All About You

Twenty Five

T he moment of truth lies before me.

I’d been standing in front of the Books and Bricks for a few minutes. Something tugs at me to step away, to forget the boy standing inside.

Yet, another voice was telling me to wait it out. To prove Marlon and Ria, and everyone wrong.

To show everyone that this is written for me. The meet-cute was a prophecy, just like Mum and Dad. It couldn’t have been for nothing. My pride won’t let it be for nothing.

I told Kiara and Diane today that I was planning to ask Rafayel out myself, withholding the argument I’d had with Marlon and Ria last night.

Maybe he isn’t the type to ask someone out. Maybe he wants me to do it, since he’d asked for my number.

Is love meant to be plagued with so many maybes?

I quash the thought down. I need to push through and set us back on track, like how it’s meant to be.

I start forward, pushing through the doors. The scent of books calms the nervous beating of my heart immediately, and I am confident that everything will be okay. Rafayel is likely manning the cashier right now. I plaster my biggest smile. My most charming one, and head toward the cashier desk.

There’s a girl at the desk, being served by Rafayel. It’s the same customer from before, the one who’d been arguing with him once. I linger back, waiting for him to finish serving her. She’s smiling, and her hip is jutted to the side as she leans forward.

An icy sensation begins at the centre of my chest, and slowly makes its way across my body. Is she flirting with him? Surely, she must be.

My jaw tenses.

Why wouldn’t she be flirting with him? Rafayel is handsome, attractive. I’m sure many girls flirt with him.

My eyes skitter to Rafayel, to gauge his reaction. To see him shut her down.

Except, Rafayel is leaning toward her, his lips twisted in a wickedly sweet smile, his eyes drifting over her face, her figure. The way he’d done with me, when I saw him on Tuesday. It’s an intimate action, and suddenly I feel like the intruder watching on. I’m praying that he hands her the book she’s purchased, so she can leave and forgets all about him.

That’s when she leans forward and kisses him.

And he kisses her back.

Oh god .

There’s a sword in my stomach, and I’m bleeding out. My heart race is accelerating, but it’s all backwards. Bile threatens to rise as the two of them continue to kiss.

This can’t be. This can’t be .

This whole time, has he been with her ?

Has he made me the other woman?

No, no, no, no, no.

Everything that happens afterward, it’s a blur. In slow motion and in high speed all at once.

I don’t even feel my feet moving forward, my fists balled. The only thing I register is Rafayel’s shocked expression, before the words pour like a violent landslide from my mouth.

Words, singing along the lines of “ I cannot believe you ” and special chorus of “ what the fuck is wrong with you ?”

All I can see is a fury of red, lies staining my mind like blood in snow.

The girl pushes me back a little. Probably because I look like an absolute madwoman right now, screaming at her boyfriend. That’s when I turn on her, and pity washes over me.

“Did you know that your boyfriend has been flirting with me, playing me these last couple of months?” I tell her, my voice a little more even, steadier than how I feel, “Asking me for my number, calling me pet names? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. If I knew he had a girlfri - If I knew you were his - I -”

I blink away the seering tears that spring to my eyes. I never imagined myself in this position. To be the reason that two people could potentially break, even if Rafayel deserves it. To have been played, and used.

“Leave him. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Rafayel is coming around the counter now, hands up, as if in surrender. I back away from him, everything about him suddenly twisted, ugly.

His green eyes are like venom to me now.

“Valerie, I don’t even know this girl -”

I watch as the girl - Valerie - slaps his face. He stumbles, against the counter, likely out of shock. Valerie begins to chorus similar words as me.

“This is the girl on your phone, isn’t it?” she cries out. “The one you told me was part of a group project ? You made me feel stupid for thinking - God you made me feel pathetic - ”

Turning away, my vision begins to blur. Everything feels like a blur, but all I want to do is get out of here. Get as far away from Rafayel as possible. To forget he ever exists.

I push through the doors, the sunlight from outside shining much too brightly.

As I surge forward from the steps, and onto the footpath, my body pummels into another. I stumble backwards, shocked by the impact, but arms incase me almost instantly.

I should punch away from this person, this stranger who’d just hugged me. Except, there’s a familiarity in his embrace.

In these arms.

They feel warm. They feel safe.

“Garcia.”

Marlon?

What is he doing here?

