Don’t ask. I have no idea why I did what I did either. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Thinking about it in proper daylight makes it all seem so surreal. In what universe could I have possibly spent an entire afternoon with Kim Namjoon? And enjoyed it? Not in this one for sure. I pinch myself and wince. Okay, so that’s not one of my best ideas.

My phone buzzes from under my pillow. Thinking it’s Namjoon, I pull up the message immediately. It’s not.

Jackson’s exhibition game today. I’ll pick you up at your house at noon.

- M

I should probably panic from the (Almost) Dream Come True scenario that has just fallen into my lap. I should probably scream into my pillow because 1) Mark knows my number— who else would M be in relation to Jackson? 2) He’s picking me up in about three hours and 3) we’re going to spend time together, ideally alone, until we get to the competition grounds. But I’m not.

My fingers are shaking too much to type a proper response, and my phone slips from my hands and onto my bed. Once I calm down, I open up the group chat with Nari and Youngjae. I’m about to hit send when it occurs to me there is no “group” to chat with. I send the message to Youngjae instead, but I don’t get a response. He must be in music school.

I go through my contacts, but there’s no one I really want to talk to. There’s no one I trust with this kind of information about my life. I definitely don’t want to tell my sister about this either, so I just get out of bed and get ready.

Dad is already at work, so I tell Mom I’ll be out this afternoon. She doesn’t even ask, probably assuming I’m hanging out with Nari and Youngjae as usual. Admittedly, that just makes things so much more worse. I finish lunch fifteen minutes before noon and wait for Mark outside our house.

When I open the door, Mark is already there, standing a few steps from our front porch. Good thing I didn’t wear anything too date-y or dressy or anything because Mark is dressed casually in cargo shorts. He doesn’t smile or even acknowledge me when he sees me. He just stares at me.

“You’re early,” I say to him. I may not have dressed up or anything, but I was still in a floral sundress and I consciously held down my skirt with the breeze.

He checks his watch. “No, you’re the one who came out early.”

“Were you actually going to wait fifteen more minutes before ringing the bell?”

His ears burn pink but his face stays cool and collected. He turns on his heel and walks ahead. I follow a few steps behind.

“You know, you didn’t have to come all the way here, we could’ve met in between.”

He makes a minimal gesture towards the neighborhood to our right. “I live over there, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

We walk all the way to the subway station in silence. Mark keeps a few paces ahead of me. Once in a while he’d pretend to look at something behind him to make sure I was still following. At one point, I was tempted to hide behind a pole just to annoy him, but I couldn’t find one that would sufficiently hide me from view. I considered hiding inside an alleyway, but Mark might end up leaving me behind. Eventually, by a feat of subtle body language and mental telepathy, we make it inside the train without having to say a word.

We stand on opposite sides like we don’t even know each other, or that we’re refusing to acknowledge each other’s existence. Two stations later, I start to fidget. First, with the straps of my bag. When I’ve successfully loosened a strand of thread, sparking a panic from the thought of irreparable damage, I move on to my phone. But without the option of talking to Nari and/or Youngjae, it brought more anxiety than the distraction I am now desperate for. I open up my contacts list, and I find my finger hovering over Namjoon’s name.

Better sense washes over me and I move to close the list, but a message appears on my screen. From Namjoon.

So I just woke up. If I make Jin shut up and behave do you maybe want to hang out with us today?

I cut a glance towards Mark. He’s looking out the window, forehead pressed against the glass. This isn't the scenario I had in my head. Rationally speaking, I’m aware that expectation rarely aligns with reality. It’s not like I held on to some silly fantasy that Mark would ever see me as girlfriend material and actually ask me out on an actual date— okay I did, but I didn’t actually believe it would happen for real. I just wanted to let him know how I felt about him, hence the candy. And even if this isn’t anything at all like that fantasy, the discomfort and awkwardness brought about by Mark’s presence only messes with my head.

My phone buzzes in my hand again.

Or maybe we could just hang out just the two of us if you really don’t want to see Jin and the other guys. That’s cool too.

I type:

Sorry. Can’t right now. Jackson has an exhibition game today.

I delete what I just wrote and start again:

Got dragged out to something I don’t even feel like doing.

That sounds better, so I send that message instead. Namjoon replies instantly.

What kind of thing?

I don’t have to check if Mark is looking because it’s not like he can read my mind or the messages on my phone, but I look up anyway. Just in case.

I answer:

Just some thing I am under moral obligation to do even if it's against my will.

He answers:

Ah. Okay. Catharsis later?

I answer back:

I want to, but if I keep staying out late, my parents are going to kill me.

This is his response:

=(

To which I try to remedy with:

I have to start doing my summer homework tomorrow, but maybe we can hang out?

