If You Hate It, Push Me Away—If You Can
STATUS: 500
CODE: 500
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The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the playground, but neither of them seemed to notice. Ji-eun's small hand was wrapped tightly around his, her cheeks flushed from more than just the heat. At ten years old, she already looked at him with eyes that held far too much depth for a child—eyes that sometimes made him wonder if she was truly just his childhood friend.
"Hey, dummy," she said, swinging their joined hands. "If I told you I liked you more than anyone else in the world, what would you do?"
He laughed, the carefree sound of a boy who didn't yet understand the weight behind her words. "I'd probably push you away. You're too clingy already."
Her grip tightened. For a moment, something ancient flickered across her young face—pain, determination, a love that had survived five centuries of death and rebirth. But then she smiled, bright and innocent once more, the expression of a girl who had waited lifetimes to stand beside him again.
"Then push me away," she whispered, so quietly he almost missed it. "If you can."
Years later, in their university days, those words still haunted him. Kang Min-woo stared at the woman standing in his doorway, the one who had moved back into the house next door just like she had when they were children. Han Ji-eun. His childhood friend. The girl who had followed him through every stage of life with unwavering devotion.
Only now she was a woman, and the way she looked at him made his pulse thunder in his ears. There was knowledge in those eyes—secrets, memories, promises that transcended time itself. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, he caught glimpses of someone else looking back at him. Someone regal. Someone who had once been his wife in a palace filled with silk and secrets, five hundred years ago.
"You're staring again," Ji-eun said softly, leaning against the doorframe. Her voice carried that same teasing lilt, but there was a husky undertone now that made heat pool low in his stomach. "If you hate how close I get, push me away, Min-woo. If you can."
The challenge in her words sent a jolt through him. He remembered the dream from last night—flashes of crimson robes, whispered vows beneath a full moon, bodies entwined in a bed carved from ancient wood. Her skin had felt the same then as it did when his fingers accidentally brushed hers now. Like coming home.
"You're doing it again," he muttered, stepping back to let her inside. "Looking at me like... like you've known me forever."
"Because I have." The words slipped out before she could stop them. She froze, then recovered with a bright laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I mean, we've been friends since we were babies. That's basically forever, right?"
But they both knew it was more than that. The pull between them had grown stronger with every passing year, a magnetic force that made other relationships impossible. Min-woo's last girlfriend had lasted exactly three weeks before accusing him of being in love with someone else. She hadn't been wrong.
Ji-eun moved through his apartment with the easy familiarity of someone who belonged there. She kicked off her shoes, revealing delicate ankles he suddenly couldn't stop staring at. When she bent to pick up a fallen book, the curve of her neck made his mouth go dry.
"Min-woo," she said without turning around, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you ever have dreams about us? Not the normal ones. The ones where I'm wearing hanbok and you're... you're my husband."
The air between them grew thick, charged with centuries of suppressed longing. He took a step closer, then another, until he could smell the faint cherry blossom scent of her shampoo—the same one she'd used since they were teenagers.
"Every night," he admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep inside him. "And in those dreams, I never push you away. Not once."
She turned then, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and something far more dangerous. Hope. Desire. A love so profound it had followed her across the barrier of death itself. Slowly, deliberately, she closed the remaining distance between them until her breasts brushed against his chest.
"Then stop fighting it," she breathed, tilting her face up to his. "Stop pretending you don't feel it too. The way your body recognizes mine. The way your soul calls to me even when your mind doesn't understand why."
His hands rose of their own accord, settling on her waist with a possessiveness that felt both brand new and achingly familiar. The silk of her blouse was warm from her skin, and he could feel her trembling beneath his touch.
"Ji-eun..." His voice was rough, strained with the effort of holding back five hundred years of pent-up passion. "If I start this, I don't think I'll be able to stop. Not this time."
Her smile was radiant, triumphant, and so achingly tender it made his chest ache. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair exactly the way she had in his dreams—the way his wife from another lifetime had done on their wedding night.
"Good," she whispered against his lips. "Because I've been waiting lifetimes for you to finally pull me closer instead of pushing me away."
When their mouths met, it wasn't just a kiss. It was a homecoming. A collision of past and present that sent sparks racing across their skin. Her taste was exactly as he remembered—sweet like summer strawberries and dark like midnight promises. She melted against him with a soft moan that ignited every nerve in his body.
His hands roamed her back, relearning curves that his soul had never forgotten. When he tugged her closer, pressing her fully against him, she gasped into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his groin. The evidence of his arousal was unmistakable, and instead of pulling away, she rocked against him with devastating instinct.
"See?" she murmured when they finally broke apart for air, foreheads pressed together. "You can't push me away. Not anymore. Our souls won't let you."
Min-woo stared down at her flushed face, her swollen lips, the love shining in her eyes like a beacon across centuries. For the first time, he stopped fighting the pull. Stopped pretending he didn't dream of her every night. Stopped denying that this woman—his childhood friend, his past-life wife, his eternal love—had always been meant to be his.
"Then stay," he said, voice hoarse with emotion as he lifted her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist as if they'd done it a thousand times before. "Stay with me. Not just as my friend. As everything."
Her answering kiss was fierce and joyful, centuries of separation finally crumbling beneath the weight of their reunion. As he carried her toward the bedroom, Min-woo felt the last barriers between past and present dissolve completely.
Some loves were simply too powerful for death to conquer. And this one? This one had only just begun to burn again.