The arguing about arranged marriage on TV gets intense, and I clear my throat. Finally it cuts to commercials and I think I can breathe now. Jongin averts his sight to the table, and I do the same.

               A full minute passes without a word spoken between us, and I fake a cough to break the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

               “What?”

               “That time, how do you feel?”

               “Which time?”

               “About the arranged marriage, how did you react?”

               Jongin looks at my eyes for a second. “What kind of adults in their right minds would make 14-year-olds marry? I thought it was a joke, of course.” he replies without hesitation.

               “...right.” I slowly nod.

               “I just thought that on that first meeting they were only going to introduce us to each other, see how ridiculous it was, then go home.”

               I realize I might be the only one who was being too dramatic at that time, and I feel kind of embarrassed. 

               “But someone on the other side… Apparently… Took extreme measures.” he pulls the sides of his mouth. 

               I take a glimpse of my arm, and see the thin scar on my left wrist from that time. I think I should clarify one more thing to him.

               “Jongin, I…” Jongin looks at me again, and I grow nervous. “That time, I didn’t want to die because of you.”

               Jongin fixes his eyes on me again, and I swallow.

               “I was just threatening my family to stop the meeting. But my hand slipped and…” I drop my head and grab my wrist. “You were right. I didn’t hate you, I hated what our grandparents tried to do.”

               Jongin straightens his back, and takes a deep breath. “I see.”

               “When I was done being treated, remember how our families argued? The hospital even made us enter a doctors’ meeting room to avoid commotion.”

               “That was one of the longest days in my life.” Jongin rubs his eyes. “I kept looking in your direction, thinking ‘if only she didn’t do that…’ but you kept your head down the whole time, crying. I felt bad so I tried not to be that hateful.”

               Jongin dunks down another shot, and I look at his empty glass.

               “I no longer thought TV dramas were unrealistic after that day.” I shake my head. “We even encountered each other again.”

               Jongin suddenly laughs loudly. “Hey, did you remember when we first met again at orientation? You looked at me like you saw a damn ghost!”

               I fold my arms. “I had a lot on my head that time. You seemed to recognize me right away, too. What were you thinking? You must hate seeing me.”

               “Nope. I was just relieved you were living well.”

               “Whoa…” I lean back on my seat. “Don’t say that, I feel ty.”

               “Actually, I even wanted to talk to you. Maybe we’d have something to laugh about. ”

               I look down and sigh deeply.

               “Well, we started talking because of the mugger accident, but yeah… Mostly just you snapping at me.” Jongin shrugs.

               I massage my temples. “I’m sorry.”

               Jongin chuckles. “It’s no more though. We’re even laughing now. That’s an improvement.”

               I try to look at him, but can’t get past his neck. I’m randomly thinking about how that lanky teenage boy grew up to be a man in front of me.

               We attempted to be friends, and we’re now even drinking together. We can laugh about our past now. But something just doesn’t feel right, like there’s still a weird block inside my heart.

                I take two shots in a row, and Jongin clicks his tongue. “Whoa there. Calm down.”

               “Just want to clear my head.”

               “I thought you’d cry because of that senior while drinking.”

               “Pffft, why would I?” I scoff. “And given my history of crying in front of you many times, I wouldn’t do it again.”

               “You know what could clear your head?”

               “What?”

               Jongin gets up a little, reaches out his hand, and flicks my forehead. I gasp loudly, and a few people turn their heads to see us. “What are you - “

               Jongin sits back, and his mouth curves into a smile. “How is it?”

               I pour another glass. “I hate to admit that it helped a bit. It won’t stop me from drinking more though.”

               Jongin takes the bottle from me. “If you wish so.”

*

               I had a dream involving Jongin, and it was us drinking again. I just went with him before this though… But the place is so different from the bar we visited, it’s so much brighter and the atmosphere is joyful too. I don’t know what we’re talking about, but we seem happy.

               I feel awake, and my head is hurting. I try to open my eyes but it’s blurry. I have no morning classes… I’ll just sleep more.

               Why is my head like this? Right… I was drinking with Kim Jongin. For quite a long time. How did I get home? I don’t remember.

               I start to register that I’m breathing in an unfamiliar but nice scent. I continue to close my eyes and savor the air.

               I think I’ve smelled this scent before. When was it? It’s so nice, the fresh and fruity air makes my head feel less dizzy. I can sniff this all day long.

               Suddenly I remember the source of the scent, and I open my eyes wide. No, it can’t be -

               The ceiling definitely doesn’t belong to my bedroom. Realization slowly hits me, but I’m still strongly hoping it isn’t true.

               I quickly sit up and see most of my body draped with a blanket - and next to me, Kim Jongin is sleeping facing me without one.

               I’m on his bed, in his apartment.