A Weekend Unlike Any Other
Weekend morning. I woke up a little later than usual. No alarm had gone off, and the house was quiet. Not completely silent, though. Faint sounds drifted from the kitchen—Mother moving pots, opening and closing cabinets. I stared at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up.
Weekend. Nothing special. On any other day, my first thought would have been the training grounds. How my body felt, which muscles were sore, what I needed to repeat today. Those thoughts tried to surface out of habit, but today they stopped there.
Today, I had plans. Meeting Eunseo in the shopping district. The thought made me scratch my head for no reason.
Not a big deal. We were just going to walk around. Eat, look at things. That was it. No grand plans, no purpose. Promises like this were less about doing something and more about being together. Still, my mind kept trying to attach meaning to it.
I stood in front of the closet, hesitating. Not training clothes. They felt too familiar, wrong for today. But dressing like I’d put in too much effort wasn’t my style either. Standing out was the last thing I wanted. If you stood out, people noticed. If they noticed, they talked. If they talked, they asked questions. I didn’t like that flow.
In the end, I picked my usual clothes. Clean, easy to move in, nothing that exaggerated the fact that it was “today.” I glanced in the mirror. Not much different from usual. Yet something felt unfamiliar.
I’ll just go out and see.
The sounds from the kitchen grew a little louder. Something was simmering. A familiar smell followed—seaweed soup. Mother made it often because she knew I liked it. I washed my face at the sink, shook the water from my hands. My fingertips felt dry. Strange how that happened when I was tense.
I opened my bedroom door and stepped out.
“I’m heading out.”
Short and simple. Mother turned from the kitchen, looked at me once, then spoke in her usual calm tone.
“Alright. Be careful.”
That was all. She didn’t ask where I was going or who I was meeting. Somehow, that made it easier. Her silence didn’t mean she didn’t care. It meant she wouldn’t push. She was waiting for me to speak first.
When I stepped outside and closed the door, the air felt different. The weekend had its own looseness. People walked slower than on weekdays, their expressions less sharp. Even in crowds, no one seemed rushed. These weren’t faces hurrying somewhere—they were just drifting.
The way to the shopping district was familiar, but today I found myself looking around more than usual. When I entered crowded places, I automatically widened my field of view—checking blind spots, narrow passages, where someone might suddenly appear. It wasn’t something I’d learned at the training grounds. It was a habit from simply surviving this long. Realizing the habit had surfaced made me smile faintly at myself.
Today isn’t that kind of day.
I exhaled and loosened my shoulders.
I waited near the meeting spot for a moment.
Did I come too early?
Just as I checked my watch—
“Doyoon.”
A familiar voice came from behind. I turned to see Eunseo standing there. Not in her usual school uniform, but casual clothes. Nothing flashy, nothing that stood out—yet the atmosphere around her felt subtly different. Her hair was neatly arranged, and the light seemed to catch her face more clearly. She was the same person I saw at school, but meeting her in a different place made her look different somehow.
“You’re early.”
“You’re early too.”
“Yeah.”
Eunseo smiled faintly, looking pleased, and glanced around.
“Lots of people.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us looked particularly bothered by it. A brief silence settled between us. Not exactly awkward—just comfortable. The kind of quiet where you didn’t need to fill the space with words.
“Where should we go first?” she asked.
I scanned the area. I hadn’t planned anything specific. Too much planning would only make things feel forced. Too much like a “date.”
“Let’s just walk and see.”
“Okay.”
Eunseo nodded right away. We started walking side by side.
At first, our strides didn’t quite match. I realized I walked a little faster than usual. Eunseo didn’t fall behind, but my pace kept pulling ahead. I noticed it a beat late and slowed down. She glanced at me once. No words, but that single look somehow felt like she’d adjusted to me. Like she’d noticed I’d slowed down for her.
The shopping district had plenty to see—new stores, bustling restaurants, street snacks, street performers. Eunseo didn’t seem to come here often. She lingered longer in front of shop windows, her eyes moving slowly over the displays.
“Over there,” she said quietly, pointing. “That place opened recently.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. A friend told me about it. I’ve never been, though. Just heard about it.”
I nodded. “Then today’s your first time.”
Eunseo looked at me for a moment, then smiled softly. “I guess so.”
That smile lingered in my mind longer than it should have. Not an exaggerated one—just a small breath of laughter. Those were the ones that got to you.
As we walked, the crowd sometimes pressed closer. Eunseo’s hand would tighten on her bag strap whenever people approached—a habit of someone whose body instinctively tensed in crowds. I naturally shifted a step to the side, creating space so she wouldn’t get pushed. I didn’t say anything. Saying it would only make it conscious, and consciousness would make it awkward. We didn’t need that right now.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Eunseo asked.
“A little.”
“Then what should we eat?”
Even choosing a menu took time. Neither of us pushed strongly for anything.
“How about this?”
“Seems fine.”
That was how decisions always went with her. No forceful opinions—just picking something the other person wouldn’t dislike, then making it feel like a choice we’d both made. That was how things naturally worked when I was with Eunseo.
Once the food arrived, we sat across from each other.
“Let’s eat,” Eunseo said quietly. I echoed her.
The food was ordinary. Not particularly good, not particularly bad. Yet I found myself eating slower than usual. Not because I was savoring the taste, but because I was matching her pace. Every time she took a bite and looked up, I adjusted accordingly.
Eunseo glanced at me between bites.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. You just… look okay.”
I paused with my chopsticks. “…I do?”
“Yeah.” Her voice carried something close to certainty. “More than before.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Hearing that I looked “okay” was a strange experience for me. I was usually the one hiding that I wasn’t okay, and having someone notice was rare.
“I think… I feel that way too.”
