Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 23

“Why do you even care about stuff like that? So what if someone doesn’t like you? Isn’t it smarter to just ignore them and eat than to go hungry?”

I looked up at Cha Seokyung as I licked the gelato off my lips.

The corners of his eyes looked a little red. I thought to myself—he really doesn’t get it.

Which made sense. The attention he hated so much was probably all bright and shiny when it came to him. Nothing threatening. Nothing sharp.

Affection is soft like a cotton bat. It might be awkward or itchy, but it doesn’t cut.

The other kind of attention, though? It’s different. It’s pointed like a needle, sharp enough that you can’t ignore it even if you try. You flinch before it even touches you, and you’re constantly bracing for pain that might come at any moment.

And if you’ve already been jabbed hard once before, even just someone’s look is enough to make you twitch.

Instead of explaining all that, I just kept it casual.

“They can look all they want. Who do they think they are? I’d rather skip lunch.”

I tossed out the words like it was no big deal. I wasn’t sure how Seokyung took it, but his eyes stayed on me—sharp and focused, like he was trying to read something off my face. Like he was searching for something real. It made me nervous, like he was about to uncover something I didn’t want him to see.

People who have something they desperately want to keep hidden always get like that.

So I steered the conversation somewhere else.

“They glare at me, gossip behind my back. Sometimes Kim Eunho causes a scene with his dumb confessions. That’s about it. It’s not like anyone’s hitting me or stealing my stuff or trashing my things. What am I even supposed to report? That Lee Hojung gave me a dirty look?

“Sure, it gets lonely sometimes. Like when I don’t have a partner for assignments or whatever. But it passes. I’ve always liked being alone.”

I didn’t want anyone knowing how I really felt—not the kids at school, not the teachers, not my stepmom, not Minjae or Mingyu… not even Seokyung. I just wanted them to take me at my word.

“Sometimes I wish I had someone to text or message, but I can always make friends in college.”

Just little stuff. Nothing that’ll matter later. Middle school didn’t matter, and high school will be the same. Someday, when I’m older, I’ll laugh about all this like the adults say.

That’s what I hoped for—desperately. That all of this would become nothing. Just like the gym teacher said—heavy now, but weightless later. I wanted these years to pass by as lightly as possible.

Seokyung had been quietly looking down at me. Just as he opened his mouth—

“Seokyung? Is that you, Cha Seokyung?”

A voice called out, and both our heads turned.

A girl with shoulder-length curls stood nearby, staring at us. Maybe our age. She had on a trendy blouse and jeans, and she looked… really wholesome. The kind of girl who’d lend you her eraser without a second thought.

Clutching her bag strap tightly, she looked like she was about to cry and burst with emotion all at once. It felt strange. Off. Because Seokyung, the one she was reacting to, stayed completely calm.

“It’s been a while, Hyeji.”

The moment he said her name, she snapped out of it and rushed toward us. Her face was pale and soft, dotted with a few breakouts—babyish, really. Her eyes glistened with something heavy.

“How’ve you been? Why didn’t you call…? My mom’s been asking about you. She really wants to know how you and Wookyung oppa are doing. How could you cut off contact completely like that? What school are you going to now? Can you give me your new number?”

She asked question after question, looking almost frantic. She started digging through her bag, pulling out her phone with fumbling hands—then dropped it.

I bent down to pick it up, and only then did she seem to notice me standing there.

“Oh… sorry. You’re with a friend, huh? Hello, I’m Baek Hyeji…”

Her voice got smaller and smaller near the end, so I leaned in slightly and returned the greeting politely.

“Hi, I’m Ji Yeonseo. I’m the same year as Seokyung. If we’re the same age, feel free to speak casually.”

Our eyes met. Hyeji gave me a quick once-over—face, arms, legs—like her eyes were licking across my skin.

Something about it made my neck prickle. Like her gaze had weight. Moisture. Stickiness.

But the almost oily look in her eyes vanished in a blink, and she smiled innocently.

