A Walk In The Park

Minju wasn’t the type to go outside and bask in the sunlight.

She wasn’t the type to wander into unfamiliar streets just to see where they ended, or to sit in crowded malls where conversations mixed into the background.

She lived quietly and comfortably indoors, like a cat that had memorized every room in the house and decided that was enough for her to explore.

And that’s where you come in.

Because somehow, somewhere between shared school lunches and conversations that stretched a little longer than they needed to, you became the one person who always pulled her out of that quiet safe space of hers.

If she had to describe what you were like, she’d say that you were a storm that dragged her outside by force, well not literally but she still found herself standing in front of a crossing or anywhere else that wasn’t her room.

“Follow me,” you said one afternoon, already stepping toward the edge of the sidewalk as the pedestrian light blinked its impatient countdown.

Minju stood a few steps back, arms crossed, watching the intersection.

“Why are we even here?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

“You always say that.”

“And you always come anyway.”

She clicked her tongue, but she didn’t deny it.

Cars slowed as the light turned red and the crossing light turned green. People began to cross in that synchronized shuffle of strangers who would never look at each other twice.

You glanced back at her.

She hadn’t moved.

Minju looked back at you with the same uninterested look on her face whenever you asked her to come with you. She exhaled, tightening her arms across her chest before looking away.

“Stop sulking.”

“I’m just standing here.”

You laughed under your breath, the sound nearly mixing into the traffic around you.

Minju only looked more irritated by it.

She hated that laugh because it always sounded like you found something quietly amusing about the world, like everything was lighter or more colorful when viewed through your eyes. It made it annoyingly difficult to stay annoyed at you for long.

Which was inconvenient, considering you seemed determined to test her patience at least three times a week.

The countdown at the crossing began flashing.

Without wanting to waste another second, you walked back to her.

Minju still looked elsewhere, one arm still crossed against her chest as the other swiped strands of her hair. She was distracted enough to not notice you reach out for her hand and pull it with you.

“Wha—”

The protest barely left her lips before you were already pulling her forward.

Minju stumbled once, caught completely off guard as her feet scrambled to match your pace.

“Are you insane?” she hissed.

“We have six seconds.”

“That’s not reassuring!”

“It’s plenty of time.”

“That sounds like something people say right before disasters happen!”

You laughed, weaving through the last few people while keeping a firm hold on her hand.

Minju stared at the back of your head in complete disbelief.

This was exactly what she meant.

This ridiculous impulsiveness that always bulldozed through her carefully planned quiet days.

One moment she’d be peacefully existing in her room.

The next she was being dragged across a busy intersection by someone who treated life like it was an empty carnival with attractions and rides that they had to try out without skipping a single one.

You walked further down the sidewalk, still pulling Minju along behind you. She hadn't said anything since then, only looking at the back of your head and then lowering down to your hands that still held each other, fingers loosely connected.

Soon, the park came into view.

Minju slowed first, not enough to stop you but enough to pull your arm.

You looked back.

She was staring at the park gates with squinted eyes, suspicion already growing within them.

“No.”

“No, what?” you replied.

“Anywhere but the park.”

You frowned. “What did the park ever do to you?”

Minju stared at the gates like they were her worst memory.

“It’s loud.”

“It’s a park.”

“There are children.”

“Yeah, anybody could go there.”

“There are also couples.”

You blinked once.

“…And?”

“They’re disgusting.”

You let out a laugh so sudden you nearly had to stop walking.

“Then ignore them, we aren't here to look at people anyway.” 

Minju groaned behind you as the both of you walked through the gates. She looked forward and spotted the colorful drapes of tents in the distance.

Rows of tents stretched across the open field, each draped in bright fabrics that fluttered lazily in the wind. It looked like someone had spilled a box of paint across the park and decided to leave it there. People wandered between booths carrying paper bags and drinks as music played faintly from somewhere deeper in the crowd.

“What is this?” Minju narrowed her eyes.

You turned around and began walking backward again, hands still linked.

“A market.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“It’s a handmade market.”

“That still tells me almost nothing.”

“Local artists, food stalls, collectible shops, random things people make when they have too much free time and want to show it to everybody else.”

Minju rolled her eyes.

Great.

If she didn't make it clear enough that she didn't like going outside very much, she hated it more if she had to be in the middle of a crowd.

And now you had the brightest idea of dragging her to the market.

Minju stopped walking altogether.

Your arm jerked back with hers.

You turned, nearly stumbling from the sudden resistance.

She stood there with a flat expression.

