I Did It—I Like You.
"I like you." If those words pass between a boy and a girl, they inevitably carry the meaning of romantic affection. In other words, this girl... likes me as the opposite sex...
"Ahem." Having briefly misinterpreted it that way, I cleared my throat and, regaining my composure a bit late, asked her back.
"What do you mean by 'like'?"
"What... do you mean?"
"There are all kinds of 'liking.' Like as a friend, or as a classmate and seatmate."
Yes, "like" is an ambiguous word with multiple meanings. You can use it purely because of blood ties with family, between friends who share joys and sorrows, with coworkers... It can even apply to inanimate objects or food that aren't even proper humans.
So, no jumping to conclusions. The "like" she means surely isn't that kind.
"Right now... yeah, you're just feeling that way because I helped you out, right?"
"......"
She bowed her head silently at my guess, lost in thought. After a prolonged silence, she finally spoke up, giving her answer.
"I know you helped me. And I'm grateful for that."
"See? That's all it is..."
"That's why... I like you."
Soeun emphasized it again, as if denying my attempt to rationalize it.
"I think... I like you more than before."
As she clenched her fist against her chest, as if feeling the turmoil in her heart, a sharp pain throbbed in my head. More than before? How else could I interpret that except as her affection toward me growing in that direction?
"That... that's just as friends, right?"
No, that couldn't be. We'd only known each other for about two weeks at most. It's absurd to think romantic feelings could develop in such a short time.
"......Friends?"
"Y-yeah. Just friends who eat lunch together and walk home."
"......"
Soeun bowed her head again, sinking into silence and thought. Amid the tension making my heart race for no reason, she glanced at me and posed a question.
"What about you?"
"Huh?"
"Do... you like me?"
Her blunt, direct question cut straight to the point. Caught off guard by its implications, I answered as tactfully as possible.
"I don't... dislike you."
"You don't dislike me?"
"W-well, yeah. Eating with you and Mary was fun... So I didn't want to mess that up."
Yes, that's why I'd helped her. No matter the reason, she'd become connected to me, and I couldn't in good conscience let her suffer. So surely my feelings toward her included "like"—but only as a friend. As a classmate and seatmate, not as the opposite sex.
"So... you do like me."
I hoped she'd accept that, holding my breath anxiously, as she quietly murmured her reaction.
"Just... as a friend..."
"Yeah, exactly. Same as you."
"Same as... me..."
Her cheeks flushed shyly. Her hand rose to her chest.
"Really..."
After pondering for a while, she voiced her lingering unease.
"Is that... really enough?"
"What?"
"Saying you like me as a friend... Can I just end these feelings that way?"
"......"
For a moment, words failed me. I couldn't shake the doubt that she truly harbored more than that toward me.
But it couldn't be. These feelings for someone she'd just met couldn't be romantic—and even if they were, I couldn't reciprocate.
"You're... not sure?"
"I don't know. It's my first time feeling this way..."
Unable to outright reject her heart, I approached cautiously, and she carefully shared her conclusion.
"But... after thinking it over, I had this thought."
"What thought?"
"I don't need to hide these feelings."
Her gaze drifted to the window, her face growing even redder in the sunset glow. Yet her reflection in the glass showed shyness, hinting at a depth words alone couldn't convey.
"If there's no reason to suppress them, maybe I can just be true to them... That's what I think."
Be true to her emotions. Express her liking directly. The moment I realized it was aimed at me, a heavy weight settled on my tightening chest.
It was surely anxiety. These uncertain feelings, unconfirmed even by her, might twist into something I didn't want later.
"Well, it can't be bad, right?"
So what should I do? Cut it off decisively before it went further? Deny her feelings head-on like I did with Mary, hurting her?
"If we both like each other, staying true to that could deepen our bond."
No, I didn't want to do that anymore. She was connected to me now, too. Though our time together was short so far, we'd spend more in the future, building our relationship.
Right now, foreseeing that, there was only one thing to do: steer it in the direction I wanted.
"Really?"
"Yeah. So let's both work to stay good friends from now on."
Just friends. Classmates and seatmates who ate together or chatted casually—nothing more. Driving that wedge in to define us that way, she pondered briefly before nodding faintly.
"......Yeah. As friends."
Thank goodness she seemed convinced. As I hoped that mindset would hold, I noticed the familiar scenery outside.
"Your stop's coming up, right? I'll see you off."
"......"
Soeun rose silently and followed me. At the door, it slid open, and her gaze turned to me—her face still faintly flushed from our talk.
"Something to say?"
"No, just..."
She halted her departing step, closing the distance by one pace.
"Wanted to look at you once more before we part."
Gazing intently at her, I suddenly worried the doors might close too soon.
"Haha, we'll see each other tomorrow anyway, no need to—" It'll be fine, just a silly reason.
Dismissing it lightly, she drew even closer—from one pace to an arm's length, then nearly zero.
Thud.
The sudden physical contact made my strength give way reflexively, my bag slipping from my shoulder. In that frozen instant, all senses halted, my eyes finally locking on her face right before mine.
Yes, her face pressed against mine. Her lips above her chin—those soft, warm mucous membranes—entwined with mine.
So abrupt, my mind couldn't process what was happening.
"Wh-what...!"
"Ah."
As I sputtered in shock, she stepped back a pace and muttered flatly.
"I... did it."
As if she'd acted without realizing. Stunned speechless, she grabbed her bag and left.
"See you... tomorrow."
Giving a casual goodbye, as if it were all a fleeting dream.
—The doors are closing.
As the doors shut and she vanished from sight, reality hit me. My head spun in a rush of heat.
"What... the hell."
In that chaos, one thought solidified: In our short time together, her heart had already veered into unwanted territory.
"What is this, seriously."
Could a pubescent girl be this impulsive and bold? Realizing it too late, a tension arose in me—one impossible in pure friendship—pulling taut.
*****
Meanwhile, on the walk home after alighting the train, the girl strolled alone, hand cupping her lips as if savoring the aftertaste of her act.
She'd done it on impulse, simply because she wanted to. Though she now realized it defied common sense, no regret stirred in her heart.
I... did it.
This unfamiliar feeling—too ticklish for friendship, too overwhelming for gratitude—she had no idea how to control.
She couldn't find a reason to suppress it, believing it fine to stay true to it.
I really... did it. Me...
There was no reason not to. She'd simply been faithful to her emotions—that was all.