Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6998587.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      TWICE_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Im_Nayeon/Myoui_Mina
  Character:
      Myoui_Mina, Im_Nayeon
  Series:
      Part 1 of She_will_be_loved
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-28 Updated: 2016-06-04 Chapters: 3/? Words: 4350
****** She will be loved ******
by myouizi_(orphan_account)
Summary
     At the age of eighteen, she decided to leave home. It was a path that
     no brave soul would have chosen, yet she was stronger, way stronger
     than that. Way stronger than me, who is now suffering of her loss.
***** Beautiful Stranger *****
As I sat down on the train seat, with my bare thighs feeling the coldness of
the plastic seat, I made sure my skirt doesn’t get wrinkled. It has been a
tough day once again. I visited my parents back in my natal town, and now I’m
on my way back to Seoul one more time.
It has always been like this, the routine, the routine that made me go crazy –
studies and my never ending travels to my home to visit my lone parents. It
will not stop; I’ve assumed that already.
As I was lost in my thoughts, sudden warmth plucked me out of my solitude. My
eyes traveled down to my shoulder to figure out what this sudden cozy feeling
was.
It was a girl – a girl whose hair was long and brown, a girl whose eyes were
closed. I believe she was asleep, so I tried not to wake her up in her slumber.
She was wearing a school uniform; my lips formed a small smile as I reminisce
the times I was still a high schooler.
Time passed by and it felt almost natural having the head of the stranger rest
on my shoulder.
However, the first station was nearing, and I was afraid that she might have to
get off from there. So with a gentle poke on her arm, I woke her up. She
immediately sat up, wary of her surroundings, but still a cute yawn escapes her
mouth. It was only then when I finally got a good look of her face. She
immediately whipped her head towards me and her face drained out after reality
dawned on her.
I, on the other hand, equally looked at her with a curious gaze. There was
something about her that has caught my eyes, and I wasn’t sure what it exactly
was.
I was able to catch the glint of sadness on her eyes, however, and that made my
heart ache.
She apologized and I could only nod, “Don’t worry it is okay!” I said, “Do you
get off here?”
The speakers blasted announcing the arrival of the train, accompanied by the
loud screeching of the wheels against the rail as it halted. The train has
reached the station.
The girl looked out of the glass window and a flustered smile graced her lips.
“Yes, thank you for waking me up.” She chanted before sauntering towards the
train door, disappearing in an instant, leaving me alone in my thoughts once
again.
Even if I wanted to, her face would not cease to appear on my mind, probably
because of the gloomy expression on her face that she tried so hard to mask out
with a smile.
I was curious by nature, but this curiosity was far different. There was a
nagging voice at the back of my mind telling me that I should involve myself
with what that girl was dealing with. But of course, I let it slide. I probably
won’t see her again, anyway.
When I arrived at my rented apartment two hours late, all I could do was lie on
my couch and turn on the television, completely leaving aside my biology essays
that were due on Monday. Not even thirty seconds into the random show that I
tuned in, I turned off the television.
I wonder, still, if that girl was okay.
It has been like that for the last week. The girl constantly appeared on my
mind, and I – feeble person that I was – could not do anything to stop myself
from thinking about her. It was as if it was natural for her to invade my mind
for no apparent reason at all.
I shook my head, and once again I tried to find an excuse to do something else
other than my work. I ended up going to the kitchen to prepare my last meal of
the day.
My phone started to vibrate, I immediately fished it out of my sweater, and as
expected it my mom was calling me up. I slid my thumb across the screen,
answering the phone with much content.
“Mommy! How are you?” I said, and I could feel her smile through the phone.
“I’m fine, baby. What about you? When will you visit us?”
“I’m fine, just studying and well – depends. How is dad?”
“He’s fine, he caught a cold though. You know, oldies like us get sick easily.”
The grip on my phone tightens; slowly a bitter smile appeared on my lips.
My parents had me at a very old age. They were forty years old when I was born
and now, I’m on my twentieth year in life. Their health had me worried a couple
times now.