“No.”

You blinked. “We’re doing this again?”

“Yes.”

“We’re already inside.”

“That sounds like your problem.”

You stared at her.

Around you, the market continued on without concern. Someone nearby was loudly advertising handmade keychains. A child ran past holding cotton candy the size of their head. The wind carried the smell of different food across the park

And Minju looked like she’d rather stay in bed.

“There are too many people,” she muttered.

You glanced around.

It was crowded but not overwhelmingly so, yet enough to make her shoulders tense and her brows pinch together in that familiar way you’d started recognizing.

The playful grin on your face softened.

“You okay?”

Minju hated how quickly that deflated her irritation.

“I'm fine,” she replied but you didn't buy it.

“We don't have to go inside, the stalls out here are fine too.”

Minju narrowed her eyes.

“That was your grand plan?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You dragged me across the city like you were helping someone on the run…just to stand outside a market?”

You gestured vaguely toward the nearest row of stalls. “Not really, but I still wanted to check the stalls out here.” 

“That’s somehow even dumber.”

You laughed again, it slipped through the noise of the crowd and found her anyway, annoyingly soft and familiar.

Minju hated how her shoulders loosened at the sound before she could stop them.

The stalls near the edge of the park were quieter.

Far fewer people wandered through this section, most of them drifting deeper into the louder center where the larger stalls and live music were.

Here, the booths were smaller, one sold handmade soaps shaped like fruit, a quiet elderly man painted watercolor paintings at another stall, barely looking up as customers passed, and all kinds of snacks and drinks one could need on a hot summer afternoon like today.

Minju glanced around.

“See anything you like?” you asked from her side.

“No, absolutely nothing.” she replied quickly.

“How about those?” you pointed to a stall.

Minju looked over and spotted a stall selling fluffy hats that were like the ears of animals. 

She stared at the display then slowly turned to you.

“No.”

You looked offended. “You haven’t even tried one on.”

“I don’t need to try one on to know the answer is no.”

“That pink bunny one is practically begging for a chance.”

“It can beg elsewhere.”

You chuckled as you walked over and picked up one that had the design of floppy dog ears. Placing it over your head, you reached for the bunny ears afterwards.

Minju took one immediate step back.

“Don’t.”

You looked at her like you were being deeply misunderstood.

“You don’t even know what I was going to do.”

“Yeah, but I know what you want to do.”

“C’mon, just try it! If you do, I won't have to force you to do anything else. We can even find a place to sit down.” 

Minju looked at you then to the plush hat then back at you as the expression written across your face didn't change.

A soft sigh left her lips before she took it from your hand, fingers brushing over hers with the lightest contact.

She looked to the ground as she put it on. Her head began to heat up from the material, though that didn't really explain how it spread across the rest of her face.

“See, no harm done.” 

Minju didn’t answer immediately.

That was usually your first warning sign.

Instead, she adjusted the bunny hat slightly, as if it might somehow become less humiliating if positioned at the correct angle of denial.

“I look ridiculous,” she muttered.

“That’s right.” You leaned in then nodded with far too much enthusiasm.

Her eyes narrowed instantly.

“I’m taking it off.”

“Wait—wait—no,” you said quickly, hands up in surrender. “I meant it in a good way.”

“There is no good way to look ridiculous.” 

“That’s not true. There are charming forms of ridiculous. And right now, you are one of them. You look cute.” 

Minju froze for a second. Her brain, for once, failed to provide its usual sharp rebuttal and left her with silence.

“Don’t say that,” she muttered finally, a little too softly. “Especially when I look like an idiot.”

“Yeah? Then what does that make me?” you asked, swinging one of the ears to the back of your head.

“An even bigger one.”

You tried holding back a laugh until it broke through your smile. It didn’t sound like a tease but more like you just accepted the fact that you were being a harmless nuisance.

“I’ll take that,” you said easily, adjusting the floppy dog ears on your head like it was a crown you fully deserved.

Minju clicked her tongue again, but it didn’t have its usual snarky tone. She turned slightly away, as if distance could fix the fact that her face still felt warm.

“We should sit,” she muttered.

You brightened immediately.

“Sure thing, I saw a couple of benches by the pond.”

Minju didn’t reply with her words, she simply tugged at the hem of her sleeve again, then started walking without looking at you. 

“Hey, we haven’t paid for those yet—” you raised your hand to get her attention but she simply kept walking.

You looked back at the stall and now noticed the person inside who seemed to have watched the whole thing play out.

The both of you shared an awkward laugh before you pulled out your wallet.

