Restless Hearts (3)
Faint moonlight filtered through the haze of cigarette smoke drifting lazily into the night. The thick clouds of smoke swirled without direction, mirroring someone's unsettled heart. Jeong Ha-yeon took another deep drag, her mind in turmoil. The smoke escaped in a self-mocking chuckle, dissipating once more.
She was thinking back to just moments ago at Seo Joo-hwan's place.
Her smartphone buzzed with a vibration. Seo Joo-hwan answered the sudden call with a delighted expression, a bright, childlike smile lighting up his face. It was the first time she'd seen him grin like that—so pure and innocent. Caught off guard by how different it was from the smiles she'd known when they dated, she instinctively glanced at the woman on the screen.
A short-haired woman in military uniform. Even without makeup, she was strikingly beautiful. Probably a couple years older than Ha-yeon. The way Joo-hwan called her "noona" confirmed it. Her relaxed expression and tone exuded confidence, and the intimacy in how she treated him was obvious.
Ha-yeon watched him for a moment before turning away. I guess he could have close friends I don't know about. And whatever their relationship, it wasn't her business. In fact, she hadn't paid much attention, quickly shifting her focus to the novel she'd been eagerly reading lately.
"Oh, getting back together?"
But when the conversation turned to her, she couldn't help but listen, despite herself. Her ears perked up as Joo-hwan's clear voice replied, "We're doing great as friends."
Friends. That was true—they were friends now. They might have dated before, but they'd moved past that awkward phase by sharing their histories and clearing the air. They'd become confidants who could bare their souls. Ha-yeon cherished that bond. Sure, friends who still slept together weren't exactly ordinary, but maybe that's what made them closer than anyone else.
That's why she'd asked about the call after he hung up—pure curiosity about his friend. No ulterior motives, just a casual question in her usual nonchalant tone.
"You two must be really close."
"It was a woman, huh."
Nothing big. Just idle curiosity. That's what she'd thought.
God, I'm pathetic.
Ha-yeon let out a hollow laugh. It had been her normal voice, a trivial question. But even trivial words change meaning when laced with emotion. A sliver of the feelings she'd buried deep had leaked out.
How had it sounded to Joo-hwan? She'd realized her slip when she saw the awkward tint on his face.
No ulterior motives, my ass. She'd convinced herself there were none, but looking back coldly now, she couldn't deny the jealousy that had seeped in.
I still like Joo-hwan.
Ha-yeon was fully aware of her feelings. Hell, right now she wanted nothing more than to rush to his place and throw herself into his arms.
I'll do it whenever I want. You did whatever you pleased with me, after all. He'd welcome her with open arms, no questions asked. But she couldn't.
If I go now, with these feelings, it'll only make me fall for him harder.
So she tamped it down again, compressing the emotions threatening to bounce back like a rubber ball, shrinking them small.
Don't let it show. Don't get jealous. They're not lovers anymore—just friends.
...I want to stay friends.
*
How could she not like him? Liking him had become as natural as breathing. At first, it was just friendly interest. Her first opposite-sex friend besides her half-brother Lee Seok-chan—one she didn't need to put up pretenses with.
That changed one day while watching a movie in his room. They were play-fighting when she tripped, landing on top of him. She apologized and tried to get up, but he held her tight, pulling her closer. The mood shifted; his face drew near. Stunned, she blocked his lips with her hand on reflex.
There was a brief commotion, but they stayed friends afterward. He'd played it off as a joke, thankfully. Still, she couldn't help noticing him more after that—her first time being that physically close to a guy she liked, aside from her half-brother.
What really got to her was how much he mirrored her own behaviors. Outgoing and lively with others, but with awkward, cautious glimpses underneath. He seemed desperate to fit in, much like how she'd hidden her smoking and worn weird makeup to hang with the girls.
Yet with her, he was effortlessly friendly, like they'd known each other forever. Sure, they'd bumped into each other at the smoking area before college, but even accounting for that, it felt off. Was he extra kind just to her? Wishful thinking?
Seo Joo-hwan had helped her in his previous life, but she had no way of knowing that.
As she watched him adapt to college life, she convinced herself he was just nice to everyone. Then group projects started, confirming it.
But during MT, her opinion shifted again. How could he so casually call a girl pretty? When they were alone prepping for the cross-dressing contest, he seemed like a total player, leaning in close once more.
Did he really like her? She asked outright, but got no answer. Was he like Seok-chan, just another womanizer? She'd mistaken him for a pickup artist at first, and now it seemed spot on.
Turns out, from the drinking games, he was a total virgin—never even dated. Shocking, considering she'd pegged him as a flirt.
Baek Jeong-gi, the sleazy second-year class president, got drunk and harassed her, even swinging punches. She'd dodged and planned to show him up, but Joo-hwan stepped in, blocking the hit. His concern—"You okay?"—made her heart race. That's when she realized she liked him.
She confessed, convinced he felt the same. He did, but hesitated, already fearing a breakup. She understood—he'd never dated either. Desperate not to lose him, she pushed a bit, acting more experienced than she was.
When he finally agreed, she was over the moon—would've rolled around hugging a pillow if she were home.
But the relationship ended abruptly. What went wrong? She'd confessed wanting more than friends, but fearing they'd drift to less, she unilaterally "announced" the breakup.
An announcement, yes—one-sided. She knew it was wrong but did it anyway, convinced it was the only way to stay close. Like she was possessed.
