Last Week of School // Jaeseong (SF9)

Day 7

Saturday, July 7

Despite summer just being around the corner, our school continues hosting the Saturday club activities for those I-paid-my-school-fees-so-I-have-to-use-them-all-up students, or those school-is-all-my-life-and-I-dedicate-all-my-time-to-extra-activites-just-because-I-want-to students.

Under normal circumstances, I would love to call myself the second type, but after Inseong graduates this year, I wouldn't have to impress anyone by pretending to be a good student anymore.

As usual, I was one of the first ones in English class. It wasn't like I got to choose when my roommate, Youngbin hyung, decides to wake up hella early and go to work hella early, leaving me no choice but to wake up hella early and go to school hella early, too.

I looked out the classroom window – the one that gives me the perfect view of the university car park – and watched Youngbin hyung leave the school gates while my crush took over his parking space.

When the professor started taking attendance, half of the class was missing. That was expected, since what was the point of coming to school now? But I still came, because I know he would.

"Kim Inseong?" The professor regarded with a boring tone.

"Here, professor Lee." Inseong replied with his honey sweet voice – it had only been a day but I already miss it– that is like music to my ears.

I rested my head on my palms and heaved a sigh. English lessons are too involved for a stupid person like me anyways. So instead, I spent the whole lesson staring at something that actually matters: my world.

As usual, he took out his lime coloured utensils – he color-codes his notebooks and folders and worksheets for different subjects – and started taking notes.

And as usual, I admired the way his eyes widen when he hears something of interest; the way he frowns when the teacher speaks too quickly; the way he switches different coloured pens for his more-than-organised notes; the way he writes furiously with pen and paper while others use their laptops to watch porn secretly; the way he smiles when he answers, or, for that matter, asks questions that are off-syllabus.

Of course, all I got to see was half his face because I sat behind him, but I never get bored. I chose to sit on his left side, because I want to prove to him that "I think my right profile looks better" is bullshit, and that there's no such thing as "better" for someone as flawless as Inseong.

Reading back at what I wrote, it makes me sound like a stalker or a pervert. But I'm not. I don't have the desire to own him or anything. I'm just trying to look at him when I still have the chance, so I don't forget that something so beautiful ever appeared in my life.

I know it's wrong to develop such strong feelings for a stranger–I'm nothing to him, and he's defenitely nothing to me either –but I finally realised, just as God did, that I've been spending too much time on him that I'm too attached to pull away at this point.

If I'm not meant to be with him, then why did God put him in front of me? I need to stop looking at him. It's stupid that I even paid attention to him in the first place. That's it. I need to stop being so addicted.

But I just cannot control myself. I'm scared of never being able to see him again, after the seven days end. So I keep doing what I did for years.

After three hours of analysing poetry, I followed Inseong into the art room. I had to hide behind lockers occasionally because there are always those few students who decide it was great to stop Inseong just to attempt – and to no avail – to win him over in a matter of minutes.

Well, I've been trying to do that since middle school, and I think I know clear enough what it takes – and what it doesn't – to make Inseong pay attention to you for just a second.

And it hurts. It hurts to watch Inseong smile at boys that aren't me; it hurts when some girl touches him or bumps into him and says it was an "accident". It feels like layers and layers or thick cloth tries to suffocate my heart – a feeling that is worse than being stabbed.

What hurts most is how scared I am to even share eye contact with him. I'm such a coward that I don't think I even deserve to feel envious.

My brain tells me to give up. It hurts less to be heartbroken now than to be left hanging on a thread, because then you wouldn't know how long the thread can hold on to you before it lets you fall endlessly. The truth is written in big bold letters: it's never going to be a "happily ever after" ending, there's no point in trying.

You see, my brain tells me stuff, but my heart never listens.

I still smile whenever I see him. My heart still races whenever his hand brushes with mine. Every cell of my body still reacts when he does something as simple as saying "hello". My legs bring me away whenever he tries to start a conversation with me.

I'm walking on thin ice. I'm attracted to Inseong like how the moon is attracted to Earth. Every step I take is more dangerous than the last. I don't want to continue, but at the same time I do.

It has been at least six years, and I'm still that pathetic Lee Jaeyoon.