Summary:

Joohyun had heard numerous I like you's her whole life, and she had a clear impression of how it was supposed to be said. It was supposed to be sweet, filled with affection, and essentially, warm. But maybe she was wrong, and she was wrong to think that the amount of I like you's said to her doesn't surmount into anything resembling experience, because no thousand various ways of 'I like you's will be able to prepare her for Kang Seulgi's straight and simple, 'I like you'

***

     “I like you.” Nonchalant. blunt. cool. casual. No attitude, no nothing. 

     Not even a hi or hello. My name is this, what’s your name? It was the first time we spoke to each other anyway. Don’t people normally introduce each other the first time? 

     “I’m Jung Jaehyun from junior class-C, Irene-sunbae, I like you.” That’s how everyone confessed—the standard for confession. But she said it coldly and bluntly and left, “I like you.” not even my name was said—makes me wonder if she knew me in the first place, and she didn’t just happen to see me, find me beautiful, and confess. 

     She said it the same way my Ms. Kim says, “Joohyun, pick up papers from my office later.” or the way Joy would say, “It’s raining outside.” or when the bus driver wakes me up, “Kid, your stop’s here.” Even then, my teacher, Joy, and the bus driver would’ve had said it with more enthusiasm than her ‘I like you.’ 

     She said it in a way she had had articulated her name in front of everyone on the first day of class—which may have been the first and last word she said to all of us. “Kang Seulgi.” Nonchalant and cool. It almost said, “I will tell you my name just because you asked, but you can call me anything you want.” Kang Seulgi said ‘I like you’ to me, if only because she was required to say that more than anything.

     “I like you.” Plain and simple. Like she expected me to accept it. “Your bag is red, that’s the way it is. You can’t do anything about it.” No space for argument or compromise. She didn’t even wait for a response. I like you, don’t people wait for an ‘I like you too’ back? But she said as if my reply hardly ever mattered. The same way, she always sat there at the back of the class,  her shoulders hunched and quiet, protected by a large gray hoodie, earphones inserted in her ears, as she hummed and sketched on her notebook—as if anything hardly mattered. 

     Kang Seulgi’s ‘I like you’ last week on Friday, in the storage room of the volleyball court, where it was only us and the dark, was the same as her in many ways. Her ‘I like you’ was nonchalant and careless. So uncannily like her: like she didn’t care about anything except that, one day she accidentally did, and said ‘I like you’ to me. 

     ‘I like you’ was the last thing I heard from her lips that barely opened. No ‘good morning’ when I entered the room early and it was the only the two of us there. No ‘how’s your day?’ or even a ‘hi’ during group works—even if I always stared at her expectantly. No semblance of effort to back her promise, or even a slightest nuance in her stance or facial expression was revealed that could tell that last Friday inside the storage room in the volleyball court, really had happened.

     But she said it, “I like you” straight and with a sense of finality, like I was supposed to accept it. Even then, when she fixed the net back to the shelve and close the door behind her when she left, the ‘I like you’ had only seemed like a whisper of the wind, as though she was never there at all, and the place in front of me had always been empty. ‘I like you’ felt more like a musing of my  head as a true audible word spoken.

     “I like you.” Suho said at the back of the school on a Wednesday. The cherry blossoms looked soft as his features. He was handsome and nice, and he said it in a way that it wasn’t nonchalant and careless: it was sweet and affectionate. The way people are supposed to say ‘I like you.’. Because that way, it could really prove that you do. Like smiling when you say you’re happy, because if you said it with a frown, no one would believe you. 

     But it didn’t shake me, made me question the way Kang Seulgi’s ‘I like you’ do, and so, nonchalant and careless I said, “I’m sorry.” the way Seulgi’s ‘I like you’ was said to me. Same as all I’ve ever did in my days in high-school. I’m sorry, I don’t want to date at the moment. 

