“See you guys tomorrow!” Jackson called from across the street. I waved back as best as I could with people walking in front of me, but gave up when some dude that was 6 feet tall covered them as he strolled by with his family. Up ahead, Mark was waiting by the subway entrance. We walked down the stairs and towards the turnstiles in silence. I couldn’t tell if he was just tired or if he was already sick of it here.

He swiped his card through the scanner and went through the turnstile. I followed quickly after as people around us ran downstairs to catch the train that was about to leave.
The train we needed to take.
“Crap. We’re so not gonna make it,” I mumbled to myself, finally catching up to Mark. He looked at the train beneath us, grabbed my wrist, then just said, “Run.”

Everything after that happened so fast, I had to let my brain catch up to what my feet were doing.
Somewhere in the sprint between the top of the stairs to the train, his hand slipped off of my wrist and into my hand. I didn’t even have enough time to process how well our finger intertwined with each other’s, how perfect everything felt, until we flew through the doors of the subway train and stood there, each clutching the pole with our free hand and panting.

“Careful,” He let go of my hand, only to place it on my back as the train lurched to a start. I steadied myself, trying not to look at Mark’s face. Cause if I did right now, I would probably turn a really unflattering shade of red.
“Thanks,” I looked out the window, staring at our reflection.

My heart was telling me that we looked good together.
My brain was telling me to stop and look away.
And as usual, my brain won.

The hum of the subway calmed my racing heart as we passed stop after stop. I watched people circulate in and out of the train, silently noticing the little health quirks some of them had. A lady with a limp, a man with a loud cough, a middle school boy with a tissue constantly pressed against his nose. Ever since I was little, I was always noticing these things about people, except my wondering would be more vocal. My mom would always get embarrassed whenever I asked her what was wrong with a man or woman, but to me, all I cared about was their health condition. I guess it was that curiosity that led me all the way to college.

The announcer that was usually muffled by the conversations and noises of the subway was strangely loud today as it announced our stop.
Either that or the subway was just strangely quiet.
I mindlessly walked off the train, up the stairs, and through the turnstile.
The food coma was definitely hitting me.

“You look out of it,” Mark creeped behind me as we walked into the apartment building together. The elevator dinged open just as we got there, letting out a couple all dressed up and walking hand in hand.
I let my eyes hover over their hands and felt envy rise in me, but shook the feeling.
You don’t need it _____________________.
You have too much to think about already.
The only things you should be holding are those MCAT study books.

I hit the 17^th floor button then leaned back against the elevator wall, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground.
“Food coma,” I replied quietly, feeling Mark’s hand pat the top of my head.
“Well that answer was a bit late.”
“Sorry,” the elevator doors open and I shuffled my way to the door, “when I get drowsy, my brain doesn’t really function as well.”

I stuck the key into the lock and turned, relishing in the cool air of the air conditioning rushing at me as I took off my sandals and kicked them onto the shoe rack. Behind me, Mark slipped off his sneakers and walked silently by me into his room.
Was he sick of me already?
Did I already screw things up?
He was probably already exhausted from the flight over. The last thing he needed was to sit through dinner with us.
Ugh…how could I be so stupid and inconsiderate?

My blankets and pillows swallowed me up as I crashed down onto them. Screw taking my makeup off. I might as well get as much sleep as possible before the semester starts tomorrow cause chances are, I’m not gonna get more than 6 to 5 hours a night once syllabus week is over.
I buried my face into my pillow, trying to forget about Mark in the other room and focusing my attention on falling asleep.
But Mark’s face kept popping up in my head.
How did that chubby little kid grow up to be….that good looking?
My goodness, the puberty fairy must’ve worked some serious magic on him.

Then again, he was always good looking to me.
That much I remembered.
I guess I didn’t except for him to be good looking in the eyes of other people. Especially other girls.
The thought of girls throwing themselves at Mark, flirting with him, trying to talk to him filled my head, and suddenly, I had the urge to barf.
But why should I care right?
I’ve been friend zoned for 14 years, and I don’t think a sudden reunion is gonna change that.

Author's Note
Chapter title: One Way Love-Hyorin [x]