007. Opportunity (4)
May. What does it mean to hold a girl's hand on a warm spring day?
...
If it was a first experience, it was truly special.
A girl I'd only seen as a friend for ten years. Her hand didn't hold just pure friendship. More impure than friendship, more thrilling, an energy that heated my chest flowed from her soft palm.
I looked at Shin Na-young. Playful eyes. A perky nose. A frame much smaller than Han Yu-ra's. Her cheeks looked so cute, like they'd squish softly if I squeezed them.
And that wasn't the end. Beneath her neatly trimmed bob haircut, a white neckline was visible, and today, inside her unzipped zip-up hoodie, there was a deep collarbone and a black casual sports bra that teased a man's heart.
Even in the dark movie theater, her beauty flickered into view. Her heartbeat—or maybe mine—transmitted through our palms.
You... like me, don't you.
It was a fact I'd known in my head. But the heart always lagged behind the mind. Once I realized it, the movie's plot didn't enter my head at all.
"James! Watch out!"
"Damn it!"
-KABOOM.
-SCREEECH!
The train derailed and crashed in a heap. Dust billowed on the screen as the protagonist leaped out, embracing the heroine. It looked like his shoulder should've shattered, but the guy was made of titanium or something—he just dusted himself off and stood.
Anyway. I had no interest in that anymore.
Shin Na-young... is that how it is?
She let out a small laugh, acting like a mischievous little devil. Her tiny fingers on top of mine were bolder and more persistent today.
A bit naughty...
That's how it felt. She'd slipped part of her body into my palm and was playing all sorts of games. Her little fingers scratched my palm lightly, pressed hard, rubbed this way and that. Like lovers kissing with their tongues, checking one by one what felt best.
We spent a long time like that.
Damn...
Though fingers aren't an erogenous zone, the kitten-like cuteness of her touches felt amazing. Just holding hands made my heart pound. My chest tickled intensely, my mind buzzing—I couldn't focus on the movie.
My pride stung a little.
Hah...
Not quite friends, not quite lovers. I gripped her hand tightly.
"Eek..."
Could squeezing her hand alone make that sound? I looked at Shin Na-young. She pretended to focus on the movie, but it was obvious she loved it inside. Her fingers struggled to pull free from my grasp, yet her lips kept trying to curl up.
We vied for dominance. When her hand tried to rise, I'd pin it with my strength. Our fingers rubbed endlessly, sometimes just clinging tight, forgetting the game's point.
A process of touching, sensing, understanding each other. It was just hand play, nothing more, but since Shin Na-young was so pretty, it wasn't easy to brush off.
In the end, the movie flowed by unnoticed.
When we exited the dark theater, the Shin Na-young who'd been a friend was gone. She no longer looked like mere friendship. Her height I'd always teased about being taller. The ribcage that made her gray hoodie rise and fall with every breath. Her surprisingly ample breasts. Her slightly flushed cheeks like peach blossoms.
I couldn't playfully ignore them anymore.
...
Once the boring movie ended, we stepped out as if by prior agreement. The sky was blue, tulips blooming everywhere around the apartment complex. The flower beds, dyed in every color, warmed the heart just to look at.
"...Where do you wanna go?"
"Let's walk a bit and think."
"Yeah."
We said that to hide our fluttering hearts as much as possible. Like we were cool about it.
Shin Na-young and I walked, gazing at the flowers. Protected by green fences, the beds overflowed with tulips. Yellow, white, pink. Yellow and white bloomed most profusely. It felt like a fairy tale world. Just an apartment flower bed, yet themed like a park—it took me back to childhood innocence.
Shin Na-young murmured, entranced.
"The flowers are pretty."
"Yeah."
Even in this hectic world, our quality of life seemed pretty good. Seeing vibrant flower fields and pink cherry blossoms right outside home.
Maybe beauty was too abundant these days. No need for Seoul flower-viewing trips in spring. Picnics by the house, not wild hills. It was commonplace, less than a computer wallpaper, once-a-year stuff.
If only we lived in a nice place...
But as evening fell, a guard in navy uniform approached slowly, closing the complex gate.
-Clang.
Clang...
A 24-pyeong two-room apartment village. Current price around 1.3 billion won, as far as I knew. Card keys for residents only. Tulips weren't free.
