Love-ish~~ | | Hwang Hyunjin

27. Scared to admit

Community service is exhausting. Not physically. Emotionally.

I was crouched on the floor of the old community hall, scrubbing dried paint with a brush that had clearly lived through three generations of punishment batches. The smell of detergent was making my head spin.

This was all because of Jaejoon.

Because we broke into his house. Because we got the videos. Because we did the right thing but we got work in return for breaking rules.

I say we should be awarded.

Hyunjin was on the other side of the hall, stacking metal chairs. He kept lifting two at once like he was in a competition with himself.

I watched him for a second.

He caught me looking.

Immediately, he flexed his arm. "Do you think I can get sponsorship deals for this strength?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. From orthopaedic hospitals."

He clicked his tongue. "Aww, that hurts."

We were joking. We had been joking all morning.

Because not joking meant talking. And talking meant facing what happened.

The others finished their tasks and started leaving. Ryujin passed by me and murmured, "Do not waste this chance." Little did she knew I already used up a chance and it's going downhill.

Minho and Zuha left too.

Zuha simply nodded once at me before stepping out. Soon, the big hall was silent.

Only the sound of chairs scraping the floor and my brush moving back and forth.

Hyunjin dragged another chair loudly.

Too loudly.

"Hyunjin," I said.

"Hmm."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what."

"Making noise so we do not have to talk."

The chair stopped.

He stood still for a long moment. Then he slowly turned around.

"Weren't we talking this whole time?" he said quietly.

"You know that's not what I meant." I sigh.

I stood up and walked toward him. Each step felt heavier than the last.

"Why are you still running from me?" I asked.

"I am not running."

"You are," I stress. "I'm sorry, but I don't find it funny anymore."

He flinched.

Just a little. But I saw it.

The joking expression he had been wearing all morning finally slipped, like a mask he was too tired to hold up.

"I told you," he said, looking down at the chair in his hands. "I am not running."

"Just tell me you don't like me like that, and I'll just shut up." I was not trying to pick a fight, or was I?

"Don't say that." 

I blinked at him.

He was still looking down at the chair, his fingers gripping the metal frame so tightly his knuckles had turned pale.

He let out a frustrated breath and finally looked at me.

His eyes were not joking anymore. Not even a little.