She will be loved

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/6998587.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Underage Sex
Category: F/F
Fandom: TWICE (Band)
Relationship: Im Nayeon/Myoui Mina
Characters: Myoui Mina, Im Nayeon
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of She will be loved
Stats: Published: 2016-05-28 Updated: 2016-06-05 Words: 4,350 Chapters: 3/?
 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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