𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮 𝐈𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐈𝐭 𝐈𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭

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Haru Isn't Much of Help and For Once, It Isn't His Fault


Gyeoul stared at the empty spot in front of her, where Dohwa had stood not two seconds ago.

Just like before, the boy had vanished into thin air and Gyeoul couldn't understand the reason behind her sudden urge to cry. She had seen this happen multiple times. Sometimes she blinked and found herself transported back to the library from wherever she was. Even Kyung had disappeared like this. The shock and disbelief had made her burst into tears then.

But then there was also the fact that Dohwa had forgotten her. Again. He wouldn't remember a word of their lengthy conversation, wouldn't remember her face, wouldn't remember that they were friends.

"Well," she felt small and pathetic and invisible, "it was nice while it lasted."

She returned to her sad little corner under the staircase and wedged the comic she had forgotten about between the sofa cushions. As she lay down, tugging the throw rug over her, Gyeoul was reminded of the notepad Dohwa had shown her.

He had doodled apples, leaves, stars and planets, and snowflakes all over its ruled pages. Before he had retrieved it out of embarrassment, Gyeoul had managed to read little snippets of their conversations that he had tried to recall and record. And then he had also said that he had run around his school trying to look for her.

Gyeoul felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she buried her face into the cushions. She hadn't expected that Dohwa would even think about her, much less look for her.

My Gyeoul, he had said.

A giggle passed her lips as she curled into herself. Hope bubbled in her chest as she replayed their meeting, etching every second of it in her heart. My Gyeoul. Her Dohwa. Her closest friend.

Maybe, Gyeoul dared to dream, maybe this time he'd remember. Maybe this time, things would change and he'd look for her again. Maybe this time, he would see her.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, she thought she imagined footsteps circling around in the library. Shifting in her sleep, Gyeoul snuggled into the throw and brushed off the thoughts. With a wide, excited smile, she shut her eyes, forgetting all about the spine of Trumpet Creeper digging into her back, and fell asleep.

My Gyeoul.

"Haru!"

The boy turned with a pleasant smile only to take a bewildered step back as Dohwa all but squished his face between palms. He swung him back and forth while wailing.

"I need your help, my friend! This is a crisis. I've looked for her everywhere. Everywhere. I thought I'd find her in the library but she's not there. You're the only one who can help! I think." He added with an afterthought.

Haru folded into himself, not used to prolonged physical contact, and squirmed out of Dohwa's grasp. "Sure," he said, slightly weirded out by how his friend was behaving, "What can I do for you?"

Ten minutes later, the boys found themselves in the Art room. Danoh had followed them, eager to see what favour Dohwa was extracting from her beloved extra. She perched herself on a seat behind Haru as the boy sat on a bench, sheets of white clipped to his easel and charcoal in hand.

"Okay," he glanced at Dohwa who leaned over his shoulder in anticipation, "If you can describe her to me, I can try to sketch her."

Dohwa nodded, full of determination, and began, "Her hair is as soft as it looks, black and pinned half back. The way it falls attracts a lot of attention to her long neck. Her eyes are narrow, deep, so deep that you'd get lost in them," Haru's pencil didn't move as the two stared at Dohwa, who seemed to have gotten lost in thought as he spoke, "and dark, the good kind of dark, full of warmth, and they have a sweet kind of gentleness in them. She has constellations on her face, making a person daydream about playing join the dots. Although she tends to get nervous really quick, she has a calm aura around her. And her voice makes me feel as if I could listen to her talk forever" He concluded with a lovestruck smile and turned to his friends.

forget-me-not || lee dohwaWhere stories live. Discover now