I Ended the Fake Engagement
This is a memory from a certain day.
Inside the art studio, where the lingering heat still hung thick in the air, I was painting again today as always.
And beside me, young Seoyeon leaned over my canvas, sweating buckets, utterly absorbed in the work.
"Can I help again today?"
I nodded, and she picked up a brush.
Seoyeon drew the crooked, wobbly lines befitting her age, and somehow, I didn't hate them at all.
Truthfully, it made me feel like I might cry.
"Siwoo?"
"Ah— yeah."
I had been spacing out. It was Seoyeon's voice that finally brought me back.
"They're saying the art club is starting now."
"Okay."
"Ugh, look at that tone. Are you that sleepy?"
My eyelids definitely felt heavy, but I wasn't sleepy. If anything, my mind was perfectly clear.
"Hmmm... guess you really are tired. Did I wake you up for nothing?"
"No. I'm listening."
The Seoyeon I had just seen was wearing an expression I'd never seen in my life. If I fell asleep now, I had a feeling it would keep resurfacing in my dreams.
Seoyeon blushing at the volleyball club captain was, without question, the most beautiful thing in the world — and yet some contradictory part of me never wanted to see it again.
This was what came of hiding my feelings, and hiding them, and hiding them.
No — honestly, maybe I'd let it go to my head a little, being her "fiancé."
People fall in love easily enough — I of all people should have known.
Which meant I couldn't put this off any longer. I had to end it before it got any later. Because I refused to let it end as a lie.
As I half-listened to a club orientation I couldn't have cared less about, I made up my mind.
After school, Jihye, Seoyeon, and I walked home side by side.
"Jihye, bye-bye!"
"Bye-bye, Seoyeon. Get home safe."
Before long, the two of them exchanged their goodbye hug and split off, and only the two of us were left.
The heart that had been pounding itself half to death just moments ago had, ironically, gone quiet.
The heat that always flooded my body whenever I stood beside her was cooling fast.
They say nervousness gives you cold sweat — apparently that was a complete lie. Not a single drop; my lips were so dry they'd cracked, and I hadn't even worked up enough moisture for that.
"...Hey, Seoyeon."
"Yes, Watson-kun? You called?"
She reacted playfully, same as always. But I couldn't match it.
My voice came out heavy.
"Could you... come out to the playground in front of our houses tonight? For a minute?"
"Huh? Wha—"
The sudden shift in the air made her flinch.
"What? What's wrong? Are you sick somewhere?"
She pressed her hand against my forehead.
Reflex almost made me shake it off — because the moment her hand touched me, I felt like something in me was going to break.
Barely holding myself together, I forced a thin smile.
"It's nothing. There's something I need to tell you."
"Something to tell me? What is it? Oh my god— wait. Don't tell me it's a proposal? Watson-kun, I have to say, that's way too early!"
It was probably something a lot like that.
I wanted to make this engagement real. I wanted to spend my whole life with you.
So I didn't answer.
Seoyeon's laughter died.
"...Okay. What time?"
"Around seven. That work?"
"Yeah."
Our walk home, which should have been noisy with our usual chatter, passed without a single word between us.
Just before we split to go inside, Seoyeon said:
"Siwoo, I hate it when it's like this between us."
So did I.
At seven in the evening, I was going to confess to Seoyeon at the playground in front of our houses.
For a moment I wondered if it was all too sudden — but then, I'd been hiding this feeling for seven years already. Compared to that, tonight was nothing.
[6:45 PM.]
There was still time left. I was rehearsing the words I needed to say.
I love you? No. Not that. Not me at all. Then, please spend the rest of your life with me? ...God, Baek Siwoo, you disgusting little—. Come on, isn't there anything that sounds even halfway decent?
Nothing was coming, so I picked up a brush instead.
Swish— swish—
Only the quiet sound of the brush filled the studio.
It wasn't a particularly good painting, honestly speaking.
It was the one Seoyeon had given me as a gift before high school, promising we'd be friends for life.
In it, I was smiling. So was she. We were facing each other, both of us laughing.
As I traced its lines, crisp and clear, the shapes in the painting slowly came into focus — and it felt like every stray thought was draining out of me.
I rose quietly and left the studio.
The playground was only five minutes away, but today it felt impossibly far. And then, as it drew near — there was Seoyeon, sitting on a swaying swing.
Raven-black hair, fair white skin, and — since it was almost bedtime — a pair of round glasses sitting awkwardly on her nose.
She fit the night sky perfectly.
Come to think of it, we still had ten minutes before we were supposed to meet. She'd come out early.
I took a deep breath and started toward her — and my steps stopped dead.
Because sitting next to Seoyeon was Jihye.
"Ugh... what am I supposed to do, Jihye?"
"...Isn't that a good thing?"
