“Do you think he’s here?” I whispered anxiously, while Jongin and I scanned the second floor of the campus library. Despite exam week coming to a close, the place was still packed. The familiar sound of pens brushing against paper and the simultaneous page turning echoed throughout the building. Jongin and I were extremely wary of our steps, being extra careful, avoiding the creaky areas on the floor.

“I haven’t seen him all day,” Jongin said, lightly scratching his head.

I was exhausted. Coming out of the examination hall from my last assessment, I should’ve been throwing confetti and wild dancing my stress away because winter break was finally here. But instead, the first thing I found myself doing was helplessly looking for Kyungsoo.

“My hands – they’re… cold.”

I still hadn’t found out what that was supposed to signify, because the next day I received a text message from him to inform me that the kitchen renovations were a success, “all done and dusted”. I hadn’t caught sight of him since that night, not even around campus during lunch breaks. Questions bombarded me just as frequent as unforgiving headaches paid me surprise visits during my study sessions. In the midst of all this, I had time to worry about Kyungsoo, but he, on the other hand, couldn’t even manage to tell me what was wrong.

Telling me what was wrong, just like he used to.

“Let’s just go,” I drew an extra heavy sigh.

I was tired.

--

As usual, Jongin and I boarded the bus home together. I’d been apologising to him over and over since that night when I interrupted his cousin’s performance. He simply shrugged it off; even joking around that I’d done him a favour instead.

Bus rides home were calming, especially with Jongin around. We barely spoke; merely picking our nails concurrently as silence fell in between us, but I was comfortable because my unspoken words and thoughts felt safe with him somehow.

“So, congratulations on getting through this week,” he stuck his right hand out towards me. I gladly shook it in bliss, realising that exams really were over for the time being.

“Congrats to you, too,” I squeezed his hand and smiled lightly.

“We should celebrate, then,” Jongin suggested, brown eyes glowing and eager, resembling an excited little boy’s reaction to a trip to the video game shop. I let go of his hand because it felt like he forgot to bear in mind that a handshake wasn’t meant to last for more than a couple of seconds.

But it wasn’t a terrible idea at all. I needed an outlet from all the hassle. Before I could ask him what he had in mind, the bus made a sharp turn on Geumjin Street, and the massive mock chocolate ice cream sitting on a waffle cone popped into view.

“Do you like ice cream?”

--

The memorable Gustavo’s door chime rocked and sang as Jongin and I entered from the cold outside. A classic English Christmas carol tuned as the place buzzed with hyped customers, most of them recognisable colleagues from college – wide grins emblazoned on their faces. The counter was hectic, so we had to queue for a while. To pass the time, we had a paper-scissors-rock duel to decide who would pay. I lost. We took the next available spot which was by the windowsill, after an elderly couple stood up and walked off holding hands.

“Is that good?” Jongin pointed at my waffle cone filled with pistachio goodness.

“Oh- uh- it’s my favourite.” I stared at the cone, long and hard, before dipping my tongue into it.

No, it was our favourite.

But I quickly reprimanded my brain to stray from thoughts about Kyungsoo. It was the beginning of the highly favoured two-week winter break, so I tried earnestly to focus on actually eating the dessert to celebrate gleefully, not to reminisce unfoundedly.

“Have you ever tried this?” Jongin asked, starting to bite his cone of caffé ice cream towards me.

It quickly dawned on me that I’d never really tried anything else besides pistachio, out of all the countless times I’d gone to eat.

“No, I haven’t,” I bluntly replied, “just pistachio.”

“Really? Why, are you scared of the others?” he chuckled, raising one eyebrow curiously. I laughed at his silly expression.

“I just- I just like this one best.”

“Well, try this. It’s not bad,” he pulled out a transparent plastic spoon from the container candidly placed in the middle of the table and handed it to me.

I shook my head.

“Come on, it wouldn’t hurt to try,” he urged, grabbed my wrist and helped me scoop a little of his caffé gelato. So I could only conform and just shoved the spoonful in my mouth. Jongin pressed his lips together, curving them into a warm smile.

“It’s not bad, right?” he asked with hopeful eyes.

The strong flavour of caffeine was overridden by the sweetness of the dairy, giving my taste buds a bittersweet treat. It was new, and it really wasn’t bad at all.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Right,” I beamed, “it didn’t.”

We left the parlour just before five, when the sun had started to slowly set. Jongin kindly offered to walk me home again, and this time he didn’t need to insist. Outside, the cold wind was brazen, but surprisingly revitalizing to the senses. I kept quiet, kicking odd bits of gravel off of the sidewalk while we strolled, until he decided to break the comfortable ice.

“Why do you wait, Hyemi?”

I stopped kicking and both our steps came to a sudden halt. I knew exactly what he was meaning with every word, although the question sounded too vague for just anyone.

“Why?” he asked again after a few seconds. Our house was five lamp posts away, but I was immobile.

It was a jolly good question. Why did I wait? Maybe because I grew up with Kyungsoo, him being the only friend who stood and stuck by me throughout the years; maybe because I felt trusted when he told me his plans, his dreams, his secrets; maybe because I needed him to get through, and maybe – just maybe – he needed me too.

I could have drabbled on and on, I could have enumerated each and every little thing, but it would’ve taken a while, so I settled for a risky response.

“Do I really need a reason to wait?” I looked him in the eyes as tears brimmed over mine, opening up to Kim Jongin for the very first time.

“Yes,” he held my shoulders and took two steps towards me, filling the gap between us, and into my personal space. Leaning down, he closes his eyes as I shut mine, and ever so gently plants a light kiss on my forehead.

“Yes,” he pulled away, “because I might give you a reason not to anymore.”