#yg jihoon

your second kiss is your first real kiss. [or: five times you kissed Jihoon, and the one time he kissed you].

He sits still, feels it first. Let’s it linger.

On the corner of his mouth, resting there on his pale skin and the sliver of pink. Soft and sweet, and fleeting, a breath of warmth stuttering over skin, flesh, past bones, through him. Then gone, setting his nerves to tip over, prickling all over inside of him.

And then he stares, watching as your face sets ablaze, makes his throat dry.

“I… — I like you so much, Jihoon!”

Chest heaving, cheeks tinged pink – and in a heartbeat, your face twitches, eyes glossen, then you’re gone. Steps brisk, almost dashing. There is only Jihoon, and a loneliness once you leave.

Burning, “… Me too.”

He sits still, feels it first. Let’s it linger.

It burns.

—

Your second kiss is your first real kiss.

His palms sweat, together between his knees. Thumb tracing the joints in his fingers, stretched, open-palmed.

“– Color?”

His face twists, frowns. A crease between his brows. “Sorry?”

You smile, knees folding beneath you on your bed, the bed creaks – your head tilting just a bit, “What color?”

Four tubes held up to his face, they all look the same to Jihoon, – he chooses the glittery one, the one you wear, that gets hair stuck to your lips. Light pink, full of sparkles – glossy. And smells of strawberry, or something sweet.

“This one,” You smile at him. Cheeks reddening, eyes brightening. “That one’s my favorite!”

He knows, you’ve told him before. More times than he could count.

You hold it between your faces, twisting the lid off.

Then you’re holding his jaw between gentle fingers, pressing against bone. Brows coming together, face coming close, a warm breath, “Stay still, okay?”

He sucks in a breath, holds still. Stares at the crease between your brows, shifting to the slope of your nose, the pink tinge of your cheeks – then at your lips.

It drags across his bottom lip, and you pull away just a bit. “Go like this,” You rub your lips together, and he does too.

You run a finger at the corner of his mouth, beneath the line of his lips. Hands coming to his cheeks, holding him in place.

Then you see Jihoon.

Face burns, just like his chest.

Then you bring your mouths together, slow. Then fleeting.

Hands coming to your mouth, stammering, “I’m… — I’m sorry!”

Gone again, dashing out of your own room. Into the hall, and into the bathroom, where the door slams shut.

He doesn’t catch his breath, instead sinks into your bed, into the softness of your room – and burning, “… I’m sorry too.”

Jihoon wonders if you know how much he likes you. And the lipgloss sticks to the corners of his mouth, it must be everywhere.

—

In summer, Jihoon licks the side of your face.

“Ew, Jihoon!” You’re grabbing napkins, shoving your ice cream cone into his hands. Your nose is wrinkling, hands rubbing your cheek hard, and a discoloration comes after, red and rubbed raw – “You had ice cream on your face,” He smiles, making you frown.

You scoff, holding out your hand for your ice cream. Fingers brushing when he hands it back. He says, “It didn’t even taste like strawberry anyway.”

And you elbow his side. “Never do that again,”

Jihoon watches as your face reddens, and smiles. Notices just how beautiful you are, wishes he’d noticed before.

You smile again, lean closer into him. Eyes twinkling, “Can I have some of yours? You can have some of mine!”

Jihoon holds his ice cream out, a hand held out at the bottom of your chin, ready to catch any if it leaks out.

“Mint ice cream is just toothpaste,”

“You’re dumb for saying that,”

You sputter, mouth opening and closing – you whine, “But I’m right! It does!”

And the sun sets, sinks lower into the horizon. Jihoon watches, and you watch him.

He looks to you, and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, soft and sweet. You redden, standing and holding out your hand.

“Walk me home.”

He does, he always does – Jihoon wonders when the burning will stop, that fades, or etches itself somewhere else in his mind when you squeeze his hand.

—

Jihoon stares at your eyebrows, the crease between your brows.

Your hands rub sunscreen on his neck, tilting his head up, neck stretching. Then onto his ears, thumbs gently tracing the shell of his ear, his shoulder comes up, head presses close to it. “It’ll come off,” You say and he’s looking up again, this time at the blue sky. Feet digging into the sand.

“There,” You smile, patting him on the head. And pressing a peck to his mouth. “Go play!”

Jihoon burns, and not from the sun.

Smiles at you, and watches you tinge red.

(You take a bus home after, sitting close together. Hands in his lap, you trace the ridges on his knuckles, his head on your shoulder. You tell him you love him, and he can’t breathe).

—

You’re overthinking, face downcast.

“Jihoon,” It’s a breath, you breathe his name out. Eyes glossed over, looking at his mouth.

