𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 ℂ𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕖 II ʜᴡᴀɴɢ ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ

6

"Would you at least try to let me be friends with you?"

My anger suddenly disappeared, guilt building in my throat.
Friends? Why does he want to be friends with me?
My voice came out quiet and rasped.
"What do you mean?"

"I want to be friendly with you," he looked at me, glancing away every now and again. He didn't seem the type to be used to being nervous, and I suddenly felt myself growing hopeful.
He couldn't possibly like me.
"For Su-Jin."

Oh.
My disappointment returned, flooding through me in waves.
That made more sense. Why else would a boy be so foreword with me otherwise? Su-Jin probably told him to, this night was to 'get me out there', after all.

"Yea sure," I said sarcastically, my voice poisonous. "For Su-Jin."

Hyunjin quickly read the disappointment smeared across my face, his eyes unable to focus on one part of it.
"You know that's not what I meant," he said lowly.

"Do I? What exactly do you mean?" I snapped, already feeling terrible at how I was reacting.
I really, really didn't want to hurt him.

"I just-" he cut himself off, seemingly in thought.
He sighed, his head hanging.
"Just give me some time, Jeong-Chae,"
He said softly.
"I'm too tired to string my words together properly."

I scowled at him, my heart still pounding. I felt my anger swell once more at his response.
"Then why did you bring me in here? What is your problem?" I spat, gritting my teeth.
This boy makes no sense.

He tsked, quickly looking away from me. "You think I'm good at this? I don't even know what I'm trying to say right now!" He raised his voice slightly, annoyance lacing his tone.

"Then what the fuck are you even doing this for? Who are you doing this for?" I yelled angrily, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.

The thought of being ruthlessly played by some college dumbass felt like a punishment worse than death. Obviously he needed a motive, or else he wouldn't be pulling this BS.

My throat tightened as I thought of Su-Jin begging every boy on her dance team to be friends with me, a single tear trailing from my eye.
I couldn't make sense of the situation. I met a boy, and in the same day he seems to be simultaneously begging for my attention and making me feel unwanted. Why was he doing this? Was I missing something? I had to be.

He approached me, placing both hands on my shoulders. His face was painted with worry, he almost looked hurt.
I met his dark, soulful eyes, and I took note of the small mole that lay beneath one of them.
Cute.

He seemed to glow, and I could feel my chest tightening by being so close to him. Staring at him for so long calmed me eerily fast.

I wanted to be angry, so I forced the venomous look to remain on my face despite the clear weakness I was showing.

"Please don't cry," he whispered, "Just give me some time to make it up to you, okay?"

The tenderness in his voice broke my forced facade, and I was suddenly loaded with pity. I wanted to reach out and touch him, he seemed so soft, yet strong.
I quickly grew nervous of the eye contact, but something held me captive. I felt my expression soften.

He lightly brushed the ends of my shoulder-length hair, his fingers teasing the straight, uniform strands.
He tilted his head slightly.

"Why'd you have to cut it?"

I froze, my breathing catching in my throat. I glanced downwards at his chest, feeling my eyes sting as they watered once more. I stared blankly there for a while, deciding to map out the embroidery on his gray sweatshirt instead of focusing on the thoughts that shot through my mind.