“God, I can’t stand it when you’re quiet,” Kyungsoo remarks without even sparing you a glance as he picks out bunches of parsley from the stand. “I know there’s something bothering you, so just tell me to get it off your chest and you can get back to your usual annoying smartass self.”

You sigh, thinking about what to say as you watch Kyungsoo scrutinizing the parsley like he’s going to use them for a Michelin-star dish instead of a modest brunch.

It’s been tradition for the past four years for you and Kyungsoo to go out and get groceries a day before your birthday. You hate grocery shopping and usually have stuff delivered to your apartment instead, but you endure it once a year because it’s the least you can do for Kyungsoo; he always fixes up an amazing brunch on your birthday, and even though you know that he just volunteers to show off, you can’t deny that his cooking is worth showing off.

Kyungsoo turns to look at you and arches an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer.

“Alright,” you finally say, “but let me ask you something first.”

“What?”

“Remember Ms. Jeon?”

“Who doesn’t remember her? She’s all everyone talked about last term. It was annoying. What about her?”

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about why she did what she did. Have you?”

“What’s there to think about?” Kyungsoo asks. Once he’s finally found a parsley bunch that’s up to his standard, he places it in the cart and moves on to the next stand with you trailing behind him. “What she did was inappropriate. There’s nothing more to it, really.”

Hearing it from Kyungsoo that way, with no holds barred, is like a slap of reality to the face. You have always admired Kyungsoo’s unflinching honesty, even if it sometimes comes at your expense.

It was inappropriate, wasn’t it? It doesn’t take a genius to come to that conclusion. But now that it’s happening to you, now that you’re put in a position that you once viewed — and still view, for the most part — as wrong, it’s quite easy to forget that it is.

“Yeah, I know,” you answer in a small voice. “Still, I can’t help but feel bad for her. We don’t choose who we love. We just… do.”

Kyungsoo thinks about it for a moment. “That’s true. Well, in most contexts, at least. But her and Juyeon’s case is different. There are a lot of complicated variables.”

Complicated. That’s how a lot of things are for you and Junmyeon, too.

Kyungsoo moves on to the garlic, which all look exactly the same to you but to him, some are apparently not worthy to be included in tomorrow’s brunch dishes. He’d taught you before how to differentiate good produce from bad ones, but the lesson just didn’t stick for some reason. It’s as if you’re just naturally bad at important life skills.

“Are they still together?” you ask. “I haven’t heard about Ms. Jeon or Juyeon since they left school.”

Saying Juyeon’s name out loud after a whole term of whispering it since it was so taboo then feels weird as it rolls off your tongue. Saying it almost feels like a sin.

But even after all that has happened, no one can deny that Juyeon was a nice guy. He was part of the folio, but he didn’t talk a lot and just did what he was supposed to do while drawing as little attention as possible to himself. He wasn’t the type of guy you’d think would do something as scandalous as dating a professor. No one really thought much about him, until the rumors started.

“As far as I know, they’re still together,” Kyungsoo replies. “I remember Jihyun seeing an Instagram post of them or something. Good for them, I guess. I just wish they waited until Juyeon’s graduation. Or at least until Ms. Jeon wasn’t a professor in the school anymore.”

“It’s about the timing, then?”

“Not entirely, no. Like I said, their case is complicated. They’re both consenting adults, and that’s fine in any other situation, I guess… But Ms. Jeon’s in a position of authority. She’s a professor. And since Juyeon’s one of her students, their power dynamic is inherently skewed to her favor. Even if her intentions are essentially good, it would always seem like she’s taking advantage of him. Not a good look overall.”

You should already know all of that.

You should already know why Ms. Jeon had to be fired, why Juyeon had to be expelled. So why are you still asking Kyungsoo the same thing like you’re expecting him to give a different answer from the one you should already have?

Why is it that when it comes to Junmyeon, you find it difficult to listen to reason?

“But what does that have to do with the thing that’s been bothering you?” Kyungsoo asks.

Somehow, you know that he already has the answer to his question — he’s just asking again because he needs to hear it from you. It should come from you.

“You’re going to be so disappointed in me,” you say as a caveat, the sentence barely audible as it leaves your lips.

