To be fair, the school council was as competitive as it gets. With a president and vice president fighting for different sides, it seems determination is in the air. In contrast, maybe there's more to the story than being rivals who "hate" each oth...
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15 | "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry."
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We only have ten minutes left before classes start, but Heeseung was adamant about talking to me now. I don't know how much courage he's holding- if he believes he could only do it now or if he's confident that he can make up for what he's done. I'm lagging behind because I'm unsure, but as I watch his pace, I can tell he's nervous.
His head doesn't turn back to check if I'm still there. In his head, he's thinking, whatever happens, happens. His hands quiver in hope that I would still be following with quiet steps, and the soft exhale from his mouth confirms it. I don't understand why my eyes wouldn't pry off of him, following him like a dog on a leash. My steps are unconscious of the way we're going, but it's as if my heart's saying it's time.
It's not that he wasn't at fault, I mean, he was.
He... was.
That's interesting to say. He used to be at fault, but now... maybe it's fine to accept what's been done and move on. As Yuri said, there's nothing wrong with giving second chances.
We arrive at the field, students running behind us in hopes to get to their classes on time. Heeseung stops for a moment, eyes beckoning to the bench. Hoping I got his message, I took a seat on the edge of the bench. His feet scatter to the other side, a soft grunt leaving his lips once he's sitting.
Nobody says anything. I don't want to be the one who goes first, but it seems like he doesn't want to either. His elbows are on his kneecaps, hands rubbing together as the light wind begins to sway our already-frozen hearts. I wish there was a moment where I could just say that I forgive him telepathically- it would save us sitting out here.
"Hayoon."
His voice is low, apologetic as it should be, but there's something about it that makes my eyes crave the urge to look at him. My fingers scrunch my pants as I glance, already seeing his eyes staring. Scared by the spotlight, I look away to the school windows. However, seeing myself in the reflection, I decided to face it- face him.
His eyes are hesitant when we match, and for a moment, they falter. They shake, between my left and my right, not knowing where to look. He's still for a moment, hands crumpling his pants just like mine, and then, he lets go. "I'm sorry."
