“Who was that boy?” Her mother asks.

Noeul isn’t sure what to think of from her mother’s tone. Sometimes, her mother asked her questions that she didn’t want answers to. And when Noeul did answer them, she would receive a look of disdain, a scowl here, and a frown there.

But the long silence indicated that her mother actually wanted an answer this time.

So, Noeul lifts her head away to meet her mother’s eyes. “That’s Baekhyun.”

Her mother hums eerily, “why don’t you go talk to him?”

She falters, her eyes naturally tracing the path back to the boy. “I’m not sure.”

“This boy…” her mother croons, “you like him?”

Noeul startles, surprised by the question and why her mother would think to ask her that in the first place. She didn’t do much more than stare. Or admire him afar. It was innocent. There was nothing there, or so Noeul hoped.

At her reluctance, her mother grips Noeul’s hand tighter as she glances quickly to Baekhyun and back to her mother. She winces because it hurts, and she’s not sure why her mother is being so rough. Or where she’s gotten the strength to do so in the first place.

He stands near an older woman who is already carrying an infant in her arms. His clothes are dirty and old as if he hasn’t been looked after in a long, long time.

Her mother continues to stare at her expectantly. So, Noeul mumbles out a half-hearted no if only to finally end her own misery. She fixes on the concrete, focusing on each tiny pebble embedded into the ground.

They were small. Just like her. She always felt so…small.

“Speak louder, darling. I’m hard of hearing,” her mother decrees, her tone reaching a scary height.

Noeul doesn’t want to look up anymore. “I don’t like him. I don’t know him…like that,” she answers unsteadily.

Her mother proceeds to smile, running her hand through Noeul’s hair. Hair that took about an hour. All the maids told her she was beautiful, but Noeul didn’t feel beautiful. She wished she didn’t have such a tight dress on. She wished that hair wasn’t pulled back so tightly. She felt suffocated. She wanted to leave.

“You’re a good girl, Noeul,” her mother says. “Boys like that grow up to become bad news. You won’t have a future that you deserve with boys like him.”

Noeul like any other child listened to her mother. It wasn’t a matter of raising questions because quite frankly, in her household, there was no space for questions. Sometimes, it felt like there was no space at all for her. Her mother always reminded her that Noeul was prettiest only when she was quiet.

If being quiet was all it took then she would shut . Because without her mother, she was nothing.

Noeul really, truly believed that for the longest time. Up until as of late, her perspective’s been shifting and molding and here she was.

Finding herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame and doing the exact opposite of what her mother’s told her.

Noeul isn’t sure why she feels the need to watch him sleep. Baekhyun squirmed in his sleep and gasped for air every so often. Maybe she wanted to fool herself that she was simply watching out for him.

Caring about him was another thing on its own, and she wasn’t sure she could cope with that.

Even if it was the truth.

He’s doing it again. His eyebrows meeting in the middle, the serious wrinkles on his forehead, and the thrashing of his arms—Noeul worries he’ll hurt himself. So, she sits upright and gently taps his shoulder. On the third tap, he springs up, eyes wide and frantic. And then he’s gasping for air like he hasn’t had it for days.

She shushes him softly, pulling him into her neck. Baekhyun’s breathing is fast, so she rubs his back in big, comforting circles—like Mrs. Herman used to do for her when she had nightmares. “You’ll be okay. No one can hurt you, Baekhyun. I promise,” she whispers into his ear.

He tightens his arms around her waist. She tugs him down until they’re lying side by side. Yet, he doesn’t let go of her. They stay like this, and he’s holding her like he’s done it a million times.

“Are you okay?”

Baekhyun exhales tightly. “I think so.”

Noeul listens to his heartbeat, relieved that it’s calmed to a normal pace. She waits for one or two beats before saying, “sorry.”

He squeezes her in his arms, speaking his question into her hair. “For what?”

She pushes herself away from his chest to meet his eyes. “For everything. I’m sorry for how the world treats you.”

He coughs out an incredulous laugh. “It’s not your fault.” He doesn’t believe that she’s truly sorry for it. Why would he?

