Voluntary Distance
It had been days since that afternoon when everyone had spent the whole time stealing glances at one another.
Life was slowly—imperfectly—returning to normal.
Which, of course, meant there were still parts of it that weren't what they used to be.
Under a heavy, overcast sky, Suyeon and Seoha came back from a walk around the athletic field, remarking that at least it wasn't hot for once. But Yeoncheong, who was always wedged between the two of them, was nowhere to be seen.
Nayun tilted her head as she watched the two friends settle into their seats.
"Where's Yeoncheong?"
"The library again, probably. We headed to the classroom first—did you not see her?"
"Didn't. Guess she stopped by while I was brushing my teeth."
Needing time was not so different from wanting to keep one's distance. But for students who spent nearly a third of every day together, it was no easy thing.
To put even a little space between them, Yeoncheong had taken to heading for the library during lunch. Final exams made a convenient excuse, too.
Her friends figured she must have her reasons, so they neither stopped her nor followed.
It had been about a week now of spending every lunch hour apart, and Suyeon's energy had visibly drained.
Seeing her face buried in her desk, Nayun offered a word of advice.
"If this is gonna keep up, just grit your teeth and ask her. Might turn out to be nothing."
Among the friends, it was already an accepted fact that Yeoncheong was acting like this because of something that happened on the school trip.
Suyeon lifted her head just enough to glare at Nayun.
"You haven't asked her either."
Nayun flinched and looked away.
A small hand rubbed at a reddened wrist before hiding it behind her back, and the friend who had never once averted her eyes—except when her cheeks burned with embarrassment—was now dodging Nayun's gaze. The corners of her eyes even glinted in the sunlight, as if still wet with tears.
The friend who had come back that day alongside Siyeon had looked exactly like that.
All Nayun ever did was occasionally suggest a game of basketball. Even she, arguably the most easygoing of the group, couldn't quite work up the courage to ask outright.
Suyeon turned her head toward the library and murmured.
"With things like this, it's only polite to wait until she's ready to tell us. Besides... it's not like she's alone in there."
At first, it had been an escape.
They were all too close. Being in the same class meant that the slightest turn of her head brought her friends into view.
She needed time to settle her heart, but the very people she couldn't settle it around kept catching her eye.
Same class, same club—those she couldn't help. But at the very least, she'd decided to keep her distance over lunch, and the library served that purpose perfectly.
Final exams were barely a month away. The excuse practically wrote itself.
They say there's no paradise in the place you run to. But for Yeoncheong, at least, the library let her catch her breath.
The quiet environment was perfect for studying, and once her focus naturally narrowed down to the work in front of her, the stray thoughts scattered on their own. When it all felt like too much, she simply let the calm, still atmosphere of the library wash over her—and the more she studied, the better her odds of dodging remedial classes became.
Yeoncheong, who had never had much of a relationship with books her entire school years, was belatedly discovering the library's merits.
And besides.
"That book's pretty good, right? It's short, too—nice for a light read."
She wasn't so alone that loneliness had a chance to creep in.
Seobin, her braid slung over one shoulder—the girl who seemed to spend more time in the library than in her own classroom—poked her head out from behind the shelf.
As she leaned out, her enormous chest pressed against Yeoncheong's back along with the arch of her waist. Yeoncheong flinched at the heavy weight, but Seobin, her shoulders feeling so much lighter, paid it no mind.
The comfortable distance of a classmate from another class made it easy for Yeoncheong—so on edge back in the classroom—to relax around her.
Mindful of their surroundings, Yeoncheong answered in a voice shrunk down to library volume.
"Yeah, the short ones are the best."
"Tell me when you finish it. I've got more good ones saved up for when you need a breather."
With that, Seobin returned to her own duties. Freed from the enormous presence pressing down on her back, Yeoncheong loosened her shoulders.
Yeah... definitely a strain when they're that big, she thought.
