Ars Longa, Vita Brevis

[Once upon a time there lived a vain, greedy girl, named Karen, who lived with her adoptive mother, a rich old lady. The girl tricked her stepmother into buying her a pair of expensive silk red shoes. Everywhere she went the girl showed off her shoes, in the neighborhood, market place and even at church. One day Karen’s mother fell ill but all the girl cared about was showing off her shoes at the party that night. She went to the ball and danced and danced until her feet were sore and blistered, but even then she danced. She decided to stop however she found that she couldn’t! She tried taking the shoes off but they wouldn’t budge. They were stuck! She cried and cried but no one could remove them. Not her ill mother, not the priest, not the barber. Absolutely no one!! Then she met the wood cutter. She pleaded him to cut off her shoes, and with his ax, he did. Her feet danced off into the night, red shoes still strapped tightly. ]

Ever since I was little I’ve loved fairy tales. The story of the red shoes is one of my favorite. There are many versions, the most famous one being the story of a ballerina who loved to dance. I prefer the original. This story, of a vain girl who lusted for what she wasn’t meant to have had, is, what I think shows the true human nature. Every one of us has a desire, a longing, and craving for what we can never obtain. I guess I should know most of all.

For the past month or so, I’ve been haunted but this desire. It’s right there in front of me but I know I can never reach out for it. I’m like a little kid standing outside—staring inside the window a toy store. But it’s not just any toy I want, but that particular one. The toy that makes me laugh and feel warm inside. The toy that I can whisper all my secrets too and I know it’ll never tell a soul. It’s a toy that I can hug whenever I’m feeling down and hopefully he’ll hold me too… And even if he’s not stylish anymore I’d still want him…

But who am I kidding? He’s not, is he? And besides, he’s most certainly not and toy. And as much as I’d like to find out, I know I can’t, unless I want to be hated… But then again, is being hated that bad? For one touch, one kiss, one night…is being hated that bad?

“Hey Junsu, you’re not busy today right?”

I shake my head.

He turns and whispers “Yes!” the turns back to me, “a bunch of us are going to [JUNE’S] this afternoon for a group date and we need one more guy. You in?”

“Another one?” I whine. Lately it’s been one after the other with this guy. I wonder if it’s just because he hasn’t found the right girl or he’s just that perverted. This is the third this week (and it’s only Wednesday). I hate group meetings! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I utterly despise them…but he’s always there…

He claps his hands together, “I know, I know but please. It’s just this one last one. Please, please, pleeeaaassseee!!” I hate that too! Whenever he makes that face, whenever he asks for something I can never say no.

‘That what you said last time.’ I sigh, “Alright, alright.” He lifts his head and I don’t know how but soon he’s got his arms around me and I find it very difficult to breath. “Ah! Let go, Let go!” I say trying to get him off, but I really don’t want him to. Making this lame excuse I bolt out of the classroom to a vacant staircase. My favorite place in the world right now. I plop down on the very bottom step burring my head between my legs. My face burns beat red. I really didn’t want him to let go but I also couldn’t let him see me like this either. He’d probably be disgusted by me. He probably wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore or worse wouldn’t want to see my face anymore.

I know I’m lying every time I tell myself I won’t mind being hated by him. Like Karen, the girl in the story, I’m vain person lusting for what I know I can never have. Except unlike her I can’t just trick Yoochun into loving me and I most certainly don’t want to buy his love.

[[~^~]]

“Later guys,” I wave bye. The group date’s not over yet but I decide to go home and take Junsu with me. He’s actually the reason we’re going early. He’s drunk. Dizzy and Drunk.

We’re half way there, there being Junsu’s house and he faints! “Junsu?”He collapses on my shoulder. “Junsu?” I say his name again but he doesn’t respond. Sign. Dragging him will take forever so I settle on carrying him on my back the rest of the way. “You know you owe me for this?” I know he can’t hear me, but I still want to talk. If it was anyone else I’d probably leave them here, especially if they were as heavy as this one here (I’m pretty sure I’m heavier though). But it’s not. It’s Junsu. It just had to be Junsu.

Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to this one. I know he hates them and only goes because I ask. I wouldn’t ask though if I know he would say no. Junsu is shy; he’s nice, but really shy. It takes a while for him to get use to strangers so it doesn’t help meeting new people every single day. But the dates are always at [JUNE’S], because I know he’s not that wild about going to new places either.

To tell you the truth I don’t like them either, but it’s the only way I can get Junsu to go out with me without actually asking him to go out with me. It’s lame…I’m lame, I know that and I hate that. But I’m scared. It’s scary. Junsu’s my friend. My good friend that doesn’t even like me touching him. Not even a finger. I mean really, if I touch his hand he’ll run, to where I have no idea. If he doesn’t like me already then imagine he’ll hate me or at least dislike me enough to distance himself with me and I don’t want that. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if that happened.

I take Junsu to his room. It’s getting to be a routine, not me in his room but me ending up taking him home. Usually he’s too drunk to walk by himself but he never passes out. His room’s shockingly messier then I’d imagined. There are books everywhere, most of them manwha. “The Red Shoes?” one book in particular caches my eyes. It‘s set on top of the pillow. It’s one of Junsu’s favorites. He talks about it all the time. It’s about this girl with red shoes that keeps dancing. The shoes take control of her and she ends up dancing forever. In the end she gets her feet cut off. Junsu said it happened because she was conceited and vain. I don’t like fairy tales much but this is different. It’s not the story but how it’s told. Junsu always seems sad when ever he tells that story. I really don’t get why he tells it so much or why he thinks about it so much.

Once he said that the red shoes symbols something we want but can never have. I asked him what his red shoes were, he didn’t answer, instead asked me the same. I told him mine was this keyboard that I saw on display once. It kind of just blurted out. It felt awkward, and I got nervous so I had to say something, anything…as long as it wasn’t the truth. One of these days if he ever asks me again, I wonder if I’ll have the courage to tell him the truth.

I put the book down tucking Junsu in bed. Brushing loose hairs to the side I sigh. I could be the most courageous man on earth and still clam up just thinking about what he would do if he knew how I felt about him. For now, I think I’ll just keep him close and hope. Hope that if I tell him he won’t be disgusted, and when he is that he won’t shy away from me like most people would.

“Good night Junsu” With a light peck on the cheek I’m out of there.

[ＥＮＤ]

The Grimm Brothers Fairy tale The Red Shoes gave me the idea and an episode on cyborg009 (an old show on CN). There's one about a ballerina and this one. The ballerina one is easier to work with but I couldn't remember the whole story =_=; so...yeah.
This is the real story (from Wikipedia):

A peasant girl named Karen is adopted by a rich old lady after her mother's death. She grows up vain. She tricks her adoptive mother into buying her a pair of red shoes and repeatedly wears them to church, without paying attention to the service. Her adoptive mother becomes ill, but Karen deserts her, preferring to attend a party in her red shoes. Once she begins dancing, she can't stop. The shoes take over. She cannot control them and they are stuck to her feet. The shoes continue to dance, through fields and meadows, rain or shine, night and day. She can't even attend her adoptive mother's funeral. An angel appears to her, condemning her to dance even after she dies, as a warning to vain children everywhere. Karen finds an executioner and asks him to chop off her feet. He does so and gives her a pair of wooden feet and crutches. Thinking that she has suffered enough for the red shoes Karen decides to go to church in order for the people to see her, but the chopped-off feet with the red shoes dance before her, barring the way. The following Sunday she tries again, thinking of herself at least as good as the others in church, but again the dancing red shoes bar the way. Karen gets a job as a maid in the parsonage, but when Sunday comes she dares not go to church. Instead she sits alone at home and prays to God. Then, it is as though the church comes home to her and her heart becomes so filled with sunshine, peace, and joy that it bursts. Her soul flies on sunshine to heaven, and no one there asks her about the red shoes.

[end]

I didn't want the religous one so I cut them out.
I also didn't edit this one so....
-midevilmind