Chapter Text
All relationships are temporary. No matter how much love we put into each one, how much patience and nurturing, waiting and hoping, learning and forgiving- it always moves towards the inevitable end. Sometimes that end is peaceful, as natural as the tides receding back into the ocean. And other times the end is eruptive, an explosion of world-ending fury, sadness and emptiness that descends upon us like the pyroclastic flow of Mount Vesuvius.
I predicted the volcanic end when I met Lee Jooheon. He was too charming, too good-looking; the right amount of charisma to set my nerves on end. I knew he was no good.
Unfortunately, he was the type of attractive that made me struggle to care.
It started like this:
First, I took the emotional beating of my life in the form of my mother basically disowning me. I had just gotten my midterm grades back for fall break, and it was not looking hot. Calculus was my lowest grade as I was a failure at math, while psychology was my highest grade as I was majoring in the subject. I struggled in my prerequisite classes because I honestly just didn’t want to take them in the first place. But these thoughts contributed nothing to the well-being of my GPA.
I crept into the house with my suitcase in hand, trying to blend into the carpeted floors. I hoped to God that my little brother was already asleep. The best thing I had done before going to college was investing in my own car. It meant that I could come and go as I pleased, not relying on my mother’s whims. I would never get picked up from campus if it was up to her.
I was almost in my bedroom when my brother's door opened. I visibly flinched.
"You're in trouble," my brother sang in a high-pitched, nasally tone.
"Why?" I asked simply.
"Mom was complaining that you never called to tell her when you were coming. And that she was emailed by your school for your academic prohibition," Kameron told me, blinking sleepily.
"Academic probation," I corrected softly. "I'm not on it yet, but I will be if my grades don't improve."
And then my mother's door opened, and I felt dread like never before.
She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, wearing a short purple nightgown and a black bonnet on her head. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah," I answered, my voice cracking. "Sorry I'm late, but I didn't start packing until-"
"Why didn't you call to tell me you were on the way?" She cut me off, shifting her weight from right to left foot, never uncrossing her arms.
"I thought you would be sleeping, so I didn't bother.""And suddenly you don't know how to text? I’m pretty sure you texted Regina about the concert ya’ll skipped school for. But you can’t text your own mother to let her know you’re safe?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.
I opened and closed my mouth, wondering how she knew that I had skipped school to see Ateez. Probably through social media, although I was sure she never checked Instagram or Snapchat. Someone must have tipped her off, and then she must've checked my page. More than likely, the tattletale was Kameron. He enjoyed seeing me get chewed out by her. He was her little demon spy.
"I'm sorry," I decided to say, cutting out the excuses. The damage was already done, so I might as well be straight with her. "I'm gonna study while I'm on break."
"I don't care if you study or not. That's up to you. But what I do know is that I won't be spending money on tuition for someone who skips classes. So you'll need to find a job to pay your school bill next semester. I need proof that you're serious about your education," she said with a cold finality that had my breath hitching. The school bill was due in a couple of months, there was no way I could raise that much on my own in such a short period of time. Not while taking full time classes.
"Mama, please," I pleaded. "I'll pay you back in the summer. I just don't have time to get a job right now. I'm struggling in my classes."
"But you have time to go see a Korean boy band? Apparently you raised enough money on your own for a hotel stay and concert tickets, so that tells me you can also raise money for your tuition. Am I wrong? As a matter fact, why don't you raise money to find a new place to stay. Because you sure as hell aren't staying here after graduation."
"Mama-"
The slam of her door was brutally abrupt. She was beyond angry. She was done.
Kameron stood at his door with his thumb in his mouth, looking apologetic. After glimpsing my face, he decided to hold off the teasing and silently enter his room. The soft closing of his door was in direct contrast to the show my mother just put on.
I couldn't believe her cruel words. Because I took time off from college, I was irresponsible? I never complained. I never burdened her with my worries or whined about taking five or six classes a semester to graduate quicker. I always had in mind her financial responsibility in taking care of us by herself. I always worked the summers to help her save money for the rest of the year, buying groceries and paying small utility bills when I could. I even took debt on by myself, building credit for a proper student loan, for my own car bill, for my own smart phone and even buying clothes with my own money. The only thing I couldn't pay by myself was the astronomical tuition fee every semester, which forced me to split the payment plan with her and take money out of my own savings.