It wasn’t the most accurate description, but it wasn’t wrong either. Eunseo didn’t say anything in reply. She just nodded, as if that was enough.
After finishing our meal, we walked again. My body felt looser than before, not exactly full. Our pace had naturally slowed compared to earlier. Eunseo was walking slower too. I’d probably matched her, and she’d noticed.
While crossing the street, we passed a small cluster of street vendors. Nothing large—just handmade trinkets, simple accessories, small goods. Eunseo’s steps naturally slowed.
“…Just a second,” she said.
I nodded without thinking. “Sure.”
She stopped in front of one stall. On a small table lay hairpins, bracelets, necklaces. Nothing flashy. The colors were muted, the designs neat. In contrast to the noisy atmosphere of the shopping district, this single table felt quiet.
Eunseo studied them for a long time before picking up a hairpin. A soft color. Nothing that would stand out, but somehow it suited her. She held it near her head, checking her reflection in the glass display case instead of a mirror.
“How is it?”
Her tone was light, like she was saying it more for herself than expecting an answer.
I thought for a moment. “It suits you.”
It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was too honest, and I only realized it after saying it.
Eunseo held the pin a little longer before putting it back down. “But… I don’t think I really need it.”
The way she said it sounded more like she was convincing herself than stating a fact. It bothered me for some reason.
When she took a step to look at other items, I was still staring at the hairpin. I checked the price tag. Not expensive. Even if it had been, I wanted to give Eunseo something. She was always looking out for me and helping me.
By the time she came back, I was already handing the pin to the vendor.
“…Huh?”
Eunseo looked at my hand. I held out the hairpin.
“This.” I took a breath. “You said it suited you earlier.”
Only after saying it did I realize I’d spoken too naturally. This wasn’t the kind of thing I usually said, but the words had come out first.
Eunseo’s eyes widened as she looked between the pin and my face. “You’re really giving it to me? You don’t have to…”
The “you don’t have to” hovered somewhere between refusal and surprise. I added, almost defensively, “Don’t feel pressured. I just wanted to give it to you.”
Trying to explain only made things more complicated. I wasn’t good at that.
Eunseo accepted the pin carefully, as if it were something expensive. “…Thank you.”
Her voice was a little low. The words didn’t sound like politeness—they sounded like they came from somewhere real.
She held the pin in her hand for a while, looking at it, before putting it in her hair.
“Does it look weird?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It suits you even better now.”
At that, Eunseo smiled—a little more clearly than before. “Next time… I’ll definitely get you something too.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No. It’s a promise.”
No one had decided when that promise would happen, but strangely, it didn’t feel light.
As we started walking again, Eunseo kept touching the hairpin. Checking. Making sure it was really there, that she’d really received it. I saw it but didn’t say anything. Saying something might change the air between us right now.
After a while, Eunseo spoke first. “Do you come to places like this often?”
“No. Almost never. It was either the training grounds or home.”
“Then how’s today?”
I thought for a moment. “Today… feels different.”
Eunseo smiled faintly at that. “Me too.”
“Why?”
“Because I came with you.”
The words were so natural that my heart skipped a beat. Maybe because I’d just bought her the hairpin. “Because I came with you” sounded closer than before.
“Why are you embarrassed?” she added playfully.
“I’m not. Not at all.”
That was the truth. If anything, it felt comfortable. I didn’t have to talk much or force a smile. Just walking together.
The sun was slowly sinking. Lights in the shopping district began flickering on one by one. Signs that had been invisible during the day now glowed, and people’s shadows stretched long across the ground.
Eunseo looked up at the sky for a moment, then spoke quietly. “Time went by so fast.”
“Yeah.”
My answer came slower than usual. It felt like this moment was ending for no reason.
“We shouldn’t go home too late, right?”
She phrased it like a question, but her tone already knew the answer.
“Probably not.”
Even as I said it, my body didn’t turn away. Eunseo seemed to notice. She started to take a step, then stopped and looked at me again.
A brief silence. Amid the sound of footsteps and distant music, a strangely quiet space formed between us. Eunseo bit her lip lightly before speaking.
“Next time too…” Her words trailed off. “…let’s come out together.”
Very carefully, as if she’d already calculated the possibility of rejection.
I couldn’t answer right away. My mind went blank for a second. There was no reason to refuse, no reason to hesitate. Yet my heart beat a little faster anyway.
I looked away briefly, then back at Eunseo. And nodded.
“Okay.”
Just one short word. That was all. But that single word changed her expression slightly. She didn’t smile widely or look excited. Just—her eyes brightened a little. Her shoulders loosened. Not too much. Just enough. Like we’d confirmed we were standing on the same line.
Before we parted, silence fell again. Shorter than before, but more awkward. The earlier silence had been comfortable. This one felt like “there’s more we could say, but we’re not saying it.”
“Today…” Eunseo spoke first. “Thank you.”
It felt like those words wrapped up the entire day at once. I glanced at the hairpin for a moment, then back at her.
“I’m grateful you spent today with me too.”
Eunseo nodded once, then raised her hand and waved. “Get home safe.”
“Yeah. You too.”
She walked a few steps, then turned back once more. I didn’t look away. But I didn’t do anything more either. That was the right distance for us right now.
Eunseo disappeared into the crowd like that.
I stood there a little longer. The shopping district. The weekend. And Eunseo. Objectively, today had been nothing special. No major events, no dramatic moments. Yet—strangely, something inside my chest felt quietly warm.
Days like this exist too.
A day without awakening, without training, without danger. Just a day of walking with someone, eating together, spending time together.
I slowly headed home. My steps felt a little lighter than usual. And I didn’t mind that lightness.
Eunseo’s face flashed through my mind. The face that had smiled with the hairpin in her hair. Just for a moment. That was enough for now.