Spring. The season of bloom. There’s but a handful of cherry blossom trees on the way home and it's the most romantic day of the year. The next turn, she would see it. Pink flowers falling to the ground, showering the couples crowded in front of the trees with a long-lasting spring love. 

It's ridiculous. It’s fake love, it’s fake spring breezes blowing in the evening. The weather is too hot to be called pleasant. No one loves — no one wants to love a long-lasting spring love in this day and age. Everyone is broken, everyone needs something to fill the gaping hole in their chests. 

Ten feet away from the corner, she hears Minjoo call her name. 

“Wait up!”

Minjoo has always been a slow walker. Her long legs are of no help other than making her look taller than she actually is. When they walk home together, Chaewon slows her usual rush because Minjoo's not a fast walker either, but today. Today is different. Today is the most romantic day of the year. Today, cherry blossoms bloom. She wants to ignore the approaching footsteps and power on forward, but a dilemma. To turn, to turn and let cherry pink fill her vision, to turn and see Minjoo trying to catch her, trying to keep up. Cherry blossoms and Kim Minjoo. The trees they pass by everyday. Maybe it's at the corner, just before she turns, that Minjoo catches up, but she doesn't know. She wasn't paying attention. 

“Why did you leave me behind like that?”

Minjoo. Pink on her face from the light sprint she broke into. Pink on her face because of the flimsy wrapping of a gift in her hands, she can’t tell what’s real. 

“What, did you not want the privacy?”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean to walk half a block away…”

“You were taking too long.”

“How is that my fault?”

“I didn't say it was your fault,”

“What else was I supposed to do? Leave her hanging there or something?”

Chaewon is too bothered by the hordes of people in front of them to respond. She sets her face in disgust, and Minjoo switches sides with her to keep her away from the crowd. It's always these useless things. These useless actions. Minjoo can never and will never do anything more than that.

“Whatever.”

Long legs. A pretty face. The need to be infinitely nice and infinitely polite, willpower too strong for an individual to have. She should become an idol or an actress or something, but no—only an idiot would want to work for the government instead. Her bag is filled to the brim with chocolate, probably. She must be over the moon. 

It's the most romantic day of the year. Everyone wants Minjoo to be their valentine, but what about Minjoo?

“What's with you? Your face is doing that thing again.”

Chaewon frowns—well, she would, but her brows are furrowed to the point she feels tension in her forehead and it's annoying that Minjoo points it out which makes her want to frown even more but that would just be proving her right. Twice. She forces a smile. Minjoo rolls her eyes, but whatever. 

“It's just annoying. The couples and all.”

“Is it because of Jaewon?”

“What? No, it's because—”

You're an idiot. Why are you so concerned, again and again? Chaewon hates wasting her time and energy on useless things. Chaewon hates the slight rise of the ends of Minjoo's brows, the tone she uses—it should drown out with the white noise, but Chaewon still hears it somehow—the frown begging to break out, the useless, uselessness of everything Minjoo does. 

“Why would you think that? I—We had a nice day together, as a matter of fact. We would've gone on a date if it weren't for—”

“——Exams, yeah.”

No wonder everyone wants to be Kim Minjoo's. The everlasting smile on her face. Dimples like the whiskers of a cat, a fox. Chaewon doesn't want her to smile at that. Chaewon doesn't want to see Minjoo comply again, but Minjoo never acts the way she wants her to. The way she expects her to. Infinitely nice and infinitely polite, it gets annoying after a while.

“I just thought—like, what else could've possibly ticked you off so much.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” It’s really nothing. Minjoo hums, turning for a brief moment. Chaewon wants to know why she chuckles as she eyes the falling pink petals scattered down the street. She’s careful not to trample any, but Chaewon doesn’t bother as much. Minjoo’s steps are erratic and all over the place and she strays away from the straight line Chaewon draws. The pink on her face stays as dusk descends. It’s still there, as if it was mocking her. 

It was taunting her.

“Who was that?”

“What?”

The whiskers disappear as she calls for her attention. Minjoo was daydreaming again. In a long stride, she matches her steps and raises a brow in question. “The girl back there. I’ve never seen her around before.”

Chaewon is not a good liar and Minjoo is quick to spot a white lie, but she’s distracted this time. She doesn’t notice. She doesn’t notice the way Chaewon pulls at the straps of her bag, she doesn’t hear the tone too deep, she doesn’t see the twitch of her lips. 

“Oh, she’s—, We were lab partners for a while last year,”

But maybe she does notice. 

Chaewon knows, of course. Bae Yeonhee. She waits outside Minjoo’s class each morning, peering through the windows as her friends try teasing her by catching Minjoo’s attention. Always tries to talk to Minjoo by the school gates when they leave, but Chaewon is always in a rush so it never works out. She knows, she can tell. Everyone wants to be Kim Minjoo’s. The desperation is clear on her face each time Minjoo passes by, just wanting a morsel of attention. Maybe Minjoo knows that Chaewon knows and she’s just playing along. A game that they never define. Maybe Minjoo wants to break the rules.

“Wasn’t she in your class last year? Her name’s Yeonhee,”

“Hm. I never really noticed her.”

“Yeah, probably… she’s pretty, though.”

