1 Summer Rain Chapter 1

She hated the piano, hated the very existence of it.

With every fiber of her being, it was centered on hating the organ instrument.

Everything about it, there is to it, she hated it.

For it brought with it memories, bad ones – terrible ones she wished she could forget. Still, as much as she hated it, she would admit that she loved the melody, stirring light and life. Yes, there were good times – she has to admit – but the bad ones always dominated, corrupting the good memories.

She grew up playing it, mastered it before she was a teenager. Everyone called her a prodigy, praised her left and right. Growing up, the piano was there for every significant event in her life.

Every note she hit felt like rain on a summer day, a blessing, joy, life despite its adversity.

Once upon a time, playing the piano was her life; it became a core to her being. Once upon a time, the piano was the sources of happiness.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, she hated the piano.

Now, every note she hit was like thunder on beautiful day.

Now, it was nothing but a bane to her being.

And there was one now, right in front of her.

It stood in the middle of the stage, a full sized grand piano. It was white, made possibly of the finest wood, or marble. Pearl, maybe?

Still, the sight of it taunted her, tugging at her being.

Her hands balled into a fist, steeling her shaking hands. Hands that were just itching to touch it.

It didn't help that she worked in a cafe that played live music. Every weekend musicians filled the stage and sing their hearts out. Sometimes they used the piano, sometimes they didn't. And with their presence, it was a symphony. Every time they played, they brought life to café. She almost envied them for it.

When they did chose to play the piano – as an accompaniment or plain use it, she'd lose herself to the melody and the memories come rushing in, as if on rewind.

She always chose the closing shift, because she spent most of her mornings reading, writing, painting, baking– anything to keep herself busy. It was almost torture, sweet torture.

At the end of the day, she had to ask herself why she chose the job in the first place.

At the end of the day, she always finds herself looking at it, staring at it from across the room.

There were times when she'd stare for hours, like it was calling her, just begging for her to play it. During work hours, it was the same; her eyes would automatically turn to it. And then, her co-worker would call her, and she'd turn the lights off, basking the room in darkness.

While the job paid well, and her co-workers were good people, she was closed off about herself – always so timid, tightlipped, meek and reserved. She wasn't always like this, but it was better this way.

It only meant less attachment. She didn't have many friends here, and that was okay.

That's the problem with opening yourself to people; you get attached, and it'll hurt when you have to part ways.

She hated being alone. But right now, she had no one but herself. She was all she had.

She learned that the hard way.

After all, it's been two years.

One night, while she was clearing out the last of the tables (her co-workers had to go ahead and she didn't mind), her eyes instinctively turned to the piano onstage. Amidst the silence, she swore she could still hear trickling of notes, of laughter and hushed voices.

It felt like hours, just standing there.

While both her mind and heart said no, her body moved on its own.

Her fingers trailed along its smooth white surface, feeling its coolness against her touch. It was definitely wood, she thought.

The corners of her mouth turned slightly, melancholy in her eyes.

How many talented people have touched it? How many melodies were played? Too many, yet she wished she could be a part of them. Her heart was yearning.

Releasing a shaky breath, she looked around – even though she was the only one around, before sitting on the bench, opening the lid with another shaky breathe.

Her eyes then found the keys, fingers itching as always. Too many memories, too many songs. It all came like a blur.

Absentmindedly, her fingers moved on its own, producing a melody. Familiarization washed over her when the tune became clear.

This song, she knew it too well.

It was her first heartbreak song.

Each note rippled, commanding.

When she was done, tears had leaked from her eyes. Her body felt numb, she was shaking all over. Horrified, she retrieved her fingers from the piano, as if it burned her.

She knew it was a bad idea.

Then, someone applauded her. She had an audience.

"That was beautiful." She glanced up; breathe hitching in her throat, wishing she didn't. "Jar of Hearts, wasn't it?"

Because standing there, was the bane of her existence – when it was actually the other way around, watching her on stage with a grin. There she was, the woman she was running away from. There she was, the woman she ruined.

She forgot how to breathe, tears streaming faster than before, alarming the woman.

Before the woman could say a word, she was already running out of the cafe.

Later that night, she lay in her tub, hugging her knees.

Warm bubbles surrounded her, the sweet aroma soothing. A long bath always did calm her nerves. But it never could fix the void inside her.

Moving her arms against the water, she watched the bubbles colliding with the other – seeing the colors, listened to the soft slosh, momentarily amused. Releasing a deep breathe, she leaned against the tiled wall behind her, closing her eyes for a moment.

Water was a cleansing element. If only it could wash away her sins.

