"Just know, that there is a kid named Dong-Young-Hwang who likes you."
Don't say that, he thinks. Don't say that out loud where I can hear you. Because then I will have to respond and I will have to hurt you. Keep it inside, burry it. Condense it into an insignificant little whisper you only hear in dreams too short to remember.
Do what I have done, but do it better, do it so it doesn't hurt and you don't wake up gasping for breath and clutching your chest overtop of a silly little beat that sounds like, "IloveyouiloveyouiloveyouIloveyou."
But she says it anyway, and he is left to reply. Don't say the truth! So he scrounges for an answer that doesn't come anywhere close to actually answering the unspoken question, because he can't lie to her either, and replies without thinking.
"The mood right now… Doesn't it seem more like a declaration of war than a confession?"
Her rebuttal is swift and vicious in nature, he finds it comforting in its familiarity. And the hot blood rushing in lump on his head in favorably to the chilly demeanor she had been functioning in all day. He kind of wants to smile, actually, but his face feels much too similar to stone.
"I'm serious, Stupid!"
She pronounces it like it's his name, throwing it casually over her left shoulder as she turns to leave, hitching her backpack just a bit higher out of reflex. He lets her walk away. You don't know just how right you are, my Princess.
He doesn't see the slight frown on her face or the blush that makes her feel like she is on fire, as she leaves, because all she does is grace him with her stern. But he knows they are there, her back is hunched as though to hide her face and there is a slump in her shoulders that the years tell him means she is disappointed. But he keeps him mouth shut and lets her leave.
She isn't the only one hurting in that moment. He knows damn well what she desperately wants him to say, but can't because she isn't the only person he cares about, she isn't even at the top of his list. As he stands there, the weight of his sorrow feels like lead and pulls everything down, filling his entire being from the tips of his toes to where it bubbles up in his throat, rendering him mute.
He stares at her for a moment, trying to memorize the way she looks, because there is something in the air that whispers he should've done this sooner, but he then averts his eyes and tries to make his mind go blank. It doesn't work.
He is easily swept back to a time and a place he thinks she doesn't remember, but he does. Ha… Really, she hasn't changed at all… Since then…
That night he wakes up clutching his chest overtop of a silly little beat that sounds like, "IwantheriwantheriwantherIwanther!" And he isn't surprised at all.
