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chapter twenty-one

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"Yura~" Jeongguk coos, waddling behind the girl who's pretending to be unaware of his presence. He sing-songs, "Talk to me~"

As she keeps on ignoring him, a pout builds upon his face and blossoms the more she doesn't respond.

He's chasing behind her, not even a meter away from her, him making sure to keep on sharing close proximity.

"Don't ignore me," he whines while throwing his head back in exasperation, sighing loudly to himself.

The dark-haired duo keeps on walking around the campus, everyone keeping their stares on them and wondering why these two completely different people are hanging out together.

Discovering that she still doesn't reply to his whines, pouts, nor calls, he begins to shake her shoulders like a child who wants to have his toy back after playing with it for too long.

"It was just a joke," he reasons, a whiny undertone evident in his voice. "You're taking it way too far."

Just as he finishes his sentence, Yura swiftly turns around, catching him off-guard. She begins in a slow manner, "Was it really, though?"

Jeongguk nibbles on his lip, eyes everywhere but on her. Then she moves closer with those eyes that look so deeply into his own, "Hm?"

Regaining his usual attitude and behavior, his eyes meet with hers, pursing his lips. "I was just joking."

"No," Yura disagrees, shaking her head. "You seriously think that I couldn't live without you. That I'm 'attached' to you."

Before he could respond with a cocky remark, she quickly interferes, "But I'm not. You men may think that we need you for literally anything, but we don't. The only person I need to accomplish something for is myself."

As Jeongguk notices that she's speaking in the plural form, his eyebrows furrow and create a frown on his forehead, wondering who exactly she's talking about.

"Are we still talking about me?" he asks after a few moments of silence, his voice small and soft, being careful with his words.

A pain-filled sigh escapes her. Her eyes move to the side, soon being glazed with a layer of tears, confusing him even more.

Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.

She slowly replies, "No. Just—" Shaking her head, the student restarts her sentence, "Just leave me alone for a few moments."

As soon as she finishes her sentence, she swiftly walks away, leaving the boy alone before he could even respond.

Those painful memories are books with chapters, deep and horrible; and so she leaves them on the shelf to gather dust.

But if people avert the past and act like it never happened, the moment will come, wherein it replays in someone's head and messes with their mind, soul, and heart.

Yet she can pick them up if she needs to learn something, to gain a perspective that helps her to create her own good story.

Also, she can use them to re-see situations through the lens of their needs and traumas rather than hers.

Yura wants today, tomorrow and every tomorrow after to be wonderful; she wants to choose what to write on those blank pages.

But how is that supposed to work when those books are caught in a tornado, turning and twirling around without her consent?

So all she can do is experience the same event again; hoping and praying that the boy waiting for her isn't like the last one. Hoping and praying that those incidents from her past won't be repetitive.

Being deep in thought, she doesn't notice when someone greets her, causing him to tap on her shoulder, pulling her out of her own universe.

A smile spreads over his face as Yura's eyes stretch in slight shock, not expecting to see him here.

Clearing her throat, she smiles lightly after blinking the salty water away, readjusting her bag. "Hyungsik? What are you doing here?"

The said boy replies before ruffling her dark hair. "I attend this university as well."

Her eyes are pried open by now, the unexpected news hitting her like a truck. "Really? Since when?"

"It's been a few weeks," he responds, shrugging loosely, the smile staying glued on his perfectly sculpted face. "I signed up at the same with a boy called..." He thinks for a few seconds, unable to come up with the boy's name. "Jeonseok? Jeonyoung? No, was it Jeongmu—"

"It's Jeongguk."

The duo moves their eyes towards the boy who joined their conversation, eyes pried open in surprise.

Jeongguk's eyes are narrowed as he glances in between the two, pursing his lips to keep his smart mouth shut.

Yura heaves a sigh while gazing at him. Her orbs move back towards the bartender, a tender smile adorning her face.

She holds her arm exhaustedly up, gesturing towards Jeongguk, she tiredly mumbles, "Hyungsik, meet Jeongguk, my—"

"Boyfriend," he immediately cuts her off with a tight smile.