“I know. I’ll visit home tomorrow, is that alright, mommy?”
“Of course, my lovely daughter.”
“See you tomorrow. Good bye.” I ended the call, not before hearing a kiss
through the call, and I couldn’t help but smile. I seriously love them with my
whole being and I miss staying home with them.
--
I found myself aboard the train again, with home as my destination.
The four hours went by too slow and my battery was almost drained out. I was
lucky enough that I managed to arrive home before it completely died.
I knocked on the front door, as I don’t have the keys anymore; the first one to
greet me was my mother. After each and every visit, I always notice something
different on her; the sad smile that adorned her beautiful face; the ever
multiplying wrinkles on her forehead; and the grey hair that crowned her head.
She may seem very old now, but her beauty still outshines all these flaws.
Still there was a part in me that wanted to go back in time so I could take
care of them more like I was supposed to. I also wanted to be the kid who
constantly followed her parents around.
I spent the next days with my parents, and it was a complete bliss, until
Sunday came and unfortunately I had to leave. With a kiss on their cheeks, I
said goodbye to them and left for the train station. I felt my heart drop a
several feet with each step that I took.
Take me back to the old days. I want to be a kid again.
With careful steps, I boarded the train again and sat on an empty seat at the
end part of the train. It was going to be a long ride once again, and so to
kill time, I scanned through my phone and went through my camera roll,
occasionally letting out a small chuckle escape my lips whenever I find
something that amuses me.
My eyes were glued on my phone for what seemed like hours, and when I finally
decided to look up, I was more surprised to see a familiar figure sitting just
across my seat.
It was a girl – a girl whose hair was long and brown. It was the same girl who
had been plaguing my thoughts for a week or so.
My eyes traveled down to her legs, her arms – they were bruised. It was
painfully obvious as her light skin tone was contrasting the said bruises. Her
face was stained with dried tears and her arms gripped on a bag that could
barely even carry one or two set of clothes. She was trying to hide her face
with her hoodie, but it really wasn’t working.
I felt a roaring pain in my chest again. It felt worse than leaving home.
I got up and slowly started to approach her cautiously. She noticed and turned
to face me, and as soon as she did, tears started roaming down her cheeks. I
sat down next to her, not really knowing what to do.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, although it was obvious that she wasn’t. I was
worried that I might have had invaded her space, but my worry for her well-
being was far too much.
She continued to sob quietly and her grip on her bag started to loosen. I
gulped. My instinct led my hand to reach out and caress her head for comfort,
but she rejected my gesture. She quickly covered her face with her arms, as if
to shield herself from the prying eyes of the people inside the train.
“Help me, please.” She says – it was almost a whisper – between her sobs. I can
only nod at the moment, unable to comprehend everything at once.
“How – how can I help you?” My heart ached every second that passed by.
She slowly put her hands on her knees, with her head slightly bowed. She tried
to compose herself before raising her head to look at me. Her eyelids were
fluffed, an indicator that she’s been crying for too long. She somehow looked
at me with pleading eyes – desperately asking for help.
In those moments, with both our eyes locked together, I realized she was
beautiful.
A beautiful stranger, whose name was unknown.
A beautiful stranger, whose situation was making me nervous to the whim.
She stayed silent for a while. She opened her mouth to talk, but only soft
puffs of air came out.
“I’ll try my best to help you, just tell me how.” I said.
“I have nowhere to go.” She looked ashamed, jittery.
“I can offer you a place. It may not be the best, but if you trust me…” I
trailed off and she looked at me as if I just saved her life.
We stayed like that – looking at each other. I found myself lost in her eyes,
her brown eyes that only screamed remorse, sadness. She has beauty marks all
over her face and I found it beautiful. But whenever I see her bruises and
fresh wounds, my heart breaks in the back ground.
It took me a while to realize that I have been staring at her for way too long,
so I looked away, pretending that something else caught my eye. It was
embarrassing to say the least. I was saved when the speakers blasted, once
again, that we have reached the last station.
