Out Of My League

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.