Minju found herself sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree that loomed over her.

The park continued to live on around her and so did the pond that rippled in small, patient waves that folded into each other. Sunlight scattered across the surface in broken pieces, drifting whenever the wind decided to blow.

She sat with her legs crossed as the bunny still sat stiffly on her head. She adjusted them once more, pushing one of the ears back into place.

Beside her, you dropped onto the bench like it belonged to you. The dog ears you had claimed earlier tilted slightly when you leaned back, catching the light in a way that made them look far too natural on you.

Minju noticed and she immediately regretted it.

“You look ridiculous,” she said again, but quieter now.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who’s wearing an animal hat.” 

Minju scoffed and she almost took the bunny ears off her but her arm went back to her side.

“You’re worse,” she muttered instead.

You placed a hand dramatically over your chest like she had deeply wounded your pride.

“Worse?” you repeated. “I let you insult me for free and this is what I get?”

“You’re lucky I’m still sitting here.”

“Want me to say thanks for that?”

“No, it’s a threat that if you say anything more, I will leave.”

You stared at her for a moment before slowly raising both hands in surrender.

“Understood. I value my life.”

“You should.”

A laugh escaped you anyway, quieter this time, careful enough not to push her too far.

Minju leaned back against the bench and looked toward the pond again, pretending the conversation was over.

Quack! Quack!

The both of you looked down to the edge of the pond in front of you where a duck sat still on the water beyond the railing.

The duck stared at both of you.

“You hungry, little guy?” you asked.

The duck didn't answer, it simply stared back.

“Maybe we should give it something,” she muttered.

“That’s fair,” you said easily, leaning forward slightly, elbows on your knees before standing up. “I’ve been eyeing all of the snack stalls back there, I'll go get something it could eat, hopefully.”

Minju turned her head so fast the bunny ear flopped dramatically to the back of her head.

“And you're not getting me anything?” She didn't expect for her words to sound the way they did, like she assumed that you were thinking of her too.

You blinked.

Then your mouth slowly curved upward in a grin so unbearably smug that Minju immediately regretted being alive.

“Fine, you want anything?” you asked.

Minju stared at your stupid grin then looked anywhere else but directly at the fact that she had just exposed herself in the most humiliating way possible.

“I changed my mind. Go back to the market and hope you never return.” Her voice came out much flatter than she felt.

You laughed immediately.

“Tempting, but I think you’d miss me.”

“I absolutely would not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I doubt it.” you answered back, already waving her off as you began walking away.

Her eyes narrowed as you disappeared further into the crowd, one hand lazily raised above your head in a wave like you had won something.

Which, annoyingly enough, you probably thought you did.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

Quack!

She looked down.

The duck had drifted closer to the edge of the pond again, staring up at her with the same blank expression it had maintained this entire interaction.

Minju crossed her arms.

“Don’t start.”

Quack!

“I was not going to miss him.”

The duck blinked.

“Fine, maybe I do…a little. So what?” 

The duck remained completely still, as if absorbing her words with far too much brain power for an animal floating in pond water.

Minju narrowed her eyes on it.

“You look way too smug for something I can just pick up and throw.”

The duck swatted its wings. 

She let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the bench, her gaze drifting toward the market where you had disappeared. She could still spot flashes of colorful tents through passing groups of people, along with the occasional glimpse of someone carrying overpriced drinks or bags full of things they absolutely did not need. 

You had only been gone for a few minutes and yet the space beside her felt noticeably emptier.

It irritated her enough that she pulled one of the bunny ears down over her face for a moment before letting it snap back into place.

“This is exactly why I don’t like getting used to people,” she muttered quietly.

The duck offered no sympathy, only another quack.

“It’s bad enough to like someone but it’s far worse if you have to push yourself every time just to see them.” Minju placed her head in her hands in quiet defeat.

Another quack came from her feathery friend as it swam around in the water.

“Glad to see the both of you became friends while I was away.”

Minju’s head snapped up so fast the bunny hat nearly flew off her head.

You were standing a few steps away with a paper bag in one hand and drinks in the other, looking entirely too pleased with yourself.

The duck immediately ditched being Minju’s moral listener and swam toward your side from beyond the railing.

You set the bag of food and drinks down on the bench, the paper crinkling softly as it settled between you. From it, you took out a blue lemonade and a sandwich for yourself, then carefully pulled out the other set meant for her. While your drink swirled around the straw in its cool color, the drink you placed on her side was pink, its color a quiet contrast to yours.

