(17 years old)

The frosty asphalt shimmered under the streetlights. The sky was clear, the air biting cold. Sunwoo and Junghwan walked slowly side by side through the city. Sunwoo’s eyes kept sliding over to glance at Junghwan. He had grown up so much since that first Christmas, and it was like Sunwoo was first now realizing just how much. The yellowish, electric light fell on his face, creating shadows that swept back and forth over his face as they walked past lampposts. His breath formed a little cloud in front of his mouth. He had seen his face thousands, millions, billions of times before, but for some reason he couldn't stop studying it from the corner of his eye.

Junghwan noticed Sunwoo was stealing quick looks at him. He couldn’t figure out why Sunwoo was doing it, but it made him very self-conscious. Was there something on his face? Was his hair weird? He peeked back at Sunwoo, and wondered what he was worrying about. Why did it matter how he looked when there was only Sunwoo around?

It was silent. Not the normal kind of silence that might occur from time to time when you’ve known each other for a long time and there’s nothing left to say for the moment, the comfortable kind of safe and well-known silence. This was a silence in which something was left unsaid, where they both tried to ignore it and make it go away by staying quiet, but that only made it even more glaringly obvious.

The awkwardness was broken, at last, by Sunwoo. Not by him saying or doing anything on purpose, but by something as simple as stepping on a patch of ice. Sunwoo slipped, and instinctively grabbed hold of Junghwan’s arm not to fall. And then, well then he simply didn’t let go. It wasn’t really planned, it just happened by accident. Junghwan didn't question it, he just adjusted his arm a little into a more comfortable position. They walked on. They still didn’t talk, but they didn’t need to. Their linked arms had somehow shattered the stiff, uneasy silence, turning it into nothing more than a normal non-conversation. There could come another time, another silence, that needed something more to break, but for now this would do. Just walking like this was quite enough. Right now, all they needed was a tiny little accident, a slip on some ice.

Sometimes people say that if you think too much about an accident happening, it is more likely to do so. Maybe that is true. If you imagine holding someone’s arm for long enough, it will happen one way or another. Is it fate giving you a little push in the right direction, or is it just your subconscious making sure you slip onto the right track?