Alexa | pjm

Eighteen

. . .

    ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *   

❝ We all have something we're afraid for others to know because it might hurt them ❞

Heejung

I'm not a disrespectful or rude person, but I'm about to seem like it. And I really don't want to sound blunt, come across cold-hearted and seemingly kind of a jerk, but I'm only doing this because my heart isn't ready to accept another's.

"I've been admiring you from afar, the little doodles you do, and your silly but somehow nice writing, especially when you solve a math equation or analyze scientific problems you're so focused, detailed orientated, and quiet, but in a good way. But when you play soccer, it's like you are the wind and your feet help you fly, and your arms, hands are butterfly wings. I hope you'll accept this—" she stretches out her arms, eyes shut tight, a heart-shaped box grasped in her hands, hinting me there's probably chocolate inside.

Her eyes are still shut.

"Yoona, what are you doing?" As soon as she hears me, her eyes quickly open, meeting my own gingered mild distraught ones.

Raising a brow, she opens her mouth. Then a nervous laugh utters from her mouth.

"What does it look like? I'm confessing to you. All these years, I've been in the shadow and you've been my sunlight—do you . . . do you really not get it, Heejung?"

Now her voice has gone hushed with a hint of tremble playing along.

Her eyes are nearly blurred, a tear slips from the corner of her eyes seeing that I haven't uttered a single word.

"I don't like chocolate."

I try hard to sound polite, however, there's a gulp between my throat, and I'm worried.

Well that's a good thing, right?

She laughs—stoked.

"To put it simpler, would you be my boyfriend?" The word boyfriend knocks at my door almost every single day and you're probably wondering what's my response.

Let me tell you one thing.

I don't want to be held hostage if I get into a relationship and that's exactly what happens when you get into one.

Worse if the other is protective.

"I'm not interested," I say in a flat tone, pulling the strap of my backpack over my shoulder. "Now if I'm excused, may I leave? I have a busy schedule and other things to attend than listening to all these confessions." Yoona stands there, head dipped, tears running down her cheeks and splash on the concrete, and she falls to her knees, a crying mess.

I look over my shoulder, take a deep morn sigh. Then I leave, heading to the metro bus stop, pretending nothing happened.

You already hopefully know who I am, Kang Eric and Kim Beomseok's friend.

Eric is part of the Mafia, Kang Family, Beomseok's a normal student who doesn't give two freaks. Me the one who appears innocent is none other than plain rude.

My name—Choi Heejung.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *     

"Mom, dad, my nonexistent sister, I'm home!" I say nonexistent sister because she acts as if she's the only child and leaves me out in exciting events, but she's not that bad.

I hear my mom yell across the room welcome home, tidy yourself up, I'm making your favorite and dessert!

Chicken sandwich and a cinnamon bun. I haven't had those in a long time ever since the PSAT results came out and realizing that I did worse in sophomore than freshmen year.

It really bothered me so I became a more effective person in my studies and sports and other hobbies or whatever.

When I'm heading upstairs, my older sister yells for me and then starts chasing me around the living room.

I jump over the cushions laying on the floor, sticking my tongue out at her, smiling wide because she's the dumbest person alive, knowing she can't match my pace or speed.

I've been running and participating in athletics since sixth grade, so you could say I'm certainly athletic.

The fun all stops once our mom breaks in, saying, "Do you both ever grow up? Oh, and Heejung, can you send these cinnamon buns next door? A new family moved in next door, so I thought it'd be nice to give them sweets as a hello and suit yourself home."

We both stop right away, raising a brow, questioning our mom. Dabin and mom give me a look, smiling at me.

Mom hands me over the basket of cinnamon buns covered with an elegant napkin, then I'm pushed outdoor.

Without knowing, my feet lead the way. I knock on the door, putting on my best smile. However, I find myself nervous wrecked.

When the door opens, my heart rate runs the speed of light.

I'm standing there in awe at the girl's beauty in front of me with long braided brown hair, cascading down her chest, her lips curving into a bright smile.

"Are these cinnamon buns for us?"

"Uh . . . yeah! Yeah, of course, they are for you, I hope you find this neighborhood comfortable. I guess I'll take my leave now."

One thing for sure, I sound stupid.

REALLY STUPID AND I'M MAYHAPS BLUSHING LIKE A GIRL.

That shouldn't happen.

"Oh, wait! I didn't get your name!"

I turn around and give her a smile.

"Heejung, Choi Heejung."

She smiles back, lifting her arm for a handshake.

"Hana, Jeong Hana," I take her hand, shaking it, and I'm smiling.

Hana smiles too happily. Then I start to leave, but she stops me.

"Do you—do you want to be friends?"

"I think I'd like that."