As if to say no more slacking would be tolerated, an icy chill drifted over from beside her.
"I think you've rested enough... aren't you supposed to be studying?"
The same voice as Suyeon's—but the tone, the emotion packed inside it, was completely different.
Identical on the outside, utterly different within. At Siyeon's words, Yeoncheong remembered who she was dealing with and quietly closed her book.
But Siyeon was already visibly hurt.
"Something wrong? Funny how the one doing the teaching is more eager than the one who asked for help. Don't you think something's off?"
"No, I'm sorry. I'll get back to it."
Not long after Yeoncheong had begun her refuge in the library, Siyeon had started showing up there too, clocking in like it were her job.
Her face screamed I don't want to be here, so whose orders had sent her was obvious without asking.
For the first few days she'd simply sat nearby and tended to her own studies—but then Yeoncheong got stuck on something confusing and started groaning over it, and Siyeon couldn't bear to watch. That was where it all went wrong.
She'd shown her, cleanly and precisely, exactly where she'd gotten stuck.
Identical faces, but perhaps Suyeon had inherited all the academic talent in the family—Siyeon was a relentlessly hard worker. Which meant she was remarkably good at teaching down to Yeoncheong's low level.
Suyeon, whose gift for teaching was hopeless. Hasol, who demanded her palate and her knowledge in equal trade. And then there were those study sessions with Seoha—just thinking back on them was enough to make her legs stop of their own accord.
For the first time in her life receiving a normal lesson, Yeoncheong's blue eyes had sparkled.
She'd seized the chance, latched onto Siyeon, and begged her to help her study—even if only during lunch.
And so Siyeon, sent by the twins to keep watch over Yeoncheong, had ended up tutoring her at arm's length. It wasn't far off from her original mission, so after grumbling about it, she'd given in.
Siyeon studied Yeoncheong's pen-wielding form intently, then spoke.
"How long are you going to keep this up? It's already been more than a week since the school trip."
Yeoncheong's pen froze for an instant. But soon enough it was moving across the paper again as if nothing had happened.
Does this really need to drag on this long? Siyeon thought, a corner of her heart aching as she adopted a slightly brusque tone.
"You're making me suffer right along with you. If it's something you can't talk about with friends, then try talking to your parents, at least. That's better than keeping it from everyone."
The pen stopped entirely. Blue eyes lifted and met Siyeon's.
The overcast sky. The stress of artificially maintaining distance from her friends. Add exam pressure on top, and reasons to feel foul were stacked to overflowing.
"I live alone. My father's overseas."
"I heard all that from Suyeon already. Still, your mother should be here in Korea, so—"
"She passed away. When I was ten."
She said it in a hush, a careful murmur so as not to disturb the other students. But the content was anything but quiet.
Siyeon's mismatched eyes—one red, one blue—went round. Beneath eyes blown wide almost out of their sockets, her half-open mouth had short-circuited entirely, unable to decide what words to produce.
"Wait... why are you only telling me this now..."
"There was no reason to."
The tone was needling. Sharp.
Mood had become manner, and the words came spilling out—words Yeoncheong would never have said on any ordinary day.
She gathered up the books she'd brought, piled them into her arms, and stood.
"I'm heading out early today."
"Hey, no—Ha Yeoncheong. Yeoncheong? Wait—"
Yeoncheong walked out without a backward glance.
From behind her came another friend's voice.
"Siyeon..."
Seobin, shell-shocked, couldn't manage anything more.
"N-no! This was—!"
The voice she raised in protest drew a warning from the librarian, and Siyeon lost her chance to chase after Yeoncheong entirely.
After school, the overcast sky held its breath, one heartbeat from splitting open.
Regardless of how many members a club had, the lights came on equally, illuminating every club room in the annex.
Amid the bustle of crowded, chattering clubs, one room hummed with nothing more than the usual small talk about upcoming activities.
Yeoncheong and Suyeon sat with their heads bent together over a single desk.