Despite all the planning, budgeting, and responsibility I took on at twenty-one years old, I was a still a burden to her? There was nothing I could do to please her. There was always more I could be doing; more I could do to help her raise my brother, more I could do to comfort her in my father's absence, and more I could do to keep quiet and out of her way. But apparently investing in my own short-lived happiness was not something she could tolerate.
I just let the tears run down my cheeks, standing in the dark hallway just outside of my room. I contemplated driving back to campus. But then I sighed, knowing that driving back in this state was asking for an accident to happen. Better to wait until tomorrow.
So I trudged into my room, lugging my suitcase with weak arms. I didn't bother putting on pajamas before I sunk into my purple covers, trying my best to fall asleep with an anxious heart.
...
I was out of the house before anyone woke up. I left all of my things, because moving out would take longer than a day. I simply didn't want to run into my mother after taking such a verbal lashing the night before.
I was sitting in a small coffee shop, typing notes for my Abnormal Psych class when it happened.
No, I didn't meet Lee Jooheon. Not yet. I did meet someone extremely attractive nonetheless, all while looking like I had slept on the floor all night and not even bothered to wash my hair. Because I did exactly that. Apparently in my sleep state I was so stressed that I rolled onto the floor and went right back to sleep. I woke up with a stiff stomach and lint in my hair that I had to brush out. I didn't even bother to wash my hair, simply twisting it into two small ponytails and slapping a hat on top of it. I definitely had the stressed college student aesthetic down.
I didn't touch my calculus textbook yet, simply starting with the easiest class to get it out of the way. I would slowly work my way up to dealing with limits and deferential equations.
So I was minding my own business when this hot punk dude sat down right in front of me and stared into my soul.
He was punk to my knowledge, with spiked blonde hair, an actual unchained dog collar around his neck and safety clips in his left eyebrow and bottom lip. He wore a black and white striped shirt, black plaid pants and patent leather combat boots, also black of course.
"Hi?" I greeted, unsure of why he was staring into my eyes so intently.
"Your face is perfect," he said in response, resting his face on an open palm and admiring me. "Your nose is kind of big, but mine is too so I think it's pretty."
"Excuse me?"
He smiled sweetly and pulled a card from his pocket, handing it to me. "My name is Changkyun, I'm a designer for Paradise Kiss."
"Uh, okay," I said, taking the card. "What's this about?"
"I want you to model for me. Well not me specifically, but our design team. What do you say?" He said with wide eyes, completely serious. He was definitely wearing eyeliner, and his eyebrows were professionally arched. I believed that he cared about style, but I had never heard of Paradise Kiss before.
"Why do you want me to model? What will I be wearing?"
"We're designing a dress for a competition. We'll need you to walk the runway as well as attend photo shoots. Our lead designer's name is Lee Jooheon, and he will be the one sketching the design for the dress. Problem is, he needs to pick the model first before he starts designing. It's a part of his process. I think you would fit his style well," Changkyun explained in a calm voice. The company seemed legit, and the opportunity was amazing. But there was something making me waver, an odd feeling that this was a bad idea. "And like I said, you're face is perfect for modeling."
"You also said my nose was big," I noted. "Are you sure you need my big nose in your photos?"
"Yes," he affirmed. "Your nose is big and pretty, sure to stand out from other models. Your eyes are almond-shaped and regal. Your lips are full, perfect for lipstick. Your skin is smooth and dark. Also you're fairly tall."
"But I'm not really..." I trailed off, waving my hands in disbelief. Surely he could see that I was a big girl?
"Not really what?"
"I'm kind of big for my height. I know I'm sitting but like, I'm sure you can tell," I said sheepishly. "Sorry, I don't think I can model for you. I might be able to help you find someone though."
"Big for your height?" Changkyun echoed. "I don't follow."
I raised my eyebrows. "I'm overweight. Obese, fat, chubby, whatever you wanna call it. Not an ideal size for modeling."
