Ships In The Night
1.
Just one day, if I can be with you
Just one day, if I can hold your hands
Just one day, if I can be with you
Just one day...
With her earphones in, she was in the world of her imagination, where she pictured a boy and a girl having a dream-like date. The girl in her imagination had long hair just like it was mentioned in the song, and her hairs were flying with the blowing wind as she walks, holding hands with the boy who was singing the song...
Ah. I am always a third person or a bystander when it comes to relationship. In real life and even in my imaginary world. Even those manhwa protagonists that I have a crush on already have got a girlfriend. And in real life? Huh, no boy will even look at me. I am just an ordinary girl with head in the clouds. What idiot will fall for me?
“What are you listening to? I think people come to library to read books or do some research.” A male voice said from her side.
She snapped out. “Hey! You startled me. I just came here to spend some time in solitude. But looks like it won’t be happening.”
“Sorry about that,” the boy who talked to her sat down beside her, “I heard that you have recently joined in the literary club. As an old member who is going to graduate soon, I thought I could help you out with showing you around, since you’re new.”
“Oh,” she plugged out the earphone.
“Don't think that I do it for everyone. I actually happened to come across some of your works that you submitted. I would say, impressive. You have potential. But your writings lack in some aspects. I was thinking that if I give you some constructive criticism and point out the weaknesses you have, you could work on them and they will shine.”
“Thanks,” she smiled.
“But you haven’t answered my first question. What was that you were listening to?”
“The song is named Just One Day.”
“Oh. Love song?”
“Hmm.”
“I gotta go now. I need to grab some books from here, also, before going,” he got up.
“Oh, I forgot. Are you a senior? What’s your name?”
“Yes, I am a senior. My name is Eugene.” With that, he walked away.
2.
Three days later.
Bell rang. It was break time.
Eugene used to spend breaks alone, in his own world. For some reasons, he was a loner. Also, he was the one who held onto his passion for literature even in high school, whereas his classmates already decided on taking traditional paths.
But now he was not alone anymore. He had friends who shared same passion as his. He found a place where he belonged, in a place where he wasn’t labelled as a weirdo.
He got up and headed to library.
In another classroom, she was looking at her friends hanging out on their own, leaving her out. It left her in a dejected mood, despite not being the first time. She wasn’t particularly close with her friends, though. In fact, she could never fit in with them.
She went to the library, this time to grab some books. She was going through the shelves in search of the book she was looking for.
“Which book are you looking for? Need some help?”
“Whoa! You again!” she turned to face the same person who startled her in the same manner three days ago.
“Sorry. My bad. Sorry for startling you twice.”
“Never mind. To answer your question, I am looking for Three Days of Happiness by Sugaru Miaki.”
“Oh, that? I have to say, it’s pretty dark and depressing. Do you like stuffs like that?”
“I kinda do. Since you read my works you are supposed to know that already.”
“I have a fascination for that kinda stuff too, to be honest.”
While they were talking, he already found the book. “Here,” he handed it over to the girl.
“Did you come here to take books, too?”
“Hmm,” he walked to another shelf and grabbed a book. It was All Quiet in the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque.
“That book? I already read it. In fact, I read more than five books of Erich Maria Remarque. I am almost a fan of his works.”
“He is indeed a great writer, I have to say,” he said. “Since you read his other works, do you have recommendations?”
“Umm...You can try Spark of Life. But I have to say, it’s really brutal, raw, dark and whatnot.”
“That isn’t a problem for me.” He started walking, “Let’s go now, if you are done picking your books.”
“Are you heading to the literary club now?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m going there, too.”
“Let’s go together, then.”
On the way, she happened to steal a glance at his phone screen when he was on the phone. It had an anime boy as wallpaper.
“Anime fan?” she asked.
“Hmm. I am a huge fan of anime and manga.”
“I am a fan of webtoon. I rarely watch animes.”
“Oh.”
“What’s your favourite genre, anyway?”
“Supernatural and action, I guess.”
“My favourite is slice of life.”
“I watch anime or read manga to dive into another world, so I like action and supernatural type. Slice of life is also good, I read or watch them occasionally.”