We got off the train, with her walking closely behind. No words were shared and
I – sincerely – didn’t know what was appropriate at the moment: to talk or not
to talk.
We arrived home in no time, and as I open the door, she asked me, “Are you sure
you want to help me? You don’t even know me.”
Her question flustered me. I wasn’t too sure why I was helping out a total
stranger when she could be something dangerous for me. I was listing myself up
for a quick death probably, but I couldn’t care less. Whenever I get to see her
face, I would succumb, as embarrassing as it may be.
I gripped on the door knob and then slowly turned to her. “I – I actually don’t
know why,” I started, “but there’s something that made me want to help you.”
She looked down, avoiding my gaze. It seemed that she felt pain on her wounds
as she suddenly flinched.
With quick steps I led her inside the apartment and let her sit on the couch. I
quickly took my medicine kit before proceeding to sit next to her, though this
time I silently hoped that she will feel more comfortable with my presence.
I slowly pushed back her hoodie, revealing more of her face, to at least make
her realize that she was more than welcomed in my house. She needn’t hide her
face; no one else was around to pry on her.
The first time that I took a good look of her face, I was blinded by the beauty
that she owned. I wasn’t able to see the scars that marked her exterior. She
had a wound on her lower lip, a bruise on her left cheek and on the corner of
her right eye.
I started to attend to her wounds. Once again she flinches at the contact of
alcohol against her lacerated skin.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, and she replies with a small nod. I took a bandage
from the kit and started covering up the wound, being extra careful as to not
inflict pain again.
We stay in silence, not knowing what to do or say, yet I talked, tearing the
silence into pieces. “I need to know your name.”
“My name is Mina.” She finally spoke.
“Mine is Nayeon.”
***** Haven *****
When the night came, it was really awkward. I had still no idea on why I
decided to share my house with Mina so easily. It was as if I totally lost
control of my mind, of all things.
While I was doing one of my reports for my social psychology class, she’d sit
on the couch and stare into oblivion without even saying a single world. The
moment I stood up to get a cup of coffee – since I knew that the night was
going to be a long one – she jumped up, startled. It then made me wonder,
again, what kind of person she was.
“S – sorry, did I scare you?” I asked with my voice so soft I could not
recognize myself.
She looked at me, oblivious, and her lips curved down to a frown. She nodded,
and I slightly bowed, asking for forgiveness.
“Do you want coffee or tea?”
She smiled softly at me and replies, “Tea please.”
It was a rare moment when she says something, and so I managed to smile back
before leaving the room.
When I reached the kitchen, I boiled more water than I was used to – this time
it is for two cups.
I have to get used to this, I think.
Going back to the living room, it seems as if time stopped once again. Mina was
again just sitting on the couch without even moving an inch. If I wasn’t a
psychology major, I would have thought that Mina was a supernatural entity out
to haunt me in my own home, but no, it wasn’t the case. I see Mina as a
disturbed human soul who needed the help from someone who was willing to give
it, and as of now, I see myself as that willing person.
“Here’s your tea.” I said, handing her the cup. It was then when she moved a
muscle to reach for the tea. I noted that her hands were shaking, although she
tried to hide it. Without pointing it out, I went back to doing my report, but
my mind kept floating elsewhere.
Hours have gone by and it was getting pretty late. I told myself to go to
sleep, since my mind wasn’t going well. I had to rest even just for a while.
I turned to Mina, who had passed out on the couch. She must be really tired
now. I stood from my seat, making a slight noise from the chair dragging on the
floor. Mina immediately got up, sat straight and looked around, frantically
moving her eyeballs to scan the room. I had startled her it seems.
“Hey, you can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch.” I said.
She looks at me and declines. I asked her once again, and yet she still
declines. No matter how much I tried, she seemed to be convinced that she would
sleep in the floor or in the couch. Of course I couldn’t let the guest feel
uncomfortable and so I continued to insist for her to take my bed.
“Please, sleep in my room. I’ll stay here.” I said for the umpteenth time and
she just looks down. She held her bag tightly on her arms, and it looked like
she would leave in that mere moment.
