11.

'Hey, did something happen between you two?'

'What?'

'Because Jongin keeps looking this way, and... a guy doesn't just look at a girl like that. If you know what I mean.'

I turned to look over my shoulder and true to her word, I spotted Jongin almost instantaneously. He was surrounded by the usual small crowd of boys and girls alike; their mouths moving, undeniably engaged in excitable chatter; yet Jongin's attention was far from such. Because he was looking straight at me, not even bothering to conceal the fact that he was doing so.

I turned away far too quickly, feeling my blood run as cold as ice. No. This shouldn't be happening. What happened shouldn't have happened in the first place. I couldn't tell what he was after, but the fact that Jongin made his intentions clear ever since the weekend filled me with an unease so immense, I felt waves of nausea knowing his eyes were on me.

At the time, I didn't know what to think. Only that I had been terribly flustered, confused, unable to make head or tail if what happened truly happened. But the more I dwelled on Jongin's actions that afternoon, the closer I had come to realising my reactions were similar to that of the ones Hansol elicited... and the thought quickly turned sickening.

Surely, Kim Jongin was a handsome young man. He was wealthy beyond measure, from a family of aspirators and tycoons. But a romantic inclination towards him was impossible.

He was, after all, Hansol's best friend. He knew I was grieving. He was aware of the current situation. And yet he paid no mind to any of these factors.

The thought no sooner turned from puzzlement, to sorrow, to white hot anger. What I imagined of Jongin's attempts at comforting me and offering his support was all but a lie. In fact, his true intentions were now much more unclear than I ever imagined.

'Saerin!'

Gayoon's cry pulled me out of my reverie from behind. It was only at that moment did I realise I had been close to running through the corridor; Gayoon having trailed me as these thoughts ran amok with me.

'Hey, what's wrong?' she asked breathlessly; eyes wide and lips parted in unmasked shock. 'You just suddenly took off...'

I glanced behind her; my gaze settling on Jongin who was still in sight, now seemingly participating in whatever hilarity he and his friends shared. Gayoon followed my line of sight; the action doing little to appease her concern and confusion. I reached for Gayoon's wrist and gently tugged her along behind me as I made for the nearest ladies' room on the corner.

The moment the door closed behind us, I turned again.

'Something... happened over the weekend.'

'What?' Gayoon breathed. 'Was it something serious? Does it have to...'

'No. It's not serious,'

I stopped her, raising a hand before taking a moment to place it against my forehead, considering my words carefully. Despite my words, however, the situation was troubling enough to be considered such. Nonetheless, I continued lowly.

'Jongin and his friend; that Sehun guy; came over on Saturday because of the anniversary.'

Gayoon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I didn't give her a chance to comment as I went on. 'It may have been a nice gesture at first, but... something strange happened.'

'With the both of them?'

'It's Jongin,' I said; the memory returning to me with a combination of shame and anger. 'He... made a move on me.'

'What?'

'Yeah.'

'No, like...,' she shook her head, dazed, clearly shocked. 'What do you mean? How?'

Recounting the event filled me with a discomfort and unease unlike any other. Shame was a good word to describe precisely what it was that I felt every time it so as surfaced. Surely, I reciprocated none of it. Nevertheless, the disposition it gave rise to was one unsettling. As if I'd complied to a horrendous crime of sorts. Wringing hands, rising blood pressure, nervous gnawing of the lips all signs of anxiousness I never before experienced.

I couldn't tell if Gayoon noticed. But the moment I felt her hand against my arm; her grasp warm and firm; I looked up, meeting her eyes that undeniably conveyed a b disbelief.

'What a douche bag.'

Unexpectedly, the comment tickled me; a chuckle rising up my throat that Gayoon shared shortly after as well.

But our amusement lasted only so long. When our chortles settled into smiles, I noticed a hard look in her eyes. One that I had seen before, surely, but on such rare occasions that it had taken me aback for just a moment.

'Saerin...,' she started slowly, watching me carefully. 'I know we don't talk about it. What happened with Hansol, I mean. But if you ever need someone to listen; to be there; don't hesitate to let me know. OK?'

The offer stayed with me for the remainder of the day. Even as I strode three hours before sunset into the forest after considerable debate, Gayoon's words were like a burned impression I couldn't – for some reason – seem to get rid of.

It wasn't that I didn't trust her. I considered Gayoon more than something as simple as a friend. We had shared secrets, girlish fantasies, and all sorts of other silly antics with each other we dared not show anyone else... and yet the thought of recounting the events of Hansol's death and the traumatic nightmares I endured so soon with the accompaniment of the emotional blow it dealt seemed impossible. Preposterous even, to some measure.