“For me, books, webtoons, music – they are more than entertainment. It’s like, I absorb them as I consume. I learn life lessons from them.”
“Oh. We’re here.”
He opened the door and they entered together.
Another day at library.
“Which book are you taking today?” he asked her.
“Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and his years of pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami.”
“Are you a fan of Haruki Murakami?”
“Not really a fan of his works, but I like his writing style. That is why I keep reading his books. But I have to say, some of them are so...overly...” she was searching for the right words.
“Sexual?” he helped her.
“Yes,” she felt relieved that she didn't have to say that word loud. She still acted like an underage, and moreover, she was talking to a boy. “Have you read any of his works?”
“I have recently read a collection of his short stories, First Person Singular.”
“How was it?”
“I think you will like it. They are slice-of-life type.”
3.
She had a tendency of getting drawn to people easily.
After their first encounter, she checked out some of his writings. She found them fascinating. In fact, she found him fascinating as a person. On the other hand, he seemed to be more attracted to her works than her self.
They had totally different writing style. Her writings were simple and smooth, whereas his writing style was complex. But they were drawn to each other writings because of the opposite natures.
Their personalities were, however, similar.
They started hanging out often, in the literature club or in the library.
After joining the literature club, she came across many young writers. Most of them didn't take writing as more than a hobby or mere talent. But there were a few of them who had writer potential, and writing was their passion. Eugene was one of those with potential.
He was not only a good writer but also a good critic. When he said he liked her writing, she trusted his words. He could see through her writing, and could point out when she forced herself to write. She liked that about him.
“What do you want to study in future?” she asked him one day, “Since you are going to university soon, you must’ve decided it by now.”
“I prefer literature,” he said, “Though my parents want me to study economics, and most of my classmates will apply for medical.”
“I can’t imagine you studying medicine or economics at all,” she shook her head, “It won’t suit you at all. You are a real writer, you need to keep writing. The world needs you.”
He smiled at her words.
“Your writing style is unique and I like it. Though I hardly understand your writings, I enjoy reading them. Never give up on that,” she continued.
“Hey, thanks. I will keep your words in mind. Speaking of which...what do you want to study in future?”
“I wanna study literature, too. Initially I thought of studying a science subject, though, but now that doesn’t seem to be a good fit for me.”
“Good for you.”
“Hey, maybe in case, what if you and I get the chance to study in the same university? Then we will meet again and it will be so much fun, right?”
“Hmm. But that’s just a distant possibility; don't get too hopeful about it.”
Nevertheless, she looked excited.
4.
“Do you like the story?” she said, carefully examining the expression on his face.
“Hmm, I like it. You should continue it.” He said, putting the story down.
“To be honest, I have already finished it. Here are the other parts.” She rummaged through and handed him some papers.
As he went through the pages, his expression changed. She didn't fail to realize the meaning of his expression.
“Do you...not like it?”
He lifted his eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
Her heart sank. She knew that what he was about to say now was going to be something unpleasant, judging from his tone, expression and words.
“Did I disappoint you?” she said.
He didn't know how to say it to her face, but he had to say it anyway.
“I really had high hopes for this story. Even now, if you work on it, it would be one of the best stories out there.”
Then he pointed out things that he didn't like about the story one by one.
For the next three says, he didn't see her around. He thought he might have been a bit too harsh and maybe he shouldn’t have done it to her. But he knew he needed to, because otherwise she would let a story that had potential get ruined and lost.
She was indeed delicate and he didn't know that side of her. If he knew how sensitive she actually was when it comes to criticism, he might never have been that hard on her. But she knew how to hold it in and fake a smile, so he didn't realize what was going on inside her head.
But it didn't take her more than three days to get herself back up and when she showed up in the literary club again, she had her usual cheerful persona back again.
“Welcome back,” he said, “I was worried that my words hurt you.”
“Well, your words were actually helpful. I am going to rewrite the story, for you,” she emphasised the words ‘for you’; “I will keep your words in my mind in future too.”
He let out a breath of relief.
“I actually rushed on that story a bit. Kind of forced myself, you can say, and I am not proud of that,” she confessed.