Noeul thumbs his jaw with her other hand. “I know, but you’re angry…aren’t you? We all are. We’re given , and no one ever apologizes for it.”

“We?”

She freezes. Crap. All she can do is pretend. Pretend that she wasn’t projecting. “I’m speaking generally.”

Baekhyun readjusts himself, and now she can see exactly how he’s looking at her. Noeul suddenly feels shy, so her solution is to meet her forehead with his. It wasn’t the best choice per se. It was definitely intimate, but she wanted to hide. She couldn’t pretend to smile, and she’d also been afraid that he could see the gaping cracks on her facade.

He touches her softly where his arm is wrapped around her waist. “What could possibly hurt you?” His question hadn’t been mocking like the other times. This time, he sounded earnest, and it scared her. She could take his sharp words a million times over, but this? She couldn’t let herself be so vulnerable, could she?

Noeul stares at his lips, trying to distract herself from answering. Baekhyun has a mole right above his top lip. “What about you?” She echoes.

“You,” he whispers.

She pauses, having to catch her breath and regain her composure. He’s caught her off guard once again. Finally, Noeul asks, “me?”

“I feel like an open book in front of you,” he says.

Noeul bites her bottom lip, almost guilty. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles so softly it’s barely there, but it does its damage. Because her insides feel fuzzy and her head feels funny.

“I want to be your friend,” she tells him as if this will help her case. Noeul didn’t have a good feeling, but it was worth a try.

“My friend? Why would you want that?”

“Because you’re interesting, Baekhyun.”

He answers with a good-humored snort.

She glides her fingers on his throat as they fall into silence. For a while, they listen to the distant bass from next door’s party and each breath that they take. She’s afraid to break this silence. They didn’t have a very good track record of pleasant conversations.

“I wanna take advantage of you,” he says, breaking it. Yet, he’s not doing anything to reflect his words.

“It wouldn’t be taking advantage of me, would it? How do you know that I don’t want to take advantage of you?

“You don’t have it in you, doll.”

“Okay,” she says nonchalantly.

“That’s it? You’re not putting up a fight?”

From her nonresponse, Baekhyun pulls her back into him. And she allows herself to bury her face in his chest. He smells like the woods she got lost in a while back. Dangerous with a cosmic amount of beauty. Such was he.

“My mother told me I was prettier when I kept my mouth shut,” Noeul tells him. She hadn’t meant to get so dark, but it happened, tumbling right out of .

His fingers find themselves in her hair, and he rubs her nape as if he were legitimately soothing her. “Well, she’s wrong because I like you whatever way you come, doll.”

She doesn’t bother answering, but she does tangle her legs with his.

###

When Noeul was eight, she thought love was magical. Her mother always looked happy with her father. Sometimes, their love seemingly blended into her surroundings, making her dull days a little brighter than usual. They spent the majority of the holidays together. Every Valentine’s day, he would send her mother flowers.

She would watch her mother’s cheeks light up with happiness as if he was the very thing she lived her entire life for.

Noeul’s deep dark secret was the jealousy she bore for her father. He never could spare a glance at her because, at the end of the day, all his attention was on her mother. Her mother, too, lost in the same world as him. So, naturally, Noeul resigned to the fate of being forgotten. Having to constantly stare at the backs of the two adults who didn't so much give a about the daughter they brought into this world.

And then, her mother died, and the very last thing she remembered her mother telling her was the no boys until you were grown rule. Or in her mother’s eyes, at least high-status.

Except, in this instance, Noeul wasn’t an adult. And her mother was dead.

Noeul stirs awake, stretching on her side. As she arches her back, she feels something hard prodding her. Heat stirs below her stomach, and she does it again. She feels something grip her waist. Frightened, she spins around. She can see her reflection in Baekhyun’s dark eyes.

In his eyes, she sees a wide-eyed girl with flushed cheeks. He holds her tightly, stopping any more of her movement.

“I’m back!”