His reply:

=)

That’s good enough for me, and I shove my phone back inside my bag. When I look up, Mark is staring at me. If looks could bore holes through flesh, consider me a pasta colander. I avert my eyes, but realizing that makes me the weaker species, I look back up and match his gaze. I read somewhere that the first two minutes of staring into another person’s eyes are the weirdest, most awkward two minutes ever. I don’t think we’ve reached a minute yet, and already I’m freaking out. Four minutes is the threshold to establishing an intimate connection, but I doubt any sort of connection will be established when the message I’m getting is something akin to disgust.

I get it, Mark. You don’t like me.

We’re still staring at each other and it’s starting to get really weird like why are you still looking at me and what is this strange feeling swirling in my gut? My toes feel cold and I should really look away but I’m not looking away. I’m not backing down from this challenge because Mark has this ridiculous idea of me brought about by the high school rumor mill and I have to prove my innocence at all costs.

“I—“

“So how come you don’t make candy anymore?”

“Huh?”

Mark blinks at me, almost like he hadn’t meant to blurt that out. “Candy. You don’t make them anymore.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ve been busy…I guess. And I don’t know, I never actually heard Jackson say he liked them or anything.”

“Too sweet.”

“Sorry?”

“That’s his review.”

“Oh.”

He shrugs and looks back out the window on his side of the train. “They taste okay to me.”

And there I go, up, up and away. I’m not quite myself. Not as we get off at our stop, not as we walk the rest of the way to the multipurpose gym. It becomes a blur a block away from our destination. Excited fans with their banners run and scream between waiting and expectant parents. Mark sighs (I almost don’t catch the gesture) and rolls his eyes. I’m not looking forward to this either.

He checks on me once before weaving through the sea of humanity. My head is stuck in the clouds and I don’t even bother to keep up. I lose Mark twice in the crowd, and twice he’s had to come back and find me. By the third time, he scowls at me. I open my mouth to defend myself— it’s his fault I’m not fully in my head anyway— but before I can say anything, he takes my wrist in his hand and drags me towards the entrance.

It’s a prosaic feeling, being this close to Mark in the middle of being elbowed and shouldered by random strangers. Someone hits my side, I bounce off to the left, and Mark catches me before I cause more damage to my surroundings. Someone walks between us, but he doesn’t let go of my wrist. His hand slides to my hand and tugs me closer. I think I just died on the inside.

We find seats by the balcony and watch the games commence. I don’t know anything about fencing, and with all the matches happening simultaneously on the floor, I could barely catch on to the basics.

“There’s Jackson.” Mark points to the match in the middle.

I don’t even attempt to keep up. All I know is that Jackson has won all his matches so far and is currently at the top of the ranking. He wins this match, too. The overhead screen flashes his picture and his ascent to the top spot of the season.

“Doesn’t look like he needs us here.” I said that only because I still have no idea what I’m doing here.

“Moral support.”

I nod towards the banner and posters at the other side of the arena. “He’s got enough.”

“That’s what I said, but he insisted we come here anyway.”

Jackson hasn’t contacted me in any way or form yet. To be honest, I didn’t even notice until Mark mentioned it. With the training Jackson said he would be enduring over the summer, I didn’t think he’d have any time at all for anything else. I remember feeling a sense of relief, hope even, that he might forget all about me. Guilt followed after, and then there was remorse.

“Are you okay?”

I gesture vaguely at the crowd.

“This is going to take another hour or so, do you want to walk outside a bit?”

And spend more unnecessarily confusing time with you? I take a breath, calm my nerves, and focus on the games. “I’m fine.”

After the estimated hour, plus some 45 minutes for the closing ceremony, the audience disperses outside to wait for the athletes to come out. Jackson won, of course. Even Mark looked like he expected that outcome. I don’t even follow the sport all that much and I knew it would end like this.

Outside, the fans— I wasn’t even aware that fencing could have this kind of fan base— cheered on their teams as they made their way back to their official camp shuttles. Players accepted gifts and took photos, some searched out for their loved ones, others went straight to their parents. Mark and I waited a good three feet away from the rabble.

No sooner than Mark says “He’s gonna look for you.” does Jackson appear from the athlete’s exit, all smiles and exuding confidence. Mark nudges me forward.

“Hi. You’re here.” Jackson greets a pair of parents and another team’s coach as they walk by us.

I wait until the formalities are done between them. “Yeah. Congratulations.”

He moves forward, like he’s about to hug me but doesn’t. “Thanks for coming.”

I get the feeling he didn’t even know I’d be here, or that he didn’t expect me to. Despite what Mark said, it now feels as if my presence at this event is more of a distraction than the should-have-been-“inspiration”.

“You did great.”

Jackson gets dragged off by his coach and his parents after that. I am more relieved than anything. On the walk back to the train station, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling like this is someone else’s fantasy. Perhaps it’s the looming inevitability of Jackson, the reminder of the mess Namjoon has created, of all this craziness unloaded upon me when all I ever wanted was to give Mark candy.