“Oh, okay… Then I’ll speak casually. But wow…”

Her eyes flicked to my face again.

“You’re seriously so pretty.”

“Ah… thanks.”

“I think you might be the prettiest of all Seokyung’s friends.”

She stared straight at me, unblinking. It felt a bit intense. I didn’t know how to respond, but Seokyung’s voice cut in.

“I don’t have a phone anymore, so I can’t give you my number. My email’s the same, though. You can write me there. Tell your mom my brother and I are both doing fine. Anyway, I gotta go—I’m with someone.”

“You’re just gonna leave like this…?”

Her voice wobbled a little at the end, like she might cry.

“Still, it was good to see you.”

Instead of saying more, Seokyung gave a small nod, then gently steered me away from the gelato shop with his hand on my back.

“You could’ve talked more if you wanted,” I said. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“There’s nothing I needed to say badly enough to keep you waiting.”

Something about the back of my neck itched, so I glanced back.

Hyeji was still there, not moving, staring straight at us until we turned the corner.

Once we hit the main road, Seokyung hailed a cab.

I felt a little bad—he’d paid for everything all day, and now even the cab fare. I started to say, “Hey, at least let me cover—” but before I even finished, he shot me a cold look.

Right. He does pay for his own stuff.

We were riding in silence when he suddenly asked, “You still mean it? That you won’t talk to me at school?”

He hadn’t forgotten that conversation. The one we had when he came over for tteokbokki.

That was how I showed gratitude—to someone who hated attention, who didn’t want emotional waves.

“Yeah.”

“…Got it. Then don’t.”

He didn’t say anything like, “You don’t have to do that.” He just accepted it like it was nothing.

I told myself that was a good thing. Our three days had stretched into four. It had been a fun stretch of playing “friends.”

The cab dropped us in front of my house. I turned to Seokyung.

“Thanks for everything the last few days. I got to eat good food and go to some nice places because of you.”

“Is that it for our ten-year friendship?”

“Yeah.”

“…Well, thanks for helping with my project.”

As expected, Seokyung didn’t seem particularly moved. He just nodded.

Seeing that reaction made something in my chest ache. But I knew better than to expect anything else. Feelings like that—I should just keep them to myself.

He turned to go, then paused.

“Oh. Give me your phone number.”

I looked at him.

He shrugged. “For the project photos. I’ll call when they’re printed. I’d rather not show up in your classroom to hand them over.”

I nodded and started digging through my bag.

“I don’t have paper or a pen. I’ll just go inside—”

“Write it here.”

He pulled out a sign pen from his backpack’s front pocket and held out his palm like it was nothing.

“Here? On your hand?”

“Yeah. Unless you’d rather write it on my shirt.”

What else could I say? I grabbed his hand and scribbled down my number. His palm was big enough to fit all ten digits easily. His fingers were long and straight, barely curled around mine.

Every time the pen moved, his hand twitched from the tickle. His arms were nothing like mine—solid, strong, veins surfacing with every tiny movement. It made my fingertips feel oddly sensitive.

It wasn’t even the first time I’d held someone’s hand, but the temperature, the texture—everything felt weirdly intense. My lips went dry.

Seokyung stared at the numbers and spoke in that usual low-key tone.

“I’ll call.”

I nodded and pressed the doorbell.

He stayed there, right where he always did, watching until I stepped inside. Knowing this was probably the last time I’d see him like that made my eyes linger longer than they should’ve.

After a shower, I sprawled across my bed.

It had been a long day, but somehow it passed in a blink. Going to his landmark, the pavilion, felt like forever ago.

“…Maybe I’ll take my stepmom to that buckwheat place again.”

I sniffled for no reason, and just then—ding, a message notification.

“What now… can’t even wait ‘til morning to talk sh1t.”

I opened the folder, ready to delete whatever nasty thing it was.

[Then let’s be secret friends.]

Ding.

[Starting Monday, eat lunch with me.]

Ding.

[It’s me, Cha Seokyung.]