A PLAN FOR LOVE ✓

three : yeonjun

I feel dizzy by the time I make it to Seoul. My ten-minute nap on the bus was nowhere near enough time for my body to reset, but I mean, who needs sleep when you can stare out a window for seven whole hours, regretting every decision you’ve ever made in your life?

No matter how hard I tried to think of a solution, I just… couldn’t.

He really knows me. All the parts of me that I thought I was hiding from him. All the parts I was hiding from myself. And he actually loves me.

I’ve never had that before.

And I think that’s why I really want to be in this with him. Fully. Instead of just running away and leaving him in the dust, like my dad did. Instead of keeping him at a distance and letting it fizzle out like the rest of my relationships.

I tap pause on “Pretty Games,” the Daydream Lullaby song that got them signed to an indie record label a few months ago, and check my phone for the millionth time, but there’s still no reply to the can we talk? text I sent him when I got on the bus. No phone call. He hasn’t even looked at my Instagram stories.

I really fucked things up this time. His silent treatment has never lasted this long.

This is way worse than any of our other little fights, over flirting, or my “emotional unavailability,” or whatever text lit up my screen at the breakfast table.

I mean… the things he said last night. The things I said. It’s like ten boys giving me their number during a shift at Sweet Mirage combined.

Sighing, I double-check Google Maps to see I have two more stops before I get off this swaying bus, the weirdly patterned fabric of the seat prickling my thighs. I scoot forward and peek out the window to see a giant stone building looming in the distance, the bright afternoon sun turning the gray brick almost white.

The Cathedral of Learning, the forty-two-story centerpiece of the campus.

I’m actually here. Officially a college student. For a second, thoughts of Soobin finally recede.

I almost feel like I can breathe in a way I never have before.

I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I actually did it. I made it out.

This is what I wanted. To figure out how to do more than just scrape by. To worry only about myself for once.

Well… mostly.

Reflexively, I glance down at my phone to see my mom hasn’t replied to the texts I sent her on the ride here. Which is nothing new. But I still feel queasy over it, since now I can’t run home to make sure she’s still breathing.

I pocket my phone as the bus jolts to a stop, and I grab my stuff before stumbling down the aisle. I thank the driver as I hop off, supposedly four blocks away from my apartment, squinting against the sun as I swivel my head from left to right.

Instantly, I’m struck by how different this place is from Ansan. It’s so small. I mean, I know it’s not downtown Seoul, but… this is definitely going to take some getting used to. From the buildings to the number of people walking on the sidewalks to the stores lining the street, it’s like someone took home and halved it. And then halved it another ten times.

I follow Google Maps down the block, past a Starbucks and a drugstore and a grocery store, horrified when I catch sight of my reflection in a window. I look like I got hit by a bus instead of riding in one.

My hair is messy, making a break for it everywhere I look. My T-shirt is so wrinkled it looks like I left it in the dryer for an entire year. How is it even possible?