Noeul’s door bursts open and before she can even begin to think, she was already pulling the blanket over the two of them. Baekhyun’s eyes search her for answers, but she’s too busy trying to hide the evidence of him.

When he opens his mouth, she rolls herself onto him, pressing her palm flat to his lips. He stills, only to blink at her.

“Dude, is it just me, or did you gain a few pounds?”

Baekhyun tries to break away from under her, but she grabs both of his wrists, pinning him down. After staring her down for a couple of seconds, he looks away in exasperation and lies still. She tries to smile at him appreciatively. He ignores her.

Okay, ouch.

There was a reason why she was hiding him.

“What are you doing here, Bianca?”

“Why am I in your room, or why am I back from Spain?” Bianca chirps.

Noeul feels a slight bounce on the end of her bed. She gulps, and Baekhyun has the teeniest signs of amusement etched on his face. “Can we talk later?”

Bianca sighs. “Right—you’re not a morning person. What time should I come back?”

“Later, Bianca,” Noeul clips.

“Alright, then, ciao, I guess.”

Noeul throws herself off of him and gasps for all of the air that she held back. Baekhyun sits up, leaning lazily on her headboard with one arm slung behind his neck.

She cracks a little smile, and then, a laugh free-falls out of her— and for a second there, she forgets what she even woke up to.

Baekhyun stares at her like she’s lost her mind.

“Oh come on,” she whispers. “That was pretty funny. I ually harassed you in my sleep.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but he can’t fool her. She sees his lips twitching. He fails to hold back a smile when she continues to crack up, bending over slightly. And when she looks up, Noeul is taken aback by reality.

He’s smiling—really smiling. Baekhyun has a beautiful smile. She stares at his eyes.

She notices the short distance between them. He’s looking at her. And she’s still looking at him.

He lifts a finger, slowly pushing her hair away from her forehead. Noeul can feel her heartbeat in . She can hear it in the silence. And the only viable thing that she could do at that moment was to blink at him.

Baekhyun removes his hand, face turning away as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So, breakfast?”

And, yeah, honestly, that sounded like a good idea.

###

“How do you like your eggs?” Baekhyun asks while he’s searching for a pan. When he finds one, he easily spins it in his hand.

Noeul watches him with fascination. “I don’t know,” she answers quickly.

Baekhyun stops to watch her out from the corner of his eyes as if to contemplate her sanity. “You—“

She cuts him off. “Surprise me.”

He pauses, staring at the pan in his hand. “Okay. Come here.” He nods his head at her expectantly.

Her brows furrow, but she gets off from her barstool anyway. Noeul reaches him but puts a respectable distance between them.

Baekhyun snorts, tugging her in front of him. She can feel his chest pressing against her shoulder blades. “Don’t act so shy now, doll.”

Noeul wants to find a deep hole and bury herself in it forever. “Can we forget any of this ever happened?”

He ignores her question. “Eggs are the most versatile thing in this world. Learn how to cook them, and you can do anything.”

Noeul stares at the clean bowl in front of her. “Do we have to be this close?”

“No,” he replies simply but remains in his spot.

She wills herself to move. “Should I grab the egg?”

“I don’t know, should you?”

Noeul turns to glare at him only to get a mouthful of his t-shirt in . Turns out, they were that close. There was no personal space. “I’ll grab the egg,” she murmurs. “What do I do now?”

“How do you want them?”

“How do you like them?”

He tsks. “Too complicated for you.”

Noeul attempts to turn around again, but she knows she can’t. So, she tries to imagine his expression. Baekhyun isn’t very expressive. Like her, he’s gotten good at hiding how he truly felt. But Noeul is desperately curious, and she can’t fathom why.

After the smile, it was like someone had flipped a magical switch inside of her. Noeul finds herself wanting to see how far she can push him. And she wonders how much he’ll show her. Last night, the greed settled deep in her bones, burrowing in there and refusing to come out.

“Then, teach me,” she whispers.

Baekhyun moves away, and Noeul is left standing there. She tries to meet his eyes, but he doesn’t meet hers. He moves beside her, eyeing the egg in her hand. “Crack it into the bowl.”