“How much do I owe you?” Minju asked, picking up the drink slowly.

You didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, you paused before you fully sat down, like you had to think over her question a couple times over.

“You don’t owe me anything.” you said.

Minju blinked once.

“What?” she replied.

“I bought it for both of us, don’t worry.”

Minju wanted to argue about paying for herself but wisely chose not to once she saw the blank look on your face.

You sat down beside her again, unwrapping your sandwich like the conversation had already moved on.

She stared at the drink in her hand for a moment longer before poking the straw through the lid with far more force than necessary.

“You still could’ve asked if I wanted to pay,” she muttered.

You glanced at her. “Is buying my friend food a crime now?”

Minju paused at the word and had to shake her head out of it.

“No, but I’m more than capable of paying for myself. I don’t need someone else doing things for me. Aish, now I feel like I owe you something.” she answered, eyes focusing back at the pond right in front of her.

“Relax, I did it because I wanted to. There’s no harm in that, plus, you don’t owe me anything and that’s final.”

Minju scoffed and rolled her eyes where you couldn’t see.

For a while, the moment played out with no words in between, only the sounds of foil unwrapping and the sounds of life throughout the rest of the park.

You stole a glance over to look at Minju. 

She wasn’t doing much besides eating and staring off into the distance. The hat stayed perfectly still on her head and so did the ears. Her hair blew with the short gust of wind that flew by also carrying the smell of something sweet and flowery.

Warmth flushed across your face as you realized you were staring for far longer to be considered just a glance.

Your eyes drifted back down to the paper bag as something else crinkled inside as you shifted on your seat.

“I think I understand why you hate couples,” you said in between bites, looking at the people walking in pairs with smiles that seemed way too wide to be genuine.

Minju nearly choked on her drink. She pulled the cup away from her lips and turned toward you with narrowed eyes.

“What do you mean?”

You looked entirely too calm for someone who had just said something so absurd.

“You called them disgusting, If I can remember correctly.”

“Yeah, that’s because they are.” 

“Is it because they hold hands and stay too close or they just seem way too happy to exist?” you asked.

“Both. I hate it when they lean into each other or talk too loud in places they shouldn’t. Don’t even get me started if they have the nerve to kiss each other in public.” Minju answered, a hard scoff following her words.

“But doesn’t it seem a little nice?”

Minju paused for a breath and looked at you with some suspicion that led her to think you had something hidden in between your words.

“What, you suddenly want to show the rest of the world who you share saliva with?”

You laughed and shook your head at her words and the disgust in her voice. 

“No, I meant the part where they hold hands, lean in and stay close, share umbrellas or one pair of earphones.”

Minju stared at you like you had just voluntarily admitted to enjoying public humiliation.

“You make it sound like it’s just straight from a romcom.”

You shrugged, peeling back another corner of your sandwich wrapper. “I’m just saying it doesn’t look that bad.”

“It looks unbearable,” she replied immediately. “Half of them act like no one else exists.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

Her brows pulled together. “What does that even mean?”

You leaned back against the bench and looked toward the pond, your voice quieter now, lacking its usual teasing edge.

“I think it’s nice when someone becomes your first thought.”

Minju went still.

You continued before she could interrupt, your eyes following a pair walking along the path ahead of you. The girl had fallen slightly behind while fixing her shoe, and without even turning around, the guy slowed his pace to match hers like it was natural.

“Like when something funny happens and they’re the first person you want to tell. Or when you see something good and immediately think they’d like it too. Or when you’re in a crowd and your hand reaches for theirs before you even realize you’re doing it or when you somehow see them through it.” 

Minju didn’t answer right away.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup, the small beads of condensation dampening her palm.

“You like someone, don’t you?” Minju asked, more as a tease than a question she wanted answers too, though she wouldn’t mind it.

(She absolutely would mind it.)

“Is that all you got from that?” you glanced at her.

“Yeah, I mean I wouldn’t make love sound all that dreamy if I didn’t have someone in mind.”

“It’s nothing much, I just like the idea of love.” you huffed out a chuckle.

Minju stared at you for a moment longer than necessary.

For some reason, that answer annoyed her far more than if you had simply admitted there was someone else.

“Of course you do,” she muttered before taking a long sip of her drink.

You blinked at her reaction. “Why do you sound offended?”

“I’m not offended.”

“You sound offended.”

“This is how I normally sound.”

Another laugh escaped you before you shook your head. “What’s wrong with liking the idea of love?”

“Everything.” Minju let out a dry laugh of her own and leaned back against the bench.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s simply realistic.”

