Words Left Unsaid

Uncomfortably Comfortable

Gang Tae was in the living room scrolling through his phone when he heard Moon Young come down the stairs. He got up and walked to the hallway, stopping in his tracks when he saw her.

"Is this comfortable enough?" she all but barked at him. For the second time that day, he gaped at her clothes like an absolute idiot.

Moon Young was wearing a plain white sleeveless top and a flowery skirt, definitely a more comfortable outfit for a long walk in the mountains. But the fitted white top clung to her curves and revealed her arms and shoulders. And the hem of her skirt stopped mid thigh, leaving quite a bit of her enticing legs on display. His gaze trailed down her legs before he realised what he was doing and looked away. Suddenly, he wasn't quite so comfortable anymore. Why was it so hot? Did he need to change?

She came and stood before him and he noticed their height difference. Was this the first time he was seeing her wearing flats? He was so used to looking eye-to-eye with her during one of their many staring contests when she was in her sky-high heels, that seeing her peer up at him threw him off balance. I could put her in my pocket and carry her with me everywhere, he thought, not sure where a thought like that had come from.

In Gang Tae's mind, Go Moon Young always operated in superlatives and elaborate adjectives. All the ways he would describe her looks would need loud, bold, extravagant words, words he doubted he had the courage to say out loud. She was always gorgeous, yes, heart-stoppingly beautiful, dramatically different, stunning, fierce. He wasn't blind, after all, and he knew he wasn't alone in thinking this way. Men, women and children alike gawked at her when she walked past them.

Men were constantly approaching her, especially those pretentious assholes in suits who thought their expensive things and fancy job titles made them worthy of her attention. He was glad there weren't many of them in Seongjin City, but when they did appear they flocked to her like ants. He was with her at a coffee shop once when one such asshole came up and asked her out infront of him. The nerve of people these days — they wouldn't even leave a woman alone who was clearly with another man — set his teeth on edge.

He also remembered the crowds of men in her Seoul book signing event, with or without their children accompanying them, pretending they were there only because they liked her books. He was sure many of them did like her books. It was impossible not to once you actually read her stories and delved into the hidden messages. But he was also sure it was not as simple as that. There was no way any other children's book author would have grown men lining up to get their autograph and photo.

He usually tried not to dwell on these things, because these were not tame thoughts; they were unexpected, volatile and had the potential to blow his monotonous, controlled life into smithereens. He tried to shove these thoughts and feelings into a box marked "to be investigated later", often wondering how long he could get away with procrastinating. Her personality itself was a force of nature that made his head spin every time they were together. If he started analysing how her face and body made him feel — and how he felt about every asshole who felt the same way and wasn't afraid to show it — he knew he would drown in a raging sea of jealousy, lust and denial.

In her usual elegant outfits, Moon Young had an otherworldly, unattainable aura about her, hence the need for extravagant adjectives. But today, looking like this, she made him think of a word that was so tame in comparison, that it knocked the breath out of him because of its simplicity.

She looked ... cute.

She looked like the kind of girl that in another life, perhaps a "normal" one where he did things like finish school, go to university, get a 9 to 5 job and hang out with his friends on the weekends, he would see walking down the street, or sitting by herself at a cafe, and be enchanted by. In a "normal" life where he wasn't plagued by all this guilt, self-loathing and responsibility, maybe, just maybe, he would work up the nerve to go talk to her. He was sure she would blow him off, call him a bunch of names, and he would have to work hard, put himself out there, to get her number. Or perhaps she would say yes because she liked his face? Was that wishful thinking? He would suggest going out for a meal, and she would say that he was boring, and she would insist they do something more fun, like go to an amusement park and shoot at balloons. He would be hooked.