"Hey."

“Hi.” I lean back against my bed rest and let out a huge sigh of tiredness, rubbing my eyes as sleep is slowly sinking into my bones and making my body slip into a comfortable position, “What’s up?”

“It’s been awhile.”

Namjoon’s voice is just as I remember it. It’s been a week since I’ve seen his face apart from the small snippets of conversations in-between classes and right after school. Otherwise, he’s always hanging out with Haeryung and I took refuge at Hoseok’s table, who turned out to be friends with a few other students that hung out together during the Lunch Breaks and after school. The less I saw of Namjoon, the more I saw of these faces that soon enough became familiar with me. They were a nice and easy-going group, consisting of one girl called Evangeline Lim and three guys—Jungkook Jeon and Jimin Park—including Hoseok.

It’s a saddening fact to say that my routine has been altered, centred around different individuals rather than the usual face that I’m so used to seeing everyday.

That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him, though.

In all of them, I see snippets of personality, small flashes of character that reminds me of Namjoon. It’s amazing, I know him so well and yet I’ve never really noticed all these details before. They say you don’t miss the person until they’re gone, and I’ve never been one to believe in such idiocies, as I liked to call it.

But that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Maybe it’s just because I’m searching for a piece of Namjoon in each of them subconsciously, without even trying. Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing all along, just to comfort myself that he’s not really gone, that he still thinks of his best friend once in awhile.

So it does come as a surprise when I saw his name blinking on my phone.

“Well, you’ve been busy.” I shoot back without realizing how mean it actually sounds. I don’t want to hurt him, nor do I want to make him feel as though he’s doing something wrong by spending time with the one he loves. But I just can’t help but feel defenceless and neglected, as though he’s pushed me aside for better, newer things. As though I had never been good enough and was just something to pass the time while he found something better to do.

“Someone’s salty.”  He chuckles at the other end of the line and I feel a rush of anger towards his inability to take me seriously. But then I calm myself down, reign my emotions in.

There’s no use in fighting when I know that I’m being childish.

“I’m on my period.” I answer as an excuse, “So, how’s life been for you? Pretty well, I presume?”

“I asked Haeryung out on a date today.”

Why does my chest suddenly ache as though one of my heartstrings got ripped off?

“She said yes.”

He sounds delighted, over the moon, ecstatic about the idea. I force a smile into my voice when I say, “Good job. It wasn’t like she was going to say no.”

“But I need help.”

Oh no. No No No. This is going to turn out badly and I don’t know if I’m ready to face the consequences yet. I try not to let the annoyance in my voice slither through the phone.

“With what?” then I joke, “You’ve already gotten the girl, Namjoon. There’s no need to stress about anything else.”

“If you were going on a date,” his voice has softened; a raspier, deeper alto that makes my heart suddenly drop even as I try to ignore the feeling, “Where would you want to go?”

The question catches me off guard. The way he says it, it’s like he’s asking me what I would like, but he’s taking out Haeryung. Is he going to base himself on my opinion? Is he going to bring her to my favourite places? The feeling is only one of discomfort that I’m experiencing. It’s like a weird, dull ache at the bottom of my stomach that makes it churn, but not sure with what. I feel queasy but not sick, and that doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t know,” I murmur out finally. Clearing my throat and setting aside my personal pride and selfish ego, I list a few things that have fleetingly crossed my mind whenever it comes to dating, “Maybe a movie? That’s what most girls love. A picnic in the park, the weather’s getting pretty good for that. Amusement park? Laser tagging! Or even paintball! That would be so fun—“

“Yehwa, it’s not us two hanging out,” Namjoon interjects before I can continue, and somehow his words echo through my brain and causes my heart to squeeze in pain, “It’s a date. It’s supposed to be romantic and cute.”

“Laser tagging could be romantic and cute.”

“You seriously think she’d dress up nicely to play laser tagging?”

“Well, what about a movie?”

“Isn’t that too stereotypical?”  he sounds really desperate for good ideas, “I bet all the guys she dated before brought her to the movies.”

“Guys?” I echo, amazed that she’s already gotten experience when she’s still in high school.

“Yeah, she told me how horrible her dates had been. That’s how the subject was brought up.”

“And then there’s you, with no girlfriend experience or whatsoever.”

He snorts, “I had to deal with you. That was good enough.”

What’s that supposed to mean? I push those lingering thoughts away with my two hands and concentrate on helping Namjoon find out her preferences. They turn out to be harder and more complicated than I’ve expected. She had subtly highlighted to Namjoon that she didn’t want anything to do with cheap bar places nor does she want to go see a tacky action movie that would make her fall asleep. I scoff inwardly in my head when he tells me all this, frowning in puzzlement when there aren’t many choices left.

Why is she being so difficult?

“Screw her. What do you want, Namjoon?” I finally snap when I’m on my last tether. Who cares what she wants. I’m sure that Namjoon’s the one paying for everything, as expected of the man in the relationship, so she does not have a say in wherever he’s bringing her.

And anyway, does she have the right to be so picky when it’s only their first date together?

Aren’t you supposed to be happy no matter where you go with that person, because you like them?

“It doesn’t work that way.” He says.

Glancing at my clock that says 2:30 a.m, I curse softly under my breath as I know that I’m going to have so much trouble waking up tomorrow morning.

“You’re paying, so you’re the one who should decide what’s worth wasting your pocket money on.” I roll over onto my bed and close my eyes, hoping that this won’t make me fall asleep when his problem is still not resolved.

“Yehwa, come on. Be serious for a moment.”

“I am being serious.” I snap into the phone, “She’s a picky . That’s what she is.”

A small pause ensues at the other end of the phone and with a growing horror, it dawns on me that I’ve said something I should’ve kept for myself in the first place.