Out her window, she could see the full moon. A cloud passed, covering the moon for a while.

She recalled a Japanese saying: when the cloud covers the moon, somewhere, a girl is crying.

She let her tears fall, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

She was always crying, she was tired of being the one who always cried.

It hurt to see her again, to see those familiar eyes that haunted her for many nights.

The last time she saw her, she was lying in a hospital bed, comatose, because of her. She left before she woke up.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" a girl cried, as the first summer rain fell that night.

"Don't say you're sorry, this is all your fault! All your fault!"

She woke up with a start, drenched in sweat and her heart pounding. She could still feel the patter of rain, the mixed scent of smoke and blood. Swallowing deep breathes of air; she brought her knees to her chest, closing her eyes as she tried to calm herself.

It was always like this, it's always been like this.

And yet, she's still not used to it.

Sleep had become extremely difficult for her.

It was impossible to get a good night's rest without the nightmare waking her in the middle of the night. And they were always the same, the crash, her body, the smell of smoke and blood, her blood on her hands, and her voice, her angry eyes, blaming her – reminding her that it was all her fault.

After she'd wake up, she'd have a terrible time going back to sleep. She was afraid to go back to sleep, to see it all again. The longest rest she's had is five hours; it was a miracle she was able to get by with lack of sleep.

Such was the reason for her closing shifts.

She invested her waking hours reading, she has a quite a collection of books. Sometimes, she'd paint – abstract paintings, because they hid emotion and meaning best. Or sometimes, she'd be writing – confessing to scraps of paper.

I'm sorry for everything I've done, she wrote. There are so many things I wanted to do to make up for it, but I'll settle for telling you first how sorry I am. Next time, I promise you won't ever see me again.

When she was done, she'd fold it into a paper crane and hang it with the others. Every day, the same confession for the same woman. And yet so many of them – unconfessed and untold, she could never send them. Not that she doesn't have the heart to, but she knew it would be all too late.

Baking, she enjoyed, because she loved baking. Somedays, when she baked a little too much – which was a lot, she'd sell them at the café for a little extra income.

Trivial acts, she hoped, to make her forget.

But she never could. She wore her pain and regret on her sleeves every single day.

As much as she can, she worked. Her only rest day was Sunday, because it was the only time the café was closed.

Today just happened to be Sunday.

Lying on her side, she watched the light entering her room. Outside, she could faintly heart the gears of a bike, as the young boy delivered newspaper. Somewhere, the old lady has just finished her fresh batch of bread. On the docks, boats were nicely tucked on their spots.

It was a brand new day.

Turning on her back, she exhaled. Not long later, she sat on her bed, back against the headboard.

Her eyes roamed at her small apartment, wondering what she'll do today. An unfinished painting stood by its palette, a clash of blue and gray. She didn't feel like finishing it. Some days, she'd go out to paint the sea, the park, anything, and she'd sell them at a good price. But she didn't feel like it today. There was a little notebook by her kitchen, where a new recipe had been nicely tucked in. But she didn't feel like it either.

Lazily getting out of her bed, she went to fix herself a little meal. She came to a decision. She was going to buy more books, regardless of the clutter in her living room.

Spokane was a tiny land from the west coast, a beautiful land. It takes one whole day just to get around. The place had an interesting geography, hence, the interesting architecture.

Arriving at the bookstore, she greeted the woman behind the counter with a soft smile.

The two exchanged pleasantries before the older woman told her that a new set of books just came in, from mainland. Immediately, Tiffany's spirits lifted.

Reaching the bookshelf, she browsed through – looking at its cover, and if appealed to her, she'd read its summary before deciding to buy it. It took a while before she settled with some classics, which has been her favorite lately.

"Excuse me."

A voice came, when she was paying for her books. She turned, eyes widening at who it was.

"Hi," she says nervously, grinning nonetheless. "you're that girl from-"

Before the woman could finish, Tiffany grabbed her items and ran, not stopping for anything or anyone.

Why was she here?

________________

"Hey Taeyeon, look, it's your girlfriend!"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Then what is she?"

"…a nobody."

_________________

Friday night came.

Tiffany heaved a sigh in relief, pinching on the bridge of her nose as she leaned against the wall. For five days, she's been paranoid. She was scared, that at any moment, she'd run into her again. She didn't want that.

It's been years – two years! She's been doing fine these past few years, why did she have to appear? Of all people, of all times!

"Tiffany, pick up order in table 5 please!"

Breaking from her thoughts, she sighs before calling back. "Okay!" Pushing herself away from the wall, she quickly fixes herself, adjusts her apron before heading back to work.