Kyungsoo loses interest in the garlic and looks you straight in the eye instead. “Maybe,” he says. “I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll try my best to understand. And I’ll try my best to help you. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do as your friend?”

He has a point. Friends aren’t there to tolerate everything you do; it’s inevitable for them to disagree with some of the things you do and some of the choices you make, but that doesn’t mean they’ll love you any less.

Alright, you concede to yourself. I’ll have to tell them sooner or later, anyway.

“Something happened during the folio trip. I’m sure Jihyun said something,” you say.

“Jihyun tells me lots of things,” Kyungsoo replies, “but yeah, I’ve heard a thing or two about weird stuff that happened that weekend.”

“Weird how?”

“Well…” Kyungsoo trails off, like he’s trying to find a way to say what he’s about to with the most delicate words as possible. “You and Mr. Kim… She told me there’s something off between you two. You keep avoiding each other.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers start fiddling with the hem of your shirt — a habit of yours when you’re anxious.

It’s much more difficult to say it out loud than you’d previously imagined. Perhaps it’s because you’re still having trouble believing it yourself, that you’re in a situation that you never would’ve guessed you’d find yourself in.

You heave a deep sigh. Time to let the cat out of the bag.

“I don’t know how to describe it, exactly,” you admit.

It doesn’t feel right to say that there’s something going on between you and Junmyeon, because he’s trying his best not to let anything happen. He’s been avoiding you since you read that stupid poem. The only real conversation you’ve had with him since that is during the folio trip, and even then, even when he’d told you point blank that he has feelings for you too, he’d distanced himself immediately right after.

“Junmyeon — Mr. Kim and I… We’ve confessed some things to each other. That’s why he’s avoiding me,” you say after a while. Even though Kyungsoo hasn’t said anything yet, you feel the need to defend yourself. “But that’s all there is to it, I swear. Nothing else happened.”

How can anything else happen, really, when Junmyeon is avoiding you like the plague?

Kyungsoo stares at you, his face difficult to read. As expected, he doesn’t seem surprised. Perhaps you were right all along, that he and Jihyun already know the things that you aren’t telling them.

His face then twists into worry when he realizes something. “If your dad finds out, he’ll—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. “I know.”

Quite frankly, however, how your dad will take it is the last thing on your mind right now, and it’s not because you don’t care about what he’ll think. As a matter of fact, you’re terrified of what he’ll say and do if he finds out.

But word doesn’t have to reach your dad to send through the fan — it just has to reach the wrong people. You might stand a chance of not being expelled because of your dad’s position at the university, but Junmyeon will be fired. There’s no doubt about that. If worse comes to worst, he might never work in the academe again.

Even if you haven’t technically done anything incriminating yet, you can’t help but prematurely think of its consequences.

You’re certain that the same things are running through Junmyeon’s mind right now, which is why he’s doing everything he can to steer clear of you.

It’s a wise thing for him to do — that, you acknowledge — but you can’t help but feel hurt at how you can no longer act like the way you did before with him, how he always has to keep himself at a distance now that you both know how each other feels, how you can’t even smile at him without guilt gnawing at your chest.

You hate how you never chose nor planned to feel this way toward him, but in the end, it’s still ultimately your fault.

Kyungsoo goes back to sorting garlic, filling a plastic bag with a quarter kilo of bulbs.

“How long have you and Jihyun known?”

He seems to understand even without you being specific. “A while,” he answers. “I mean, we didn’t know know, but we had a hunch. I don’t know if it’s just because we’re your friends and we know you better than most people, but we’ve noticed that you look at Mr. Kim, um, differently.”

“Differently…?”

“Like how you used to look at Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo explains.

You notice how he said ‘used to’ — past tense.

Kyungsoo gets the garlic tagged and then moves on to the next aisle.

“Speaking of Chanyeol,” you say, “is he coming tomorrow?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Apparently, he has band practice. He told me to tell you happy birthday, and I told him that he should stop being such a big baby and just come hang out with us again. It’s your birthday, for ’s sake.”

You want to say, ‘He’ll come around,’ but you aren’t too sure about that anymore. Maybe it’s time to accept that the friendship you had with Chanyeol before will never come back.

“I just realized something,” Kyungsoo says.

“What?”