"Isn't that for me to decide?" He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips. "As the designer?"
"But you aren't the main designer, right? Lee Jooheon has to give me his approval first. I'm sure that he's going to tell you the same thing. I appreciate you calling my pretty and telling me that my face is perfect for modeling. I agree that I do have a pretty face. But my body size is just not made for this kind of thing. I mean, you're gonna have to spend extra time tailoring everything to fit my specific torso size instead of just making a general size and having a normal model wear it. It's more work for you, if you think about it like that," I explained. "Besides, I don't really have time to focus on things other than school right now. Sorry."
Changkyun didn't take my explanation the way I expected. He didn't seem to hear me at all, in fact. "How many assignments do you have?"
"Huh?"
"I'm pretty smart, I can help you finish them in no time."
"I have to finish typing this review of a psychology article, and then I have to start on my calculus worksheet. I have to study for my world history quiz also, and then I have to work on my Korean online assignments-"
"I'm Korean," Changkyun said quickly, "So I can definitely do those assignments for you. And teach you Korean the way we actually speak it, instead of from a textbook. I'm good at math, so I'll do your calculus homework also. My boyfriend Hyungwon can help you study for world history since he's traveled a lot. He received really good grades in school and graduated with honors. And for the psychology, maybe Minhyuk can help you with that? He's studying psychology as a minor while majoring in design."
"Wait, I don't really need any help-"
"Are you sure? You look like you're a second from collapsing on to the floor of this cafe. You don't really seem that invested in your homework and I'm guessing you don't have that long for break, am I right? Wouldn't it be easier if someone did your assignments so you didn't have to worry about them?" He reasoned, his voice velvety low and coaxing, almost like a spell. "Don't you want me to help you?"
"I guess?" I said, but the words tasted weird in my mouth, like they weren't quite my own.
"Don't you want to wear something pretty and let people admire you? I promise the dress will be as beautiful as you, if that's even possible," he smiled, his dark eyes laced with secrets. He was openly flirting with me in his low, sultry voice, batting his eyelashes and smirking in my face. And I was sure he mentioned a boyfriend earlier.
"Where is the studio? I'll come by if I have the time," I said, in a voice that sounded much more like me.
"The information is on the card. I'll let you decide then," Changkyun said, standing up abruptly. "You already have my number, don't you?" He winked, his voice taking on that strange, melodic tone again.
"Uh yeah, of course," I answered in a muted tone. Why was I...? I never got his number.
As soon as he left the coffee shop, my head felt clearer. I suddenly felt dizzy, as if I hadn't eaten a thing all day when in fact I had just finished eating two muffins and a caramel latte. I had no energy, when in fact I had energy just seconds ago. Before Changkyun had sat down.
I examined the card. It was bright azure and iridescent, reflecting rainbow colors as I leaned it from side to side. In a curly font, the name PARADISE KISS was displayed, surrounded by irises and violets. On the back of the card were the names of the design team, in a fancy cursive font.
Lee Jooheon
Lee Minhyuk
Im Changkyun
Chae Hyungwon
Yoo Kihyun
Lee Hoseok
Son Hyunwoo
I stared at names silently, lingering on Lee Jooheon. I wanted to meet the man now that Changkyun had talked him up so. But there was something in the back of my mind warning me not to do it. Warning me not to initiate this union.
The address of the design studio was listed on the front of the card, along with a business email.
"But where is his phone number?" I asked the empty air, dragging my eyes around the coffee shop as if a random person could tell me. "Why did he say..?"
My phone buzzed with a text message and I jumped. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, checking to see that I was texted by an unknown number.
Hi, it's Changkyun!
I hissed and dropped my phone. What the fuck?
I quickly collected my things and high-tailed it out of there, unaware that I was being watched all the while.
...
So that was the beginning of the end. I was in a bad place emotionally, and the designers of Paradise Kiss took advantage of that. But driving up to the mansion, inquiring about the shady job and ignoring all the red flags and intuition telling me to turn around and leave, yeah that was entirely my fault.
People become desperate when money is involved. I was no exception to this rule. I sat in the driveway of the enormous mansion, just staring at it in awe.
