criminal love; jungwon

22

The art room was quiet except for the soft scratch of Nanhee’s brush against the canvas. The late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows, casting golden light across the room. She was determined to finish her painting, lost in the rhythm of each stroke.

A knock at the door startled her. She turned to see Chahyeon standing there, hands in his pockets, looking somewhat out of place.

“Chahyeon? What are you doing here?” she asked, setting her brush down.

He shrugged, stepping inside. “Saw the lights were still on. Thought you might need company.”

Nanhee raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. They had grown somewhat friendly over the past few weeks, and she appreciated his efforts to change.

“Suit yourself,” she said, gesturing to a nearby chair.

Chahyeon plopped down, watching as she continued painting. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

Nanhee smiled. “Thanks. It’s relaxing.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, occasionally breaking it with small talk. Chahyeon joked about the latest gossip at school, making Nanhee laugh. For a moment, it felt like they were just two friends hanging out.

But then, out of nowhere, Chahyeon blurted out, “I like you, Nanhee.”

Nanhee froze, her brush hovering above the canvas. Slowly, she turned to face him, disbelief written all over her face. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, more softly this time. His eyes were sincere, a hint of vulnerability in them. “I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Nanhee’s heart raced, not with excitement but with a sinking feeling. She hadn’t seen this coming, not from him.

“Chahyeon…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m flattered, really. But I don’t feel the same way.”

His face fell, and for a moment, he looked like a lost child. But then his expression hardened. “Is it because of Jungwon?”

Nanhee’s eyes widened. “What? No, it’s not about him.”

“Then why?” he demanded, standing up. His voice wasn’t angry, just frustrated and confused. “I’ve been trying so hard to change, to be better. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“It does,” she said gently. “And I’m proud of you for that. But feelings… they can’t be forced.”

Chahyeon’s jaw clenched. “You’re just like everyone else,” he muttered, taking a step closer. “You’ll never see me as anything more.”

Nanhee backed away, feeling a pang of fear. “Chahyeon, please. Don’t do this.”

He hesitated, a storm of emotions flashing across his face. For a moment, it looked like he might lash out. But then he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, turning on his heel. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving the door swinging shut behind him.

Nanhee sank onto a stool, her heart pounding. She hugged herself, trying to shake off the lingering unease.

The art room felt colder now, the warm glow of the sun fading as dusk settled in.