Dohee withdraws, and my temperature returns to normal. Her perfume fills up my senses, and I feel like I’ve completely submerged myself in an ocean I can never pull myself away from.

I really like Dohee.

She turns shy all of a sudden and stuffs her face with food, which I assume she does so she doesn’t have to talk to me. I watch her for a while. She swallows, and then demands, “Why are you watching me?”

“Because you’re pretty,” I answer immediately. She goes back to eating as efficiently as possible. I eat my share, as well. We exchange a volley of sounds - the unpeeling of saran wrap, the click of our lunch boxes closing. She stands up to throw her trash away, but I take it and do it for her.

When I come back, the lunchboxes have been packed away. “I need to go back,” she says. “I have a lot of homework to do.”

“Should I grab the paintings?” I ask.

“They need to dry, so we can come get them later. Thanks for coming. I know you don’t like painting, but … I hope you had fun.”

I look over her, where the maple tree seems to crown her head in a wreath of browns and oranges. Beyond, a patch of grass grows tall and evergreen. The tarmac seems to glitter with flakes of opal and gold. The sky blushes crimson, then bronze, then navy. I notice the strands of caramel in Dohee’s hair, the gray shadows underneath her eyes created by her long lashes, and the curves of her nose, her cheeks, her lips.

Has the world always been this beautiful?

“I’ll walk with you,” I say, and since she doesn’t reject the offer, we walk together towards the dorms. Dohee resumes her usual upbeat conversational style. I listen, savoring every word she utters. It is evening when we arrive at the dorms, and Dohee wastes no time saying goodbye and sprinting into the building.

I stare at the building, as though she’ll come bursting out of those doors at any moment. Eventually, I trace my steps back to the bus stop, where I barely manage to board the next bus.

Hyung is eating when I come home. He asks me where I’ve been, and I hesitate to tell him about Dohee. A part of me still feels bitter about his secrets. The idea that I have secrets, too, is a small comfort.

“Are you going to work?” I ask as hyung fits his favorite cap over his head and shrugs into his jacket.

“Nope.” He opens the closet by the front door and pulls out our soccer ball, which is now inflated. “I finally got around to pumping it.” He tosses it to me. I bounce it with my knee before catching it. “Wanna play?”

Hyung and I go to the park and spend a quiet hour passing the ball between us. Hyung is infinitely better than I am - he wanted to be a professional, after all - but despite my blunderings, I enjoy playing the game with him.

“How do you like working at the cafe?” Hyung asks. He lunges for me and steals the ball. I stumble in my haste to turn around. Hyung rushes ahead and scores an easy goal between two tall trees.

“I earn money, so that’s good,” I answer, retrieving the ball. I keep it for a mere six seconds, and then he steals it from me again. I expect him to pass me on my left, but hyung does a cruyff turn and completely fools me. “Hyung, you know I can’t do tricks like that.”

“No?” He grins, juggling the soccer ball from one foot to the other. He switches to juggling with his knees, and then lets the ball bounce off his head before returning to juggling with his feet. He moves as though he’s never been injured.

“Show off,” I mutter.

“I’m not good enough to show off,” Hyung remarks. “I’m not Ronaldo.”

I groan. “Ronaldo is a professional.”

“Yeah, but he was already playing professionally at my age.” Hyung stops juggling the ball and hugs it to his chest. “Man, what I’d give to see him play.”

“The European Championships are this summer.”

“I can’t just fly to Europe.”

“Sure you can,” I say. “If we save up money and -” I stop, realizing what I’m alluding to. It isn’t possible for us to save money, not in the situation we’re in. Hyung senses my disappointment and disheartedly throws the ball at me. It lightly bumps my shoulder, and then falls to the ground like lead.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “International flights are expensive anyw