What was the language of tulips again?
I couldn't recall. Gazing at the bright yellow fields, I wished time would freeze forever. We all have endings, but this tulip-viewing moment could be eternal. A foolish wish.
Walking there, we eyed each other's hands. Four small fingers peeked from her gray hoodie sleeve. Her short pants revealed pale, plump thighs. Lust or pure beauty? Hard to look away.
I stole glances at Shin Na-young. She sneaked peeks at my hand too.
-Wanna hold hands?
But my mouth said something else. "The tulips were really pretty, huh?"
"Yeah... pretty."
Shin Na-young stared, mesmerized. Yellow tulip fields. Residents here got this every May.
How long to work to buy a place like this?
1.3 billion—probably higher by the time I could afford it. Apartment folks eyed us strangers suspiciously. We left the yellow tulips for a nearby park.
...
A wide park by the stream, leaves hanging lush in pale green. Shin Na-young bounced around happily, her excitement radiating adorably. Like a pet so joyful it made me happy just watching.
Good call coming out today.
Then she stopped abruptly.
"Seong-u."
"...Yeah?"
"You said before, don't do important talks drunk."
Whoa...
She remembered. That date with Shin Na-young. The Laphroaig was 48 proof—double a normal whiskey, hand-sanitizer strong. She'd downed half a bottle and still recalled.
Her tolerance is insane.
Maybe my concern was unnecessary.
"Yeah, pretty much."
I told her straight. "What can I say. You're precious to me, so I didn't wanna decide lightly."
True. Shin Na-young and I were old friends. She always eased my mind; we clicked on topics. Even disagreements ended in laughs and makeups. That's why she mattered. Didn't wanna ruin it rashly.
"So you wanna cherish me that much?"
She turned back with hands behind, smiling softly. The setting sun lit her bob haircut. She looked pretty, poignant, huggable.
"Like, can't even touch?"
"..."
Shin Na-young stepped closer.
-Giggle.
Kids laughed. Times when playground tag was fun, no worries about money, rent, salary, overtime. But now, bedtime. Stylish young moms from the affluent area herded kids home like shepherds with lambs.
Her eyelashes seemed longer today. Black, mascara-thickened. Men are pathetic—we know it's makeup but still fall for it.
Shin Na-young grabbed my hand. My heart thumped.
"Seong-u."
"...Yeah."
"I won't act drunk. I'll say it sober."
"Okay."
"Everything from now... no lies. No jokes. Not light friend talk. So you tell me your true heart too."
A plea for truth. Never felt sincerity so heavy.
"I..."
"..."
"Hic."
Shin Na-young hiccuped. Moonlit, her face pale. Flushed cheeks prepping to shed shyness.
"Seong-u. I... don't see you as a friend anymore."
"..."
A common confession. Common, but undeniable. My chest ached.
"I used to envy you. Sometimes resent you. Know why?"
"Why?"
"You always did everything well. Top of the class."
Pretty much. Always top three. Homeroom teacher openly favored me, desperate for Seoul uni. Ignoring thirty kids.
"I... math problems never worked for me, but always for you."
"Your grades are high too, Na-young."
Her family was tough. If I'd been in her shoes? Probably not here now. I encouraged her.
"2nd or 3rd grade is top 16% or so. That's good, right?"
"Seong-u."
"..."
"No one praises 3rd grade as 'good'."
But not all comfort lands. Her smile was wistful.
"And 3rd cutoff is 23%, Seong-u. You wouldn't know, being smart."
"..."
Yeah. Hypocrisy. 3rd was failure to me—no need to memorize stats. But for flyer-distributing high school Shin Na-young, a goal.
Maybe I shouldn't have comforted rashly.
"I kinda hated you."
"..."
"Felt like the world smiled only at you. I just got your pity. You comforted me, succeeded, got teacher awards. I... hated that."
I just listened. Couldn't speak her life.
"But I leaned on you. Only you said nice things. Even Dad abandoned me."
"..."
"I don't see you as a friend now."
Seong-u. She approached, frustrated.
"Can't you answer?"
"..."
Like me? No. Love me. Comfort me. Nothing so simple. Her way of baring her heart.
"Am I lacking as your lover?"