You’re too scared to open your eyes.

 

You know you’re a chicken, you know you’re a scaredy cat, and you also know that your first kiss just got taken away.

By a hobo roaming the streets of Seoul.

Okay, that was probably a little harsh, but seeing as you’re too scared to open your eyes to see who you had kissed, you stick with the hobo theory.

 

The person has rapidly scrambled off you, and you catch a whiff of something that smells like sunshine and soapy bubbles and everything good in the world.

It’s decidedly a feminine scent. Sort of like how your washing smells like after it’s dried in the sun.

Eyes firmly squeezed shut, you reach up and pat your head. The beanie is still there, so, you still look like a guy.

Which is lucky for the girl that you just kissed—at least she won’t be traumatized for the rest of her life.

Unlike you.

 

With depressing thoughts (and hopeful ones, hopefully the person you kissed would be a guy after all) running through your head, you crack open your eyelids, just a little, just enough to see—a pair of beautiful, lady-like hands.

Oh crap.

You kissed a girl after all.

You let out a small moan, closing your eyes again.

Lost your first kiss to a girl.

Not that you have anything against lesbians, but, you were always predominantly favored towards the males.

Figuring that it might be slightly strange to continue lying there with your eyes closed, you manage to get to your knees—eyes still firmly shut—and sigh, getting ready to apologize.

 

And you hear the person clear their throat.

Your eyes fly open and you find yourself staring at a pair of trainers.

Unless the girl has very strangely developed vocal cords and abnormally large feet, that person—the person that you kissed—is a man.

With beautiful hands.

 

Feeling slightly ashamed of your own hands, you scramble onto your feet and peer at the guy from underneath your eyelashes because you’re afraid that his ugly may blind you—wait.

Your eyes get a glimpse of milky white skin and thin lips pressed together into a frown. Large, long lashed eyes, and two delicately eyebrows, raised so high they’re almost disappearing into his bangs.

jdskfhdskjghl

What is this sorcery

What is this

How can this be

He's so

So

Pretty...

 

You feel as if your brain is having a meltdown.

“Uh, I’m really…so…I, uh, yeah, you, um.” You manage to say, heat spreading through your cheeks.

The guy’s eyebrows only go higher into his bangs.

You mentally slap yourself for sounding like a 5 year old.

“I’m…really sorry,” You falter, when your brain has rearranged itself and you feel like you’re capable of speech again.

The guy grimaces and shakes his head, I’m-going-to-die-I-kissed-a-guy written all over his face.

You feel really bad and you’re about to open your mouth and tell him that you’re a girl(though, how weird would that be) when your phone starts blasting that terrible pop song that Hweji chose again.

Ignoring the guy’s eyebrows, which have actually disappeared into his bangs now, you answer the call.

It’s Hweji.

 

“Sohee, where the hell are you?” her voice blasts into the silence and you wince.

“Uh…on the street.” You say truthfully, eyeing the guy, who has started scuffing the pavement with his shoe.

Catching your eye, one corner of his mouth raises a little, and he whispers “Your girlfriend?”

“What?” You say a bit too loudly, until you realize that Hweji can hear you. “Uh, yeah, whatever.” Nodding vaguely at the guy, you turn your attention back to your phone.

“Have you got the food?” Hweji is asking.

“You see, about that,” you cringe a little, ready for the verbal lashing to come, “I got a little sidetracked by a…uh, hobo.”

The guy’s eyebrows are non-existent.

“Really?” Hweji sounds interested. “Is he hot?”

Mouth dropping wide open, you hiss, “No! I’m hanging up now, see you at home, bye!”

You promptly end the call and glance a little guiltily at the guy.

“Sorry about that, that was uh…” you say lamely.

He shakes his head. “You smell like a girl.”

 

Well, that came out of nowhere.

 

“What do you mean?” you blink a few times, turning your head to sniff yourself. You smell like peaches—your shampoo and conditioner is peach scented.

“You smell like peaches,” the guy says hazily.

“Yeah, and so?” you retort, forgetting for a moment that you’re supposed to be a guy.

“Just saying,” he shrugs. “You sure you’re not like a transual?”

“A—a what?” you say incredulously. “N-no!”

“Only asking,” he shrugs again and with a small, infuriating smirk on his lips, he turns around and starts walking away.

 

You stare after him with your mouth wide open.

You kind of wish that you had a chair to throw at his retreating figure.

Or better, a refrigerator.

Except you probably wouldn’t be able to lift it.

 

to be you.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Yeah…yeah. .______.

Yep.

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