the camera as if it had stolen her favourite chocolate cake.
Im Sol let out a gasp, stumbling back from seeing the unexpected photo. Her eyes darted towards Ryu Sun-jae, standing next to the computer, smirking at her with no regret and absolute satisfaction.
Im Sol glared at him, “yah!” She took off one of her school shoes and slung it at Sun-jae—who easily dodged.
Before she could attack again, their teacher interrupted, clearing her throat and silencing the class with a glare.
Im Sol had then continued their presentation. But she hadn't forgotten. Later, during lunch, she dumped an entire bowl of spicy jajangmyeon all over his clean, pristine white uniform shirt. A sulky Sun-jae had to get his yearbook photo taken with a massive, greasy brown stain right across his uniform shirt—like a badge of utter defeat.
That was them. No matter how many times their parents forced them to get along, have dinner together without bickering for even a minute—it had all always ended up in chaos and disaster. And nothing ever changed that in the past 18 years, and nothing would ever change that in the upcoming several years. The conclusion was simple and it was the only acceptable one—Im Sol and Ryu Sun-jae could never be together. They were just not meant to be. And that's how they have been till now.
“Hey, shorty. Move it. You are blocking the way.”
Im Sol came back to her senses at the infuriatingly familiar voice. Ryu Sun-jae—dressed in his high school uniform, with his bag slung across one shoulder, hands casually dipped into his trouser pockets— standing in front of his house gate.
Im Sol blinked. She had been standing in the middle of the street, spacing out again? Her face quickly contorted to a scowl, “I am not that short, you are just a giraffe.”
Sun-jae snorted, walking past her, “sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
Im Sol rushed forward, catching up to him, “I mean it! I am not that short.”
“I told you to drink more milk, but you never listened to me. Look where you are now.”
“Shut up.” Im Sol rolled her eyes as she quickened her pace and walked ahead.
_______
Im Sol got off the bus first, followed by Ryu Sun-jae. Im Sol gave him a wary, annoyed look, “quit following me!”
At that, Sun-jae scoffed, his eyes widening, “me? Following you? Hah! Dream on.”
Im Sol rolled her eyes and walked ahead of him. Sun-jae caught up with her, “yah. It's not my fault our schools are side-by-sides.”
Im Sol clicked her tongue, glaring up at him—god it was so annoying. She had to tilt her neck up to properly look at his face— “Then just take the other bus!”
“It's you who came half an hour earlier today.” He shot back.
Im Sol blinked, closing and opening her mouth like a fish out of water. He was right. She had come earlier than usual. On most days, they would rarely see each other in the morning. Ryu Sun-jae woke up and went to school earlier for his swimming practice so they never bumped into each other.
However, today….
Sol’s gaze drifted sideways until it landed on a boy wearing a vibrant leather jacket, removing his helmet as he got off his bike. The boy for whom she had woken up thirty minutes early, just to catch a glimpse of him. Her lips twitched upwards, in an almost, half-complete, wistful smile.
At the lack of reply—and the uncharacteristic quiet—Ryu Sun-jae followed her gaze. As soon as his eyes landed on the boy—Kim Taesung, he recalled— his face scrunched up in an almost instinctive disgust, “are you kidding me?” He scoffed.
Im Sol almost jumped, turning her head around so abruptly Sun-jae was sure he heard a crack.
“Wh-wha-what? What?” Im Sol stuttered, her cheeks growing hot.
An inexplicable, bitter taste filled Sun-jae’s mouth and he threw an annoyed glance at Kim Taesung, “seriously? That boy? He looks like a total gangster. And his clothes—”
“What's wrong with his clothes! They are good! They look good on him!” Im Sol interrupted, glaring at Ryu Sun-jae.
Ryu Sun-jae blinked, “seriously?”
Im Sol turned around, her straight hair swaying with her movement, “he has better fashion sense than you. Besides, you are just jealous no one looks at you like that. Hmph.” she stomped off towards her school.
Sun-jae watched her back as she walked away, “hah!" he scoffed in disbelief.
"As if I want someone drooling over me!” He grumbled, walking away.