“You have a knack for complicated relationships.”

That makes you chuckle despite the heaviness of your chest. “I wish I knew how to make it less complicated.”

“You already know how,” Kyungsoo answers without hesitation. “The trick is making the right choice while knowing what you know.”

Kyungsoo makes it sound so easy. But do you trust yourself enough to do that — to choose what is right even if it’s not necessarily what you want?

“I just hope I don’t have to make that choice too soon,” you say, having no idea how awfully wrong you are.

* * *

The following morning, you wake up to the sound of obnoxious knocking on the front door of your apartment which can only be Jihyun and Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo goes straight to the kitchen while you set the table and Jihyun keeps the wines they’ve brought for later. In no time, your apartment is filled with the delicious smell of Kyungsoo’s cooking.

For four years now, you and your friends have spent birthdays like this: a modest celebration in the celebrant’s apartment, with nothing but good food and good friends.

It’s the first year, however, that Chanyeol isn’t here.

The room does feel a bit bigger whenever you and your friends get together and he’s not around. Perhaps it’s because the four of you had spent so many years together and now that there’s one less person, now that the space that Chanyeol used to fill is empty, his absence is the most noticeable thing.

But that isn’t your problem, you realize. Jihyun and Kyungsoo don’t need to be dragged into your and Chanyeol’s mistakes, and if Chanyeol chooses that over friendship, then that’s on him.

You’re done punishing yourself for the things that Chanyeol does.

“Stop thinking about Chanyeol,” Jihyun says out of the blue as if she can hear your thoughts. Well, she might as well can, given how she always seems to know what you’re thinking with just one look at your face.

Lying would be pointless, so you admit it instead. “I just wish he remembers that we were friends before… Well, before things got weird between us. That we were friends before anything else.”

“I’m sure he remembers,” Jihyun assures you. “Maybe he needs a little more time. I’m sure it’s hard for him to admit that he needs some more growing up to do. I mean… he ed up, and I’m not taking his side or anything, but isn’t it difficult to admit to yourself that you’ve screwed things over?”

“Yeah,” you answer. You do know that it isn’t easy to acknowledge that you’re in the wrong.

“Maybe we should’ve invited Mr. Kim instead,” Kyungsoo butts in as he places the final dish — his signature spaghetti alle vongole — on the table.

You and Jihyun give him a blank stare.

“What?” he plays dumb. “Too soon for a joke?”

The three of you share a chuckle after that, and you realize that it’s your first genuine smile for the past week. You’ve almost forgotten how good it feels, and you’re grateful for Kyungsoo for uplifting the mood somehow.

You finally get to eat the amazing brunch spread Kyungsoo has prepared after that. You temporarily forget all the things you’ve been overthinking for the past week and just focus on how Jihyun and Kyungsoo are there with you, how they always seem to be there when you need them the most. They’re one of the few constants in your often chaotic life, and you intend to keep them that way.

After brunch, you head over to Siwon’s place to (finally) pick your car up after two long months of it being out of commission. You’ve brought with you a couple of slices from the vanilla cake Kyungsoo had baked for you.

“What’s the cake for, kid?” Siwon asks when you hand him the small boxes.

You almost don’t hear his question as you’re busy craning your neck to look for a certain someone, your heart sinking to your feet when you realize that he isn’t there. Siwon waves his hand in front of your face to call your attention.

“Oh. My friend baked it today for my birthday. It’s really good, and I thought I should share some with you. Think of it as a small thank you gift.”

“You should’ve told me it was your birthday,” Siwon says with a huge smile as he ruffles your hair. “I would’ve gotten you something. Happy birthday, kid.”

You smile despite rolling your eyes, swatting his hand away. Meeting Siwon is one of the good things that came out of your little accident with Junmyeon. “Nah, it’s fine,” you say. “Thanks, Siwon. For the car, too. I’ll miss hanging out here.”

“What are you talking about? You can visit anytime! Heck, I feel like my sister likes you better as a sibling more than me,” he says. He pauses for a while, realizing something. “Er, are you looking for something? Or someone?”

