They're Made of Glass | SEVENTEEN

16 | bibbity bobbity bookwan

— ☆ —

In those few short seconds, everything shatters.

I slip out of his grasp - or maybe he's the one to pull away first - and lower my gaze. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. Instead I looked everywhere else, first where his arms hung limply at his sides, bandaged and bruised. Somewhere towards the middle of my back, I can still feel where those same hands clenched the fabric of my sweatshirt. It must've hurt a lot. In the state that they're in now, I can barely believe that he could even manage to lift a finger.

"Jihoon. Did you just-" I cut myself off before the words can stumble out. I don't even want to think about, much less say, the word. Exhaling shakily, I instinctively take a step back and rake a hand through my hair.

But Jihoon takes a step forward, maintaining the same distance as before, and lifts his hand. It staggers as it rises and I hear him suck in a breath of air. My eyes widen, yet my feet stay planted in the ground as his hand moves near my face and right over my cheek. The gauze wrapped around his hand is rough, but his finger grazes my cheek tenderly as it moves away a piece of hair stuck to my cheek.

"It's nothing," he muttered roughly. Strands of blond hair fell in his eyes and I felt the sudden urge to push it back for him. His finger lingered on my cheek for the briefest moment and for a second I could've sworn I saw what looked like the beginning of a smile forming on Jihoon's face. But all that changed when he began to pull away. His hand draws back as if my skin has burned him and the smile is suppressed into a frown. Every move he makes is an indication of how much he wants this conversation to be over - for us to be over.

Like hell it was.

I reach out swiftly and grab his hand. He winces and I almost forget for a second that he's injured - and that his lip is still slightly bleeding. I barely remember anything at all except for all the nice things Jihoon has done.

"Jihoon..." The words stick in my throat. All the confidence rushes out of me too quickly.

Jihoon places his other hand on top of mine and tries to slip out of my grip. "You don't have to force yourself to answer. I never intended for you to respond in the first-"

"No. Stop."

And this is where it all falls apart. My eyes shut momentarily as I try hard to think about how to compress my emotions into a single answer. This is the part I hate when it comes to confessions. There's the physical act that comes when receiving a confession, the whole fluttering of the heart and the moment you suddenly forget how to breathe. But after that comes the mental act - which I hate.

In the midst of all the mumbo jumbo I'm trying to make sense of in my head is a flash of brown hair and the curve of a thumb resting on my cheek. It's nothing like Jihoon's - all calloused and rough - because these hands belonged to someone way out of my league. My hand reaches for the two charms hanging around my neck.

The glittering star is now accompanied by a familiar heart, and feeling the hard edges of the diamond now puts me at ease. My shoulders relax and my eyes slowly open and Jihoon's brown eyes, like melted caramel, are staring into mine.

"You know I really appreciate your words, Jihoon. I really do." I said and I meant every word. "I'm thankful for all the things you've done for me and I'm thankful for your friendship. You're just..." I pause, fighting back the growing lump in my throat. "You're like my knight in shining armor. You're always there when I need you and you always manage to save the day."