amaranthine.

dix-neuf

-          yerin's heart jumped. "w-what?"

"can we be friends, at least?"

"at least?!"

"come on, not like that...you know what i mean. please let's be friends." a slightly desperate tone colored his voice. yerin had never seen him like this before, begging. she was glad they were both in shadows, burrowed in different blankets.

"well, since you asked so nicely..." she smiled into the dark. "but i thought we were already friends."

jeongguk hesitated, awkward. "you can't just assume someone's your friend. some people — at my old school, they didn't want to associate with me. so i learned not to assume."

"i'm sorry." the wind carried away her words as soon as she had said them. "it's better here."

"it is," he agreed. "people are kinder. you're kinder. letting me paint you and everything...i can't tell you how much i appreciate—"

"it's what friends do," yerin cut him off. "look!"

she pointed up, past the treetops. it was a clear night, and the sky was alive with stars; they were bright and numerous, glinting like nickels in a well. they swirled and winked, and jeongguk and yerin sat wondering at the sheer grandeur of it all.

"breathtaking," jeongguk whispered.

"there must be millions," yerin whispered back.

they fell silent then, watching the stars, and the sounds of the world filtered to the surface. the muffled music from below. the rumbling roar of a car driving by, headlights blazing. conversation and laughter drifting up from the street. above, the creak of tree boughs in the wind, the hush-hush of the leaves as they brushed together. in the backyard of the neighbor's house, a rusty swing groaned as it hung swaying from an abandoned play structure. somewhere in the distance, a dog howled mournfully.

they sat together, side by side, for a long time. finally, wordlessly, they climbed back through the window, returned the blankets, and parted ways.