It came as a surprise to her that her customer was her. She stopped cold. Was this some kind of sick joke?

Sensing her presence, she looked up from the menu, unsurprised to see her. "Hello."

Biting her lip, she composed herself quickly before attending the woman quickly. She felt her eyes linger on her, as if trying to figure her out, she was avoiding her eyes.

She ordered coffee, black with no sugar. Taeyeon always did like black coffee, Tiffany thought, inwardly smiling.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all."

"Okay."

She moved robotically, like it was a chore. But she didn't let her guard down, not even for her. Even with her back turned, she could feel Taeyeon's eyes on her. A chill ran through her spine.

Talking the coffee into the tray, she carefully walked back to her, not once letting their eyes meet. She was leaning against her palm, watching her in interest. Tiffany should go back to her post, but couldn't.

"I'm Taeyeon, by the way." She says once Tiffany sets the coffee, taking her by surprise.

Blinking, she tried a smile. "Tiffany." She says in turn, quietly.

"I know," she smiles that smile. "I read your name tag. Also, because I asked for you."

"Y-You asked for me?"

Nodding, her eyes meet with hers. "I wanted to apologize, for when we first met, and for the second time." She laughed without humor, shaking her head. "You must think I'm a creep."

Deciding to lower her defenses, she replied. "No, I'm sorry," she said quietly, dropping her head in shame. "it's just, the song brought back some terrible memories, and you caught me at a bad time."

She nodded taking a sip of her coffee. "Bad break-up?"

She stopped, holding the tray close to her. "You could say that."

"Well, don't let it get you. We all need to experience something before we meet the lucky one, right?"

"R-Right."

"You don't have to act so stiff, you know."

"I'm sorry," she tells Taeyeon, playing with her fingers. "I-I'm just…socially awkward."

"Yeah, I get that."

Putting down her cup, Taeyeon studied Tiffany's face. There was just something about it. And her eyes, they were so sad. It tugged Taeyeon's heart.

"Have we met before?" She asked, missing how Tiffany quickly masked her look of surprise.

"No, we haven't."

___________________________

Since then, Taeyeon frequented the café, always arriving on six, and Tiffany was always serving her. The manager – a small old man, having sensed the chemistry between them, allowed the two to mingle despite work hours. It was refreshing to see an unguarded version of Tiffany, and she looked happy. Not so, but he could see it in her eyes.

She found out that Taeyeon was in the city to teach at the university. She's grown quite the fame; Taeyeon was after all, a great architect. She could do it all – paint, sculpt, construct, even design. And her works were fantastic, always sought out.

During the days that Taeyeon was there, she spent her time with Tiffany, goading her to be with her so she can study the island's ruins and architecture.

She hated how easy it was to fall in love with Taeyeon all over again, how clueless she was to their actual relationship, and Tiffany hated herself for falling for the second time.

Some days, she'd make some grand excuse to avoid Taeyeon, but she'd managed to see through her lies – like she used to see right through her. All of which, ended up with hanging out with her.

It was so hard to turn away from Taeyeon, especially when she was the one reaching out to her; when She was the one who asked if Tiffany was free. And still, after two years, she could never say no to her.

She wished, with all her heart, for Taeyeon to leave. Her heart broke the first time because of her, she couldn't bear the second time.

Then she did the unimaginable, she kissed her.

Two months came by so fast and before she knew it, Taeyeon's lips were pressed against Tiffany's. And as stupid as Tiffany already was, she kissed her back. The kiss felt so right, so perfect, yet at that moment, she knew it was wrong.

Tiffany was the first to break away, staring at her with wide eyes. Taeyeon smiled sadly, caressing her neck, knowing that this was the last time they'd see each other. Tiffany was the first to say 'goodbye' before rushing into her apartment, pressing her body against the door, waiting for Taeyeon to leave. And she did, after a few minutes with heavy footsteps.

Leaning her forehead against the doorframe, Tiffany allowed the coldness in the air, the loneliness of the years of her apartment, the second time her heart beat like a drum.

"You're making me fall in love with you all over again."

…and the second time her heart broke.

She allowed her tears to fall as she slid to the ground. There was no point, she was always so weak, she was always left broken.

Fate seemed to pity her, causing Taeyeon to forget all about her, yet it seemed like sweet irony at the same time. Still, she was thankful. At least it's one problem taken care of.

Taeyeon didn't even like her to begin with.

_______________________________

"I'm in love with you."

"No you're not."

"But I am!"

"You're not 'in love' with me, this is just infatuation."

"I love you, Taetae!"