The mansion was smaller than the Biltmore, but three times the size of a suburban house. It was a turquoise Victorian with white trim and black roofing. Some of the windows were stained glass and others were custom-shaped into half-circles and crescents, pentagons and ovals. It seemed like the architect of this house was as creative as the designer of their company card. The entire mansion was a mystery of towers and shapes, colors and patterns, and this was just the outside. I couldn't imagine what living here would be like.
I climbed out of my Altima, closing and locking it as quietly as possible. I marveled at the shrub arrangements, cut into perfect spheres and marking the path up to the front door. The flowers were extremely fragrant, almost overwhelmingly so. The endless variety of blossoms continued on into the backyard. I almost expected to see vines weaving their way up the house, but the construction seemed too new and polished for that.
All that was missing from this garden were stone statues of muscular men and naked cherubs. Although tempted to check out the backyard, I walked up the steep stairs of the porch, holding onto the white railing.
The front door was fairly normal, for all the house's eccentricity. It was just plain, black-painted wood, although the golden doorknocker at its center was shaped like a lion. The doorknob was gold and carved in the shape of the sun, which added an extra flair. Not that flair was needed, like at all.
I knocked on the door once, twice. And then I waited, shifting my feet. What if Lee Jooheon laid eyes on me and laughed? What if Changkyun was the only one that saw something in me? The rest of them would take one look at me and snort, wondering what I was doing here. It was probably best to turn around and leave right now, before I was further embarrassed.
I pocketed the card. I was just making my way down the steep steps when the door opened behind me, and a beautiful woman stepped out.
Her pink hair was long and curly, coming down to her waist. She wore a tight-fitting, black lace dress with pink floral heels. Her makeup was stunning; gold eye shadow, lips a shimmering red color. One of her eyes was made to be the center of a pink daisy, giving her the appearance of someone ethereal, untouchable. Not someone that should waste a second of breath on me.
And yet she nearly broke her ankle trying to race outside and stop me from leaving. "Wait sweetheart, don't leave."
Sweetheart? "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. I'm not the person you're looking for."
"You are," she disagreed immediately. "You're exactly the person we're looking for. Please come inside, we have a lot to talk about."
"Are you sure you want me here?"
"Do you want me to beg?" She asked. "I promise the pay is good. And I'm helping you do your homework on top of it all, you should be fairly grateful by my understanding."
"It just doesn't add up. Why would a rich design company with enough money to recruit famous fashion models be interested in me? I'm plain-looking and not skinny in the slightest, my hair is difficult to handle and my skin tone is probably not one you've worked with before," I explained. "Also, why don't you just model the clothes you create? You're certainly pretty enough to do so."
"Thank you, but I'm not made for modeling. I'm much too shy. Also, I don't think the managers of the show will appreciate a drag queen walking the runway. Although it really shouldn’t matter."
I stared at her in silence. Drag queen? "So how do you identify then?”
"I identify as male most of the time," she said with a slight quirk of her lips. “My name right now is Isabella, but when I change clothes you can call me Minhyuk.”
“Ah, okay,” I nodded.
“And what’s your name?” Isabella asked intently. I had a feeling she already knew, but I didn’t feel comfortable calling her out on it. It was just a feeling after all.
"I'm Chrystina," I told her. "Chrystina Davis."
"Nice to meet you, Chrystina. Please, come inside."
This time I listened, following her into a large foyer with a spiral staircase to the right leading to a dark tower, and an open living space just ahead. "I'll take your jacket and purse. If you don't mind, of course."
"Uh, I'll hold onto the purse for now."
"No problem," Isabella said, taking my jacket and disappearing into a small coat closet. She reemerged with a smile, her heels making a distinct noise against the white marble floors.
"So, I heard you were majoring in design?" I said when Isabella failed to speak. Long silences made me uncomfortable, so I always wanted to fill them with something. "And minoring in psychology?"
"Not exactly minoring. I just take psych classes for fun. I'm a sophomore at the Art Institute. And you're a psychology major, aren't you?" Isabella said, motioning for me to follow her into the living room. For all of the colorful aesthetics of outside, the interior was a lot more gray scale. Two large black velvet sofas sat in the far corner of the room, hugging the walls to form an L shape. A small glass coffee table sat in between them, a vase of white chrysanthemums in the center of it.