“When you don't feel like writing, you don't have to force yourself. Writing isn’t a chore. If you force yourself like that, the work won’t turn out to be a good one. But when your write spontaneously and with passion, words and story flow naturally and you can give your best without squeezing yourself too much.”
“Thank you.” She said with a smile.
5.
“Congratulations on your graduation, Eugene,” she said, “I wonder whether we will ever meet again.”
“I don't know,” he said. “I am going to miss you and your depressing stories.”
“Me too. I will miss your kind words, brutally honest criticism and super complex stories. It would be nice if we could stay in touch,” she said with a sad expression, “Besides, once I am finished working on that story, how am I supposed to show you that?”
“Hmm...The problem is, I am not on social media. So I guess it can’t be helped.”
“Do you have email?”
“I do.”
“Then you can give me your email address, if you want to.”
“Sure.”
They then exchanged email address.
“Thank you,” she said, “for taking notice of me, taking time to read my works, for appreciating them and giving constructive criticism. Thanks for all the books you recommended. Thanks for cheering me on. Thank you...for everything.”
“Thank you, too...for being a friend.” He said.
After some moment, she said, “Do you want to listen to a song? It’s a song about saying goodbye.”
“Of course.”
She played a song, plugged the earphones in and gave the phone to him.
He wasn’t even looking at the lyrics, the melody and soulful voices alone made him feel the emotions.
She was noticing him. She said, “Look at the lyrics too.”
He looked. The lyrics said,
Goodbye doesn’t mean we’re parting forever
It’s a promise that we’ll meet again.
The times we spent together are all left as memories now
We have to leave to find the path we’ll embark on.
She noticed his friends from literature club gathering in a corner. She told him, “Your friends are waiting for you. Go say goodbye to them.”
He smiled at her one last time, and turned to go. No parting words exchanged, he said goodbye with that melancholy smile.
She smiled back, and waved him goodbye.
The moment he disappeared from her sight, her heart ached.
She wasn’t as close to him as his other friends. She didn't have hours of late-night chatting or candid conversations or small talks with him. All they ever talked about was books and writings. She felt distant from him, but that was just how she was. She was not very good with conversations. But she was happy with the little memories and warm words they shared. It was a short time, but he secured his place in her heart already.
Goodbye.
* * *
After Eugene left, the literature club felt empty to her. She missed him every time she submitted anything, knowing that he wasn’t going to read them and comment on them anymore. It all felt meaningless. She didn't found anyone who saw her writings the way he did. It made her sad and unmotivated.
She started writing for herself again, like she did before. From time to time, she reminded herself of Eugene’s words. She also remembered Eugene while listening to Japanese songs, since he had a fascination for them. She also thought of him when she watched anime.
She missed Eugene. A lot.
She messaged Eugene from time to time. After getting into university, Eugene was always busy with academic works and studying. He answered her messages with short replies, with a hope to chat for longer once he was free. She didn’t mind. She was happy that they were still in touch somehow. Sometimes they exchanged their stories with each other and gave feedbacks, like old days.
A year after Eugene's graduation, she graduated from high school.
It was her first day at university. She was both excited and nervous. She was walking with her earphones in, hoping that this time she would get a love life like the protagonists of the song for sure...
"Hey. You gotta be careful on the road."
The male voice that spoke to her gave her a jumpscare.
"Who are you... Scaring me like that?"
"In the end, we did end up in same university." The owner of the voice said with a slight smile.
"Eugene?!"
She covered her mouth in utter surprise.
"I should've known. Who else would scare me like this? But jokes aside... I didn’t expect to bump into you here at all."
"My bad, my bad. I didn't, either. Anyway, which department are you in?"
"Anthropology."
"Oh..."
"I didn’t make it into literature," she let out a sigh, "I guess I have no choice but to adapt myself to this change."
"Take care of yourself. A change is sometimes not so bad, you don’t know what you may end up liking."
"I guess so."
"You must be going to the orientation ceremony, right?"
"Yeah."
"Want me to accompany you to the auditorium? It’s your first day, you might get lost."
"Sure," she smiled, "Let's go."
Side by side, they walked towards a new chapter of their journey.