“… Jihoon,” He’s staring at you, hand touching your wrist. “Are you –”

It’s just a press of lips, mouth together. Gentle, but it sets ablaze in his chest. Spreading all over his body from the inside.

You pull away, mouth twitching.

You leave again, slower. Face down, eyes glossened. And Jihoon is afraid of the loneliness that comes once you’re out of his room, the door slamming.

Kissing you burns, and it makes him wonder.

—

+ 1.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your brows furrow, “I mean, that’s why we’re together, right?”

His hands come to his hair, tugging, and he paces, “No, like I want to be with you all the time, and… — I don’t know how to be without you,”

You’re sitting still on his bed, listening. Always focused on him, always aware of him – “I can’t be without you. You’re always with me, you’re like a… — A leech.”

“Jihoon, that’s not very nice…” Your hands rubbed your upper arms. Grounding into them like pulp, digging into flesh.

“CanI kiss you?” He’s staring at you. Watching you redden. You say too softly, “But you said you don’t like kissing…”

“When?” His head is tilting, eyebrows knitting deep together. A crease between his brows. You sigh, “Before we started dating… I thought that kissing made you uncomfortable –”

“But that was before. I don’t like kissing, but I like kissing you! There’s a difference…”

You stare at him, nodding soft. Gentle, eyes tender. And face red.

When you barely stand, and Jihoon takes your face into his hands, kissing you.

Your hand takes hold of his wrist, grounding into his pulse. The thrum of his heart in his veins, throughout his body. Heartbeat at his wrist, and the other hand grounds onto his chest, fingers unfurl, spreading open. Pressing into his breastbone, into the soft flesh of his chest – it beats just as fast as yours.

Then the kiss is different, more certain. Different than yours – his tongue drifts across your bottom lip, making you melt into him. Your knees together, sinking.

Jihoon pulls away, and you smile so beautifully at him. Cheeks darkened, flushed.

“I like you so much, Jihoon!”

His chest heaves, burning, searing. He nods.

Jihoon is more than just your best friend’s older brother—

You & Jihoon through the years.

• Age 6—
• Your knees ground into the sandlot, fingers digging into the grit of the sand. Palms cup, it feels like like velvet on your skin, delicious and empty. You pour it into a bucket, letting it overflow before patting it down gently.
• You shift, knees harshly rubbing on the sand. Stinging on your kneecaps.
• “I don’t really like sand,” A voice says, strange. You don’t turn, a swift nod of your head and it continues. Still strange, she tells you, stumbling over words, “I like snow, um, it feels cool, I– I like the cold, I like how it looks too! Bright and um, –”
• You tilt your head to the side, shyly. Palms moving over your thighs, sweat forming at the top of your brow, “I, I like snow too,” It’s quiet after you tell her that. It’s quiet, long enough for you to burn up under the sunlight, stiffen on your legs. Then the crunch of shoes above sand, she kneels in front of you.
• A smile, “Really? That’s super cool!”
• She gestures towards the pail, her hand opened. You nod, uneased. She turns the pail over, her open palm patting at the bottom of it. She looks to you again, smiling even brighter. Her hands move to the rounded sides, lifting up.
• The sand stands, before it plummets. Crumbling. Crusty and dry.
• It makes you laugh, the way her bottom lip juts out. It’s childish, your eyes crinkle. And she’s smiling again, but this time you’re smiling too, “Maybe we need some water, this–” Her hands gesture to the crumbled sand, “is far toodry,”
• You nod, moving to stand. Dusting the sand off of your knees. You stretch your hand out, opened, inviting. It’s hopeful.
• “I’m [named],” Timid, your pull away quick, eyes searching her face. She smiles, “I’m Youngji,” She holds out her hand, “Want to see my sticker collection? It’s pretty cool! I bet, you’d like it!”
• You take her palm, your skin sticks to hers.
• She’s smiling, it makes you wonder if her cheeks are sore. But it makes you smile too. “I just started today, it’s real hard making friends, but then!” She holds up one finger, her grip on your hand tightening, “I talked to you! We can be friends now, right? I hope so! I like making friends, we’re friends now. I think, I hope?” Her voice is louder now, more confident, more boyant.
• You nod, cheeks reddening. You squeeze her hand, “we can be friends…”
• Wind blows, and she stares at you, eyes bright. “We’ll be the bestest friends!” Your heart swells, it fills. Overflowing, you nod, eyes turning, lips pulling. The bestest friends.