"…well I don't."

____________________________

Once upon a time, she used to be ridiculously in love. Ridiculously doesn't even cover it, it was almost obsession.

She'd stalk Taeyeon everywhere, shower her with gifts and declare her love for Taeyeon. Multiple times, Taeyeon had turned her down. But Tiffany didn't stop.

Despite the rejections, she still clung unto that sliver of hope that she'd return her feelings.

Strangely, Taeyeon's friends were fond of her. What's worse, they liked her for Taeyeon.

There was a bar where they frequented, where she performed time to time.

So when she wasn't Taeyeon's scary stalker, she was a good friend who was a piano prodigy.

Somedays, when she wasn't in her crazy mode, she was a friend. Her good friend. When it was just them together, she felt really special because she confided in her, Taeyeon trusted her. Tiffany, in turn, would return the favor, but gave more of herself; she gave her heart without expecting Taeyeon to give it back.

And then, it all came crashing down.

________________________

"She woke up!" her friend cried from the other line.

Tears prickled in Tiffany's eyes, tears of joy and relief. "That's good news."

"But…" Sunny added, and by the tone of her voice, she could tell it wasn't good. She braced herself for whatever news she was about to deliver.

"She can't remember you."

She nearly let her phone slip, everything seemed to stop.

A part of her died. Her heart shattered into a million pieces.

Though pained, she found her voice and what little courage she had left. "Please don't tell her about me." Her eyes closed, trying to sound strong.

"Wha-?"

"It's better this way," was her reason, conscience gnawing her. "it's my fault anyway."

"But-"

"Please, just forget about me."

After that call, she didn't tell anyone she was leaving.

Brought by guilt and sadness, she just packed all her things and left – left everything she had, even the friends she loved. Her once long locks were chopped off, out of sadness. It was another form of punishment for herself.

Somehow she found solace in Spokane. Her grandmother would tell stories of her hometown; of how peaceful it was, of how far it was, and of how it was a quaint little island in the middle of the sea. Now that she was gone, she thought she could see the place for herself.

She disappeared from everyone's life, from her life, for two years.

For two years, she lived with the guilt, with the pain, bringing it all on herself.

For two years, she lived with half a broken heart, while the remaining pieces she left in Seoul.

For two years, though the guilt ate her for every second of her life, she finally thought she could live with herself.

And she just had to come here.

"I'd like to dedicate this song to my unrequited love," this earned a lot of hoots, she smiled nervously. "it's called 'Love Song'. Umm," fidgeting on spot, she braved a look Taeyeon's way, only to meet a scowl, as always. Her heart dropped. "j-just listen to the lyrics."

This is the last time.

_________________________

The day she woke up from her coma, the first thing that came to mind was a brown-haired girl in tears. In her stream of unconsciousness, she heard a voice, apologizing. Her heart broke at the sound of it. And the last thing she remembered – or felt, while in coma, was the feel of soft hands caressing her cheek. All of this, she swore came from the brown-haired girl. Problem is, she didn't know who she was. The girl was a blur.

The moment Taeyeon woke up, her body felt heavy and weak, and all of her idiot friends rejoiced at her awakening.

She couldn't remember the last time she was the center of everyone's attention, yet it felt too overwhelming. It was nice, to feel loved by many.

"What's the last thing you remember?" her doctor asked.

Massaging her head, she recalled as best as she could. "I got into an accident, my car crashed. That's it."

From the corner of her eyes, she caught the look on her friend Sooyoung, as if asking for more. But Sunny patted Sooyoung's shoulder, shaking her head at her. Strange. Taeyeon felt like something was missing, but no one would tell her.

A day after her discharge, her friends threw a little party for her. Per usual, everyone was rowdy as ever.

For the strangest reasons, Taeyeon felt like something was missing. And then, when they reached the bar, her eyes kept looking at the stage, searching for something. Something was definitely missing.

Despite the smiles on everyone's faces, she could see underlying sadness in them. Taeyeon was a master of concealing her feelings, the only ones who could read him were his parents, Sunny, Sooyoung, and–

Feeling her head throb, she massaged her temples. Why did it feel like she was missing something?

Two years passed by before she knew it.

Taeyeon found herself at Spokane, where she was invited to be a guest instructor. She was an architect, and a damn good one. By the time she arrived, it was getting late; Though she managed to get into an inn. Deciding that she wanted to see more of the island's architecture, she decided to go for a walk.

The town, which she thought was small and a bit cramped, was beautiful. It was even more under the moonlight, how much more by day? Above her, millions of stars twinkled, but the moon always shone brighter. For a while, she stared at the moon, admiring the fullness of it. Yet, she couldn't help but think of a void in herself.

