...

The silence is killing me. No, Junhyung's raspy breath is.

All I see is black; a neverending amount of blackness.

It hurts.

My eyes really hurt.

I want to open from their current squeezed tight position, but I can still hear it.

His raspy breath, close to my ear.

And then all of a sudden, it vanishes.

"Hara?"

My right eyelid opens just a little, enough to see the top half of Junhyung's face.

What?

"Hara, are you alright?" he asks again, and I open both eyes now. My brain still feels like mush.

I can fully see him now, and he's crouching with his knees on the floor and his hands on his knees.

What?

I feel puzzled now.

Why was he leaning so close?

But when I study is face now, he has a cheeky smile on. His eyes are sparkling; different from the usual impassive and dull gray.

I am desperately confused now, and my mind is all over the place. I want to know. I really do.

"Were... were you g-going to—" I pause as the ends of his lips reach up higher and higher. It almost seems as if he's trying to hold back his laughter.

What?

He chuckles a little before slowly opening his mouth, "Don't worry Hara; I would never force something like that on you."

His smile now is genuine, and it's so... pleasant compared to his usual impassiveness. I want to hug him, but what if he leaves? My insecurity is irritating.

"But then, w-why—"

"There was a piece of rice in your hair."

I stare at him now, and his smile grows bigger again. 

"Really. I'm not lying; I pinky promise," is all he says now before he stands up. I want to punch him, hug him, or grab his arm so seducingly like Hyorin, but what if he doesn't like it? What if he doesn't like me?

He's already at the doorway now, his bag slung over his shoulder and a corner of one of his books sticking out. I chase after him, even though I know that he intends to leave now.

"Wait-Junhyung!"

We're at the front door now. I can't believe he walks so fast; although it explains why he does well playing soccer.

His smile is gone, but I can still see a little twinkle in his eyes.

If only.

If only you could be mine.

But my throat turns dry, and it feels like rock is stuck in there, and somehow, I can't seem to swallow it down. All I can do is manage a painful smile, and mumble, "See you."

And when I look at his face, I can tell.

He was anticipating.

Anticipating me to say something; anything, telling him not to go, to hang around a little longer, or to even play a couple of video games together like we used to.

And all I can do is feel regret as he returns an uncomfortable smile before ambling away to his house; not looking back even once.

Not even once.