A Year in Juvenile Detention : Carl Gallagher

Soft spot

As the weeks rolled on in juvie, Carl Gallagher's usual bravado was beginning to lose its luster. He and Mia had shared some good times—laughs, flirtation, and even a few stolen moments behind closed doors—but something felt off. Carl could sense it, even if he couldn't articulate exactly what it was.

Mia was growing increasingly tired of his antics. Initially, she had found his bad-boy charm exciting, but as days turned into weeks, that thrill began to wear thin. One afternoon, they sat on the edge of the courtyard, and Mia sighed dramatically, flicking her hair back in annoyance.

"Carl, can you not always act like you own the place?" she said, her tone exasperated. "It's getting old. You know you're not the only one here, right?"

Carl leaned back, propping himself up on his hands, his signature cocky grin slipping slightly. "What? I'm just being me, babe," he replied, though inside, he felt a twinge of something—was it regret? Annoyance at himself? He couldn't quite tell.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should tone it down a bit. It's not cute when you act like a total jerk all the time," she shot back, crossing her arms.

Carl felt a flash of irritation. "I'm not a jerk," he insisted, but he knew he was being over-the-top. The truth was, he was missing Areum more than he cared to admit. Ever since she'd been forced into therapy, things had changed. The fiery girl who had once sparked chaos was now quieter, more introspective, and it unnerved him.

As the days passed, Carl's interactions with Mia became more strained. She was growing tired of his lack of focus, and he was growing tired of pretending everything was fine. One afternoon, as they walked through the halls, Carl caught sight of Areum sitting alone in a corner, sketching in her notebook. The sight made his heart skip a beat.

"Are you seriously going to keep staring at her?" Mia said, exasperated. "It's getting pathetic, Carl."

"Shut up," he snapped, his eyes still fixed on Areum. She looked so lost in her own world, and he felt a magnetic pull toward her.

"Whatever. You know, you might as well just go over there and talk to her. I'm done with this," Mia said, frustration evident in her tone.

Carl hesitated. He wanted to approach Areum, to rekindle the connection they had shared, but something held him back. He was caught in a swirl of mixed emotions—anxiety, longing, and fear.

That evening, as Carl wandered the halls, he decided he needed to confront his feelings. Finally, he spotted Areum sitting alone in the common area, a few other girls nearby, their laughter echoing softly in the room. Gathering his courage, he walked over, his heart racing.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound casual as he approached.

Areum glanced up, her expression blank. "What do you want, Gallagher?" she replied, her voice flat, lacking the usual spark.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his tone softer than intended.

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was no challenge in her voice, only a detached curiosity that stung. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, but... I mean, I've noticed you've been a bit quiet lately," he said, his frustration creeping in. "I thought maybe you could use a friend."

Areum's gaze dropped back to her sketchbook, and Carl felt the weight of the silence between them. "I don't need friends, Carl," she replied, her tone dismissive. "I'm fine on my own."

"Are you sure?" he pressed, feeling a mix of concern and confusion. "Because I miss the old you, the one who didn't care about anything."

Her eyes flickered with something—was it annoyance? Or just indifference? "You really think I care about your opinion?" Areum asked, her voice icy. "I'm just trying to get through this place, and I don't need your help."

Carl's heart sank at her words. He had always found her defiance exhilarating, but now it felt like a wall separating them. He was taken aback by how much he wanted to break through that wall, to connect with her again. "It doesn't have to be like this," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "I just want to be here for you."

"Why?" Areum replied, still avoiding his gaze. "What's in it for you?"

"Honestly? I just... I don't want to see you go down this path alone. It's not like you to shut everyone out."

Areum finally met his gaze, and for a moment, Carl thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes—vulnerability, perhaps. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by her usual cool demeanor. "I don't need you to worry about me, Carl," she said firmly. "I can take care of myself."

Her words stung, and Carl felt a surge of frustration bubble within him. The girl who once challenged him now seemed entirely closed off, and it made him realize just how much he missed the fire in her spirit. "Fine," he said, taking a step back, trying to mask his disappointment with anger. "Do whatever you want. But don't come crying to me when you need help."

As he turned away, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. There was a time when Areum would have welcomed the banter, the spark of competition. But now, she was distant, almost resigned.

Carl returned to Mia, but his heart wasn't in it. The charm he had once wielded so effortlessly felt hollow without Areum's fiery spirit to challenge him. As he sat with Mia, the laughter around him faded into the background. He was drawn into thoughts of Areum, wondering if she would ever let anyone in again.

He had always embraced trouble, but now he found himself longing for the connection he once shared with Areum. In the silence that followed, Carl realized he had a soft spot for her—a truth he had been trying to ignore.