Two years, and she still can't rid of the feeling that something was definitely missing in her life. It haunted her. It frustrated Taeyeon that even her friends couldn't tell her, on how things in her life seemed to be forcibly altered.

She hated not knowing the unknown.

Through the sleepy town, she heard lilting notes. A sad melody.

Something inside Taeyeon told her to go to it.

So she followed the sound, finding herself outside a café. The curtains were drawn, so she was unable to look in, but she saw light through the front door.

Tentatively, she opened and the melody was clearer. There was a voice, accompanying it, a sweet, melodic voice, like a siren.

And there, playing on stage was a brunette.

She looked so sad, like the song she was playing. There were tears streaming down her face, but she wasn't aware of it. It looked like she hadn't noticed Taeyeon, so lost in playing.

Taeyeon was mesmerized, by her very presence, her skill, and her.

There was just something about the girl.

__________________

"What's your name?"

"T-Tiffany Hawang."

"I'm Kim Taeyeon."

__________________

Tiffany was sure that Taeyeon was gone by now. She did say that she was in town for just two months.

Tiffany was glad that she was gone.

But at least she saw her again, one last time.

She wasn't in the slightest hoping for Taeyeon to like her, lest remember her. It was just a passing, a phase. Taeyeon was a charming young woman, rather enigmatic and nonchalant, but she has charisma and a promising career. There was no way she'd run out of admirers.

With a sigh, Tiffany pressed her palms against the bar counter, thoughts flying.

She kissed her. Kim Taeyeon actually kissed her.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she could still feel the warm press of her soft lips. How she's always dreamed of it to happen, and it did. Only, under different circumstances. But she wouldn't have it any other way. It was the last time she'd ever see her.

"She'll forget all about me," she said aloud with a sad smile. "She has to."

Pulling herself off her thoughts, she pushed herself off the counter to finish up.

Suddenly, the bell rang; she frowned, she was sure she flipped the sign close.

"Why didn't you tell me?" a voice stopped her cold.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Behind her, she could hear Taeyeon's ragged breathe, could feel the urgency. Slowly, and fearfully, she turned to face her.

She was covered in sweat, like she ran a mile, yet her eyes were burning. There was no mistaking the look of frustration, betrayal, anger and sadness, all at once. Lips pressed tightly, Tiffany kept her hands to her sides, bracing herself.

"Why didn't you tell me I knew you?"

Tiffany thought she could escape her forever, but she couldn't.

Fate always had something else planned.

______________________

"Tell me one lie."

"I wish I didn't grow up so fast." She giggled at this, much to Taeyeon's chagrin. "Okay, your turn. Tell me one truth."

"I wish I had never met you."

_______________________

"Because I didn't want you to remember me." Tiffany started, swallowing thickly.

"Are you kidding me?" Taeyeon growled, making Tiffany drop her eyes. "Are you freaking kidding me!?"

Her eyes shut at the volume of her voice, the sharpness.

"You aren't kidding." Taeyeon looks at her in great disbelief, voice softer. She found herself nodding, opening her eyes, which were already filled with tears. "I knew you, you were a friend, yet, you acted like we weren't-"

"Because I didn't want you to remember me! Is it that hard to get that?" Tiffany couldn't help yelling in frustration, taking Taeyeon by surprise. She used the opportunity to speak. "You were in a coma for months, months because of me! Me, that annoying girl who tagged along like a puppy, the lovesick fool who scared off anyone who'd cross your path, the selfish girl who wanted you for herself – all me!" sticking her index finger out, she thrusted it to her chest, while tears continued to stream down. "Me! My fault why you lost months of your life, why you missed events and why you got into that accident that nearly cost your life! I didn't want you to remember Tiffany Hwang, that stupid girl who ever thought she'd get a chance with you, only to nearly kill you. That's why I didn't want you to remember me, that's why I didn't want to be a part of your life anymore, that's why just seeing you makes me hate myself all over again!"

She was breathing heavily, having said too much. And her chest hurt, too.

While she was silently crying in front of her, Taeyeon looked lost, terribly lost. She didn't know what to do as she absorbed Tiffany. It was all too much.

"So you thought distancing yourself from your friends would help? By shutting me out, you shut them out, too?"

"Yes."

Taeyeon swallowed dryly, meeting her eyes. "And would it make you feel better if I left now?"

"Yes, please." She nods, face on her hands. "Please, leave."

Angrily, Taeyeon walked out, slamming the door in the process.

That was definitely the end.