Sun-Hye

Blink and you’ll miss it.

You let the coffee-scented air fill your lungs for the umpteenth time as your hand scribbles across the page with a mind of its own. With the pages on your notebook running low, you have half a mind to erase it all and start over before you end up having to buy another one, but your just hand won’t listen. A lot of things are slipping through your control these days.

“Hey.” A gentle hand lays on top of yours, stopping it from covering the entire page in a thin sheet of lead. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you utter instinctively, gaze not leaving the page. “I’m alright.”

“Look at me,” she commands, stern yet calm.

You do as she says, being met with a soft pair of eyes and a modest bob—a familiar sight, yet one that manages to silence all the noise in your head.

“I’m fine, Sunhye. Really.”

She studies your expression for a moment before shutting her laptop and shoving it into her bag.

“Let’s go,” she says.

“What, why? Didn’t you say you needed to work on something important?”

“Yeah, but I hate seeing you like this. I can work on it later, now let’s go.”

She reaches her hand out towards you, urging you to take it with that cute pout in her lip. You’re not sure if she does it on purpose (not like she would ever admit to it), but regardless, you’re already taking her hand and following her out of the cafe without another argument.

Rays of evening light hit your skin and cast long shadows that trail behind each step. You take a deep breath, finding the lack of coffee in the air to be refreshing. With the past few weeks full of torn pages, serious conversations about your future, and the lack of real inspiration, you never thought the simple scent of grass to be a luxury.

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“So,” Sunhye licks her rainbow-colored ice cream while she absent-mindedly toys with a piece of grass, “Something’s on your mind. Spill.”

You let out a long sigh as your head rests against your favorite tree. “Same old thing that’s been bugging me for a while.”

She nods in understanding, brushing that single blade of grass against the back of your hand. It tickles a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Notes of cold chocolate hit your tongue. Not your first choice, but they were out of vanilla. “You’re the only thing keeping me together.”

“You said that last week,” she smirks, drawing shapes on your skin.

“That’s because it’s still true this week.” You shiver slightly as the grass tickles your elbow.

Sunhye meets your eyes with a smile, only for it to fade into a worried pout. “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” you chuckle softly, if only to keep the mood from getting any worse. The last thing you need is for your girlfriend to feel bad too.

She scoots closer to you, never breaking eye contact. “I could find a school that’s closer, maybe even in the next town over—”

“No, you don’t need to do that—”

“It wouldn’t be a problem, I could just—”

“Sunhye.”

You know she means well. You know everyone does, even your parents as they berate you for not knowing what you want to do with your life. Truth is you do know—you’re just not sure if it’s possible.

You cradle her hand in yours, rubbing your thumb against the back of it. It feels bittersweet in a way, like every time you hold her could be your last. 

“You don’t have to change schools for me. I’m a big boy, I’ll be okay,” you joke, trying not to let your inner feelings surface.

“I know, but…” Sunhye trails off, gazing longingly at your hand as if it isn’t currently interlaced with yours. All this talk about your future makes it difficult to enjoy the now. The two of you are right here, in your own little hideaway from the rest of the world, eating ice cream and holding hands like a couple of in-love teenagers should—and yet, it already feels like a memory that you’re mourning. 

You want to comfort her, but you know it’ll just be the same thing you’ve been regurgitating week after week.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I’ll visit you as soon as I can.”

“I’ll call you everyday.”

Frankly, you’re terrified. Before all this, life was so simple—go to school everyday, fill your notebook with doodles while the teachers drone on, and meet with Sunhye at every opportunity you could. No talk about college or scholarships or careers, just pure fun with this amazing, funny, cute, and talented girl that changed your life forever.

But now, she’s leaving.

A harsh buzz emits from Sunhye’s pocket and you can barely fight back a frown. You hate that damn noise. You wish it would stop. You wish everything would just fucking stop so you can have a moment to breathe.

Regretfully, she lets go of your hand to read the text, a sigh escaping her lips. “It’s, uh… It’s my mom. She needs me home soon,” she mutters. “Maybe I can ask her if I can stay another hour or—”

“No, no. It’s okay.” You muster up a smile, hoping it can provide some reassurance. “I don’t want you to get yelled at again.”

“No, I really don’t mind, I can—”

You interrupt with her a kiss on the cheek, causing it to turn a lovely shade of pink and her lips to curve slightly into a grin. Your gaze fixates on her round eyes as they light up with joy, even if just for a brief moment. It’s a rare sight these days with everything going on, but at least you know a surefire way to see it again.

“Sunhye. Go home. I’ll be okay,” you say, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“…Okay.” She gives you one last kiss before she stands up to leave. It’s brief and fleeting, but you savor it nonetheless. “I’ll call you when I’m done with everything.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You watch as she walks it off, but a voice inside of you tells her to stop her. “S-Sunhye!”

She turns to you. “Yeah?”

“I-I, uh… I…” Your anxious heart pulses in your ears, drowning out your inner thoughts. The words are right there, dancing precariously at the tip of your tongue—you can feel them, you know with your entire body that they’re true, yet they cling to the edge, refusing to take that leap of faith. With a quiet sigh, you let them slip away. “…Nothing. Sorry.”

“Okay?” she chuckles, giving you a weird look. “I’ll see ya then. Bye.”

“Yeah, bye…” You stand there like a fool, watching her leave for as long as you can until her silhouette disappears beneath all the greenery. Maybe next time, you think, but the amount of “next times” left is starting to dwindle.

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You remember when your desk lamp was a welcome friend, encouraging you to let out all the crazy ideas you had in your head during those sleepless nights; now, it only casts a light on how empty the page is—how empty your mind is. Call it muscle memory or second nature, but it used to be so easy to bring your pencil to the page, not even having to think about what you’re drawing. Now though, as the tip of the lead fidgets mere inches over the page, all you can think about is the growing feeling of dread in your stomach.