     “I like you.” Nonchalant and careless. But it stayed with me more than the sweetest ‘I like you’ declared by anyone. More than Suho, Mino, Taejun, and everyone else. Instead, she taps her pencil on her notebook when she didn’t have anything to draw during the break. She twists the pen on her hand when she was pretending to listen to Mrs. Jung’s English lessons. She juts out her lip when the teacher was going overtime. But not one thing said ‘I like you’ to me. She almost never looked at my way, except when she’s looking at the clock atop the door, and even that, she never looked at me in the eyes. 
 
     “I like you.” Bull. I tried to hear it the next time. I waited until Friday and now I was in the storage room, twisting the net on the pole again. ‘I like you.’ her cold and sultry voice was playing in my head like a malfunctioning CD. But I didn’t hear it this time. Not one word spoken, no hi or hello, do you have any response for my question last week? She didn’t even look at my way. The same way, she glanced at me as if just noticing that I was there, blinked at me twice, and then left. Real bull. 

     By now, I was thoroughly convinced, I was never going to hear her nonchalant and careless ‘I like you’ ever again. Maybe I was only hallucinating from overexerting myself on spikes and receives. And her ‘I like you.’ didn’t exist at all, and it was merely a fragment of my imagination.

     “I like you.” her eyes said on another Monday. Her deep brown, honey eyes, swirling and glowing against the late afternoon sun. It was filled with so much affection and warmth, the way people do when they see a lost kitten. “I like you.” was the only thing it said. She left again, in the nonchalant and careless way she always do. Slid the door closed, back hunched in secrecy and coldness, leaving me alone as I cleaned the board. Was it another hallucination? I didn’t want to mull over it again, so I decided.

     “Wait!” I shrilled out. “Kang Seulgi, stop!” she stopped walking and looked back at me while I catch my breath. Her posture stopped being hunched, instead, it was only curious. “You called for me?” her brows seemed to say. “Let’s walk home together.” 

     137 steps—I counted it—was the total steps we gained up until the train station. If we had those gadgets that you put on your belt, to count the number of steps, I’m sure I would not exceed more than 5 of difference. 137 for me, but her legs were longer than mine, so hers would probably lesser. 

     “Do you really like me?” I finally had the courage to ask. It seemed for a while, she let the din of the road from the corner past count the seconds. 

     She nodded in response. Straight and casual. As though liking me has the same significance as liking the temperature of an air conditioner. 15 degrees Celsius could surmount to: “I like you Bae Joohyun.” or surpass it, even.

     “You left when you said that, don’t you want to hear my reply.” She shook her head. “Why? Aren’t confession’s primary purpose is to open the possibility of advancing to another level of relationship?” She paused as if processing it. I’m not in a school debate damn it.“I mean, didn’t you confess so you could hear me say ‘I like you too’ and we could be in a relationship.” I added, helping her. 

     “No.” she said finally. 

     Her train arrived earlier than mine, and when she left, the same sensations—whenever she was ensued around me: as though she was never there and I was only by myself. I don’t get her—I don’t get her at all.

     “Oh, Seulgi. What about her?” Yeri mumbled—half-focused while she was playing on her phone. What do you know about her, I asked. “Nothing much, she transferred just this year and she’s awfully good at drawing. I wanted to be friends with her initially—cause I basically have to be friends with everyone—but she was quiet a lot. Like she didn’t want me to be there. I know she’s just shy but I can’t handle the awkwardness. Though she seems pretty cool, I know some people who have crushes on—”

     I knew Yeri would say the same things Joy had said, or the whole class, for that matter. I knew those things too: she transferred from a school in the province, and she draws all the time. I wasn’t expecting anyone to know anything beyond that. Just that, I was trying to prove if Seulgi was ever real, that she wasn’t only a mere byproduct of my imagination. She seemed surreal, like a ghost, most of the time. Almost like  her ‘I like you.’ as time passed by. 

     “You don’t ever talk to me or to anyone for that matter.” she nodded in response. She was going to open but a train passed and she pursed it instead. “Do you not like us?” She shook her head. “Then what’s the matter.”

     “I can’t.” she said with the same tone of finality. ‘I can’t’ was the only thing she meant to say. Like I asked if she wanted to hang out on a Friday and no, 'she ‘can’t’. No explanations, no compromise. Her train arrived again - like a portal opening to another world - and everything connected to her ensued. I walked alone to the train station and she never actually said ‘I can’t’ in the same nonchalant and careless tone. No, when she left, it never existed. 

