“I want you to meet her.”

I almost choke on my first bite of bread while Namjoon only gazes at me with a serious expression, eyes intense on my face as I quickly wipe the crumbs with a napkin. The idea seems atrocious—horrifying, even. I’ve met her once or twice, but that’s about it. We’re not even close to acquaintances, we only have Namjoon in common, a mutual link that binds us together. It’s not that I don’t want to, but Haeryung somehow does not seem to like my company very much, nor does she show that she wants to.

See, Haeryung isn’t the type of girl that I would hang around with.

She’s pretty and popular and very very popular. That just about sums up her existence altogether. She’s the stereotypical type of girl that you can find in any sort of movie— good grades, good family, wealthy background. It’s somehow intimidating, although I’d never say such a thing to Namjoon’s face.

She’s not a bad person. Not at all. I don’t have anything against her— I just don’t see the point of getting to know her, which I voice out loud to Namjoon with a little bit too much panic.

“Well, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” He looks at me pointedly, to which I throw him a raised eyebrow and say, “I’m not going to third wheel you guys everywhere.” I raise my hands in mock gesture of surrender to prove my point, and he rolls his eyes in response.

“Well, you’re going to have to meet and hang out someday,” He explains while taking a bite of his own panini and saying in-between bites, “And why are you acting like she’s a monster?”

“I hope you don’t eat with your mouth full in front go her,” I scrunch up my nose in distaste at the crumbs spread all over his mouth, and reach over with my own napkin before dabbing at his lips with an exasperated sigh, “And I’m not. Like I told you, I don’t see the point.”

“Chicken.” he comments. I grimace, “Not.”

“Why then?” He says, and this time he’s the one with the raised eyebrow.

To be honest, I have no clue as to why there is such a reluctance in my heart that tugs at my heartstrings every time he mentions it. There’s a weird, dull ache that makes me feel uncomfortable whenever I think of getting to meet Haeryung. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s a woman entering Namjoon’s life as his girlfriend, and as his closest friend, I can’t help but find it weird. Specially with the less time I spend with the said young man nowadays, I can’t help but resent her for stealing away my best friend.

He might be her lover, he might be the one that she’s holding out her heart to and who has half of it in his own hand.

But above all and everything else, he’s my best friend. My friend.

Mine.

The sudden possessive urge takes me by surprise. Since when have I been so involved in Namjoon’s affairs?

“Like I said,” I choose my words carefully, for I know that he’s apt to recognize that something’s off if I give it all away. I focus my attention on my food instead and I have never been so grateful for the distraction, “I don’t see any point in it. We don’t have the same interests and that means we probably don’t click.” I raise a brow at him, “Do you need more?”

“I thought I had your full support.” Namjoon said grudgingly.

“And you do.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“And you’re being irritating.” I make a face, “Can’t you just— be happy? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened. I might have made a mistake by saying these words so dismissively, but right now, I really don’t care. With everything that’s been happening these past few weeks, I’m not going to apologize for something as stupid as not wanting to meet his girlfriend when he’s been the one ignoring me, drawing away from our friendship until the only thing that keeps me holding on is the fact that somewhere inside there, I still count for him. That deep down inside, he needs me as much as I do, as much as he did before all of this happened.

“I would do anything I can to help.” I soften my tone. I don’t want to fight. Not now, not when there’s so little left to fight for. But the burn in Namjoon’s eyes say something else. He’s angry and hurt and they are clearly written across his features as clearly as though he’d written them over his forehead, “But you don’t need it anymore. So don’t drag me into this.”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I just don’t see the point.”

“She wants to meet you.”

“And I am busy.”

Namjoon just keeps searching my eyes, but I make sure to hide my emotions away, lock them in a box that I throw at the back of my mind. “Please, Yehwa? Just this once?”

“Nope. No chance.”