His hands cup my cheeks, bringing my gaze toward his. As soon as his eyes meet mine, they are blazing with dangerous fury. I’ve never seen his eyes blaze before.

His thumbs brush just beneath my eyes, catching a tear.

“Jaslene, what did he do,” he asks. His voice is a strain.

He’s acting like yesterday didn’t happen. Like I didn’t say those horrible things to him. I don’t deserve his comfort right now. I don’t deserve Marlon.

He’s holding me in his arms, encasing me, as if he wants to shield me.

I shake my head, tearing my gaze away. I look down. Never again do I want to talk about Rafayel. Never again do I want to say his name.

“Jaslene, tell me what he did,” he says, his voice a stern hurricane of emotion.

His voice coaxes me to meet his eyes again. That’s when I look up at him again, pathetic tears teetering the edges of my eyes again.

“He has a girlfriend,” I choke out, and verbalising it makes me feel even worse, “I should’ve listened to you, listened to everyone. God I’m so stupid. I forced myself to believe in this, this is all my fault. He was never anything, and I made him out to be - ugh, I’m so embarrassed-”

I expect him to laugh in my face, to say I told you so. I would deserve it. I deserve for him to call me a fool. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he curses under his breath looking past me, at the bookstore doors.

“I swear, I’m gonna fuck him up,” he murmurs, his voice low. Threatening. I hold his arm, tightening my grip around him, silently telling him not to intervene. To not make matters worse. His gaze settles on me again, softening.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmurs. I hiccup, and I want to beat myself for crying this hard.

Why am I crying so hard? Who is Rafayel, anyway?

He’s no one.

Another tear escapes my eyes. Marlon brushes it gently.

“I’m pathetic,” I manage, my throat making me sound so weak and I pry my eyes from him. I don’t want him seeing this side of me anymore.

“You’re not pathetic,” Marlon says sternly, “The only one who is, is the idiot standing in the bookstore who thought he had a right to play with a girls’ heart.”

With his finger, he lifts my chin. Somehow, the brown of his eyes manage to snake its way inside of me, calming the raging storm.

“He’s just lost the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him,” he whispers, “If there is a fool between the two of you, he is the biggest fool of them all.”

The ability to speak lodges at my throat.

I just fold myself into Marlon’s arms, letting the warmth of his body engulf me. An unsteady thump thump thump in his chest thrums against my ears.

With Marlon, everything will be okay.

Who would’ve thought that I’d be visiting a kpop store with Marlon Salvador, of all people, after a heartbreak?

The seven faces of the BTS members stare back at me from the large poster plastered on the store window.

“Come on Garcia,” he says softly, placing a hand atop my hair and ruffling it slightly.

I jerk away from him, though the effect the small action has on me is instant, and soon there’s a smile creeping up on me.

Together we step through the entrance of my favourite kpop store in Sydney. Marlon insisted on taking me straight here, to take me further and further away from that damned bookstore after I finally sobered up. He doesn’t mention our little spat yesterday.

All he wanted was to remind me of the men that were actually worth crying over. It turns out, Marlon believes it would be worth crying over kpop celebrities instead.

Crossing the threshold, the mood here is instantly uplifting. It’s loud, bright, and vibrant, with a speaker blasting the latest kpop releases and most popular tracks. The comfort this place gives me is drastically different from that which I gain from bookstores, and it’s exactly what I need right now to forget about what just happened.

When I’m surrounded by albums and merch, I’m able to spiral into the grandeur, energy and delusion that the industry feeds us.

The latest track from the group Stray Kids plays throughout the store. It’s rapid beats pounds through my body, uplifting my energy immediately. I bop my head up and down as I weave through the first aisle, a smile comes easily to my lips.

“I can’t believe I’m here with you,” I say.

Marlon is glancing around, his gaze bouncing around the place. Shelves full of kpop albums line the walls, and in the middle are displays of photocards and little tidbits of merchandise.

To an outsider, this must feel like entering a whole new world. Suddenly, I’m conscious of how he’d perceive this. He meets my eyes, and must see the worry in them, because his lips stretch into a wide grin.

“Hey, this is really cool,” Marlon assures me.

He makes his way toward the TWICE section, pointing at it proudly, “I added their song to my playlist the other day.”

I blink at him, and his enthusiasm makes me smile. That, in turn, makes him grin.