—

• It’s late, after school. The setting sun shines in through the windows of the entrance. Youngji sits beside you, showing you her collection of stickers. Doraemon, and it makes you feel small beside her, when she shows you her newest addition to her collection.
• “Um… My momma doesn’t have enough for that one yet,” or the other ones too. You tell her, Youngji nods, comfort in her shoulder when she presses into yours. “It’s okay, I save up, I try too at least– money goes fast! Especially for those things,” you smile, head tilting curiously, you point to one of the bigger stickers, “did you buy this on your own?” she shakes her head, looking to you, “um… Well, my brother brought it, but he gave it to me, I wanted to buy it on my own but he said I could have it!” You smile, nodding along.
• The entrance door opens, cracking slightly. You and Youngji look, heads turning. “Hey,” She says, her voice getting bored at the sight of a boy. “[name]… this is Jihoon, Jihoon… Is, well, he’s a boy who lives in my house, we’re not related, I swear!” Youngji is gathering her things, her sticker collection and summer hat, putting them in her backpack gently. “Ok. So tomorrow, you’ll wait for me right? By the gates? Or would you rather–” Jihoon’s voice cuts hers off, “Mom’s waiting,” she grunts, “Um. I was talking.” She looks to him, her eyes rolling.
• Your face reddens. Hands tightening at the hem of your shirt, you stare at the slope of his nose. “I– I– I– um…” You stutter. “[name], we don’t talk to boys, remember?” Youngji is sighing, “boys don’t have Doraemon stickers like me,” Jihoon smiles, it’s forced. It makes your stomach drop. “I– hi… Um… I'm– my name is, [name],” His eyes turn to Youngji, leaving you.
• “Wait for me, tomorrow, OK? I’ll wear this hat again so you can see me OK? Oh, and I’ll bring us lunch, cool?” You turn to her, cheeks reddening even more. She’ll pointing to her hat, bright yellow. “L– lunch? Okay! I’ll, um, wait!” She already walking away, her body still turned to you as she walks backward. “Bye, my best friend.” Jihoon waves, and then they’re gone.
• Suddenly you can breathe. Like you were holding your breath. Jihoon Jihoon Jihoon — his name repeats itself in your head, and you think, is this what love is?

