[10] STUBBORN LOVE, the lumineers
the highway signs say we’re close but I don’t read those things anymore

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His eyes almost fell out of their sockets. His heart almost jumped out of his chest. If he was still standing up proud and tall, he knew his knees would have given out. Damn, even sitting like this his knees were no more than a heap of jelly.

Ugh, Soojung was so bad. Jung Soojung was, actually, worse than him.

Him—the certified himself—the stupid, embarrassing, ist lyricist—could no longer look his mother in the eye without flinching anymore—but she was still kissing him—a little awkward, a little desperate—“Son, come out of your room, let’s have dinner”—why was she still kissing him? Did you give up your life for the Republic in your previous life, Song Minho? Because, oh—her lips were the softest, he repeated, the softest thing his lips had ever touched—had ever tasted—had ever devoured—had ever made bloomed.

Screw tentative. Screw careful. Screw slow.

She had initiated it and now he took charge of their kiss—of their sloppy, wet kiss—hot caverns—those sneaky hands—hands on his burning chest—on her slender waist—her soft hair, and cutting jaw. Their battling tongues were hungry, for more, for more. It was overwhelming: those close eyelids, the smooth skin under long fingers. For a first kiss everything was too damn much. Something snapped inside him and he pulled away from her like he would from scorching fire.

His alert eyes on her hazy, youthful ones, he choked out, “What—what was that for? Why did you do that?”

“Why did I do what?” she asked as she smiled so sappy and cute—kind of shy—so demure—so pretty but, oh—Oh, he frowned, his insides somersaulting: she was so pretty but not in the way he was accustomed to?

Possibilities surfaced in his mind and he frowned, his insides somersaulting, his heart racing, his anger seething, but—No—Soojung just won’t, right? It was one thing to accidentally be her best friend when a toy was all he had ever been designed to be. But being physical on top of that—on top of everything… “Soojung, you can’t just kiss me when you feel like it!”

She instantly sobered up. She sat a little straighter and drew up. She shook in her seat not far from his and blushed an awful shade of red. “I’m,” she tried to say. “I’m,” words were abstraction that she could not arrange.

“Why did you do that to me, Soojung?”

Okay, she took a deep breath, it would be okay because she got it under control. She had been memorizing his song lyrics, remember? What had he said about raising his voice? Right: He did so because he was actually just a small little boy with a lot of fears.

She could not handle the sadness in Sunyoung’s eyes, anger in Jessica’s, regret in Seungyoon’s, upset in Taehyun’s, pity in Seunghyun’s, but maybe, maybe she could handle fear in those eyes that were looking at hers silently pleading, “Don’t—don’t—“

What was he so afraid of? Her? That she might hurt him? Her voice was unsteady as she started. “I’m a lousy friend, aren’t I?” She groaned and turned away from him, covering her face, her reddening cheeks, Oh, my God, she could not handle fear either, “Have I ruined our friendship yet?”

He did not say anything—he could not. He was sure that it of course did not ruin their friendship, but if her question was slightly altered, “Has she ruined him, stomping and tearing his pathetic heart?” Then yes, she had, big time.

He called the taxi service and accompanied her going back to her house. The journey was awkward but they managed to utter each other “good night, rest well.”

As he went back to his dorm by bus, dim light above his head, the shadow of his snapback on his Cupid’s bow, he bit his nails and bitterly realized that she never answered why she kissed him—why she pleasured and tortured him at the same time—why she still did those despite knowing what he felt for her.

He also realized, still bitterly, still biting his nails, that she had looked like she saw a ghost when Dara noona emerged from behind Jinwoo hyung. She had looked afraid, as pale as a sheet of paper, pretty similar to what he had looked after the kiss. What she was afraid of, he did not know.

He just knew that the next day would not be pretty. Jinwoo hyung would question and Dara noona would talk. To whom, that was what he was afraid of.

He buried his face in his palms and missed his stop.

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Sandara whispered to Seungri, “I saw Krystal Jung in his dorm, Ri! In his dorm!”

Seungri gaped in horror. “Didn’t he just freshly get out of a huge controversy? I’ve seen them a few times in public. I mean, what’s so hard about keeping a low profile?”

Sandara muttered, “Like you would know a thing about a low profile…”

Seungri winced.

Sandara ignored him. “We should keep it a secret, though. It will be difficult. For him, for her, for—”

“Noona.”

“Right. Sorry.”

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Minzy sat alone in the cafeteria and pulled out her smartphone, “Soojung! I swore I saw you at YG like days ago.”

The girl on the other end of the line groaned.

Minzy snickered, “The press will have a field day if they find out about it. I think I took some pictures.”

The girl on the other end of the line screeched. “You did not!”

Minzy laughed. “How much money do you think Sports Seoul is willing to give me in exchange for the proof?” She then turned serious as she warned her friend, “You should be more careful next time.”

The girl on the other end of the line agreed.

Minzy laughed again, cheering up the suddenly muted mood, “Now, Soojung, why did you not tell me that you’ve been dating again?”

The girl on the other end of the line blushed.

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Seunghyun thought that he was the only person who overheard what Minzy said on the phone and, relieved, heaved a sigh.

“What’s with the sudden sigh, Hyung?” asked Taeyang.

He glanced around, giving those mildly curious faces a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing.”

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Seungh