The thoughts drift through me long after the conversation has ended between us. Namjoon had looked annoyed and slightly distraught, but there hadn’t been any indication of anger in his voice and that had let me know that we were still good, that I had no need to apologize for anything. Why? I think to myself as I ascend the stairs to my bedroom. Why don’t I want to meet her? The question is simple in itself, really, it’s just putting a reasonable answer in its place that is quite hard.

I think more and more about it as the night wears on, but not enough to come up with a reasonable answer. I’ve always wanted Namjoon to be happy, so I don’t understand why the sudden reluctance to meet his girlfriend has suddenly come into play. I’ve always tried pushing Namjoon towards the girls whom he crushed on, but then again he’d never succeeded. This is the first time that he’s really going out with someone, like really going out with them. So maybe that’s why i’m feeling a bit weirded out and out of my comfort zone. I usually don’t go beyond the point of saying a ‘hello’ and ‘how are you?” to the girls in question.

But that’s different. He wants me to know her, wants me to participate in their conversation, wants me to form a bond, a friendship with her.

As if I don’t have enough friends, as if my life will be better by getting to know her.

A couple of days later and it’s Saturday. I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing, and with a soft groan, I tilt over onto my side and grab blindly for my phone on my night desk. Finding it amidst the pile of debris, I click on the green button through squinted eyes and press the device to my ears without bothering to check the caller ID.

I mumble something incomprehensible in the receiver, some kind of noise to let the individual know of my existence.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Namjoon chuckles.

A frown settles onto my face before I sit up slowly from the mess of pillows, “Namjoon? What is it?”

I sound suspicious for someone that’s half-asleep, but I can’t help it. It’s been weeks since we’ve stopped our usual morning routine together.

“Do you want that coffee of yours?” He asks, and for a moment I think that he’s going to bribe me into running just so that he will pay me my coffee at the very end.

A soft groan escapes my lips, “Not if I have to run to get it.”

“Don’t worry. No running today. Just coffee.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you have a bad habit of ditching people.”

He laughs. It’s deep, rich, and reverberates through the phone. The back of my spine involuntarily tickles with goosebumps, and I shiver while he says, “No ditching today. I promise. I’ll even pick you up by your front door.”

“For real?”

“Speaking of, I’m already at your door.”

I sigh dramatically, but a smile tugs up at my lips anyway. If there’s one thing that can make my morning better, it’s definitely coffee, specially when it’s free.

I waste no time in tugging on a pair of sweatpants and a mismatching hoodie (who cares, it’s a Saturday morning and nobody’s usually up at this time) before heading down the stairs. The door opens to give way to a smiling Namjoon, the dimple in his cheek prominent as I grin back. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this smile, I think in realization as he drags me to our favourite coffeeshop.

He seems more jumpy and happier than usual, definitely in a better mood than yesterday during our conversation. Something must’ve happened, but a small pang of guilt eats away at my conscience at the memory of our small argument. But maybe he realized the logic in my explanation, maybe he’d given up on the idea that people can be moulded and manipulated to his tastes, and as the words flow freely between us while making our way to the coffee shop—the one that’s just around the corner— I can’t help but relish in the nostalgia that washes through me at the thought that things would’ve been just like this, just as they were before, if it hadn’t been for an individual that had squeezed her way in between our friendship.

But it had to happen, one day or another. Soon enough, maybe I’ll fall in love with a man, and then what? I can’t keep on relying on Namjoon forever. He’s my best friend, but it’s only when he started going out with Haeryung that I realized that I’ve grown to depend on him so much more than I should’ve in the first place.

He opens the door for me while I enter, the smell of freshly brewed coffee tainting the air and making me sigh, the muscles of my jaw relaxing.

My eyes scan the area to pick a table — I particularly enjoy the one by the window— before they land on something that causes the air to freeze in my lungs.

I take in a breath.

What the—

“Haeryung,” Namjoon greets behind me, circling my body to walk towards her. For a minute, I feel like laughing. I want to laugh and ask them if this is some kind of sick joke that they’ve played on me. But then Namjoon turns and there’s a slither of apology in his eyes, the weight of guilt around the edges of his mouth, “I hope we’re not too late.”