You turned slightly toward her, curiosity replacing amusement. “Go on, explain it then.”

Minju stared at the pond for a while, watching the duck drift in lazy circles like it had nowhere important to be.

“People over-romanticize it too much,” she said after a moment. “They make it sound life-changing and beautiful and worth every terrible decision they make.”

“And maybe it is.”

“And most of the time people become stupid.” she continued.

You nodded along as if you agreed.

“It’s already tiring enough to talk to people, I wouldn’t imagine myself having to talk to one all my life.” she said in genuine disdain despite some parts of her contradicting her words.

“But you gotta admit, love might not be half bad. Or some parts of it, at least.” you nudged her shoulder a fist softly.

Minju looked at you, grazing over the smile she had slowly come to memorize.

“Maybe.” she answered, biting down on her straw as she took another sip.

You let out a breath then as if you caught her red-handed.

“That means you have someone in mind too.”

Minju nearly inhaled her drink. She coughed once, glaring at you like you had personally orchestrated her own actions.

“What?” she said a little too quickly.

You pointed at her with your sandwich like a detective who thought they surely had the truth with little evidence.

“You didn’t say no or brush it off so that means you actually thought about it and said maybe. Not no, not never in a million years, or even shut up. You said maybe.” 

Minju watched you fully turn towards her fast enough to send the dog ears to one side of your head.

She scoffed, “Fine, maybe I did. You’re the one who started all of this lovey-dovey talk so of course I thought about it!”

“Really now? Tell me, who’s the lucky guy?”

Minju’s eye twitched.

The absolute audacity you had.

You sat there looking far too entertained with yourself, sandwich still in hand.

She wanted to throw your drink into the pond and maybe she wanted to throw you into the pond after it.

Instead, she chose not to, which may or may not be regretted later on.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I’m interested now.” 

“You should put your interest in other things.” 

“Like what?”

“Just shut up already.” Minju let out a sharp breath through her nose and looked away from you. 

The pond suddenly became the most fascinating thing she had ever seen in her life.

The duck floated nearby, circling lazily like it knew what kind of show it watched beyond the railing.

You leaned closer, resting your elbow against the back of the bench as if you had all day to wait her out.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

“You already admitted someone exists, you can’t deny it now.”

“I admitted no such thing.” Minju’s grip tightened around her drink.

“You quite literally just did.”

“I said maybe.”

“Which just means there could be no one but that also means there’s someone.”

Minju slowly turned toward you with a blank, emotionless look in her eyes before standing up from the bench.

“I’m going home.”

“Hey—hey—wait!” you nearly dropped the rest of your sandwich as you scrambled up after her. “Minju, come on, I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re being nosy.”

“I can be both.”

She began walking down the path with quick steps, bunny ears bouncing with each irritated stride.

You stared for half a second before hurrying after her.

“Is it at least someone I know?” you asked with a heavy breath, after you caught up with her.

“Hmph!” Minju let out a sound that could only be described as pure, concentrated frustration before continuing forward. 

You matched her pace easily despite the dramatic huff she threw your way.

“That’s not a no,” you said far too brightly.

Minju stopped so abruptly that a couple walking behind her had to awkwardly sidestep around the two of you.

“You are unbelievably irritating.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me.”

“I should’ve declined the first time you asked me to go with you.”

“Ouch.” you placed a hand over your heart again like she had delivered a fatal blow.

She resumed walking and you continued on following.

The afternoon crowd had thickened since earlier. Children ran past with balloons nearly larger than their heads, vendors shouted over one another, and somewhere nearby someone was aggressively losing at a carnival game.

Minju kept her eyes forward while you kept yours on her.

You tried to ask her about this mystery person, even in the tiniest details and each time you asked, you were only met with nothing but the sounds of the park.

“Fine, if you’re not going to answer, you could at least take this.” you said as you looked down in the paper bag in your hands.

Minju finally looked back at you, arms still crossed against her chest and watched as you pulled something out.

She slowed to a stop, simply staring at the bouquet now in your hands.

Three small crocheted daisies sat wrapped in pale paper, their stitched petals slightly uneven in a way that made them feel more real and genuine than perfect flowers ever could. A yellow ribbon was tied around the stems to top it off.

“What is that?” Her brows furrowed together.

“Oh. Right.” You looked down at it like you had somehow forgotten you were holding it.

You scratched the back of your neck. 

“I saw it while I was buying food.”

“And?” Minju narrowed her eyes.