"Yeah, I'm studying to be a clinical psychologist," I said. “I’m gonna have to go to graduate school after I get my Bachelor’s.”
"I see," Isabella said. She sat on one of the black sofas and patted the seat beside her. "That sounds like a lot of work."
"It is, but I love psychology so I don’t mind studying it for a few extra years. I might move out of San Francisco after graduation," I speak while facing the open living room, although I can feel the weight of Isabella's eyes on me like a physical touch.
"Why's that?"
"I don't get along with my family that well," I admitted. "I mean, I love them but we disagree a lot."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "It can be hard, arguing with loved ones. It makes the world seem a lot more difficult."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I do feel that way right now."
"But that's why we have friends and lovers and teachers to count on. Family doesn't have to be sanctioned in blood," Isabella said. "In fact, I think some of my best family members have been close friends."
"That's a cool way to look at it," I smiled, trying not to linger on the lovers she mentioned. It was none of my business, but I did find myself curious.
"Are we waiting for someone?" I asked. "Is the lead designer coming?"
"Joohoney? Oh no dear, he won't be here for quite some time. He has business in London at the moment. I think he will arrive early tomorrow morning."
"Oh," I sighed. "So I came on the wrong day."
"No, you came on the right day. Because Jooheon and I are both co-lead designers, we own Paradise Kiss together," Isabella informed me. "I'll be the one designing your dress today."
"Oh."
Isabella giggled. "Can you stand up and do a twirl for me, sweetie?"
"Yeah, of course," I said, scrambling to do as she said. I turned slowly, trying to ignore the intensity of her gaze as she probed me with her dark eyes.
"Okay, can you face the other way?" She asked, pointing to the foyer. I turned my back to her, fingers trembling as I heard her heels clicking against the floor. She stood behind me, hovering silently. Up close, she smelled like the sweetest rose. I had to stop myself from inhaling like a crazy person.
"Lift your arms please. I'm going to measure your dress size, if you don't mind."
I did as she asked, trying not to flinch as her hands lightly skimmed my sides. Her fingers trailed down, down, down until she was kneeling behind me, examining the size of my ankles. "Perfect. Now, can you turn around for me?"
I did so slowly, so I wouldn't fall over and make a fool of myself. "Can I put my arms down?"
"Yes, baby."
She examined my legs with concentrated, narrowed eyes. Then she slowly rose to full height, tracing her fingers across my hips and stomach. Her hands stopped just shy of my breasts, resting on my sides with a familiarity that shouldn't have been there. "All done," she breathed.
"Don't you need exact measurements? Like with a tape measure?" I wondered.
"No, I can size you with my eyes and hands alone," she answered. "I know the stretch of fabric better than anyone, and I think you'd look great in chiffon. A little lace at the neckline and arms, buttoned in the back. And flowers, plenty of flowers. Any preference?"
"Chrysanthemums. I was named Chrystina because my mom loved chrysanthemums so much," I told her.
"Beautiful," Isabella said. "You'll be exquisite."
"I'm not sure that's possible," I laughed, "but thank you for saying so."
"I'll prove it to you. I'll make the prettiest dress you've ever seen. You'll never want to take it off," Isabella promised. "And then I'll make you another one."
Her eyes were so dark that they glistened, eyelashes longer than any I've ever seen. I couldn't help but stare up at her, just silently admiring her perfect features.
"Dear?" Isabella called. "Is there something on my face?"
"Uh, no. Sorry."
"Don't apologize, but you're making me blush."
"I didn't mean to. It's just, you're really pretty," I told her. "I mean, wow."
Isabella smiled, not saying anything. The smile itself was enough, containing gratefulness and a bit of bashfulness. I wanted to swallow that smile, feel it pressed against my neck, trailing down my chest. I wanted her in that moment, badly enough that it made me feel intoxicated. It wasn't like the lightheaded compliance I felt around Changkyun. This was a different feeling, more sensual and sweet. It called to me like a siren song, reeling me in with little effort.
