Noir

You know, I'm sick.

Twisted.

And for what? My own personal escape. This guy in front of me, I feel for him. He doesn't know how horrible I am or how selfish I'm being. Truly, I feel for him. He just sits there, asking me meaningless questions and listening intently on what I have to say.

"So, Mr. Kwon JiYong.." I started.

"JiYong." He interrupted.

"What?"

"You can just call me JiYong."

"Oh," I may not have known much about the Asian culture but I knew that it was a big deal when someone let you call them by their first name. I started again.

"Ok, so JiYong, what brings you to my city?"

He looked up from heavy beer glass. It was his third one of the night, while I sat at my seventh.

"A party." He stated. It was then I noticed the white complicated white button up. Each button looked like gold, even down to the "GD" shaped cufflinks. He wore black slacks and brown alligator shoes. If anything this boy had money. I had only just noticed his oval shaped face, high cheek bones, sharp chin and white hair.

Damn he was put together.

"A party?"

"Mmm, neh" Which almost sounded like "Deh" to me.

"Uh?"

"Yeah."

I sat back in my chair feeling worse than before.

"So what does a rich boy like you do?" That slipped out of my mouth before I had the chance to finish thinking it. Smooth. The best I could do was go along with what I said and not let him see my mild embarrassment.

"Man."

What?

"What?"

He lend forward on the table, his chin resting on his bony wrists. It was quite surreal, artistic even. It reminded me of the elegant paintings at Musée du Louvre. Was it bad that it put butterflies in my stomach. Who was this guy?

"You said "boy". I'm not a 'rich boy', I'm a rich man."

"Alright what do you do, rich MAN?"

"I compose. Perform, rap, sing, dance, model, basically anything I want to do. But I get paid for doing it."

I stood up from the table making a bee-line for the door. Last thing I needed was to be around a cocky rich brat that could possibly bring out the worst in me. I could already feel me blood boiling that I ripped my scarf and coat off, throwing it somewhere in the street. I hastily walked forward, not looking back.

The cold pierced my bare skin. It was a bitter sweet feeling. Later I'd hate myself.

My jeans began to vibrate. I nearly leapt out of my skin digging into my pockets. I had forgotten about my phone. I hadn't used it since the week before my friend's funeral.

Shit.

"Hello." It wasn't like I was really listening to the shouting on the other end, but it gave me something to do. Something to focus my anger on. I rolled my eyes at every "worried" and "trouble" spoken. It's funny how that woman is "worried" now that I'm old enough to take care of myself. How about when I was helpless, crying, alone?

No.

Pity.

A sharp pain spread thoroughly around my left ear. My phone ejected from my grip, making a crash sound as it came into contact with the Earth. I looked over to spot the incoming rock make an impact with my forehead.

"OH! Bullseye!" A male voice called. It was a voice I knew all too well, one that had tormented me as far as I could remember. It was Matt. Every time I came face to face with him he had pure excitement in his eyes. Just, it wasn't normal excitement, it was the one he got when he cause me pain. Physically. I doubt he ever felt guilty, to me he enjoyed abusing me too much to ever stop. It was only when I openly cried and begged him to stop that he'd leave me alone.

But I had no intentions of doing that tonight.

I lunged at him. My agility apparently too slow as eight arms pulled me back suddenly. Matt's left hook clashed in my stomach. I groaned, soothing the pain with long breaths. The next shoot would be dead center of my chest. One thing I knew about Matt was that he'd never hold back when he hit me, but he'd never hit me in the face. No where that'd show up in the morning.

One of the goons let me go. I took advantage of the loosen grip to get one hit in straight across Matt's lower jaw. He stumbled back into the shadows. That same goon handed him something that he would use to send me to the ground.

"Like this pipe I found?" He asked. Repeatedly the metal pipe rapped along my ribs.

I think I was nearly unconscious when I heard someone yell. It sounded like "Yah! What the fuck are you doing?" and "Gguh juh!" What ever that means. I just remember seeing Matt running away.

A pair of hands helped me up to a nearby bench. After regaining me vision I looked onto my rescuer. It was that rich pretty boy JiYong. He looked angry, no not just angry, furious.

I decided to break the ice. "So, JiYong where did you say you were from?"

He looked at me. The anger was immediately replaced with confusion.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

"Yeah. But that's not important, where are you from?"

"Not important? Jean you were just attacked! How is that not important?!"

Uh Oh.

"Y-you're right. I'm sorry. So where did you say?"

"I didn't." He answered pouting. Cute.

"Aww come on," I tried reaching up for him but flinched at the intense pain.

"Yah! Be careful!" He jumped forward, slowly pushing me back down before adding "Seoul."

"Seoul? As in South Korea?"

He nodded. I silently praised myself for knowing the correct answer.

"I wanna go."

Silence.

"Ca-can you.......take me there?"

Silence.

"Heh. I guess not. Well then, can you help me home?" Jiyong's hand reached out at that request.

Damn. I am twisted.

************************************************

Walking home was a short trip. The entire way I decided to make small talk with JiYong to cover up the stupid request I made.

"Oh so you're famous? Oh. Mmm that's interesting."

"Really? How so?"

"Ah, oh you just seem talented. Well damn that doesn't make sense.Um haha forget it."

"Haha sure."

"Oh I know! I'll look up your songs. I'm curious to hear your work."

"Mmm you don't need to do that."

"Uh, why?"

*Deep breath* "Because then you'll become a fan."

Have you ever seen someone's face turn so cold, so dark that they literally aged before you? That's how JiYong turned. The warmth of his body left him becoming colder than the climates around us. It consumed him, fought him for dominance. The darkness won. Leaving us to walk the rest of the way in silence.

We arrived at my door. I barely touched it before my mother came stomping out.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Her screams could probably be heard all the way to America. "And who the hell is this? Now your fucking around with men you meet on the street? Who the hell do you think you are? Don't you dare stare me down! Answer me when I'm talking to you!"
She poked me hard in the chest. Right on the injuries I had received. It was damn right numbing.

I crossed in front of her, leaving her there at the open door shouting and JiYong standing at the step. In my room I grabbed another coat, my purse of all my ID's, my Ipod and left out again. This time for good.

I wasn't even halfway across the street before I heard the door slam shut. There was no turning back now.

"Where are going now?" JiYong finally caught up with me. In a way I was glad he was speaking to me again. It didn't make me feel as lonely as I was.

"Um, I don't know. Hahaha! Maybe, uh, that way?" I stated pointing in a random direction.

I started on my way before I felt him grip my wrist. I looked at him. The guy was a man of faces. It always changed, one minute it'd become consumed with emotion and another minute, unreadable. Like now.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

He didn't answer, just dragged me along. Either he knew his way around Paris or he had an amazing sense of direction.

"Uhh, seriously JiYong. Where are we going?"

"Home." He spat out.

Notes