It’s hard to tell. Do cherry blossoms have leaves or are they just pink flowers? Do they have pink leaves? Will they only ever be pink? When they shrivel and die, does the pink fade? Does it fade all at once? Does it fade methodically, do the cherry blossoms die a slow death?

It’s hard to tell what goes on in Minjoo’s mind. “Did she confess to you or something?”

“...”

She steals a glance at the girl. Her eyes are downcast, focusing as she kicks a pebble down the street. Chaewon can’t tell if she’s smiling or not and it’s infuriating. “Uh…”

A muscle pulls when she whips her head forward. She can feel Minjoo’s gaze burn into her skin. Feigning nonchalance. 

“She asked me out. On a date.” 

It hurts more than she expects it to. Chaewon rubs the back of her neck in hopes to soothe the pain, but it doesn’t help. She groans in frustration, scoffing to herself. Minjoo doesn’t notice, or maybe she pretends yet again. It’s silent after that. 

“Are you gonna go out with her?”

“I don’t know… She probably only likes me because she thinks I’m pretty.”

“Hm.”

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think I should give her a chance?”

Her house comes to sight. Then, Minjoo’s, two houses away. The lasting light of the sun disappears, the evening blends with the sky. Spring. It’s not too hot anymore, not too cold. Her jaw tenses, a roll of her eyes. 

“It’s not like you’re gonna reject her if I tell you to, is it?”

“So are you saying no?”

“I’m saying that I don’t care.”

Chaewon turns to meet her gaze, but she isn’t looking at her. 

“I guess it depends,” Minjoo breathes, Chaewon looks away as her head rises.

“On what?”

“On how sweet the chocolate is.”

—

Soft. Why is it that everything about her is soft? Her room adorned in baby pink. The wall in front of her study desk coloured by encouraging post-its. Frog slippers forgotten at the base of her bed. The softness of her mattress. The softness of her skin. The pillows behind her. Chaewon’s hand slips between her neck and the sheets, hand lost in the soft locks. 

Minjoo forgets about the pen nestled between her fingers, so when her hand comes to cup Chaewon’s face, it leaves a mark. She considers pulling away but Chaewon keeps her close, holding her wrist in place and sighing into her lips. Soft, Minjoo’s lips are soft. 

They were supposed to be studying. She insisted they have a “study date” (her own words, exactly) because she hadn’t studied the whole day with Jaewon keeping her preoccupied, still, Minjoo should’ve known better. The evenings Chaewon comes over to her house to study rarely result in any studying. 

Looking up at her, looking down at her. It’s always Minjoo that has to catch her breath, never Chaewon. The look in Chaewon’s eyes demands her attention but she notices the single line of ink on the girl’s face and makes an effort to erase it. Chaewon holds onto her wrist once more and all of a sudden the aggressive rubs of her thumb are subdued into gentle . Taking in the intensity of her gaze. 

They look away. 

“What, how much ink did you get on my face?”

“It’s just a smidge. It’ll wash right out, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying.”

With that, Chaewon checks her face with the black screen of her phone and leaves the room in silence. 

She knows that Minjoo loves chocolate. Since it’s valentine’s day, it’s a given, but did any of them know she loves chocolate? Did they know, like Chaewon does? Any one of those forgettable faces that want Minjoo to be their valentine? She sees Minjoo clearing her bag of the endless bars, briefly staring at each wrapper. Does she remember each name, each face? Does she know everyone wants—wants her? Everyone wants her, but what about Minjoo?

“Wow, you’re pretty popular.”

“I’m not… it’s only because th—”

“You’re pretty.”

“...I mean they think you’re pretty.”

“...Yeah.”

Chaewon scratches behind her ear. She reaches out for her books on the other side of the bed as Minjoo settles on one last bar of chocolate. The scoff leaves before she even knows it.

“What kind of idiot thinks dark chocolate is appropriate for valentine’s day?”

Minjoo doesn’t bother to answer until a square is broken off. “It’s Yeonhee’s,” she says, barely louder than a whisper. 

“Why would anyone want something as bitter as that?”

“It’s alright,” and she’s not, but Chaewon feels like Minjoo’s taunting her. Taunting her by offering a piece to take. Her mind is messing with her. She sees pink on her cheeks. The pink walls, lips. What does Kim Minjoo want, why can’t she tell? It’s not real. When she leans in to kiss her, slow and unsudden, does Minjoo smile? Is it real? Is it? The tips of her fingers seem to stick to her skin. From the bottom of her ear to the base of her neck, cocoa leaving its traces on her. Not cocoa, but Minjoo. Bitter. Bitterness spreads in her chest the closer they get.

“It’s disgusting,” she breathes, treading and tracing the outline of Minjoo’s chocolate-stained lips. Chaewon avoids her gaze, pulling away to put distance between them.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not that bad,”

“It’s not even sweet. I thought you hated this kind of stuff.”

“Well, tastes change, you know.”

Silence. The end of her pen is restless against her book. Minjoo goes back to studying like it’s nothing and she doesn’t know anymore. “So…”

The girl hums. It’s not enough of a response. “Minjoo.”

“Yes?” It’s never enough. She can’t hold it back.

“It wasn’t sweet.”

“What?”

“The chocolate. It wasn’t sweet. Not in the least.”

“Oh. Yeah, it wasn’t.”

“So…”

“So?”

So. So?

Why can’t she tell?

Why is it that she can’t tell?

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