“You’re smiling.”

I turn away, embarrassed all of a sudden.

“It’s because of kpop.”

“Of course,” Marlon responds, but I hear the knowing smirk in his tone.

Marlon’s fingers graze the album spines, and I’m inclined to believe that he genuinely is interested. A fluttering sensation of sorts begins at the core of my stomach.

I observe as Marlon drifts toward the Stray Kids albums, and he pulls one out, his eyes exploring the design.

“Wow, this is cool.”

I take the album from his hands.

“Marlon, you don’t have to do this. We can just go home -”

My words are halted as Marlon holds up a finger to my lips, literally stopping me mid sentence.

“Hush hush. There is no way I’m leaving until you’ve chosen an album you want, okay?”

I open my mouth in protest but he just presses his finger harder against my lips.

“No exceptions. It’s up to you if you want us to stay here longer.”

While his words are light, his eyes are serious. I sigh, defeated.

“Fine, okay.”

Marlon smirks, pushing at my shoulder playfully.

“Don’t act like you're sad about having to buy an album. Now come on, grab something from your wishlist.”

I wave him away and lose myself in the albums, as I always do. My gaze skitters across the collection, darting to and fro from ones I already own, and the ones I don’t.

An NCT Dream tune I recognise begins to play, and immediately I start to dance along, my memory relaying the choreography I’d taught myself.

Marlon lingers near me, pretending to be interested in the albums as well but I know he’s watching. Yet, I realise I don’t care much if I’m making a fool of myself in front of him. Finally, I settle on purchasing an older BTS album I haven’t yet added to my collection.

Afterward, I gravitate toward the middle aisles showcasing the photocards and merchandise on sale. My eyes drift over the BTS photocards. Marlon slides up beside me, and his gaze flickers toward the Jungkook photocards I’m eyeing.

He reaches out to grab the first one on display.

“So this is the one that has all the ladies raving isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. Do I detect a hint of jealousy there, Marlon?” I tease.

Marlon raises a brow.

“Pfft, this guy definitely looks similar to me”

I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“Please. You could never compare to Jungkook.”

Marlon, still holding the photocard, suddenly presses it against his cheek. He then puckers his lips, similar to the pose that Jungkook is doing, and holds up a peace sign.

“I’m totally pulling it off, aren’t I?”

A fit of laughter escapes my throat, rolling off my tongue in waves. Marlon breaks character, observing me, his grin widening before he begins to chuckle himself.

“You’re an idiot,” I say, poking his cheek.

I grab the photocard off of him, gazing at Jungkook.

Marlon is definitely no Jungkook, but they both make me smile in the same way.

Once I’ve finished browsing, I make my way to the counter. As I fish out my wallet, Marlon’s card swoops in, beating mine at the cash register, paying for the BTS album I’d chosen.

“Marlon!” I gasp, as the transaction processes.

The store clerk smiles at the both of us as he hands over the kpop albums.

“That’s very sweet of you,” the clerk says, to which Marlon replies, “She deserves it.”

I slap at Marlon’s arm as we exit the store.

“You really didn’t need to!” I exclaim.

“Oh, I really did. You can repay me by unboxing the album right here so I can catch your reaction.”

He settles on a bench just outside the building where the kpop store lies, patting the free spot beside him. I sit beside him, and with impatience he grabs the kpop album from my grasp and places it atop my lap.

“I feel like you want to unbox way more than I do,” I chuckle.

“ 100% .”

Marlon winks, and my stomach flips in response. I ignore it. I don’t need that right now.

Marlon leaves me no choice but to comply with his wishes, so I rip the plastic from the album. Then, I slide the album from the boxed cover. Most kpop albums come with an array of goodies that make the unboxing experience so much more enjoyable.

With this particular album, I know I’m expecting to get a photocard of one of the members, along with a postcard, a poster of the group and a sticker.

I’m unbothered about which member I’ll get.

I shake out the postcard first, smiling when I see it’s J-Hope, the rapper. Then I glance at the sticker, which is of their logo. Lastly, I place the photocard face down between my fingers. Marlon is leaning forward, his eyes glued on it, anticipating it just as much as me.

Then, in a flash, I turn the photocard around.

A Jungkook photocard!