She doesn’t pay attention so the egg in her hand slips onto the counter. It splats, breaking open. She gapes at it, and then back at him apologetically.

Baekhyun snickers, “well, that’s certainly one way to break it.”

###

“Why do you ride a motorcycle?” Noeul asks, curling her arms around his waist tighter as they zoom across the intersection.

“Why do you use an iPhone?”

“Preference.”

“Well, there you go.”

Noeul rolls her eyes. “I think you need a therapist.”

Baekhyun hums, mildly bugged but he still entertains her, “why’s that?”

“Because you never can just simply answer my questions,” she deadpans.

“You don’t either,” he contests.

There’s a part of her that hates that Baekhyun is right. They’re so alike in ways that any sort of advice is seemingly hypocritical. In the past, she attended therapy because her father needed an immediate solution to her madness.

She stopped going after her therapist called her out on the same thing. Noeul wanted to answer the questions truthfully. She really did, but she couldn’t. It was hard to be reminded of things she wanted to forget.

He drops her at the front entrance of their school, but Baekhyun doesn’t make a move to step off his motorcycle.

Noeul hands him back his helmet. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No,” he answers with a shake of his head.

“Why not?”

He smiles secretively. “I guess you’ll find out later.”

Then, with that, he’s off. Noeul watches him until his silhouette is completely gone. Sometimes, she wishes she could read minds. Actually, maybe she’s never felt that until now. Baekhyun intrigued her, and for some reason, he was like an itch she couldn’t get rid of.

###

Bianca is in Noeul’s first period when she arrives at class. Noeul takes the seat beside her, mentally preparing herself for half-sister’s excessive bubbly personality.

“I thought you graduated in Spain,” Noeul pegs.

Bianca shrugs. “Sure did, but I wanted to see you.”

“Why would you voluntarily sign up for this hellhole?”

“I met someone,” Bianca answers. “It took me a while to figure out who he was. He’s changed a lot.”

Noeul raises an eyebrow at this. “Who?”

“Baekhyun,” she chirps.

Noeul feels her stomach sinking rapidly, and no matter how much reality set it—the fact that she really didn’t know who Baekhyun was—she couldn’t seem to shake the heavy, stone anchor off of her. “What about him?”

Bianca leans forward, grinning widely. “I’ve always liked him—you know? In middle school, remember? He’s insanely hot now.”

Noeul swallows calmly. “Really? Where’d you meet him?”

“I was having dinner with my mom. He’s a server at that diner downtown.”

“I didn’t know that,” she comments offhandedly.

“Speaking of, why didn’t I see Mom at your place?”

Noeul’s eyes fall away, again, unwillingly reminded of her situation. “I let them all go. I’m selling the house.”

Bianca’s jaw drops. “What? What about Dad?”

Noeul feels her anger swell. “He’s not my father anymore, Bianca.”

She closes . “R-right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened between you two, but Dad hasn’t acted any differently toward me. Doesn’t he send you allowance?”

Of course, he did. That was the only way Noeul’s father knew how to express affection—if he even had any for her in the first place.

For the longest time, Noeul resented Bianca. Her father’s affairs were kept secret, but he'd had one with a maid a couple of months after she was born. It wasn’t like that at first. Bianca and Noeul were best friends long before the two of them understood the gravity of the situation they were in.

Her world fell apart when her mother tore her away from Bianca, screaming at her for playing with trash.

So, Noeul stopped playing with Bianca at her mother’s behest. Despite not being his legitimate child, Bianca was his favorite. She was prettier. She knew how to smile. And so, just like that, she won the affection of her father.

Noeul pulls back inside all of her raw emotions. Then, she feigns a smile, the same one she’s always had plastered on. She could never be as innocent as Bianca. Not when she felt like a phony for most of her life. It made Noeul wonder. Why did she try so hard to be someone that she could never be?

She would probably never know the answers to her questions, but that didn’t mean that Baekhyun’s words were any less important. They comforted her. The idea that there was one person in this hellish world who genuinely liked her may have been her saving grace.