—

• Your mom is cutting sweet potatoes at the table when you ask her.
• “Momma,” Her hum is soft, like the rain that patters at the window that evening. You sit across from her, the wooden chair creaking when you sit on it. “Um…” Your forefingers press together, you fidget. “What is, what is love? You know, like real love…” It’s quiet for a moment, before she laughs, asking, “May I ask why?~” You sigh, shoulders dropping. “Well. I met someone. Today, before you came to get me at school. It was a boy. And it’s Youngji’s brother. You remember her, right?” She nods, placing her knife on the cutting board. “Of course, you told me about her.” You smile, “I met her brother. And I was just, wondering. What love was, you know?” You become nervous under her stare despite the tenderness in them.
• “I… I think love is, complex,” She says, you stop her, growing shy, “momma… I don’t know that word yet…” Warmth comes from her when her hand reaches for yours across the table, “Difficult?” You nod, you know that one. “It’s, a strong feeling toward someone, I guess.”
• “Um. What if… Is it, like not being able to breathe?” Your head is downcast, eyes unable to meet hers. “It can be, baby. Was he breathtaking?” You shake your head quickly, “Wha– I, I don’t know! He was… He was weird! Like he, he…”
• She laughs, it comes out in shakes. Her body shakes, and it makes you giggle, when she throws her head back, mouth opening. “I don’t know, momma.”
• “Love is whatever you want it to be baby~” There is teasing in her voice, but her fingers roll over your knuckles, skin moving over bones, and it settles the churn in your gut.
• You decide Jihoon is breathtaking that evening at supper.
• When your father is fixing your bed, you linger behind him. “Dad, for lunch tomorrow, can you make me something good, and pretty? And can you buy me strawberry milk? Two?” He stills, a smile on his face when he turns. He nods, “Sure thing,” it makes you smile, legs moving closer toward him, “but first, you need to get rest, okay? And lots of it! So, you can be happy and healthy tomorrow,” you nod, head bouncing, kneeling into your bed. Your father moving the blankets to tuck you in.
• He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, a shout of your mother’s name, and the soft creak of her steps on wood. She’s there when your father stands, she kneels. “Dream of me, okay?” You nod, teeth showing. Your gut warms, love growing in your heart, gripping at you. “Obviously,” She presses a kiss to your cheek, your father turns the lights off. Moonlight seeping in through translucent curtains. “Goodnight, my baby~” She stands, moving backwards, stepping into your father’s hands.
• You dream of Youngji and her brother. The thought of him still lingers.
• When your father walks you to school, he tells you about the sky – the rising sun and the infinite blue that swallows everything – you listen, staring at the clouds. “It’ll rain today, so I’ll bring an umbrella for us, okay? Do you want your raincoat?” He asks, voice warm. “Yes, papa,” He squeezes your hand.
• As you near your school, “Um, papa? Can we wait at the entrance? I told a friend I would!”
• He stills, “only for a bit…” Then he continues, talking about the sky. When he quiets, you begin talking, about school, about what he talks about, about what your mother talks about. Until arguing grows louder, as well as Youngji’s voice.
• She sounds annoyed, and she looks hurt when you see her. Her hat is still bright, despite the grim look on her face. Your gut twists when you see her brother trailing after her. She’s quick when she sees you. Her pace quickening, and when she’s close enough, she grips your arm, “you actually waited, thank goodness! You see what I have to deal with?” Her chin lifts to point at Jihoon.
• Your breathe is snatched from you. “I– I didn’t know you were coming, I–” you’re grip on your father’s hand tightens. Youngji gives you a funny look, one that goes unnoticed by you as you stare at her brother. Stop staring! He’ll think you're– “Hon, I have to go…” Your father kneels, pulling at your hand. He pats your head when you stare hard at his chest. “Hey, don’t look like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” his thumb moves over your forehead, the creases in your skin, smoothing over. Skin tightening. “I packed your lunch like you said, and this~” He stands suddenly, arms opening, his hand gone from yours. “Youngji!” She smiles, head bobbing up and down. “Nice to meet you, [name] talkes about you all the time~ now… I really have to go,” He says, exaggerating. “Bye mister!” Youngji’s waving, her arm hooking in yours.
• You stare after him, feeling small. He turns to wave, and you wave bye.
• “He… He’s nice,” You say, Youngji hums. Before she sighs, “Bye, Jihoon. Have fun at boring middle school!” She’s pulling you away, and you keep turning back to stare at him. Hand lifting up, waving. Eyes settling on the curve of his mouth, it lifts.
• Jihoon smiles. And you suddenly can’t breathe again. Your heart grips at you.
• When lunch rolls again, Youngji is squealing. Loud among chatter. “Youngji…” It’s threatening, but not enough to stop her from grabbing your arm and dragging you away.
• “So! I don’t know what you like… Yet! But I asked my mom to help pack things for us, OK? Yummy things!” She’s quick on her feet, shifting through bodies, shoulders colliding. You mumble out apologies, head down, face red.
• When you near her locker, she changes her shoes quickly, telling you you’ll be eating outside. “It’s going to rain today,” You say, eyes catching hers. She nods, “I know, but that’s later, like after school later.” Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape.
• “Let’s change your shoes now, which locker is yours?” She questions, voice thick with curiousity. You begin walking. It isn’t far from hers, five lockers away.
• She tells you it might be fate, you insist it’s pure luck.
• The grass is green, and cherry blossoms bloom in the schoolyard. It’s empty despite the warm weather.
• Youngji is shrugging her bag off. Unzipping it while she walks. You look for a nice place to sit. Deciding on a bench near a cherry blossom tree. “Great eye!” She compliments, sweet.
• When you sit, she places a small container between you both. A pink lid is peeled off, Gyeran mari is sliced neatly, four slices. She places another container, a purple lid is peeled off again, this time with fruits. White peaches and strawberries – cream atop the strawberries.
• “I… I wanted it to be pretty! I even helped make it!” She’s smiling, all teeth. You nod, smiling back. Brighter.
• “I asked my dad to buy us strawberry milk! I’ll show you my lunch now,” You tell her, heartbeating faster. You redden, embarrassment washing over you.
• You unzip your backpack, pulling a lunch bag out, your hands grabbing a container from it, fingers pulling the lid off before you place it beside hers. An egg over rice. She ‘ooh’s softly, mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. You bag another container, smaller. Apple slices are there. You then grab the strawberry milk from your bag.
• “Tada! A dinner between best friends,” She says, brows rising. “Lunch,” You correct, handing her a strawberry milk. A grin smearing on your face.
• Her face falls a bit, it stirs something in your gut. Unease settling in your bones.
• “Um… Are, are you okay? I know it’s not much but–” You begin before being interrupted. She’s staring at you – through you, licking her lips before saying, “I’ve never really had a best friend, I hope we can be best friends forever.” A moment passes.
• “Let’s… Let’s be best friends forever then.” You hold out your pinky, a smile on your face. “Promise?”
• Youngji smiles, her teeth showing, she grips your pinky with hers. Holding on tight. “Promise!”

