The scene is familiar.

Jaebum is slumped over himself down on the curb and Haru sits next to him. She’s bought him a bottle of water, but he’s ignoring it in favor of the coffee she’s bought for herself. He doesn’t speak, neither does she. The last time they were together like this, she’d confessed she loved him. He didn’t say anything in return. Seconds turn into minutes.

“He’s really not your type,” Jaebum says. “How did that even happen?”

“Some things just do,” Haru answers, avoiding his knowing gaze. “It happened, and it’s happening. Get over it.”

What he doesn’t say out loud is that Haru isn’t Sungjin’s type. That the only thing soft and sweet about her are the cakes she makes for a living. For so long she’s lead herself to believe that only Jaebum could stand her, but Sungjin was right about her. About everything. He’d had less than one night and he’d cracked her open. No one’s ever gotten that far, but that’s because she never allowed herself to be so vulnerable. She let Sungjin in. Showed him a secret entrance through her walls built sky high.

And then what does she do? She runs. It’s all she knows how to do. She leaves without even looking back to see if anyone comes after her.

“He’s not even your type.”

“I love this, I really do,” Haru says, stealing back her coffee and taking a sip. It’s a lot more bitter than she remembers. “You’re suddenly so concerned after half a year of nothing.”

It’s more than that and Jaebum knows it. “Who’s fault was that?”

Haru scoffs. “Are you seriously blaming me?”

“You didn’t even tell me you were leaving. I had to find out from Jinyoung who said Jimin was organizing a going-away party for you.”

Haru turns away, sends off her bewildered laugh into the night. “You except me to keep in touch after…after that?”

“You vanished from my life. You just disappeared like a ghost. I never heard from you anymore. Not even once. What friend does that?”

Haru clenches her fists tight against her stomach. “I told you I was in love with you. You didn’t even say anything.”

Jaebum looks away this time, shuts his eyes and breathes in deep. “What was I supposed to say?”

“Literally anything.”

She’d waited for him to respond. It was too late to take back what she said, but the feelings had overflown and there was nothing she could have done to stop it. Her heart had ached for him, yearned for his eyes to see her, for his lips to tell her everything will be okay. But he never did. Instead he kept silent. Pretended she had said nothing at all. He drove her home, said goodnight, and left. Did he honestly expect her to act the same as usual the following morning?

“You could have told me you didn’t feel the same way. The truth would have been nice.”

Closure would have been nice. Had he let her down gently, perhaps they could still be friends now. Not whatever they are at this point. Seeing him again after all this time, it brought back the same pain she carried for him. Jaebum had been the personification of her silent heartbreak through the years. She had loved him so much she forgot how to love anyone else.

“If you had just told me you didn’t feel the same way, it wouldn’t be like this, I think.” She’d still have left. That much she’s certain of. But she wouldn’t have cut all ties with all of her friends.

“It’s so long ago now,” he mutters. “Do you…still…?”

She had missed him, dearly. They used to speak atop each other, finishing each other’s sentences, piling thoughts and ideas until they reached full synchronization. He didn’t mind her grumpiness, and she knew just how to deal with his anger issues. They knew each other better than anyone, and yet there are still so many things that remain in the dark. More now, that he’d drifted away from her.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” Haru says. “At least not yet. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Even after all this time?”

She laughs, bitterly. “Especially after all this time. You don’t get to have it all, you know.”

He’s suffering too and she knows it. It wasn’t just her who lost a friend when they parted. But just this time she won’t carry that burden for him. Jaebum isn’t her problem anymore. He’ll deal with this his own way. She doesn’t have to hold his hand through the process. From now on, all Haru has to worry about is herself and her own healing. Her friendship with Jaebum has taken up such a big part of her life, now she’s left with such a big space to fill. A vast distance between herself and the people around her, people who could care for her, people she could care for in return.

Such a high price she’d paid, waiting for someone who could never love her the way she wanted him to.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. Finally. He didn’t need to say the words out loud, Haru had forgiven him without him asking for it.

“It’s okay,” she says. It’s my fault I held on so long for nothing. Fear had held her in place. The pain she felt for Jaebum had become so familiar she treated it like home. She used the pain as a crutch. And to what end? “It’s not your fault you don’t love me.”

Just like that, a huge weight is lifted off her shoulders. Saying it out loud makes it all better. She doesn’t want him back, she knows as much. And now she’s letting him go for good.

He looks up. “Someone can and will love you. It’s just that you come with this lock but it can’t be opened with a key. It’s a puzzle but there’s no real solution to it. You’re like a fortress. With batteries the size of a small city. And there’s a moat. And the moat has piranhas and crocodiles and bloodthirsty sharks.”

“Yeah, I know. I bite, too. So you better send the warning to stay away from the heavy artillery.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine. I know this. You of all people should understand. ‘Oh, Haru. You should loosen up. Why do you keep your true self hidden? You act too tough. It’s okay to be vulnerable’ Me? Tough? I wonder why that is? You know exactly why this is my life. I’m not pretending to be tough. I just really am difficult. There’s no secret there. I like to bake because it’s clinical. It’s exact. I don’t have to rely on feelings or attempt to evoke someone’s childhood memories from what I’m cooking. I do what I have to do, and if I do it right people will respond positively. If I could just add to myself some sugar, some butter, a pinch of salt, an