“Not at all.” Haeryung smiles back genuinely. She doesn’t know, I realize then, when I’m guided to the seat and slide in absentmindedly, almost as though i’m in a dream that I can’t escape from. She doesn’t know that Namjoon hasn’t told me about meeting her here, doesn’t know that Namjoon lied to get my unconscious consent.

I grit my teeth, eyes narrowing into daggers at the man sliding in the seat opposite mine, next to her. He’s dead meat in my eyes, and if looks could kill, I’ve already assassinated him twice and stabbed his heart a million times before feeding him to the sharks.

I’ve been played. I’ve been lied to.

I can’t ing believe it.

I’m still reeling from shock and betrayal when a waiter passes by, asking for our order. I quickly mumble mine in hopes that I don’t crumble underneath the sudden pressure that’s pushing down onto my shoulders, the crack of armour I’m wearing against my logic and reasoning in hopes that I don’t burst into a fit of anger.

“Namjoon told me that you’re very busy, with the exams coming up and all.” Haeryung’s voice is as delicate as mine is rough. It surges with angelic notes, very feminine, one that makes you want to strain your ears to fall into its spell, “I’m sorry if we’re disturbing you.”

“Mhm,” I hum, mouth pressed into a flat line. There’s no use denying that statement nor agreeing with it. And I’m certainly not doing the latter.

“He talks a lot about you,” Haeryung says while crossing her arms before her chest. She looks so excited and happy to see me, and I can’t say that the feeling is reciprocated. I’m surprised she hasn’t taken note of the negative emotions emanating from my being the moment my touched the seat. It’s almost a tangible taste at the back of my mouth, something that resembles a bit like jealousy, but not quite.

I’ll kill myself before admitting that I’m jealous.

Jealousy is for the weak. It gnaws at you from the inside without reason and sometimes makes you careless in your actions, careless in the words you speak.

“So, what are your plans after school?” Haeryung asks.

I shrug, “Apply for uni. Hopefully I’ll get into the program I want.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Linguistics. Translator maybe.” For formalities, I guess I have to force the question out of my throat even though I already know what she wants to study, “And what about you?”

“I want to be a doctor. So I’m busy preparing for my entry Medical exam as well as the finals. They only take the 100 best and there’s a lot of competition for that. Namjoon’s taking it too, right?”

Namjoon nods, “Yeah. It’s just going to get tougher.”

“ to be you.” I take a jab at him, still seething from what he’s done, the wound still just as fresh as five minutes ago. He throws me a scowl from his seat and I gladly let a smirk flicker past my lips as I take a sip of the scalding cup of coffee that got deposited before me a few moments ago.

This is getting more and more awkward by the minute, and I’m torn between the want to scream out loud until my lungs ache, or to dash to the door and make a run for it as quickly as I can without them noticing.

My hand finds its way to my coffee cup and I twirl the spoon absentmindedly, focusing on the tinkling of the porcelain gracing over aluminum, glad that at least i have a distraction to keep my eyes away from the couple sitting in front of me.

Why isn’t Namjoon saying anything?

Why isn’t Haeryung talking?

Why are they so awkward?

It hits me then, because I realize that there’s nothing else to say.

“Do you work, Yehwa?” Haeryung suddenly pipes up with a question and for a second, I’m almost grateful when the silence is filled with her voice.

I shoot a look at Namjoon but he’s clearly lost in his own thoughts, looking out of the window with unfocused brown orbs.

“Not yet,” I reply, “I’ve planned to look for a job as soon as finals are done. What about you?”

“I’ve yet to decide whether I want an internship or a real job, because of the money,” She laughs nervously, and I manage a smile of my own, “I would love to work with kids, actually. Been meaning to do some volunteer work with kinder gardeners but I don’t think I’m qualified enough for the job.”