His hand slithers smoothly around her waist, bringing her closer to his warm body.

Hyungsik's eyes squint towards him, a scoff escaping him. "So you were the one who left her drunk and didn't even think of picking her up?"

Rolling his tongue against his cheek, Jeongguk retorts in a low tone, "I was busy."

"Of course you were." Hyungsik swiftly counters, "It's not like we're all busy. You could've at least brung her home. Your 'girlfriend' should be your business."

The whites in Jeongguk's eyes turn a pure black as his iris glower teal. Symbols, warnings, lines, and dots form in the iris.

His lethal stare feels painful and piercing for anyone who dares to look his way, as if his glare can tear a heart apart with a blinding teal light.

"You're no one to teach me," he swiftly barks, scoffing right after.

If love is only a will to possess,
it is not love.

Before he could continue his threat, Yura quickly interferes with a nervous chuckle while holding him back by laying her hand on his defined chest, "I'm sorry, Hyungsik, but we have to leave now. Our lecture starts in a few."

Waving at him for one last time, the dark-haired girl drags Jeongguk away before he could cause any drama.

They halt in the back of the hallway where no one is. A loud and long sigh escapes the girl as she questions, "What do you think you're doing? And 'girlfriend'? What the hell?"

As she finishes her sentence, Jeongguk's mind repeats it inside his head for many times, questioning himself what the hell he's doing.

His eyes are pried open as he comes to a realization, quickly shaking his head right after.

Shrugging his shoulders cooly, his nonchalant face shining through, hiding his true intentions and emotions. "Nothing."

"If I weren't a civilized and rational thinking person, your coconut looking headass would be cracked already," she badgers in utter irritation, huffing.

The uneasiness is lifted off his shoulders as he listens intently, loud waves of laughter escaping him.

Her face scrunches up in disgust as she looks his laughing figure up and down. "No, really, you look like a coconut head."

"I did my hair like this because you said that it would look cute," he responds after his laughter died down. A small pout forms on his lips as he loosely touches his hair.

Her breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light.

A light chuckle leaves her, tilting her head just a bit as she gazes at him in nothing but utter mesmerization. "You don't have to change your hair because I mentioned something like that."

Dragging herself nearer to his pine-scented body, her hands slowly move upwards towards his hair, eyes widening slightly as she touches the soft material.

As her hands move and brush through his hair, his eyes stay trained on her face, examining every small bit to mesmerize it.

A smile spreads over her face as she whispers, "Finished."

Indeed, his hair looks like it usually does; forehead exposed, hair styled back.

"It doesn't matter how your hair looks like," she mumbles, averting his gaze as a soft blush paints her face. "I met you like this, remember?"

"What this actually means is, 'I like you'," he adds, a grin adorning his face. "But it's fine that you still won't admit it."

She shoves him away playfully, smiling in embarrassment. "I don't, you dumbass."

"Hmm," he hums teasingly. "Keep telling yourself that, Yura."

Silence slowly takes over as the duo battle each other with their stares.

Unexpectedly, his hand drifts to her hip. It settles there and pulls her closer.

She inhales sharply, as she's against his warm chest, chiseled to perfection. The dark-haired girl splays her hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead, she leaves it there.

His breathing quickens as did hers. Her limp body begins to tremble uncontrollably.

His head is angled slightly to the side as his lips come closer and closer to hers. Their breaths are mingled, lips parting.

Slowly, inexorably, he presses his lips to hers. It's soft and gentle and chaste and maybe there's no fireworks or sparks, but it's better than that – it's a wave of warmth that fills both of them up, spilling out from their hearts and the warmth of his lips on hers and rushing to every corner of their bodies; the cracks in between their toes, the crooks of their elbows, the tips of their ears. Every inch of them is saturated with warmth.

As he unhurriedly pulls away, he rests his forehead on hers, gazing deeply into her chocolate eyes.

He slowly opens his mouth, his voice not atop of a simple whisper, "There is a difference between lust and love. Love begins with an imagine and lust with a sensation. I can only give you one of those. And I think you know damn well which one it is."

Desire is the kind of thing that eats you
and leaves you starving.