Miss (ii)

Junior year, May.

I pace back and forth in my room, staring down at my phone screen. The late morning sun streams into my room and reflects a prickling glare into my eyes as I spin around once again upon reaching the window, crossing back to the door. The dial pad stares up expectantly at me, waiting for my thumb to press the call button.

Your number is already punched in, having been deleted and retyped again and again. Honestly, ever since that day you gave me your number, I've memorised it. I really can't imagine what would be happening right now if I hadn't just thrown caution to the wind and walked down to speak to you. I never thought I'd have the guts to do something like that, not for a million years, but where I got that courage to, is, of course, from you.

The first time you talked to me in years... It was really dejá vù, except at that time in freshman year, I'd been shorter and thinner than you. To meet again officially in the same setting is really unbelievable. I remember being worried that day, having just dropped off a can of coffee above your locker while looking about cautiously. The talk I had with Taemin the day before made me crushed and I swore I would lay low so I would never risk myself getting caught.

But that day—it's cheesy, but I'm going to go right ahead and say it was fate. I'd just ended practice and the team was heading back together, and Jaebum had hung behind to ask Jieun to model with him for a photoshoot. When he'd returned, I got a shock to see you with him, but I managed to compose myself and force myself to look in front... mostly. You were hugging my jacket and I'd thankfully remained calm when Jaebum nearly blew it for me and mentioned I had the same jacket. My eyes were on the ground most of the time, zoning in by accident on your voice before shaking out your conversation with Jaebum from my head.

Then, I'd realised we would be left alone on the train once Jinyoung and Jaebum got off at their stops, and I'd conjured up again and again what I would say to you. It ranged from the weather to helping you carry your things, but they were either too bland, or too creepy. I'd settled on asking you if you were from our literature class (heck, when I'd known since the first day) but when we were finally left alone, I blanked out. How could I talk to you so easily when I had been waiting years for this chance?

And then... you took the first step. Just like you did back in freshman year.

Must be tiring.

It may have been just another night for you, Youngjae, but it was unbelievable for me. I couldn't catch a wink of sleep because I kept replaying how we walked home together and you spoke so amiably. I picked at my words, groaning at how boring I was, and pathetically tried to alter what happened in my mind with 'what if's. But then, you were so nice to start the conversation, and as I thought more and more, that was when I felt it: hope.

Hope that maybe, we could be friends. Maybe I could take care of you from a closer distance and worry over you without that helplessness of not being able to do anything. It filled me with a sweet, saccharine warmth that I'd always castigated myself for whenever I thought about us possibly being closer. Just maybe, they weren't as unrealistic as I thought they were. Just maybe, I would be able to say hello to you every day and you would smile back at me and wave.

And that 'just maybe' made me walk down the stairs to you. I had seen you dozed off and while everyone was up on their feet, finding partners, you simply slumped into your seat. The adrenaline had chugged through my veins and I considered that maybe you didn't have a partner yet. Maybe you already had a buddy you would always work with and I'd gotten it wrong; maybe you'd think I was weird for suddenly asking you. But at that moment, I wanted to leap over that barrier that I'd always been behind, peering at you from a distance. I've always wanted more, but never dared to ask, and at that point... I couldn't miss the chance. Despite my throat constricting in anxiety and the fear of rejection when you looked up at me, I'd managed to spout out those few words.

Do you want to do the project together?

I stop in my aimless ambling, flinging myself onto the bed. Usually, in a few days, my room becomes a mess, but I've been keeping everything spick and span exactly how you've left it. My thumb hovers over the screen and I sigh, plopping my phone onto the bed.

I want to hear your voice... But I don't have anything legitimate to call you about. Just yesterday, I called you twice about the porridge you made—you probably thought I was nuts. Had I bothered you? I felt like an idiot sitting on the floor all alone slurping up plain porridge, recalling the one you cooked for me. It actually surprised me how different it tasted.

I wonder what you are doing now. Designing? Doing your homework? Cooking? Watching TV? I roll onto my side and scrutinise my phone, it off the bed and again, uncertainly positioning my thumb directly above the green button.

I need a reason to call you. You'll probably be weirded out if I called you for nothing, maybe thinking I have so little to do that I've come to bug you. I really shouldn't call you; you may be busy.

I delete your number from the dial pad and sigh lengthily. Even then, I don't lock my phone, staring at the screen. That picture we took together is set as my wallpaper, our cheeks nearly touching in the photo.

God... I ruffle my hair in exasperation and let out a frustrated growl.

I really want to hear your voice. So, so badly.

I sit up and scour the room, thinking as hard as I can. There has to be something I can talk to you about. Homework? No, I've already used that one. I have one Physics question I'm stumped at, but you don't even take the subject... Besides, it's a bit strange to call you about any other subject than literature, considering we take different classes.

I have that piano piece I just composed though. Spring Day, Cherry Blossoms and You. Should I call and ask you what you think? But I haven't finished it yet and I don't want to make mistakes in front of you. But I could just play the first part for you.

How about asking you for the chicken soup recipe this time?

God, I'm out of my mind. I groggily pull myself off the bed, striding down the hall to the living room with my phone in my tight grip. The house is silent, save for the chirping birds just outside my balcony. I type in your number once again and deliberate over just screwing it and calling you. I'm sure I can think of something when the call goes through. Yeah...

...No. What am I doing? I groan and throw myself onto the couch, having alternated from here and bed several times. This position reminds me of how I'd laid in your lap that day when I was sick. I'd dreamt we were at the park sitting at the bench, and you coaxed me to lie in your lap and my hair. I had gently pulled you down and pecked you on the lips, only to wake up to a just as sweet reality.

I hoist my phone in the air and stare up at the screen, itching to just take the plunge and hit the call button.

No, I can't. I don't want to disturb you. What if you're out with your friends? I shut my eyes and chuck my phone onto the table, listening to the whirr of a passing car and the whistles of small sparrows. A buzz prods the quiet air and I instantly shoot up, grappling excitedly for my phone. Could it be you...?

Can I come over to borrow a pair of boxers? I can't find mine T_T Someone stole all of hyung's underwear!!! Call the police!!!

I fold my lips and nearly yell, tossing a hand over my forehead. Trust Yoochun to pick such a timing. I lock my phone and turn over to my side, absentmindedly perusing the coffee table. It's better this way; I can't be so selfish as to keep bothering you just because I want to hear you speak.

My papers are scattered all over the desk, letters repeatedly written to you. Some have went over three full A4 sized papers while others are cancelled out repetitively, my scribbling illegible. I still haven't finished writing a proper letter to you. When you'd told me your birthday had passed, I'd went to look for gifts for you, searching online and aimlessly walking around malls. I finally decided on two items that I couldn't choose between but I'm not sure if you'll like them.

Truthfully, I'd finished up the letter yesterday, but when Yoochun came over, he'd cried out and hastily stopped me from slipping it into the envelope—asking if I was deliberately planning to ruin my chanc