You freeze, realizing only now that your eyes keep darting around the place unconsciously. “No, I’m just—”

But Siwon doesn’t let you finish your sentence. “What date is it again?” he asks no one in particular, narrowing his eyes as he tries to remember. “It’s the 15th, right?” You nod. “Ah, Junmyeon is probably at Casa de Esperanza. He goes there every March 15, even back when I first met him in college. I think he’s been going for way longer. Maybe even before I knew him.”

“Casa de Esperanza? The children’s home on Willoughby?”

“That’s the one,” Siwon confirms. “He donates there often. He does volunteer work, too. Like reading to the kids and other stuff.”

Suddenly, an idea springs in your mind. You glance at your wristwatch. “Do you think he’s still there?”

“Hmm. Probably. He usually spends the whole day there. Why?”

“Maybe I should volunteer for my birthday,” you say with a faint smile.

You’ve been to Casa de Esperanza once before, during an immersion in your freshman year. Admittedly, you’re not fond of children, but you are fond of teaching — a realization you’ve become aware of during that immersion.

There’s something about seeing that sparkle in children’s eyes while they learn, the look of pure adoration in their faces while you teach them mundane things like how to add fractions or how to pronounce a particular word or how to read the short and long hands of a clock. Even if those are seemingly small things, for children they’re incredibly grand, and hearing even the tiniest of thank yous from them is enough to warm your entire being. To encapsulate it in a single word, it’s fulfilling.

Could that also be Junmyeon’s reason for volunteering here? In a bigger sense, could that be why he’s a professor? There are a lot of things about him that you’re curious of, perhaps because you want to substantiate your bubbling feelings for him. That’s why you came here — to know him better, to have a deeper understanding of him, even (especially) when he’s resolute in pushing himself away.

From the outside, Casa de Esperanza looks like every other school in the city with its white faded columns and long windows. There’s a small park slash playground nestled right in the middle of the rectangular building like an amphitheater, but instead of tiers of seats, the central space is surrounded by three floors of corridors.

Nothing much has changed since your visit four years ago, except that there’s noticeably more children running around the building. On the one hand, more kids means the place is noisier and thus livelier, but on the other, it also means that more children have lost parents, homes, and families.

A woman with long, dark hair framing her round face approaches you when it becomes obvious that you’re looking for something. She looks young, but definitely older than you; probably around Junmyeon’s age.

“Hi,” she says with a kind, gummy smile. “Can I help you with something? Are you looking for the adoption office?”

You shake your head, nervously chuckling at her suggestion. “I’m, um, looking for someone. I heard he’s volunteering today.”

“Ah, Junmyeon.” You notice how the woman’s lips have curled into a teasing smile. “He just started another class. By any chance…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

“No, no,” you answer almost immediately. You hope your face isn’t as red as it feels. “I’m just…” you trail off. A friend? That doesn’t sound right. Someone whom Junmyeon confessed to having feelings for? That sounds like a mouthful. Finally, you settle on the safest answer, “I’m his student. He teaches Contemporary Literature at the university I attend.”

“Ah… That’s a shame. For a second I got excited…”

“Sorry?”

The woman laughs. “We’ve been bugging to date ever since…” she stops herself, but you’re certain that she was about to say ‘ever since Joohyun’ before she faltered, probably thinking that you don’t already know. “We just want to see him happy. It’s been a while since we saw him with anyone.” When you don’t say anything after that, she goes to say, “Oh, where are my manners!  I’m Go-eun, by the way.”

You shake her extended hand and then introduce yourself. “Seems like you’ve known Junmyeon for quite some time.”

“You could say that,” she nods. “We grew up together. Here.” She looks around, and then the realization dawns on you that she means here as in the children’s home.

“Oh. I… I didn’t know that.”

Go-eun gives you another gummy smile. “S’okay. You learn something new every day. Want a tour of the place?”

“I’d love to.”

Go-eun tells you all kinds of stories as the two of you walk around the children’s home. You learn that she’d been here since she was a baby, while Junmyeon had arrived when he was about five, after his biological parents passed on. They’ve been inseparable since.

Go-eun was never adopted, so she stayed here until she turned eighteen and could legally be on her own. Junmyeon had been luckier; he was adopted by an old rich couple, which is why he’d afforded to attend good schools and live quite a comfortable life.

