#onewho

I could feel the sweat running down my already damp forehead as I dragged my feet along the sidewalk. Dreading going there, having to say “I’m sorry, but…” to that person, all possible scenarios ran through my head. Most of them ended with two people crying, mourning the death of a great friendship.

You see, I was going to meet my best friend Wonwoo who had been acting suspicious for a while now. He had called me the night before, but he wasn’t the calm yet cheerful person I’ve known and loved (strictly as a friend) these past years. Instead, his voice was trembling, and I could almost feel how clammy his palms were when he had finally mustered up the courage to ask me to meet him at our usual hangout. The moment I heard a sigh of relief escaping from between his lips, I realised it: this day (April 12th 20XX) would be the day my best friend would confess to me—and the day I’d turn him down.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door of the picturesque café and saw him. It was an idyllic sight: a beautiful man wearing a slightly oversized sweater, sipping a cup of coffee while a glow of light around him perfectly complimented his slim, elegant figure. He was holding a barely kept together book, full of battle scars from its pages being turned over almost every day.

He read it with a small grin making his nose scrunch up while the cherry blossoms outside the window flew in his direction, as if they were trying to approach him, attempting to touch him, just to make sure that such a wondrous man truly exists.

For a moment I didn’t know what to do and reconsidered the answer I was going to give him. I cleared my throat and shook my head, reminding myself that this was my mind playing tricks on me and that this was not how I felt in my heart. That yes, he was everything I ̶̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶, needed in a man, but he was Wonwoo, and I couldn’t afford to lose him. I loved him, but as much more than a potential love interest. I loved him as something I myself still can’t grasp. He was someone I had to have close to me, but not close to me.

As I kept reminding myself of this, I walked towards the table and seated myself in front of Wonwoo. He was so immersed in his book that I didn’t dare interrupt him and just ended up staring at him, reminiscing the halcyon times in which our relationship wasn’t this complicated, this forced.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s gaze strayed from the book in front of him and landed on me. We stayed staring at each other for just a touch too long, but I couldn’t manage to look away.

“Hiya, didn’t see you there… Thanks for coming.” He said before he awkwardly chuckled, which showed me that he felt whatever our gaze just before was as well.

“No problem, so…. what are you reading?” I ask, trying to get rid of the tension that was hanging around us, covering both our mouths and our hearts.

“Just a book about some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” I ask, continuing to show interest, silently telling him that I wasn’t happy with the answer he gave me and I wanted him to gather up some courage to just tell me what he wanted to tell me.

“You know, just your typical dramatic love story kind of stuff.”

Those words were the final straw. I knew Wonwoo, I knew what he was doing. This was him pretending not to listen in the hope that I’d give up on starting a conversation so we could sit there without saying, or even conveying anything. But he knew me as well. He knew that wouldn’t work, that I’m as stubborn as a mule and that I’d keep trying to get one word with at least a tiny bit of intonation from between his lips. Usually he’d give up, he’d know we could be sitting here for long, painful hours of me coming up with anything I could to get him to talk and him dodging every question as if his life depended on it. But not this time, this time was different.

“Just tell me why you called me here already!” The frustration and desperation were evident in my voice as I shouted this while standing up and slamming both of my hands on the table loudly. He was taken aback by my sudden outburst and leaped in his seat a little. He was looking for the right words and avoiding eye contact as the entire café stared us, probably thinking that we should take this ‘lovers’ quarrel’ elsewhere.

After a while he sighed and put his hands together, carefully placing them on the table. “You see, the thing is, I…” He was still looking anywhere but at my face while I looked at him with a look of both hope and dread in my eyes when he finally did it and confessed, at last.