I squeal, kicking my feet like a little girl, my mood skyrocketing. Marlon grins, and soon he’s slapping at my hands, matching my excitement.

“You pulled Jungkook!” he exclaims, at the same time I say, “I pulled Jungkook!”

Eventually, my giggles turn into genuine laughter as I fall against Marlon. For a moment, I can forget what Rafayel did, and what a waste the last few weeks of pining this has been.

As our laughs fade away, I meet Marlon’s eyes. He’s gazing at me, this genuine glint of happiness clear in his stare.

“Thank you, Marlon,” I say, my voice soft. I reach forward, interlinking my fingers in his, and squeeze them, “And I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean - I just hope you don’t think that I -”

Marlon raises his palm, telling me to stop. His grin quietens into a gentle smile.

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. I’m sorry too, for being so harsh with you. I just didn’t want to see you hurt.”

I shrug, defeated. I pull my fingers back from him, “Maybe it was inevitable.”

Marlon shakes his head, “Still. You don’t deserve it, and I hope you don’t waste your tears on him.”

I scoff, “Never again.”

When we take the train home that afternoon, Marlon and I watch Sailor Moon on his phone. He doesn’t mention Rafayel, not once.

Marlon offered to treat me for dinner, but tonight I wanted nothing more than to just curl on the couch with my family and watch some mindless TV. As he pulls up to the house, he lingers a moment.

“Garcia?” he asks, just as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

“Yes?”

“Don’t lose your spark,” he says. I tilt my head, unsure of what he means.

“Don’t lose your love for love,” Marlon adds, “You may be hopeless, and a romantic, but that’s the best part about you. It makes you shine. So, promise you’ll keep being insufferable about love, okay?”

Don’t lose your love for love. No matter how many heartbreaks I face, I truly believe nothing could make me lose faith in love. Not as long as my parents continue to love each other.

I shake my head, the smile coming easy to my lips.

“I couldn’t lose it if I tried.”

I pull the door handle, yet as I step out, I feel his fingers close around my wrist. The small touch itself is enough to make my heart race.

“Wait.”

I turn, suddenly nervous.

“Yes?”

The smirk I know all too well graces his features, “Happy anniversary, by the way. Or, close enough.”

I raise a brow.

“What?”

“It’s been a month since I asked your parents for you to be my fake girlfriend.”

He remembers? I didn't even remember.

“I can’t believe you remember,” I laugh.

“Of course I would. I’ll see you soon, Garcia.”

I sincerely hope he doesn’t feel the way my pulse skips a beat.

One month. It’s all I can think about as I walk to the door.

“I’m going to kill him.”

As much as I don’t condone murder, I do condone my sister speaking of it, especially when it’s about yet another boy who broke my heart.

Ria sits beside me on my bed, her fingers frantically scrolling through social media, in search of a hidden account of Rafayel.

She’s determined to send him some kind-words. She encouraged me to post screenshots of his messages online, to ward everyone away from him, but I thought it might be a little too much. Too much effort for a boy who doesn’t deserve anymore energy.

Still, I love Ria to bits for this. Just like Marlon, she didn’t yell I told you so to my face. She didn’t laugh.

The only thing she did say, once I’d updated her on everything, was “I hope this means next time you won’t make the same mistake.”

Once Ria finds he has no presence at all (she’s still convinced he’s lurking somewhere), she leans against the wall beside my bed.

“So, what’s going to happen with you and Marlon now?”

My heart races, and for once I’m not inclined to defend the fact that we’re just friends.

A little sliver of unexpected hope appears as I ask, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you and Rafayel clearly failed. So there’s no point in you extending this ruse for much longer. Are you both going to stage the grand break up soon?”

That didn’t even pass my mind.

I lean against the wall, sighing, “I guess so. Maybe in a month or two?”

And now that Rafayel is out of the picture, the need for this ruse grew a little thinner. But did I want it to end?

The whole point was for Marlon and I to be free of our matchmaking families, to pursue the happily-ever-afters that we wanted. Yet, I’m beginning to wonder what happily-ever-after truly means anymore.

How one reaches it.

I’d always thought the greatest love stories start with that perfect beginning, just as it did with my parents.

And yet, after the most seemingly perfect meet-cute, at a bookstore of all places, that ended in nothing but disaster, I’m starting to question my own knowledge of love.

If I even know anything about it at all.