But Go-eun tells you that even after all of that, Junmyeon is still the same dorky five-year-old kid who drools in his sleep she first met, and she’s thankful for it — she’s thankful that Junmyeon never forgot his family at the children’s home, the family that had welcomed him after a painful loss.

“That’s why he comes here every March 15 to read to the kids,” Go-eun tells you, “because it was the day he was adopted.”

“He was eleven when he was adopted, is that right?”

“Almost,” Go-eun replies. “It was about two months before his birthday, so technically he was still ten then.”

You count the years back. “March 15… 1998?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s…” …my birthday, you want to say, but you change your mind at the last second. “It’s nothing,” you shake your head. “I was just asking.”

Go-eun shrugs after that, but doesn’t say anything more.

While she continues on with the tour, all you can think about is how everything between you and Junmyeon seems to be intertwined. First, he’d turned out to be your professor after that accident, and now… this. You believe more in coincidence than in fate, but you have to admit that the universe has an odd sense of humor in how it allowed you and Junmyeon to meet, to cross paths while sharing an important day in both of your lives.

Go-eun leads you into a classroom on the ground floor. The room looks like a typical classroom for preschoolers, with multicolored shapes and drawings taped onto the wall and bright playmats sprawled across the floor.

There are about two dozen or so children seated in a semicircle on the floor. In front of them is Junmyeon seated on a small, pink stool, holding out to them a green picture book you’d recognize anywhere.

“…and so the boy cut down her trunk,” Junmyeon read aloud, “and made a boat and sailed away. And the tree was happy… but not really.”

His voice echoes through the room like a spell, and everyone in earshot can’t help but listen to him. He enunciates every syllable, every word fervently. All the children pay attention as if they’re in a trance. They all look at him with wide eyes and intent faces. You can’t help but stare at him a little, too.

Junmyeon continues: “And after a long time the boy came back again. ‘I am sorry, Boy,’ said the tree, ‘but I have nothing left to give you — my apples are gone.’

‘My teeth are too weak for apples,’ said the boy.

‘My branches are gone,’ said the tree. ‘I cannot swing on them—’

‘I am too old to swing on branches,’ said the boy.

‘My trunk is gone,’ said the tree. ‘You cannot climb—’

‘I am too tired to climb,’ said the boy.

‘I am sorry,’ sighed the tree. ‘I wish that I could give you something… but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump. I am sorry… ’

‘I don’t need very much now,’ said the boy, ‘just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.’

‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, ‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’”

The room is so quiet that you would’ve heard a pin drop if it wasn’t for Junmyeon’s commanding voice. Everyone is so absorbed in the story he’s telling — even you, someone who’s heard this story a million times before.

“And the boy did,” Junmyeon goes on, “and the tree was happy.” He closed the green picture book and showed the kids its cover. “The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein.”

The children erupt into applause. Junmyeon smiles at them with so much warmth that you realize that he genuinely loves what he’s doing and that he genuinely loves the kids.

“That’s a great story, isn’t it?” Go-eun says all of a sudden, and everyone turns to where the two of you are standing at the back of the room.

“Yes!” the children shout in unison.

Go-eun goes to the front of the classroom and takes the reins from Junmyeon, asking kids about the moral of the story. Junmyeon excuses himself and walks toward you. The smile is gone from his face, surprise replacing it.

“Why are you—”

“I, um, picked up my car at Siwon’s.” You hold up your car keys for Junmyeon to see. “He told me you’d be here, so… I wanted to say hi. Sorry if I just…” you trail off when you realize that he’s been looking at your car keys longer than necessary.

Then you understand what he’s staring at: the bunny keychain dangling from the keyring, the one he’d won for you when you went to the Cresmont Carnival. You remember promising to yourself that you’ll hang it along with your car keys, and now you have. That weekend seems so long ago… Almost like a lifetime ago. So much has changed.

You put the car keys back in your pocket. “I’m sorry if I just came without telling you. I’ll… I’ll go now.”

“Wait,” Junmyeon says, gently grabbing you by the wrist when you turn away. “It’s okay. Stay. Let me show you around.”

You try to ignore the wild beating of your heart because of Junmyeon’s hand on you. “Go-eun already gave me a tour.”

“Let’s just talk, then,” Junmyeon says. “Over ice cream. We can steal some from Go-eun’s secret stash in the kitchen.”

