fourteen : beomgyu

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I just have to walk in there, pull the chair out, and plop my butt down.

Sounds easy enough, but the problems come after I sit down, when I have to actually hold a conversation with him.

Luckily, Yeonjun will be right there beside me, feeding me things to say when my conversation well runs dry.

Even though he makes me want to rip my hair out most days…he’s also the only person I’ve ever met and not been related to that I can be completely myself around, without buckling under the weight of my anxiety. I haven’t totally figured out why yet.

Though maybe it’s because I genuinely do not care what his opinion is of me.

As I look down the hallway for any sign of him, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“I’ve been trying to give you space, but I’ve also been dying to know what happened at the party!” My mom’s voice crackles through the speaker as I answer, very chipper for so early in the morning. She’s probably already guzzled down her daily vat of coffee.

“Oh, uh.” I pause, realizing that we haven’t talked in over a week. Texted about small things, yes, but talk talked? No. Normally I’d be gushing to my mom about every little thing that happened, but now I find myself wanting to keep most of it to myself. At least for now. This could be my first relationship. I don’t really want to jinx it. “The party was good. We played some games, and I ended up staying pretty late. It was a lot of fun,” I tell her, leaving out all the details and what happened after, my plan with Yeonjun. I don’t think she’d be too psyched about that. “Nothing much new. Just about to head into bio.”

“Haru misses you,” she says, but I have a feeling it’s not just Haru.

“Thanks for the pics.” I smile, my heart hurting as I think back to the photo she sent last night of him curled up on my empty bed.

“Tired of the cafeteria food yet? Maybe I can take a ride down soon and we can grab a quick lunch?” she asks, her voice filled with hope. It would be nice to see her, and it’s just a lunch.

“Maybe sometime next week?” I look up to see Yeonjun dragging his feet down the hallway toward me, his cheeks full of the tiny powdered donuts from the package clutched in his hand. “Do you live at Seven-Eleven?” I whisper, tucking the phone into my neck.

“Like I could be so lucky,” he huffs, stuffing another one into his mouth before offering the tube to me.

“Beomgyu?” My mom’s voice pulls my attention back to my phone as I slip one out of the plastic.

“Sorry. Yeah. Next week. I’ll text you.”

“Well, wait. I want to catch up. Tell me about your classes,” she says.

“They’re good, Mom. Sorry, one’s about to start,” I reply, trying to be short with her without being too obvious.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll let you go,” she says, and I try to ignore the sadness in her voice.

We say our goodbyes, and I slip my phone into my back pocket.

“Ready?” Yeonjun asks as I carefully place the donut into my mouth.

“You’ve got… uhh…” I motion to the white powder outlining his lips. “A bunch of shit on your face.”

“Oh.” He licks his lips, which does absolutely nothing.

“Still there.”

“Can you get it?” he asks, squatting down to my level. He gives me a closemouthed smile, his cheeks still full. I roll my eyes, but instead of turning away, I dig a tissue out of the travel pack in the front pocket of my backpack and hand it to him.

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