The Quiet Crush || gxg

chapter 4

The library had become our unofficial meeting spot over the past few weeks. It wasn't just about studying anymore. Nam and I were spending more time together, and it felt... easy. The pressure of exams and assignments was still there, but with Nam around, it didn't feel like such a burden.

We'd started talking about random things-funny memories, school mishaps, and sometimes, just silly stuff. It was refreshing, really. I wasn't used to being this open with people, but Nam made it feel natural.

Today, as we sat across from each other with textbooks scattered between us, I found myself smiling without even realizing it.

"Remember that time in class when the projector just refused to work, and we spent like, 10 minutes trying to get it to turn on?" Nam asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

I laughed, remembering the chaos. "Oh yeah! And the professor didn't even notice until half the class was trying to figure it out. That was hilarious."

Nam grinned, leaning back in her chair. "I swear, every time something goes wrong in class, it's like a cosmic joke. How does that even happen?"

I chuckled, feeling more at ease than I had in a long time. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. We kept sharing stories-mostly light-hearted things, funny incidents, and silly thoughts. There was something about her that made me feel like I could talk about anything.

At some point, I found myself talking about my family. I wasn't usually the type to share personal stories, but Nam had a way of making everything seem casual and easy.

"So, my dad," I started, "he's the type who tries to be all serious, but he's actually terrible at it. Like, last week, he tried to fix the sink, and ended up flooding the kitchen. I came home, and there he was, standing in the middle of a puddle, looking completely helpless."

Nam laughed, a full, bright sound that made me smile. "I can totally picture that. My dad would probably try to fix the sink with duct tape or something, and then call it a 'success.'"

I giggled at the thought. "Exactly! It's always some crazy fix that makes no sense, but somehow, it kind of works in its own way."

Nam's smile was still there, but it flickered for a moment. There was a subtle change in her expression. A slight shadow crossed her face, and for a second, her eyes seemed... distant. It was like something behind the humor had shifted, just for a brief moment. I noticed it right away.

Before I could say anything, she looked down at her notes, her fingers tracing the edge of the page. "That sounds nice," she murmured, her voice softer, almost quieter than usual.

I wasn't sure why, but something in the air felt heavier, like the lightness we'd been sharing had suddenly been replaced with something unspoken.

I didn't want to pry. I knew that look, the way someone's gaze becomes distant when they're thinking about something sad. I could see it in her eyes, the way she was trying to push something away, like she didn't want to talk about it.

I quickly shifted my focus, trying to bring us back to something lighter. "Oh! And then there's my mom. She's always telling me these random stories from her childhood. The other day, she told me about how she once convinced her brother to sneak into their neighbor's yard to grab a ball. But when they were sneaking back, they got caught by their neighbor, and she had to pretend they were just playing hide-and-seek."

Nam's lips curved into a small smile again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. I could tell she appreciated the change of topic, but there was still something lingering in her expression.

"I bet she was great at making up stories," Nam said softly, trying to keep the mood light.

"Yeah, she's really good at it," I replied, smiling back at her. "Sometimes, I wonder if she's secretly a professional storyteller."