The chuckle falls from your lips before you even realize it. Junmyeon almost sounds like the way he did before. Carefree. Comical. Candid.

“Okay,” you say.

* * *

After a quick detour to the kitchen to grab two spoons and steal Go-eun’s pint of strawberry ice cream from the fridge like Junmyeon had promised, he leads you to the small green space in the middle of the children’s home.

The two of you sit on one of the playground benches. Children are playing all around, laughing on the seesaw and dangling on the monkey bars and building odd shapes on the sandbox, their laughter filling the miniature park.

Junmyeon opens the pint and you share the ice cream in silence, which goes on for a few minutes. About ten mouthfuls of ice cream later, Junmyeon finally speaks up.

“I’m guessing Go-eun already told you some stuff about us and this place.”

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s nice, what you do for this place. All the kids seem to love you.”

Junmyeon smiles sheepishly. “It’s nothing. I just wanna give back, you know? I spent five years of my life here, and even if that may seem like a short amount of time, I feel like this is where I grew up. It’s weird, because… I have more vivid memories about this place than my parents — my biological parents.”

“Can I ask how they, um…”

“Plane crash,” Junmyeon says. “Business trip went wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I don’t even remember their faces anymore… I just feel this familiar warmth whenever I try to remember them, but I can’t recall anything about them.”

Suddenly the strawberry ice cream doesn’t look so appetizing anymore. Junmyeon looks straight ahead, his eyes distant and glassy.

“Go-eun thought I was adopting when I arrived,” you say, changing the topic to something a bit lighter. “Do I look that old?”

Junmyeon cracks a small smile. “To be fair, she thinks everyone who arrives is adopting. I can’t blame her. She, more than anyone, wants every kid here to find a home. I mean, it’s not bad in here, but having a home and parents and all that… Every kid deserves that.”

“They do,” you agree.

You can’t imagine how it must’ve felt like for Go-eun and the other children who never got adopted, how they spent eighteen years of their life practically alone. Even if they were well taken care of here, it still must’ve felt lonely at times.

Junmyeon takes another spoonful of ice cream. “By the way… Did Go-eun say anything weird? I’ll kill her if she did.”

“Uh, depends on how you’d define weird.”

Junmyeon stares at you blankly, knowing fully that you’re deflecting the question.

“Okay, fine,” you concede. “She thought I was, um, a girlfriend when I mentioned I was looking for you. She almost mentioned Joohyun’s name, too. That’s all.” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, probably at Go-eun and not at you. “You ever brought Joohyun here?”

It takes Junmyeon a while to answer. “Once,” he finally says, “about a month before I proposed to her. Well, you already know how the rest of that goes.”

You finish the rest of the ice cream, your lips to get the last of it off. Junmyeon takes both of your plastic spoons and puts them into the now-empty pint. You wonder how Go-eun’s going to react when she doesn’t find the strawberry ice cream she’d cleverly concealed at the back of the fridge.

It must’ve been late in the afternoon because the sky is already turning a mellow shade of pink, almost the same color of the ice cream you were just having a few moments ago.

Junmyeon looks up at the sky. You can’t help but stare at him, especially with the soft hue of the sky reflecting on his eyes. It reminds you of how he looked when the two of you were eating cheeseburgers and slurping milkshakes as you watched the sunset over Millfield Bay.

“Twilight,” Junmyeon says out of the blue.

“What?”

“Like in your poem,” he explains, still staring at the sky. “‘…the color of twilight and wine, a color for dreamers…’” Color rushes to your cheeks. How had he even memorized that from just one listen? “I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Hmm?”

“Of all the wonderful things in the world to write poetry about, why pick something so uninteresting like me?”

Because it’s weird how we always find each other in the oddest of times. Because I feel lighter when you’re around. Because you always challenge me to be better. Because you teach me to be more sure of myself. Because I find myself smiling whenever I randomly remember something you’ve said or done. Because I know that feeling these things about you is wrong, and I can’t tell anyone about it, so I have to let it out in other ways or else I’m going to combust.

Those are all the things you want to say.

“I don’t know,” you lie.