“It’s okay, I can sleep here. I don’t want to be a bother.” She said.
A sigh escapes my lips. I could relate to her, even when I’m staying over at a
friend’s home, I feel like one – a huge bother in the bum.
But there is no way that I am letting her feel uncomfortable.
I sat down on the chair of my desk when suddenly she opened her lips once again
to speak.
“I really don’t want to sleep on your bed, Nayeon.” She breathed out loudly.
Defeated, I nodded, looking at her while my lips were pursed.
“Okay, but let me get some blanket for you.”
I made way to my closet, fishing a fresh blanket and some pillows. I sigh
escaped my lips once again, I was too insensitive to the fact that I was
dealing with someone who was emotionally broken, moreover I was a stranger.
Letting her sleep on my bed would be very uncomfortable with her.
Too bad my apartment didn’t have any spare room, I could have offered that.
I went back to the living room and stood next to the couch, handing Mina the
pillow and the blanket which she gladly accepted, and like before, I could
still note her trembling hands.
“Are you sure you want to stay here?” I asked, again, making sure.
“Yes, Nayeon.” She said, putting the pillow on the empty space behind her.
She didn’t make any eye contact with me, but her body was faced towards me.
Mina started to rub her ears and if there was one thing I learned from body
language, it would mean that she doesn’t want to hear anymore of me insisting
her to stay in my room. I gave up at that point, yet I was still uncomfortable
that a guest was sleeping on my couch instead of a decent bed.
“Okay, do rest well.” I said one last time before I went to my room.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of oil sizzling and food burning. I
shot up, jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen, only to find a horror-
stricken Mina avoiding the splutter of oil flying everywhere.
It looked like a battle field – with Mina, supposedly the dark horse, single
handedly battling the tyrannical reign of the oil king. Needless to say, Mina
was on the verge of losing.
When Mina finally realized that I was behind her – mind you that I was left
aghast with what was happening before my very eyes – she cowered to the corner,
as if a child asking for forgiveness for the mistake she’s done.
I promptly turned off the gas, gaining some burns on my arms as drops of hot
oil landed on my skin. However, it wasn’t my main concern at the moment and so
I didn’t even feel the burning sensation crawling on my skin. What was more
important was consoling Mina who was still crouched on the floor, hiding her
face with her arms.
I looked at the pan and an amused chuckle broke free from my throat – Mina
tried to cook eggs, but failed miserably.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I tried to make breakfast as my payment for
the inconvenience I have brought upon you”
I scratched the back of my neck and kneeled next to her, taking the frying
spatula that she gripped on. I smiled softly, patting her on the shoulder.
“It’s fine.” I said, mindful with Mina’s emotions this time. “I’ll cook
breakfast, go and rest at the couch for a while.”
She finally looked up and nodded before rising to her feet. She dawdled back to
the couch and obediently sat on the couch.
I licked my dry lips as I looked at her. Mina was very mysterious, very
intriguing. I couldn’t help but laugh dryly out of confusion. She almost burned
my place but I cannot even start hating her. Mina’s angelic face prevents me
from doing so, and in the long run, this will be a disadvantage for me.
I guess today will be a very interesting day.
After preparing breakfast, I fixed the table for a breakfast for two. Mina sat
across my seat, making us sit face to face. We ate in utter silence, the
ambiance getting heavy as minutes passed by.
“So…” I started, unable to handle the silence. “I saw you before wearing a
uniform, so you’re still in high school?”
She nodded.
“I’m a senior, though. We were preparing for graduation.”
“Oh…”
It seemed like she didn’t want to talk much about it, as she looked awkwardly
to her side.
Silence, again, filled the room, and suddenly I could feel the rain pour all
over the window.
***** Curiosity *****
It has been awhile since the girl who called herself Myoui Mina stayed in my
place. Nothing too interesting or too amusing happened in the span of a week
that we’ve been living together, however, as a psychology major, I have noticed
series of unnatural behavior patterns that Mina exhibited.