That rainy breakup night, as she cried alone with a cigarette, he came running through the downpour. Her first thought wasn't joy, but worry—he must be so mad. Instead, he apologized, blaming his own shortcomings.
Her, who'd confessed first and dumped him? Maybe her swollen eyes from crying helped. They became friends again, a bit awkward at first, but closer and more comfortable than when dating.
That illusion shattered during a study session at his place. Other friends bailed, leaving them alone. The air grew stifling. No backing out now—it'd be worse next time.
They studied in heavy silence, the awkwardness sharpening their focus. Exhausted, she dozed off unnoticed.
In her dream: Eight years ago, her mother's funeral. Fifteen-year-old Ha-yeon wept—for losing her only family, the empty ceremony, guilt over her single mom's hardships, resentment toward her unknown father.
A young Seo Joo-hwan—impossibly there—comforted her, promising to stay by her side forever, hugging the girl tight. Just a dream, but it etched into her heart.
Waking, embarrassment flooded her, but warmth bloomed in her chest. Gazing at sleeping Joo-hwan, affection filled her eyes.
She tripped again, landing atop him like before. Lips met; she jolted away. He pulled her back, kissed her, then held her as she tried to flee, saying to forget it.
Flustered, she cursed, but ultimately surrendered her body.
The heat faded, but a lingering warmth hovered. The suffocating awkwardness had melted into something soft.
She remembered his touches. Drying her wet hair, promising to make up for being a lousy boyfriend—gentle, warm. The massage that followed was intimate, unlike their first time. She loved it; his caring hands made her feel cherished.
They talked all night. His past tragedies—ones even his girlfriend hadn't heard—poured out. She understood his breakup fears, his sex obsession. And how cruel she'd been.
She apologized again. He insisted it was his fault, but guilt gnawed at her—she knew breakup pain all too well.
With his traumas bared, she shared hers: her half-sibling secret with Seok-chan.
They became true confidants. More than friends, even.
Joo-hwan, I like you.
So Ha-yeon suppressed it, crushing the feelings and tucking them away. They were already beyond friends—no need for lovers.
Lovers could break up anytime. As friends, they could last forever.
*
Yoo Ji-kyeong glanced at Jeong Ha-yeon, already on her third cigarette.
What the hell is this sister thinking?
Regretting her earlier words? Idiot.
Ji-kyeong sighed deeply. To her, Ha-yeon was frustratingly dense. So what if she got jealous? They hadn't broken up hating each other. And Joo-hwan still liked her.
The bad guy's that oppa, though. What a jerk. Ha-yeon liked him, he liked Ha-yeon, liked her too, and other girls. Ji-kyeong could see it. That army woman from the call? Probably liked her—or had.
Throw a fit already. Give that selfish guy a piece of your mind. If not, she couldn't endure it. Though ultimately, she only had herself to blame for falling for him.
I get it, but still. Calling Ha-yeon dumb, but Ji-kyeong felt just as foolish. Scared of the end, too chicken to confess.
Should I help? She owed Ha-yeon. She knows I like Joo-hwan oppa. Maybe even knew that's why she approached. No, definitely did—Ha-yeon wasn't clueless, just awkward with people.
Yet she'd treated her kindly, like a little sister. What a real idiot. If roles reversed, Ji-kyeong would've seized alone time to chew her out.
Now she genuinely liked Ha-yeon, complicating things.
Another glance: Model-tall, snow-white skin, delicate features, long lashes. Voluptuous figure under baggy clothes. Magnetic aura. Ha-yeon's looks were Ji-kyeong's secret ideal.
Ugh. Still hate it. Too unfair to help just 'cause she's a close noona. Aiding a rival? Absurd. Even for a favorite sister, love was war—ruthless.
Later. Much later, maybe once. Right now, I'm at too much of a disadvantage, sis?
Her heart still stung. She'd exploited Ha-yeon's naive kindness and social clumsiness first.
But she shook it off. Pity? That jerk treated her like a pet raccoon dog, and she couldn't complain—playing cute got her rewards. To cozy up to this unfair sister, she had to act adorable. Reality.
Ji-kyeong pouted, then clicked her tongue.
"Tch. Ha-yeon noona, keep smoking like that and your lungs'll rot."
"Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna quit anyway. Why the formal talk all of a sudden?"
"Just felt like it. Anyway, noona, I'm heading in first."
"You okay alone? I can walk you."
"I'm fine. See ya later, noona!"
"Yeah. Get home safe, Ji-kyeong."
"You too, noona!"
Ji-kyeong strode off energetically, then veered toward Seo Joo-hwan's place.
Raccoon dog my ass! From today, I'm the master!
Time to train him!
*
Seo Joo-hwan, whip and candle in hand, kissed the handcuffed Yoo Ji-kyeong's lips. Pulling back, he traced her flushed skin with his fingertips, murmuring.
"Who’s the master?"
His low, probing voice made her cross her legs. A trickle of wetness escaped. Desperate-eyed, she answered.
"J-Joo-hwan oppa."
"And what are you?"
"Your slave, master……."
"How does a slave move?"
Ji-kyeong bit her lip. But the sensation below made resistance futile. His hand kneaded her flesh impatiently.
Another kiss melted her; eyes unfocused, she replied.
"Wriggle……."
The raccoon dog was fully tamed by her master.