     Her fingers were slender and lithe - and it attuned a certain glow when she draws. Like it was a weapon blessed by the gods. “Seulgi.” I called. Her tenuous fingers paused from sketching. She looked up at me. As if she saw a ghost, she hastily closed her notebook and hid it behind her crossed elbows. Her face was flushed and sweaty. I wanted to know what she was drawing that she needed to hide it from me, but it's not time for that.

     “What.” she asked. She did so in a way that it was more of a statement than a question. As if ‘what’ was the answer, and don’t speak anymore.  I didn’t get what you said yesterday, I responded.

     She contemplated for a while and stood up. She inched her face in front of mine, as if she wanted to see every detail in my face very closely—but her eyes remained on mine. Suddenly, she veered her ear in front of my mouth. At this distance, I could smell the distinct smell of her vanilla shampoo mixed with something I couldn’t put my finger on. Her sweat smelled nice too. 

     “I can’t hear.” Straight and casual. “The bag is red. that’s the way it is.” I held my breath, and my fingers froze from fiddling the button of my uniform. 

     “I can only hear on short distances. I don’t speak well.” she finished, she removed her head and stared at me instead. Eye-to-eye. And when she sat down again, I couldn’t be sure, but I saw a certain gleam in her eyes and a ghost of smirk on her lips.

     Now that she said it, “I’m deaf.” I took note of the way she interacted with other people in the past. When Yeri tried to talk to her, she would just stare at the clueless girl as if she didn’t care about anything she said. When someone calls for her, and she doesn’t react, we all assumed it was because of the earphones - but I suppose, it’s merely for appearance. 

     Why didn’t you tell that to everyone in the first place, I asked. 

     “I got bullied. People would treat you better if you’re mean than if you’re different.” 

     “They’ll leave me alone if I’m cross, but they’ll never let me be if they know I’m different.” was the unspoken words. I thought about it a lot and maybe, her decision to hide it instead was best for the situation: there was enough bullying going about in school. It doesn’t seem like she cared about social circles anyway, she just want to get this school year over it, I bet - if her deliberate removal of herself from anything that requires more than necessary, isn’t enough indication.

     “I think I love you.” she said on a Wednesday before she entered the train. Nonchalant. blunt. Like she said “the cherry blossoms on the front gate had bloomed.” or “the ducks are back in pond behind the school.” The words were so pretty, but it was said so carelessly. And in a way that I ought to believe it. “I think I love you.” that’s the truth. I flushed a little, but only because it was the first time anyone ever confessed something as pivotal as “I love you.” or at least, “I think I love you.” High-school students don’t fall in love at that age. I don’t and no one does.

     “You don’t look like you do… I mean, you don’t look you love me or like me or anything.” I said on the way to the train station.

     “I’m not hoping for anything. I’m fine with everything as it is.” she uttered primly. 

     “This is the first time that a girl confessed to me.” she didn’t respond. “Anyway, you don’t know that—not that I’m saying anything to hope for... ” I paused, perusing her reaction. Still, there was no change—no glow on her eye, no crinkle on her skin, nor a hair misplaced. I continued, “But at least, you should’ve waited for my response. That’s the way you do it you know?” Her eyes remained trained in front.

     “Can I call your name Irene-ssi” she said suddenly. My name coming from her lips strangely sounded soothing. 

     “You’ve already said it though.”

     “Your real name.” I paused in my steps, but I hadn’t prepared myself when she looked at me—with those same brown and warm eyes, like a trunk of a sturdy tree in the middle of autumn—and said, “Joohyun-ssi” Nonchalant. careless. 

     The way she said ‘I like you’ ‘I think I love you’ ‘Joohyun-ssi’ and as always, I felt perplexed. More so when she stepped foot on the train again, but the difference is, this time, there was a ghost of a smile that rested on her dimple. It didn’t feel unreal when she left this time around. “Joohyun-ssi.” was a real sound. She said it and jarred everything I’ve ever known. She existed that day—vividly and tangibly. No more train portals—we exist in the same world.

