the way minhyun keeps inching closer, one tiny step at a time, almost makes yerim feel claustrophobic. he’s not even standing that close — the desk he’s now leaning against is a few desks down from the one she’s seated at. from what she knows about him (which is, perhaps surprisingly, not that much), she wonders if this is him being considerate. giving her freedom to escape whenever.
she could make a run for it. escape, and minhyun would probably be hard pressed to bother her ever again. but if there’s one thing yerim knows how to do, it’s endure. there’s a perhaps too big part of her that feels as if letting go of situations in place of enduring them is a loss. a loss for who might be debatable.
and so she stays, definitely against her better judgement she decides, as his next words causes a light pink to dust across her cheeks. does it matter? she wants to say, because really — does it? whether she had fun or not during their one night together is irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. it’s not like they’ll ever be doing anything like that again.
the only answer she gives him is in form of a stare, eyes slightly narrowed at him. really, if he has to ask, maybe he remembers less from their night together than she does, and she can’t think of a scenario where that doesn’t work out in her favor. she might not be able to take it back, exactly, but the less he remembers, the better.
(and none of that has to do with her enjoyment of the night. because, well, she’d enjoyed it — that wasn’t the issue. or perhaps, having enjoyed it too much was the root of the problem. yerim doesn’t want to dwell on it, if she can avoid it.)
admittedly, minhyun does sort of hit the nail on the head with his next words. “no, you…” she starts. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
there is no easy way to say this. how is she meant to explain to someone who barely knows her, the real version of her, but knows of her — the curated experience, the image she portrays to appease her parents, that what people think is everything. even if she wishes it didn’t have to be.
“okay, did you have to bring joon into this?” her tone is somewhat biting, and she looks away now, gaze fixated on the cover of her planner still lying in front of her. she’s aware of minhyun’s friendship with joon, but still — she fails to see how this is any of his business.
(and, perhaps she is a bit too aware of the fact that this is the second time since their breakup that she ended up in bed with one of joon’s friends. at this point, she can’t help but wonder if celibacy would be easier.)
“you don’t know me well enough for me to explain this…” she trails off, eyes finding his again. there’s still time for her to run away, before exposing more cracks in her surface. but, then there’s the part of her that thinks she at least owes him this much. following a deep inhale of breath, she opens her mouth to speak again, voice quieter this time.
“what other people think of me is everything. and i wish it wasn’t.” her throat feels dry, and she pauses to swallow, looking away once again. there’s a sense of restlessness within her, causing her to start packing her stuff back into her bag, if only to have something to do with her hands.
“it’s not your fault,” she finally adds, “but i’d appreciate it if this could be kept between us. and… whoever else might currently know.” she can’t help the slight grimace forming on her face as she imagines the worst — if her mother is to find out about this.
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