For all the closeness of their shoulders, an awkwardness hung in the air that anyone could feel—and not one of them pointed it out.
Yeoncheong assisted with the activity report while Suyeon's hand, practiced and sure, filled out the plan sheet for their next meeting. Though her eyes kept flicking sideways at Yeoncheong.
What's gotten into her?
Ever since lunch, her friend's mood had been inexplicably scraping along the floor.
She'd pressed Siyeon about what happened, but Siyeon had drawn a hard line—it was something she had to deal with herself, and that was that.
And so, lost in her own thoughts—
"Suyeon."
There was no way she should have heard her name being called.
Suyeon's head shot up in fright.
Rather understandable, coming from the girl who could watch horror movies without batting an eye. Yeoncheong gazed quietly into her eyes for a moment, then turned to the finished report.
"I'm turning in the report today and heading home."
"Huh? Already?"
"I forgot my umbrella."
As if in answer, the sky rumbled. Suyeon hurriedly grabbed her bag.
"Then let's go together. I finished the plan sheet anyway."
They dropped the report and next activity plan off with Teacher Jisu in the teachers' office, and as the two of them stepped out of the school building—
Shhhhhhhh.
The rain came down, as if it had only been waiting for this moment.
Yeoncheong tilted her head back and studied the sky. She followed the drifting clouds toward the horizon, checking what was rolling in—a pitch-black mass, and no brief shower, either.
Suyeon pulled a folding umbrella from her bag and looked at the friend who supposedly had none.
"Yeoncheong, want to share my umbrella?"
"We're going different directions."
"Your place is close, though, isn't it? I can just walk you home."
Yeoncheong's eyes darted between the rain-soaked outdoors and the umbrella. She shook her head.
"Looks a bit small for two people."
"...Does it?"
Suyeon popped the umbrella open and tilted her head at it.
"If we squeeze in tight, it should work."
She came closer, umbrella in hand. Yeoncheong took a step back without thinking.
"Um... since it's close for me anyway, I'll just run. See you tomorrow."
And with that, having said her piece, Yeoncheong plunged into the rain.
Suyeon chased after her, but Yeoncheong was already gone from sight.
"Um... excuse me, miss?"
"Yes?"
Suyeon flinched, startled by the man who had appeared out of nowhere. He'd been loitering near the school gate, and now scratched his head sheepishly.
"Could you call my daughter out for me? I had to rush over in such a hurry, I left my phone behind..."
In his other hand, the man held an umbrella—one meant for his daughter.
She was a fellow resident of the building—someone she'd exchanged little more than passing glances with.
The resident, on her way out through the lobby door, opened her mouth to say something to the neighbor barging in without even waiting for her turn—then shut it again.
Water dripped in a steady patter. Seeing Yeoncheong looking like a drowned rat, she quietly slid aside to make way.
Home at last, Yeoncheong threw her soaked clothes and underwear straight into the washing machine and checked her smartphone first.
She scrolled through Seobin's and Siyeon's social media, the ones she'd overheard about in the library. She'd already checked them who-knew-how-many times, and every time, her hands trembled, just a little.
Not there.
She combed through the comments, searching for a familiar name, and only then let out a breath of relief.
This is so annoying...
Her hand clenched hard around the phone.
At the sight of that man's silhouette by the school gate, she had stepped back without thinking. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to glance at Suyeon.
The thought—what if it's him—had filled her head to the brim, and so here she was again, checking the same feeds she'd checked countless times since getting home.
Absurd, really—the only way she'd ever know he'd looked was if he left a comment, which he wouldn't.
And it infuriated her that this was what it took for her to feel safe.
I didn't do anything wrong. So why do I have to be the one like this?
Crouched down with her knees pulled to her chest, Yeoncheong only rose to wash up once the washing machine clicked to a stop.
Maybe it was because she hadn't showered right away—a chill had settled into her body, and she sneezed.