With everyone else on their way home, Mark and I are forced to stand closer than what could be considered civil to each other. But it doesn’t feel like walking on clouds anymore. It feels like I’ve fallen in too deep in a rabbit hole that isn’t even meant for me. It doesn’t even feel like my life anymore. Not without Nari and Youngjae.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marks asks this as we walk back to my house. It’s not even dark out, and I don’t feel like going straight home.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I think I’m sure.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just…I don’t know. Today’s been…”

“Weird?”

We’re paused between the intersection between our houses. Mark has his hands in his pockets, looking up at the fading clouds in the still blue sky. I’m aware of the slick of sweat on my back, of the humidity in the air. I think to myself, there was a point, just before summer break, where I didn’t even want to think about Mark or Jackson or Namjoon. I remember Nari’s list of plans and how she’s probably fulfilling the items on that list with some guy who lives across her grandma’s house. I think about Youngjae and I’m upset that he’s found his people at Woollim.

Mark takes a step backwards. “There’s this food fair at Fourth Ave.”

“It’s there every year.”

“Yeah. Last year you tried every stall and cried when the auntie at the end of the street ran out of dalgona.”

“I did not!” Okay, so maybe I was a little teary-eyed because those white sugar cookies are the best thing that’s ever happened to the universe and I was really looking forward to it because I was saving the best for last but that’s beside the point. “How do you even know that!”

“Because I bought the last batch.”

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. I remember following Mark around, but I don’t remember him being at that particular stall. Now would be the best time for an orderly exit. “So, I, uh…”

Mark takes another step back, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Let’s go.”

“I, uh…”

“Come on.”

I’d sooner admit to crying over dessert snacks than acknowledge that my feet are moving against my will. We make it to Fourth Ave while the crowd is still sparse. The smell of grilled snacks, sweet snacks, and cooking fish cakes and rice cakes feel like heaven. It’s been a really long day, a really weird, really unnatural day but I’m glad I didn’t go straight home.

We walk the length of Fourth Ave in silence, but it’s neither awkward nor tense. I wouldn’t call it pleasant just yet, but it’s a nice change from this morning, even if I’m not even sure what had changed between then and now. I wonder, would it be like this when we get back to school? Or will everything go back to the way it was?

Instinctively, I look around for anyone I might recognize. Students from different schools gather here over the summer for the season long food fair. It’s not that much different from the street stalls that are around every night, but having them all concentrated in one place like this gives off a festive feeling. It feels more like summer this way.

Mark waves hello to some people he knows and I step back so that no one gets any weird ideas. I realize this is unnecessary when someone asks me about Jackson. Of course that’s how they’d see me. I almost forget I’ve met these people before.

I check my phone for messages, but I didn’t receive any more throughout the afternoon. I have no idea where my sister is, but she should be coming home for the summer. Youngjae must be busy with Music School, Nari is still and at me, Jaebeom and Jinyoung must be working, and Namjoon is probably getting into some sort of trouble if he isn’t rehearsing for Catharsis Night. Don’t I have more friends than that?

“You don’t talk much, do you?” I finally say it while waiting for our fish cake skewers.

He shakes his head.

“I see.”

A while later, while we’re at a vending machine getting soda, I say “Do you do everything Jackson tells you to do? Even if you don’t like it.”

He shakes his head.

While we’re in line for spicy rice cakes, I say “Don’t you have anyone else to do this with?” I’m sure he has a dozen other friends to hang out with. He doesn’t have to do this with me because Jackson wants an eye on me or something. I don’t even know what this arrangement is.

He shrugs. “Don’t you?”

I survive the rest of the day without running into anyone else that could potentially make this even more awkward. By sunset, we mutually decide, again by a feat of mental telepathy and body language, that it’s probably time to get home.

“Wait here a moment,” Mark says after our moment’s worth of eye contact agreeing that we should get going. He runs off to the stalls again and comes back in about a minute. He hands me a clear plastic bag. “Here.”

I take the bag of dalgona and try not to do or say anything stupid. “Thanks.”

The walk back home is not surprisingly quiet. I’d say tense, but that’s just me. Something’s definitely not the same anymore, and I don’t know how I feel about it. I don’t know if I even want to feel anything about it.

“Thanks for coming today.” Mark says this a few meters away from our intersection. “He looked happy to see you.”

“Sure. Next time don’t just message me three hours before these things because, you know, I could have had actual plans and things.”

“Did you?”

“Not today but you know.”

I hear him stifle a laugh. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t figure out how to ask you.”

I shrug. We’re at the intersection now. “Just ask? Anyway, I don’t think my presence was much needed today anyway. Looked like he could manage just fine on his own. Don’t want to, I don’t know, bring bad luck or whatever.” I lean towards my street. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you Candy Girl.”