—

• Age 10 –
• (You follow Youngji to middle school, holding her hand along the way, whispering in her ear – she’s still your best friend when you both drift in different directions.)
• “Guesswhoo~” She says teasingly. Her hands covering your eyes. You giggle, grabbing one of her wrists, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe, Youngji?” You say, pulling her hand away. You twist, turning to face her in your desk. “Wow! So good!” She smiles, teeth and all. Youngji leans against the desk behind you, her knees pressing into the back of your chair.
• “So! My parents…” She trails off, sucking in air through her teeth. “You know how I’m always like ‘you’re my best friend, yeah yeah’?” You hum, staring at the nervous expression on her face, “Do you… Maybe… I don’t know, want to sleep over?” She asks, her eyes brightening up. “You can meet my parents! They’re always like, ‘bring her over, come one, Youngji-yah!’” She clasps her hands together, smiling at you.
• “Okay. This weekend?” You ask, head tilting.
• She nods, she thrusts her fist in the air, a yay leaving her lips. “Oh my god, our first sleepover! What! This has got to be perfect, I’ll make it the best sleepover, I promise!” She’s leaving the classroom before you can reply, the door sliding open as she rushes away. You smile after her.
• (Jihoon makes your heart full. Overripe in your chest. Fresh and plump, fruit hanging in your ribcage, your heart is achingly sweet.
• You see him in the halls, face reddening when his mouth lifts, mouth curving. You don’t say anything, he doesn’t either, but when you catch his stare, you know – his heart is full too.)
• She walks home with you on Friday for the first time, Jihoon trailing after you both, a friend of his tucked by his shoulder — they’re loud, voices lingering in your ears.
• You grip your handle bars too tight, knuckles bone-white.
• “You live in the city side? Lucky~ I live by the lake,” She tells you, whining a bit. She stops, suddenly. “Do you want me to carry that?” She asks, pointing to your bike. You shake your head a bit, “No! No! It’s okay–” You redden at her stare, now you’re all stopped in the middle of an empty street. “Here,” Jihoon’s voice says, smooth in the wind.
• He’s beside you now, eyes turning, mouth curled.
• His hands cover yours over the bike handles, you stare at him, seeing him – your heart plummets, you think he knows, and he does, fingers tightening over yours before you pull away, slipping away from under his.
• “I– thank… Thank you.” His chin lifts, he nods. He’s walking away, his friend trailing after.
• It’s silent the walk home, but you can’t help stare at the back of his head. Your heart is fresh fruit, hanging in your ribcage, Jihoon’s hands pulling it open. Fingers wrapping around your heart – he eats, he knows.
• “Mom…” You whine. Hands moving all over, you trail after her in a rush, through the kitchen, to the livingroom, to the door. “Please… They’re just waiting for me, I will be gone soon, mom!… Hey don’t show them that!” She’s showing them a photo album, her hands ushering them to follow her, and they do. Smiling at you when they pass you. You groan, your father’s hand landing on your shoulder. He tells you, “let her enjoy for a bit, you hardly bring people over,” You nod.
• “Oh! Honey! Make tea, or juice? Would you like anything?” Her hands clasp together loudly, she’s smiling, her cheeks red. “I… I’ll go get my stuff, you, um, you can wait here, okay?” Your head tilts, your stiff when you walk up the stairs. Mumbling about how your mother never acts like that when your father brings friends over.
• When you enter your room, you try to be quick. Folding your clothes neatly, and then stuffing them in a bag.
• A knock interrupts you, you turn. Eyes widening at Jihoon. “Hey, I don’t know where the bathroom is,” He says, eyes staring at anything but you. He’s rubbing his neck, “It… It’s down the wall, you have to be careful though. The door gets jammed sometimes.” Your hands subsciously pull together, fingers tightening around one another. You smile, nodding.
• He looks to you, catching your eye. Smiling too. Then it’s gone. He doesn’t move, then he opens his mouth, moving then closing. It becomes tense, and he looks pained. Your smile is gone now, taking a step forward, “Are… Are you okay?”
• He stares at you, before closing his eyes. Shut tight, “You can’t like me,” He says. It’s a demand. The room stills. Quiet. Still. Unmoving. He shakes his head, before stalking off. The bathroom door shuts with a thud.
• Something stirs in you, “Oh…” You utter, the quiet becoming unbearable. And the stirring in your gut leaves you uneased, you feel your heart drop. You want to sink into the floor.
• (You still sleep over at Youngji’s house, you pretend you don’t notice Jihoon’s stares. You pretend he didn’t say what he said.)