"How many times do I have to say it? Siwoo and I are just friends. The whole engagement is something we cooked up together to keep our grandpas happy, that's all."
Seoyeon hung her head.
"But if Siwoo confesses, then it stops being a fake engagement, doesn't it?"
"...Seoyeon, I don't get you. Didn't you like Siwoo too? You literally told me you were going to live with him for the rest of your life."
"I obviously meant that as a friend. Honestly, I can't even imagine dating Siwoo. And anyway, I hate the idea of being jerked around by my grandfather's schemes."
"......"
Jihye put a hand on Seoyeon's shoulder.
"Seoyeon, look at me."
"Yeah?"
"You need to choose carefully. Right now."
"Choose... what?"
"Can you really live without regret? If you turn down his confession, things will never go back to how they were."
"......Huh?"
Seoyeon's mouth fell open. For a moment, time seemed to freeze between them.
Then Seoyeon burst out laughing.
"There's no way that happens, Jihye. We're closer than any couple could ever be. Couples can break up — we never will. So there's no way something like that changes Siwoo."
"...Hey. Lee Seoyeon. Wake up. Then what about Siwoo, if you shoot him down? What about his feelings?"
"You're the one selling Siwoo short! Does he seem like the type to sulk over something like that? And it's not like I wouldn't be considerate of him — obviously I'd give him some time to adjust, and—"
"—Hey!"
"What! What?!"
Before long, the two of them were at each other's throats.
I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't want to see any more of it.
So I covered my ears and tilted my head back toward the sky. The lights from the buildings were so bright that the night above was nothing but blackness.
I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them.
Somehow, I felt cold.
Then Jihye stood up from the swing, and our eyes met. Her pupils were trembling.
That was always the face she made when she looked at me.
"...I-I've gotta go."
"Hey, wait! What's gotten into you all of a sudden?!"
If I stayed, Seoyeon would catch me chasing after Jihye. I spun around and ran.
I hated running like my life depended on it — but tonight I had no choice. It was the only way, I thought, to keep from facing what I was feeling.
Sprawled across the studio floor, I stared blankly at the glowing phone screen. An hour had passed.
I think I've finished sorting through my thoughts.
I'd always been good at hiding things, ever since I was little. So this wasn't hard either.
Playing the friend she wanted me to be — that much, I could manage, one way or another.
Yeah. One way or another.
Time would take care of the rest. It would. Surely it would.
Knock knock—
Right on cue, someone rapped on the studio door. A slightly rough knock. I didn't need the door to open to know who was standing on the other side.
The door banged open.
"Baek Siwoo!"
"...Yeah."
I levered myself upright, rubbing my eyes, feigning that I'd just woken from a nap.
Seoyeon looked like she had a mountain of things to say to me — her trembling lips said it all. But before she could start yelling, I struck first.
"Ah. Sorry. I fell asleep and forgot."
"...Phew. I thought something had happened to you— never mind."
Seoyeon came closer, and her gaze fell on the painting in front of me.
"You fell asleep painting again?"
"Yeah."
"Honestly, what would my assistant do without me?"
She handed me the bottle of water she'd brought along in advance — and that small, warm kindness sent an unbearable chill crawling up my spine.
Calm down. Baek Siwoo, you're her friend right now. Lee Seoyeon's one and only friend. So shove this revolting feeling away for now. Just for now.
"Oh — isn't this the picture I gave you?"
Seoyeon crouched down beside me and carefully, almost reverently, stroked the canvas.
"Whoa. You actually hung it up?"
"Yeah."
"...That's amazing. I'm touched."
Seoyeon spoke up, hesitant.
"So... what was it you wanted to tell me today?"
"Oh. That."
I looked at the painting. The painting of us smiling at each other. The picture of us that Seoyeon wanted.
Quietly, I opened my mouth.
"Let's stop the engagement act."
"......Huh?"
It was the last thing she'd expected — Seoyeon's eyes went round as saucers.
"What are you talking about?"
"We can't keep pretending forever, not even as friends. Sooner or later, it had to end anyway."
"Hold on. I don't— I'm not following—"
"...Seoyeon, we're high schoolers now. It's time we stopped playing these childish games."
My hand came down beside hers, where it rested on the painting.
"I think we're better off staying friends from here on out — just like in this picture. It's what you want anyway. ...It's what I want too."
I forced strength into my throat so my voice wouldn't shake.
Seoyeon was silent for a long moment.
"...Why all of a sudden? No — wait, what about our grandfathers—"
"It's been seven years already. Time we stopped worrying about what they think."
Hiding every trace of what I felt, I wrenched a smile out of myself.
"Right?"
Seoyeon nodded, slowly. Her face still said she couldn't make sense of any of it, but she pressed her lips shut all the same.
And just like that, our seven years came to a quiet, anticlimactic end.