     “Why did you want to call me by my name? I mean—no anything—just that, that was totally random.” 

     “I wanted to test it in my mouth.” 

     I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but it was not harmful like that. She could pronounce my name however she wants. Like her on the first day of school, “Joohyun-ssi” I would tell everyone—except it's just to her. “I’m saying my name just because you asked me to, but you can call me anything you want.” I would like the sound of it either way. 

     “I like walking home with you.” she declared one time. It wasn’t mechanical and cold like last time, in fact, if I were to describe it—purely subjective—, it had adopted a subtle degree of warmth. A drop of honey, so to speak.

     And when I said “me too.” with a little more warmth than hers, I wasn’t lying. 

     Walks with Seulgi—in contrast to her stony and comatose words—were filled with warmth and peace—any words that spelled “comfort.” As someone obsessed with academics, my days were always busy and filled with uniform chaos. I had to tend to not only magnitude of works but also people. But with Seulgi, there was no chaos—I had to comply to no one. I wasn’t required to speak, required to react to anything. Sometimes we would even reach the train station without words being spoken. If I may say, walks with her was almost curing for a less-serene (at least in my mind) person like me.

     It was natural then, to find myself observing her more shrewdly: the way her cheeks would bunch up secretly when I say a joke, the way her ears would twitch when she sees something that vaguely resembles a centipede—she hates them, that I figured much—, the way her eyes would crinkle and a ghost of a smile would appear whenever she sees a cat. Or the way she bites her lip during math time or physics, the way she would glance at my way - not just because of the clock this time - her eyes pleading for help because she didn’t know what derivatives are, the way she would stay at the classroom at lunch - legs jumping impatiently - and we would spend the whole learning what derivatives really meant.

     The way she would smile at me after, whispering the most softest ‘thank you’ I ever heard. No longer monotonous and cold, but something inherently Seulgi: it was warm and filled with affection. As if she really was thankful. The way she would wait for every dismissal - even if I spend a year on the blackboard as a cleaner on Monday - and we would walk hope like we have been doing it for the entirety of our lives. 

     The way she started calling me “Hyun-ah” just because I grew tired of her being formal. And it was the cutest nickname I had ever heard. ‘Hyun-ah’ she could say it a thousand times more. It should be said that, I absolutely not like the way she chuckled after seeing the pink on my cheeks, and the way she did say it a thousand times more just to annoy me. 

     Or the way she finally said it again, “I like you.” Nonchalant and blunt. Cool and levelheaded. Monotonous and mechanic.

     Except it wasn’t that. Instead, it was filled with warmth and affection - like a warm duvet on a rainy night. “I like you. I really mean it this time.” it said—if her smile isn’t enough indication. And it didn’t fill me with confusion and hesitancy, as much as the same amount of warmth she pronounced it. . The way ‘I like yous’ really are supposed to make you feel. The way your chest pounces and your ears quiver for longing to hear it again. She likes me, I really knew it to be true this time. Though I never truly confirmed if her “I think I love you.” had transformed to “I know I love you.” it doesn’t really matter as long she looked at me longingly - as if she had all the love in the world - whenever we said goodbye by the station. And find everything cute and admirable about it - her dimple, her pout, her little skips - every little thing that was just so Seulgi.

     So it was only natural then, at the benches on a late afternoon on Thursday, watching the baseball game of our class commence lazily, with shouts and whistles as a backdrop—for me to say - in the most casual way I could -“We should go out then.” 

     She looked at me, eyes searching for any hint that I wasn’t saying anything but the truth. When she saw it—my resolute eyes, firm and straight posture, a promise hidden in my smile—she stopped, raised her brows ‘did I hear what I just heard?’. 

     “If it isn’t obvious, I’m saying, I like you too… and we should go out.”

     “We can’t.” Nonchalant. blunt.

     Like she just said “you dropped your pen.” As if she meant to say “We can’t enter the old building at the south of the medical bay.” and she only cut herself before she could even finish it. 