—

• Age 13 –
• Jihoon joins the basketball team, and when Valentine’s day rolls around. Love notes and chocolates pail up on top of his desk.
• (You don’t talk to him much; when you stay over at Youngji’s house, he leaves. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, ripping your heart and taking it with him – “Love is whatever you want it to be,” you decide whatever love you have for Jihoon isn’t love.)
• “I wonder if I’ll get any Valentines…” Youngji thinks out loud, stopping in front lf you when she gets closer to you at the school gates. “You will, I’ll make sure of it,” You say, arm locking with hers. She smiles, fingers tightening on your coat.
• “BTW. I heard a rumor~” She teases, finger poking your cheek. You sigh, “I told you not to use abbreviations outside of text, it doesn’t sound right to me, I swear I will–” You glare, voice going hard. “It’s about you, actually!” Youngji interrupts, her eyes sparkling. “Oh… Is, is it mean? I don’t like when people are mean to me, you know I can’t handle–” She laughs, ringing throughout the schoolyard. She stops, leaning close to you, her hand covering her and mouth when she whispers to you, “Yongshik from class A has a crush on you~” she pulls away with a grin on her face. You redden. “Like… Oh, um – like as a joke?” You question.
• She pulls toward the school doors, a girl holding it open for you both, you mumble a thanksand she says, “thank you so much.”
• You have to think about it, because it doesn’t feel right. “I don’t know who Yongshik though…” You mumble. Youngji smiles pitifully before a genuine one appears. “Hey, listen. You don’t have to accept his feelings. It’s okay to reject someone,” It sounds sweet, a little unlike her then she adds. “Better to be the rejecter then to be the rejectee!”
• You glare at her, “Cute, Youngji.” You say. She quickly says she has to be early for class, she tugs you into her arms, squeezing tightly before she runs off.
• You make a beeline for your locker, ignoring the eyes that seem to follow you. When you near it, a boy stands there. His face brightening up at you, hand opening to wave at you. It makes you still, you wave back awkwardly. You walk slower, until you stand in front of him.
• He smiles, and something about his smile makes you feel uneased, like he can see you, through you, like Jihoon – but not really. Jihoon’s eyes are starbursts, shining. Glowing. Vast – “Hello, I– I have something to tell you,” He says, and you can feel eyes on your back again. You nod, a feeling of excitement begins to stir in your gut and you don’t like it, your heart picks up. He pulls out a letter from the pocket of his uniform jacket, he hands it to you. You make sure to grab the edge of it, avoiding his fingers.
• “Thank –” You’re interrupted when an arm wraps around your shoulder, tucking you under their side. Your eyes dart to them, and you’re surprised it’s Jihoon, his smile is different – almost too sweet, sickly sweet. It oozes something you don’t recognize.
• “Hey, [name], been lookin’ everywhere for you,” He says, facing you. You redden under his eyes, mumbling, “I just got here…”
• You forget about the boy, and find yourself boiling over, your stomach erupting.
• “Um… You’ll read it, right?” The boy says, and you jump before nodding quickly, “Of course!” You smile at him and it falls once he leaves, walking to a group of his friends, they clasp their hands on his shoulders.
• “Why’d you do that? He might have needed help with homework or something,” You say naively, shrugging his arm off. “Or he could have a crush on you~” He sings softly, going to lean on the locker beside yours. He stares at you, a smile ghosting on his face. “Also, I seriously doubt he’d need help with homework, he’s one of the top students.” You ‘ah’ at him, he still stares at you. “Stop staring, it’s… It’s making me nervous…” You murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear. He leans closer to you, Jihoon smiles, “Nervous, huh? I know I’m too charming,” He teases, brows raising. You glare, but his smile makes you hide yours. He continues, “I get nervous too, when I wall passed a mirror, I always have to stop and stare,” You sigh, face heating up, “Jihoon,” You begin, daringly, “don’t get ahead of yourself,” he raises his hands.
• The bell rings, shutting your locker, books in your hand, Jihoon takes them from you, “let me walk the reddest girl to class,” it doesn’t make sense, but it makes you redden even more. “I, what– wait… Am I really that red?”
• (You read the letter from the boy, his name is Yongshik, and he thinks you’re smart and pretty and he wants to get to know you – you politely decline, telling him you like someone else. Yongshik’s sweet smile is gone when you leave, and he glares at Jihoon.)
• Age 14—
• Jihoon’s graduation is exactly how he wanted it – quick paced and undemanding. He insists you come –
• (You and Jihoon spend more time together than you should have; he tells you we’re friends now and yet you can’t help but feel like there’s something more to your friendship – there is; Jihoon laughs in your ear, quiet, hushed. Only for you to hear. He lets his arm linger over your arm when Youngji runs off to class, leaning too close to you. And whenever – completely by chance, not by him whining to sit beside you – you sit beside him at lunch, he knocks his knee against yours, and leans too close and talks to you, like you’re the only there. But still. Jihoon insists you’re friends.)
• When it’s over. He drags you away, – “Stealing me away when no one’s looking, clever.” “Please, just… Bear with me.” – his fingers tug at your wrist.
• You’re led to a bench by the school gates. Where he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to sit while he paces. People yell their goodbyes at him, and he waves goodbye back to each one.
• “Jihoon, I wanted to ask you something–” Your hands folds over your lap, fingers playing with the hem of your uniform skirt. “Um… Who, who did you give your second button to? I know it’s none of my–” He stills, and then his grabbing one of your hands, placing the button in your open palm before he closes it.
• And it’s quiet, a long deafening silence.
• “Can I kiss you?” He asks, and your eyes widen, face flushing. “Like, as friends?” You ask innocently. And he stammers, “What? No– like, as more than friends. Like in the movies, romance, you know?”
• “It…” You trail off. Your heart is beating, overgrowing in your chest, too ripe, too soft. “It’s okay.”
• When he sits beside you, you don’t know what to do. You stiffen, and he places a hand on your hand, rubbing gently.
• He places a hand over your closed fist, the one with the button. You face him, and this is the closest you’ve been to him, probably. You unstiffen when he smiles, fond.
• He tells you to close your eyes, and you do. Feeling his warm breath over your face, before soft lips press to yours.
• It takes your breath away. The air in your lungs lets out through your nose, and it feels like a secret. The kiss is barely there, light on your lips. But it impacts you so much.
• When he pulls away and you open your eyes, he’s smiling fondly.
• “I still remember when you told me not to like you,” You say, and he groans, leaning back. “Don’t remember me.” His hand stays over yours, and you place your free hand over his.
• You redden. Ribcage open, fruit heart hanging, ripe.
• “What… What does this mean? I mean, you’re graduating and I’m… I’m not. Not yet.”
• “It means, you’ll have to come over often,” He tells you, shifting closer to you. You nod, “I’ll visit over, Jihoon, so take care of me~”
• (Neither you or Jihoon tell Youngji. A part of you falls apart slowly when she asks if you like anyone, you lie. About Jihoon. About everything.)

