Leaving the wine-drenched male, you stormed out of the restaurant. Lady Luck must hate you at the moment for thrusting you in this situation.
Reaching out your hand, you hailed a cab.
“Where to miss?”
“Just find me a suitable hotel,” You stated.
Turning the meter, the taxi driver began driving you to closest hotel.
One part of your mentality wanted to scolded you for your brash actions, but the majority of you felt extremely satisfied.
Jongin wasn’t stupid like his friend Sehun.
He was smart and strategic.
He know what’s good fun and what’s flat out torturous, but why did he do it?
He didn’t know himself. Now he was left, drenched in wine and rethinking his whole life.
Jongin let out a loud groan that attracted the attention of the others, not like they weren’t already spectating the scene. Fishing out his wallet, he pulled a few hundreds out and slammed it on the table, before going to chase after you.
His attempts were only futile.
All he could see were the yellow cab driving away and he could do nothing. Running a his hands through his hair, he began planning out apologies, but it only lead to a dead end. You would never forgive him, not after what he had done.
Maybe it was time to soak in the liquor.
The bar was quite quiet. Not that it mattered, people were zoned in on their business. Whether it be long days at work, stress, or in Jongin’s case, life evaluation. If only he had just stuck to the books instead of popularity.
If Jongin wasn’t born with looks, he would’ve probably been one of the social outcast herding in the library. Instead, thanks to good genes, he was given the face of an angel. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even pay attention to his own looks and more of books.
His friends were the opposite. They knew they looked good and that they were rich. It was like it was plan for them to take over the social hierarchy at school even if they were freshmen. The one person of his little group of friends that was very well aware and proud of their position was Oh Sehun.
Kim Jongin and Oh Sehun were two completely different people. Sehun was interested in supermodels with nice curves and a perfect face, while Jongin was more into quiet and soft girls who didn’t rely on makeup and money to get them anywhere.
Maybe that’s why he was attracted to you one the first day of school.
Out of all the girls in homeroom, you were the only one that caught his eyes. You were buried in a book that looked to advance for the average high school student, but he knew that book like the back of his hand.
Jongin wished was brave enough to take that empty seat next to you, but he wasn’t. If there was one thing that Jongin was, was that he was a coward and a good one at that.
Jealousy was always the poison in the apple.
Seeing you spend lunch with a boy every single day nearly drove him mad jealousy.
One day, he was hidden behind a shelf of books, carefully eavesdropping on the two of you. His ear catching the every word that left your mouth. Especially your crush.
It wasn’t the boy you spent lunch with everyday, but the one person he didn’t expect. His best friend. The guy who can have any girl in the palm of his hand.
Jongin didn’t even remember how fast he had left the library that day or how his feet had found Sehun when his head was in a flurry.
What he did remember was spilling everything to Sehun.
What he did remember was planning the whole encounter with him.
What he did remember was the tear-stained face you had as you left the intercom room in a hurry.
What he did remember was how much it hurt him to see you crying.
Jongin had tried to promise himself to never make you cry, but even his conscious knew that he couldn’t. He has brought you into this mess and he couldn’t bring you out. Not when he had already broken the promise.
From that day, Jongin turned to Kai and Kai got around quicker than Jongin ever would. He embraced that side of him. It would be lie if he had said he had forgotten you, he was faced with you every day, but not in the way he would have wished.
He knew what he was doing was reckless and stupid, but he still did it. If only you had shown weakness towards Sehun, would he be able to stop it all, but you were stubborn. you had a blank facade everyday. You didn’t stutter. To be honest you barely even spoke.
When graduation rolled around and college season began, he had tried to figure out what college you would be attending, but you had already left the country when he got his diploma.
It was lie.
He never had forgotten you. He knew your name. He knew almost everything.
Even if he had gotten in more than one girl’s pants, he knew that it meant nothing. So he spent his time researching and learning all about you.
When he had finally seen you in person, he was more than happy and even more when it seemed like you didn’t recognized him. He knew it himself, what he did you would never forget, but he still fooled himself in thinking you did.
It was all smooth and nice, until the concept of high school came up. That’s when he knew, you knew and everything began rolling downhill.
Now he was here, alone and still a little soaked in wine.
Shot after shot, he downed them all. The burn of alcohol was long gone. It was replaced with regret, grief, and sadness.
If only he hadn’t decided to eavesdrop. Maybe it could’ve all been different. The two of you could’ve meet under different circumstances.
His vision began to blur and his mind was a mess. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Jongin was sure he saw your silhouette in front of him.
The world’s most prolific banned filmmaker, Jafar Panahi has made three features since 2010, when the Iranian government officially prohibited him from working. The latest, Taxi, is the friskiest and most expansive. Its relative sweep, though, must be understood in terms of Iranian art cinema, which has always emphasized the things it can’t show.
After co-directing This Is Not a Film and Closed Curtain, which riffed on being under house arrest, Panahi takes to the street with Taxi, in which he tools around Tehran, picking up passengers.
Two cameras are mounted on the dashboard, a setup that initially suggests we’ll see random encounters. But it soon becomes clear that the passengers are playing roles scripted, or at least suggested, by the man who’s driving the narrative.