"This will sound strange," Isabella began. "But I have another method of measuring. I think it will be more efficient than the examination I just preformed."
"Oh really? What is it?" I asked. It excited me to see Isabella in her own element. Her eyes lit up when she spoke of chiffon and lace, of creating and measuring. Design was her calling, there was no question.
"It's better if I show you, I think. Please, follow me."
I didn't question her, as she led me up the dark staircase. I held onto the railing, fearing a fall to my death, but it seemed Isabella had the agility of a ballerina because she held onto nothing at all. She made her way up the stairs with ease, leading me down a dark hallway. We passed two rooms before stopping in front of a purple door with a painted floral design. Turning to face me with a shy smile, she said, "This is my design room."
There was no question, this room had Isabella written all over it. One wall was deep plum while the rest were painted dusty rose, echoing her obsession with the color pink. Her focus wall was accented with golden floral print, and a long table stood just underneath it with just about every type of sewing equipment you could think of: a sewing machine, cut outs for fabric, pencils and patches of lace and tulle. There were several design mannequins cluttered in the corner, one featuring a yellow silk dress with a buttoned neckline and two slits running up the side.
"That one is my naughty tea dress, I wear it to lunch dates."
I laughed, examining the rest of the room with wide eyes. The floors were purple carpet, the same color as the accented wall. There were more fabrics hanging from floating shelves on the wall, and an assortment of scissors and needles across another table. In the center of the room was magenta chaise the size of a small bed, velvet soft to the touch. I sat down on it and looked up at Isabella. "This room is almost as pretty as you."
"Thank you, I do have an eye for interior design as well."
"Who designed the outside of the house?" I wondered.
"Joohoney," she said. I almost outwardly cringed at the term of endearment, although it seemed Isabella was quite fond of nicknames in general. Not that I really minded. "That man does love the color blue, if nothing else."
"It's beautiful, but strange. I do like Victorian style houses though," I said.
"Right? They're like giant dollhouses. We thought the same when we built it."
"You built this house?" I gasped. "Like, from scratch? By yourselves?"
"Just me and Jooheon, some blueprints and carpentry skills. Oh and a little help from our friends of course. It would've been impossible to finish without the entire team. We loved their help so much that we just hired all of them."
"You hired them because they helped you build this mansion? Now that's quite the job interview," I exclaimed. "I wish I could be hired as a psychologist solely based on my ability to help someone."
"I wish so too, because you would be wonderful at it. You're especially talented in making me feel good."
"Thanks," I said. "You know, chrysanthemums symbolize happiness and joy. That's why my dad named me Chrystina. He wanted me to have a happy life, and make everyone around me happy too."
"It's wonderful that he put such a meaning into your name," Isabella said. "That man sounds like an artistic person."
"Yeah, he was a painter. Well, he still paints I think. Not sure," I shrugged. "I lost contact with him a while ago, so I'm not sure where he is or what he's doing."
"That's sad," Isabella said.
"I mean, I don't really feel sad anymore. I just got used to him not being around. Now it's just my mom, brother and me." I didn't mention that it wouldn't be that way for much longer. Or that I kind of wished my dad had taken me with him.
"Do you miss him?" She asked, walking over to her table of fabrics and running her fingers over a cutout of black leather. "I miss my family a great deal."
"Where are they?"
"Dead," Isabella said. "A terrible thing, but one must go on."
"I'm sorry," I said. "Must've been hard to be alone all this time."
"Mmm, but I'm not alone. I have Joohoney and the others now," Isabella said with a watery smile. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they never fell. They just lingered at the tips of her eyelashes like dew drops.
"Can I meet everyone else?" I asked. "I would love to meet your new family."
"Oh yes, of course. But first, the examination."
"Oh, right. I forgot for a second," I said. "So what are we going to do?"
"Can you shut the door for me, please? And lock it."
Still not questioning a thing she said, I closed and locked the door. "Okay, what now?"
Isabella quirked her lips, walking over and sitting on the chaise with a strange expression on her face. It was almost sinister, the way her eyes lingered on my thighs and traveled up towards my neck. She smiled as if the very sight of me delighted her.
"Don't be alarmed, but I need you to strip for me."