“Your hands are frozen,” he quietly exclaimed. I thought he was going to let it go, but he didn’t.

“Yours are really warm,” I half-whispered, “it’s nice.”

“I must be really happy, then.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“What,” I snickered, “because your hands are warm? Well, I guess I must be really sad, then.”

“Grandma told me a long time ago that warm hands meant tranquillity, composure and happiness. She never mentioned anything about cold hands after that. I wanted to ask her, but I was scared it might sound a bit dumb.”

“Why is that?” I asked, turning my head to look at his face.

“I don’t know, but I found out for myself anyway.”

“Really? How?”

“At Grandpa’s funeral last year, she held my hand all throughout,” he motioned, squeezing my hand soothingly, “and it felt just like this.”

I took a short moment to search for the appropriate words and phrases to weave in together. Being able to be held on to by him was too precious and it seemed like if I shifted my attention onto something else, the euphoria would slide out of my system. It was highly exhilarating – exceeding my expectations – and as I plunged deeper into my emotions, I ached to tell him everything. However, the urge to liberate my frustrations out was overshadowed by a stubborn voice inside me – I was too ensnared in cowardice to verbalise my feelings.

Cold hands made perfect sense.

Crickets resoundingly chirped in unison as Kyungsoo snored lightly. I lifted my head up a little and looked around the domain – not a soul was around. Then it seemed like I was forgetting something.

The time.

I frantically fiddled with my phone, struggling to unlock it with one hand.

11.47pm.

Without faltering, I sat up and shook both Kyungsoo’s shoulders to wake him. After a minute of constant arm-pulling and leg-pushing, we took off hurriedly. He let me wear his pullover until we reached the front gate of my house.

“Oh, Hyemi, I forgot to tell you about my friend.”

“Which one?”

“I’ve got a friend coming from Busan to live here. I want to give him a welcome and take him around the campus. Meet at the library the usual time?”

“Sure.”

I handed him his jersey back and smiled. Thank you.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“I guess so. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Hyemi. Sleep tight.” I watched him walk away as his warmth still lingered within me.

I rang the doorbell and crossed my fingers. My father would not be impressed, seeing as it was fifteen minutes past midnight. Unlike my mother, he was stern and uptight when it came to boys. Do Kyungsoo was the only person who has made it to his boys-who-are-allowed-to-take-my-daughter-out-alone-after-sunset-as-long-as-she-comes-home-before-midnight list. I’d spent almost half of my life with the boy, so his trust in him was reasonably stable.

Little did he know that his own daughter had just been holding hands intimately with “the boy” under the stars – alone, in the dark.

“Hyemi? Is that you?” my father groggily asked before unlocking the front door.

“Yes, I’m home,” I tensely replied, hoping for the best.

“It’s past midnight,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes right after letting me in. I shifted my gaze to the ground and looked at my feet.

“I- I know,” I stammered, “I’m sorry.”

“Did you walk home alone?” he asked. I lifted my chin up and turned to him, but he didn’t look angry at all. Instead, it was a faint, worried expression.

“No, Kyung- Kyungsoo walked me home.”

Something tugged at my heartstrings violently as I said his name out loud. It was my loyal everyday companion – nostalgia.

“Oh, good. I see.”

Relief washed over me immediately, and upon locking the door, I took my queue and made my way upstairs, but, as usual, Dad wasn’t going to let it go so easy.

“Hyemi-ah,” he called.

“Yes?”

“Is Kyungsoo… do you… uh… is he… your boyfriend?”

I would’ve preferred an hour-long ceremonial lecture regarding violations of set curfews over having to face my Dad to answer such a question.

“No. He isn’t.”

“Oh. I- I see. It’s just that- I thought-”

“Goodnight, Dad,” I smiled and hastily turned away from him.

“Hyemi-ah.”

I froze.

“Kyungsoo… he’s a nice young man,” he said, almost whispering. I knew he meant what he said, and nothing had sounded more sincere.

I agree, Dad. He’s nice. He’s very talented, too. He makes me feel happy and torn at the same time. But you know what, Dad? He held my hand tonight while watching the stars. No rainbows, no butterflies, no unicorns – just stars.  I hope he senses, though, that I’ve loved him for years now, because I don’t know how to stop, and even if I knew how to, I probably won’t.

“I know. He is. Goodnight, Dad.”

I stayed awake for two more hours, thinking – again. Under the stars, he locked his fingers with mine and drifted off to sleep. I figured that I would never know or even simply understand the reason behind his heartbreak, but tonight, a weak and vulnerable Kyungsoo somehow needed the weak and vulnerable Park Hyemi’s hand for a short while. As much as it killed me, I was more than eager to drown myself deeper, albeit the palpable consequences impulsively advancing towards me. Maybe I’d arrived at the peak of this unrequited love business, because logic and reasoning had now decided to rebel against yours truly, sprinting away from my sanity.

I stopped trying to decipher anything else, but remained wondering how many sunsets, somersaulting hearts, confusing statements and sombre nights were waiting ahead of me.

I spent the whole weekend studying and overdosing on sleep. I had no clue whether I did it to rest or to merely escape my incoherent thoughts, but I bet on the latter.

--

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

I woke up to the calming sound of the rain. I slightly drew my curtains back and watched raindrops on the window race each other to the death. I got ready for school, sluggishly putting on an old pair of jeans and a worn-out hoodie. Skipping breakfast, I ran out into the rain, took the bus and headed to the campus.

The heavy rain gradually evolved into a soft mist that was even more refreshing to the soul. Call me strange, but the post-rain earthy aroma was sweet music to my nostrils. I found the smell enticing rather than sordid; soothing rather than revolting. I sauntered in pure bliss because the downpour and its aftermath reassured me that it was going to be a good day.

Somewhat finding myself hopping, I arrived at the library, catching sight of Kyungsoo standing by the front doors. It was difficult not to, and seeing the black pullover jersey from last Friday night instantaneously had quite an abrasive effect on me. He smiled. I smiled back.

“Hyemi-ah, finally, you’re here!” he beamed.

I almost sprinted up the steps wanting to feel his smile up close. With an abnormally rapid heartbeat, I recalled how smooth and safe his hands felt. I wasn’t going to get over it for quite some time. I was about to dash over to his side when I saw he wasn’t alone.

His nose was sculpted flawlessly as was his jawline. His hair was swept to the side in perfection. Gifted with dazzling dark brown eyes and a pair of double eyelids, he grinned and stuck his right arm towards me.

“Hi, I’m Jongin. Kim Jongin.”