As the sun sets lower and lower, more and more children leave the playground. The seesaws have gone still, the monkey bars quiet, the sandbox empty except for crumbling mounds of sand that were once shapes.

The air has gotten colder, too, and not just in the literal sense.

It’s your turn to break the silence. “I know you’re a literature teacher and all, but, how did you even know that the poem was about you?”

“I didn’t,” Junmyeon says, “until the last quatrain. ‘…since the day we met at that avenue…’ The look you gave me after you read that just confirmed my worst fears.”

Your heart drops to your feet. “I’m a worst fear, then?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Junmyeon says, his voice soft. “As much as I want… No. I shouldn’t even want. I’m worried about you, is all. You’re not the worst fear. What I’m afraid of are the consequences of me feeling this way. And I can’t let those happen to you. You’re so close to graduating. I won’t be able to forgive myself if I ruin that for you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. So… please understand why I have to be careful around you.”

You don’t say anything after that.

Of course you understand. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t be hurt by it. Neither of you had wanted this to happen — it just did, and because it isn’t right, you both have to step back, even if it’s painful to do so.

A shrill notification tone resounds from Junmyeon’s jeans pocket. He pulls out his phone and reads the text he’d just received.

“It’s Siwon,” he says. He pauses for a few seconds. “Wait… It’s your birthday today?”

“What did he say?” you ask, snatching Junmyeon’s phone away from him. The text reads:

[ Siwon, 17:42 ]

it’s the kid’s bday. u still not talking?

at least greet her, u

“How come you told him and not me?” Junmyeon asks.

The scoff escapes your lips before you stop yourself. “Maybe if you didn’t avoid me all the time I could’ve told you.”

Junmyeon winces at your bluntness. “Sorry,” he whispers, and you immediately regret having said anything. He’s in a bind as much as you are, you realize. It isn’t fair to him, either.

“It’s getting late,” you say, eager to change the topic. “Maybe I should get going…”

“Let me drive you home, then. Give me your keys.”

“What about your car?”

“I didn’t bring my car,” he replies. He stands up from the bench, throwing the empty pint of ice cream into the nearest bin, and then holds out his palm in front of you. “I’ll just take a cab home from your place or something.”

When you realize that he won’t take no for an answer, you hand him your keys. “Don’t crash it, okay? Siwon just got it redone.”

Junmyeon laughs. God, it sounds like music to your ears. You’ve missed him so much. “Yes ma’am,” he says.

The drive home had been silent. Junmyeon asks you little things from time to time: how you spent the day before you came to see him, who you spent it with. He smiles fondly when you mention Jihyun and Kyungsoo, like he’s happy too that they’re your friends.

By the time you arrive at your apartment building, the sun has completely set. The streetlights along the thoroughfare of the residential neighborhood have flickered to life.

Junmyeon follows you when you step out of the car, awkwardly handing you back your keys. You notice how his eyes linger at the bunny keychain a little longer than necessary.

“So…” he begins to say, “um, Happy Birthday.”

“That’s it?” you tease.

Junmyeon scratches the back of his neck. It’s unusual to see him flustered, but he looks… well, cute. “I could’ve bought you something if I knew…”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I was just kidding.”

“Is there anything you want? You’ll still accept late gifts, right?”

But you can’t give me what I want, you say in your mind.

Then the wildest thing crosses your mind. You look around the street, making sure no one is around. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. Is it okay to do this? you ask yourself. Maybe… Just this once… 

“I don’t want gifts,” you say. “But can you do something for me?”

“As long as I can do it,” Junmyeon answers.

You can hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears. “It’s easy…” you whisper. “Just stay still.”

Junmyeon does as he’s asked.

Time slows down after that.

You walk toward him, your heart about to burst in your chest, your eyes fixed on his. Before your courage wavers, you gingerly cup his cheeks in your hands, stand on your tiptoes, and…

“What are you…” Junmyeon begins to whisper.

But the words get lost as you press your lips against his.

Junmyeon freezes, completely stunned. He blinks in surprise, but after a few seconds…

…he kisses you back.

I’ll probably regret this, you hear your subconscious nagging you at the back of your mind, but the fire catching in your chest overwhelms it in a flash, melting all your worries away until the only thing you can think about is how soft Junmyeon’s lips are against yours.