Quiet (i)

Senior year, June.

"Did you tell him, hyung?"

I gingerly raise my head as Jongup scrutinises me, consternation written all over his serious countenance. Parting my lips, I momentarily debate on what to say before eventually shrugging. Jongup instantly melts into a stern frown and he spouts, "Himchan-hyung, you said you would. Why didn't you?"

"I figured it was for the best," I return, taking a seat beside him on the school benches. The remnants of Youngjae's touch and his warm smile lingers nauseatingly in the depths of my guts. I couldn't bring myself to say the words even though I'd made up my mind for the thousandth time in a row.

"What's the use of telling him?" I exhale heftily, trying not to let the weight crush down on my shoulders. "It's not like Youngjae needs to know."

"It's not for him," Jongup heaves in frustration, locking eyes with me. "It's for you, hyung. We've already been through this."

"And I said I'll be fine," I rebound, subtle annoyance underlining my tone. Times like this, I wish Jongup didn't pry my confession out of me so insistently. He'd cornered me that day and demanded I explain why I was shunning Youngjae as though he was the greatest atrocity I'd ever met, despite the fact I'd spent last December fretting over his birthday present. 

"Seriously, what will I get out of telling him? It's basically a dead end if I walked down that road," I snap, wanting to leave the whole predicament behind me. It's better to let it go. It's not as if Youngjae will take it well if I confessed that I'd somehow stupidly came to like him more than a friend.

When did it start? Was it back when he was a freshman and I felt my heart crunch, seeing how he refused to try on clothes with me? Perhaps it was when Youngjae was a sophomore and I hated how he walked like he was so afraid to take up the space beside me. I knew something was dead wrong at the start of the year when my throat went dry, watching him rouse from his sleep and his thin legs curl alongside my sheets.

That night, when Youngjae was in my arms, while I watched his eyes flutter shut and his breathing even out, I... wanted to kiss him. Not on the cheek, like I’d done to prove it was nothing of the sort that Youngjae believed my avoidance to be, but on the lips. I wanted to kiss him till dawn came and breathe him in until he had nothing left to inhale but me.

When was it, really? I don't think I want to know when I started yearning for Youngjae in another way. 

Jongup clenches his fists and reclines into the seat, exasperation emanating off his displeased expression. "Is the way you're acting any better now, hyung? All you do is run from him. You're not only making things hard for yourself but you're hurting Youngjae-hyung too, and he doesn't deserve it."

"Hyung, he's not going to hate you," Jongup's voice softens. "You already said that he was okay with these sort of things. Youngjae-hyung loves you so much; he's not going to think you're disgusting."

"How do you know?" I snap, irritation clambering over my bitter syllables. "He could have said that without meaning it." Before Jongup can raise a protest, I cut in curtly, "It's not as easy as you think it is, Jongup."

We submerge in a lengthy quietness as I shut my eyes, leaning back in fatigue. I've still got three practice papers left to finish for today and it's enough that I have to deal with my damn feelings. I don't need Jongup on my case.

It's stupid. So god damn stupid. How the hell did I even come to like Youngjae? It's pathetic that I'm even asking myself this question when practically everything about him has my fingers trembling. I love the way he smiles. I love the little wrinkles he gets by his eyes whenever he laughs.

"I'm sorry," I wheeze, rubbing at my temple. I should be grateful. Jongup's been helping me for a long time after he interrogated me and I just snapped and blurted out that I liked Youngjae—in a different way from how he did. The moment I told him, I froze up in a fear so grappling I struggled to breathe, but he only kept quiet and asked if I was pushing Youngjae away because of it.

Some people can say without hesitation they'll do this or that but when it comes to the real thing, they'll act the complete opposite. Who's to say Youngjae won't do the same when I'm demonstrating this right now? 

I never had a problem with such things. After all, love is love; they aren't hurting anybody. Yet, I've turned out to be such a huge hypocrite. I've been running like a coward from Youngjae and praying for my heart to stop thumping so bitingly whenever I think of him. All this while, I thought if I put enough distance between us, I'd stop distorting Youngjae into someone else rather than a friend, someone I wanted to kiss more than anything into the bed.

It worked out so well, huh? I've solely made Youngjae think I hated him because ironically, he thinks I'm homophobic since I avoided him after he gave me his answer—that he'd go out with anyone, be it a guy or a girl. 

It's true. I did steer clear of him because of his reply. If he had just said he would never in his wildest dreams think of even dating a guy, things would have been so much easier. I would be forced to crush down how I feel for him into the ground and never dare dream of holding him in another way. But with that little glimmer of hope he dangled over me, I've been clinging on to it despite knowing how fickle his words could be.

"I'm going home," I murmur, tossing my bag over my shoulder. Churning out a half-hearted smile, I pat Jongup's head as he stares up at me with worried eyes. They almost look like Youngjae's, except Youngjae has a softer gaze.

"I'll be fine. Stop frowning; you're going to get wrinkles." Bidding him a short wave, I hum, "Thanks for helping me out."

Strolling out of school, I feel my shoulders collapse once I'm sure I'm out of Jongup's sight. Should I have told Youngjae? I lied again to him that I was stressed out and venting my anger on him all this time. Despite that, how could he still smile at me without any hesitation whatsoever?

Every time he does these sort of stupid things, it just gives me more false hope. I know he doesn't like me that way but every damn time he looks at me with those eyes, I can't help but want to believe in that shred of maybe. Yet, at the same time, it scares me to death. It'll be so much simpler if he'd walk away and let me go.

I'm afraid of so many things. If I told him, how would he react? With disgust and hatred? Even if he somehow crazily said back that he liked me, if he gave me a chance, where would we go from there? Would we start dating? What would we tell our family, our friends, all the people around us? What would they say?

Though my hands practically shiver with the yearning to cup Youngjae's cheeks and kiss him senseless, I... I don't have the courage to hold his hand in front of everybody. I'd rather we forget the whole thing because deep down inside, I'm nothing but a coward.

It's funny because Youngjae knows this so well. It's something I both love and hate about him—that it's easy for him to tell if something's wrong with me. Nevertheless, he knows that I don't like it when people pry into my business, so he follows me around and does whatever I want to make me feel better. On days I feel so lonely and scared of leaving my friends and family behind for that scholarship, he'll come over to spend time with me, no matter how tired or busy h