“And I thought that they really worked hard on it so I got one,” you awkwardly lifted the bouquet toward her. “And maybe because I thought you would like them.”

Her brain forgot to process her thoughts right then and there.

“You bought me flowers?”

“They’re not flowers.”

Minju stared at you in disbelief.

“Okay, they are technically flowers. But not actually the real thing.” you looked at the bouquet.

“That does not make it better.”

“I thought it did.”

“It absolutely does not, (YN).”

You lowered the bouquet slightly, suddenly looking less confident than you had been all day.

The change in your expression made something in her chest pinch unpleasantly.

You laughed once, “I just remembered you said real flowers die.” your gaze dropped to the bouquet. “So I thought these would last longer.”

Who knew that a simple sentence could make her want to hide her face for all of eternity to cover the blush spreading across her face.

The worst part is that Minju remembered saying that.

It was weeks ago as they passed by a flower shop.

She had made an offhand comment about how spending money on something destined to wilt felt stupid.

You had remembered because of course you had remembered and somehow that felt far more genuine than grand confessions or dramatic speeches under fireworks.

It was just as is.

A stupid handmade bouquet.

A stupid boy in dog ears.

A stupidly thoughtful gesture she had absolutely had no snarky answer against.

“You…” she started before immediately losing her words.

“I mean, if you hate them, I can keep them.” you shifted awkwardly.

“Don’t you dare.” Minju’s head snapped up.

“So you do want them.” Your eyebrows lifted.

“That’s not what I—”

You smiled at her before releasing out all of the awkwardness you felt in a hearty laugh.

Minju groaned and covered her face with one hand before swinging the other, taking the bouquet out of your hands.

She didn’t say much afterwards, she just spun on her heel and continued on as if nothing happened in the middle of a park’s trail.

You were left stunned like an idiot for a quick moment before realizing and catching up to her again.

Walking out of the park’s gate you kept your silence while she did the same but when you stole glances at her, you could’ve sworn the tips of her ears were red as she tried picking at one of the crocheted petals.

You eventually walked with her to where the day ended whenever you had dragged her along, the bus stop.

The sky had begun changing its bright blues for warmer shades of orange and pink, clouds were still hanging around, ready to blend into the night sky.

Minju had sat down with the bouquet of crocheted daisies clutched in one hand while you leaned against one of the walls, waiting for the bus with her.

She kept glaring at you with the side of her eyes then back to the bouquet as if staring hard enough would make the entire situation feel any less embarrassing.

“So,” you started carefully.

“Shut it.” Minju immediately raised a finger at you without looking.

You blinked. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“I know your tone.”

“My tone?”

“It’s the same tone you use before you twist my words and start teasing me.”

A laugh escaped you before you looked down at the bouquet in her hand.

“For the record…” you rubbed the back of your neck. “You don’t have to keep those if you really don’t want them.”

“Who said I didn’t want them?” Minju’s head snapped toward you so fast it nearly gave her whiplash.

You looked at her as her eyes widened a fraction as realization punched her directly in the soul.

“No—I meant—”

A grin spread across your face with the speed of a man who had just found free entertainment.

“You like them.”

“I hate your face.”

“That’s still not denying it.”

Minju looked ready to launch both herself and the bouquet into incoming traffic.

Instead, she hugged the flowers closer to her chest.

Your smile softened before you could stop it.

Before another tease slipped through your lips, you looked away and shrugged, looking at the traffic that came and went. You somehow started subconsciously counting the taxis that passed by when you turned to her voice again.

“You really want to know about him?”

Your eyes followed her figure as she stood up from the plastic seat just as the bus pulled up to the stop.

The bus gave a soft hiss as its doors folded open, pushing out cool air into the warm evening.

Minju stepped forward first, bouquet of crocheted daisies held carefully against her chest like she was suddenly worried the wind might take them away. She paused at the first step, half-turned back toward you.

“All you have to know,” she said, lifting the flowers just slightly, “is that he’s way out of my league.”

She didn’t say it to bite back or to tease you, she sounded real and careful of her words as if they were meant to be taken more into thought.

Then she walked in.

The doors slid shut with a quiet thud. The bus soon moved forward, tires rolling into motion as the evening lights smeared across its windows.

Inside, Minju didn’t look back again.

Outside, you stood there for a moment too long, sandwich and half-finished drink forgotten in your paper bag, watching the bus disappear into traffic until it was swallowed by the rest of the city while you were still standing there, staring at the street, as if it might explain what she had just told you.

I'm not a dere, a tsun tsundere