Though she hasn’t said anything about her past, and the hardships she went
through that earned her the bruises on her body when I saw the poor soul on the
train, her reaction to almost everything spills the summary of her life and it
wasn’t even about fairytales and prince charming, obviously. Some people aren’t
just too lucky, as expected of the unfairness of our destinies.
I didn’t want to pry on her life, or make her a living experiment for the sake
of the nature of my interest, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. Her case was
too enticing, too interesting, and too complex – everything that Mina was about
was a good case to tackle.
With a pen on my hand, I jotted down the symptoms that defined a tentative
diagnosis of what Mina was dealing, whether it was post traumatic disorder,
battered child syndrome, depression, physical trauma and worse – sexual abuse,
who knows?
My hand gripped harder on my pen, with my handwriting getting scruffy by the
moment, as thoughts of Mina being a victim of an abusive sexual act was too
much for my heart to handle.
It couldn’t be possible, could it?
Who would dare violate such innocent soul? Of course, demons in the form of
humans exist in this world, and poor Mina unfortunately had to face one of
them. Mina has a low self-esteem; she was hyper aroused, either she couldn’t
sleep at night or she just couldn’t stay at one corner of the room; she was
estranged and didn’t know much about the outside world and the endless
possibilities it has to offer; and most of all, she looks scared most of the
time. Mina even trembles under my soft touches and wouldn’t dare look at me in
the eyes for even three seconds.
It hasn’t been too long since we met, yet I here I am, concerned with her well-
being. I knew deep in my heart that what I was feeling for her wasn’t pity, but
I couldn’t exactly point out what it is. Mina’s complex nature channels its
energy to me somehow.
I guess I just have to write down everything, including my feelings and
thoughts that concerns Mina.
--
“Mina, can you help me with the laundry?” I said, bringing the laundry basket
to the washroom where my small, but sturdy washing machine stood.
The girl slowly rose to her feet and trailed a few steps behind me. Mina was
wearing some of my clothes as the ones she bought for herself only lasted for a
few days. She should consider herself lucky for my old clothes fit her body
frame perfectly. The pants that I have outgrown (because somehow my fats
decided to make a home on my thighs) hugged her long slender legs perfectly and
the white shirt she wore – although a notch higher than her size – somehow
looked good on her.
“How can I help?” She asked.
“You can start by…” I paused for a bit as I looked around. As soon as I spotted
where I last put the powdered detergent, I pointed at it saying, “Can you get
that please?”
Mina obediently nodded and then reached for the box of laundry soap and then
handed it to me.
“What next?” She asked once again.
“Well…” I paused. I really wasn’t sure what I should make her do next as I have
been used to doing things on my own, especially the laundry. Which lead me to
think why in the world did I even ask her to help me with the laundry? It was
confusing.
I set the program and the water started to flow and raised to a certain level
enough for the clothes. With a few scoops of the powdered soap, the machine was
set to go. I have already emptied the contents of the laundry basket on the
washing machine, which included my clothes and Mina’s and turned the program
on. I would have separated our clothes, but it wouldn’t hurt to wash it
together, right? It saves money and energy, anyway. My electric bill for the
month, which I have decided to ignore, is still pinned between the strawberry
magnet and the surface of the fridge. If I ignore it even more, Mina and I
might end up using candles for light and I couldn’t let that happen, especially
that I don’t want a burnt down apartment.
Mina and I stood in front of the machine without even moving a muscle. We just
stood there, watching the machine do its job which was just spinning and
sloshing the clothes, water and soap altogether. I have to admit though that
looking at the clothes being in a tumbling-like mess inside the drum was a bit
addictive. It’s as if you’re drawn to a new universe with soap all over. Mina
seemed to have enjoyed idling in front of the machine too, as she never moved
away and locked her eyes on it.
“So, Mina,” I asked, breaking the idle moment, “How is life… well, living
here?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead she turned to me and smiled sheepishly.
“Thank you for making me stay here for a while.” She said.
“No problem.”
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