—

• Age 15 –
• When you get to high school, you drift from Youngji and grow closer to Jihoon. But she remains a constant; hooking her arm in yours, and pulling you in close.
• When you get to high school, you and Jihoon navigate your relationship in gaps of everyone’s eyes, where no one can see – he insists it’s because you’re new to dating, you think of his sister and tell him you’re scared of being hated; he doesn’t understand.
• (He corners you, drags you somewhere eyes won’t see – “Are you getting prettied each day?” “… You need glasses.” “You better be joking, [name]!” – presses his hands on your shoulders, holding on like bicycle handles, before his hands run down your arms, meeting your hands, filling the gaps of your fingers with his – “We’re like puzzle pieces,” he’d say, through teeth and lips, mumbling, you’d look somewhere else – he stands close, staring at you – “Sometimes I think we’re meant to be,” It’d go silent, something will raise over you, you’d open your mouth, moving, but nothing. “Was that too much?” He’d ask, and you’d squeeze his hand, shaking your head – when he kisses you, it’s just a press of lips, soft, tender. Barely there. Like a secret, and it’s you and Jihoon’s secret – “I think we should tell people now… I want to, I hope you understand.” You do. “… Okay. We’ll do it.”)
• When you get to high school, you and Youngji are the type of friends who never get mad at one another – you were.
• (“Hey, Youngji? Can I ask you something…?” You ask, quiet in her room. It’s dark, cold. Her feet are on yours, tangled. Her body pressed close for warmth. “Sure, go for it,” Youngji’s voice is quiet too, full of something nice. Sweet. “What… What would you say if I were dating someone? Someone you know… Someone close…?” You ask, turning to watch her face. The way it lights up understand the screen of her phone. She gets up quick, turning full at you. “Are you dating someone?!” It echoes in her room, and you’re sure it echoes everywhere in her house. “I– I, I am. But you have to promise me you won’t get mad, okay?” You hold out your pinky, waiting for her. She’s quick to lock it with hers. “Tell me!” She smiles, right at you. “It’s… It’s Jihoon.” And Then her smile is gone, slowly falling off her face. “My brother Jihoon? That Jihoon?” It’s not exactly disgust, just a breath of something odium. You nod, and she pulls her hand away, “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks, and you can see the lines of anger growing on her face. “I… I don’t know… We just started dating, and… And he thought it’d be better if we shouldn’t,” you tell her, a feeling of guilt swimming in your gut. “Well, what did you think?” She asks, voice hard. “I… I didn’t think,” You mumble, head hanging. “Of course you didn’t.” She says. “Right.” You say, voice distant; you both go to sleep, backs turned away.)
• You walk home with Jihoon that day, after listening to her yelling at him for not telling her, he doesn’t yell back, telling her it was his fault – you think it’s yours.
• Youngji stops linking her arm in yours, and starts hanging out with another girl you both went to middle school with. You hold Jihoon’s hand at school, and you feel like you can breath.
• (“I’m sorry you and my sister are fighting…” He whispers in your hair, his body on his side, facing you. “I… We shouldn’t have told anyone, it’s my fault–” His hand is tightening in yours. “It’s no one’s fault, it was the right thing to do. We should have told people first, that we were together. You wanted people to know and that’s okay.” You turn to face him, he sighs. “I… I know, I’m just sorry.” You and Jihoon begin to spend days at your house instead of his, a thick tension between his sister and him – and still, you think it’s your fault.)