     No longer warm, nor anything that resembles comfort. No longer anything that signifies that the time we spent with each other truly existed. And more intense than before, I felt the distance between us stretch, a slowly forming vortex as she stood up and walk away. Her back the same as the first time I saw her walk away - in secrecy and coldness like she didn’t want anyone to come near here - also me, not anymore at least. I don’t get her at all.

     “Why can’t we? Don’t you like me anymore?” Do you not think you love me anymore? I asked her agitatedly. Her attraction must’ve still been an illusion and that those temporary moments - when her ‘I like you’ really felt like what it meant - must’ve been a hallucination too. No, she doesn’t really like me at all.

     “That’s not it.” she stopped below the lamppost, her body casting a shadow behind her and the orange gleam of the sunset looked foreign on her face. “You don’t understand.” 

     “Then make me understand.” I pleaded. I held her hand with my own. I like her so much, now. I realized. If not, then I wouldn’t have had been so afraid for her to let it go. 

     “We’re different. You’ll just get in trouble.” she whispered concededly as if that’s just the way it is and we can do nothing about it. Her eyes just about plead the same thing. Let’s not do this. She’s being irrational. 

     “You’re wrong. We don’t have to do things you’re uncomfortable of, we could remain a secret for the entirety of our lives. Seulgi, what are you so afraid of?”

     She pressed my hands with her own, and without warning, she raised my hands and kissed my knuckles. Softly, reverently - as if she meant it so much.

     “Everything. I don’t feel safe. I’m scared every waking moment, I can’t be scared for you too. I can’t handle that, no.” she dropped my hands and hugged me. We’re perfect that way: my head tugged under her chin - like two puzzle pieces. “The world doesn’t work that way.” Despite feeling her lips crook a smile, it felt she was leaving. I can’t have that. 

     “Let’s brave it together.”

     “That’s not possible.”

     “I could help you not be afraid.”

     “Mm-hmm.” 

     “We don’t need to tell it to anyone.”

     “I know.” 

     “Then—” 

     “Hyun-ah, I shouldn’t be your burden.” 

     She left the hug, and stared at me wanly. She started removing her hoodie—it was gray today. She clutched the bottom and gradually lifted it over her head, like a curtain being unsheathed. I had never seen her without a hoodie, but I assumed she always did because it’s spring and the snow had barely thawed. But it wasn’t that at all—not at all.

     5:45 on the board, few people, the hard clamor of the rails. Everything was the same. She entered the train again, the door closing right before our eyes, as if it to highlight that we are both on a different ground. Cut yourself some slack, her eyes said. Those dazzling eyes gleaming under the cheap fluorescent lights of the train. And I finally see her smile, her soft, wistful smile, Let me go. And even though I knew that I would meet her again tomorrow - she will still be there at the back of the class when I arrive in the morning - everything felt like goodbye.

     Her words would be gone the same as mine. Her ‘I like you’ and mine would not exist anymore. The feeling of her kiss on my knuckles - the feeling of her hands on mine - will only be a distant sensation that I will never put my  hands on again. “I like you.”: words I thought I had finally held in my hand - in all its curves and entirety - had all but grazed my mine until it flew away again to the place where Kang Seulgi exist - as if it only wanted me to have an ounce of what it felt like. 

     “Then at least let me ride with you.” I said in a last second of desperation. But she didn’t hear it, I could tell—in wishful thinking at least—because there was no change of expression, no sign of recognition in her eyes. But she needs to hear it—to recognize it.

      In the last inch the door had left, I slipped myself inside. How rapidly and recklessly did I do it that she had to catch me and grasp my body. I could feel her heartbeat - the same as mine. It was beating in anticipation.

     “Let me come with you.” 

     “What if I take very long.”

     “I will wait.” 

     “Even if it takes forever?” 

     “If you leave me hanging, then every single day that comes after will  feel like forever Kang Seulgi.” I spitted out. We’re so corny that way, but when I heard her chuckle in return, nothing mattered anymore.

     “You’re strange. Very.” she said. 

     She slid her hand to my back and caressed the tensed space to relaxation. 

     “Okay Joohyun-ssi. Let’s go out.”