—

• Age 16–
• (Jihoon has one unequivocal truth; he loves you).
• “Our anniversary is coming up~” He says, it’s lunch and you’re studying. His fingers brushing your hair away from your face. You hum, “I know. You said you wanted us to do something,” He hums, moving closer to you, body pressing to your side. “I was thinking… Sky diving!” You look at him, “with what money? We’re high school students, Jihoon.” He barks a laugh, quick, loud. “I was joking,” He says, and you hum softly, a sigh leaving your lips. “School’s hard,” You whine. “How about, a date? Let me take you out.” It’s serious. Because he’s staring at you, face void of a smile, but his eyes shine bright, starbursts. “Don’t we go on those all the time?” You question, head tilting. “Those aren’t dates, we usually just stay in your room and talk,” You ‘oh’ softly, before you become shy, cheeks turning red.
• “I’ve never been on a date.” You say, and it makes him smile. He nods. “Let me take you out.” He repeats, and you’re heart flutters.
• When your anniversary comes, you panic.
• [Jihoon]:might b late, can u come over? sorry baby :(
• [name]: its ok, don’t worry ^^
• “Ma!” You yell, pacing in your room. She busts in, looking panicked, “What did I tell you about yelling?… Honey, you look so pretty!” She’s smiling, the lines on her face, fading when her cheeks lift. “It’s not too much? Right?”
• She walks to you, her hands cupping your cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” It’s sincere, making you smile too.
• “Now go. Be home before 7, or I will come find you myself.”
• When you got to his house, your father dropping you off. Youngji answers the door, an awkward silence between you both.
• “Hi… Um, is… Is Jihoon here?” It’s the first time you’ve talked to her since last year, and you feel strange under her stare. She nods, moving to let you in. “I’ll go get him for you.” She begins to walk away, leaving you to stand awkwardly at the door, staring after her. She stops, abruptly. “Youlookpretty!” Before she’s bolting away. You let out a confused noise.
• You smile, a weight lifting off of your shoulders. You stare at your shoes, hands coming together at your chest. She comes back first, standing a distance away from you, you begin, “I’m sorry. I should have told you, I was naive, I didn’t think–” then you’re in her arms, she’s squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”
• You wrap your arms around her, “You don’t have to be sorry, you were right to be upset. I should have told you,” She sighs, mumbling something.
• “I think I always knew you liked him,” You laugh awkwardly, “was it that obvious?” you ask, and she pulls away, brows raised. “I think so!”
• “I’m ready,” Jihoon says, biting the inside of his cheek after. Youngji hums, “Be home at 7!” She says to Jihoon, looking over her shoulder, her hands rubbing your arms, before she goes to open the door. “Have fun, okay?”
• (That evening, Jihoon tells you he loves you. Your heart hangs open in your chest, growing ripe.)

Extra!

• When you graduate, you move in with Jihoon. A small apartment in the city, he teasingly tell his friends his childhood sweetheart followed him to college. But it was Jihoon who followed you when you told him it was your first option at schools.
• Jihoon is serious about your relationship. Despite never being with anyone else, he prays you never want to break up with him.
• When arguments occur, he never you going to sleep upset at him. He apologizes first, – even if you’re one in the wrong, you own up to your mistakes just as he does. You both always go to bed peaceful with one another.
• Jihoon likes grocery shopping. He picking out foods, and trying out new things. If you don’t like something, he remembers and tries to avoid it. Especially when his friends give him it for leftovers.
• Jihoon is more domestic than he likes to admit, telling everyone you’re the domestic one. by