Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 52

Silence filled the car.

Seokyung had been the one to ask if there was anything they needed to talk about, but now he was the one saying nothing. With the rough address Yeonseo had given him, he just kept his eyes forward, focusing on driving. Yeonseo sat beside him, staring out the window, lost in thought.

She glanced at his hands gripping the steering wheel and realized—time had passed, a lot of it. The last time she’d seen those hands, they had always been holding a carton of strawberry milk.

Oh, right. Those same hands had once patted Baek Hyeji’s back, too.

Her eyes drifted across the dashboard, the center console. The faint scent of the car’s air freshener was nothing like the smell in a taxi or her mom’s car—it was sharper, cleaner. Two hair ties sat in the center console, right by the gear shift.

That reminded her of the women’s cardigan she’d seen in the back seat earlier.

In other words, Seokyung’s car had plenty of signs that other women had been here. Probably sitting right where she was now.

Her mood sank.

“…Just drop me off nearby.”

“I’ll take you all the way home.”

Even when she shot him a sharp look, he ignored it and pulled up right in front of her building anyway.

When he turned off the engine, the darkness in the car was broken only by the glow of the streetlamp outside. Neither of them spoke, as if they’d agreed on silence.

The first to break it was the one who had asked for the conversation in the first place.

“You seem to have been doing well.”

Was it just her, or did his tone sound a little twisted? Yeonseo answered as casually as she could.

“Yeah. I’ve been fine.”

“….”

“You seem to be doing fine too.”

She hadn’t planned on saying that, but it slipped out. The truth was, she hadn’t been doing fine. But Seokyung? He seemed like he’d been doing just great for the past six years—too great, and it stung.

“I’ve heard a lot of… good things about you from people.”

“I’m sure you have.”

He gave a small, smug laugh, like it was nothing worth reacting to. God, he was annoying.

“They say you’re a freshman killer.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I heard March keeps you very busy. Even going to afterparties for other departments’ events.”

She thought he’d deny it, but he just chuckled like he found it amusing and let it slide.

Something about that made her chest tighten. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t judge him based on rumors, that she’d believe there was more to him than that. But here she was, still thinking like the eighteen-year-old she’d been.

“…You said you had something to talk about. Can we hurry it up?”

Her chest kept getting heavier. She just wanted to get home, bury herself in her familiar, warm blanket, and either cry or sleep.

After a pause, he spoke.

“I think I’ll be moving to New York early next year.”

She remembered hearing he was planning to study abroad.

“This project doesn’t actually give me much benefit. It’s not something I really need.”

A nice line for his résumé, some academic recognition, a few perks—none of it seemed necessary for him. He already had everything.

“For me, it’s more like… a symbol.”

His voice was low and steady.

“Like the last ritual before I close out my time here at Yeono University. Leaving the last four years behind as the past.”

He said it like once he left, he might not come back for a long time—or maybe ever.

“That’s why I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to leave any bad memories behind. I want to be able to think of this project years later and only remember the good stuff.”

“….”

“It’s true, when we first met again, I was a little on edge with you. That was my mistake. The past doesn’t mean anything now.”

There was a faint awkwardness in his voice, like he was admitting he’d been unnecessarily sensitive. None of it had really been a big deal—the spring and summer of that year, the things she’d mulled over again and again in her head.

Seokyung leaned on the steering wheel, turning to face her.

“Ji Yeonseo. Let’s not make this awkward between us.”

“….”

“Just for one year. While we’re on this project together. Let’s… keep it light.”

Light, casual—like she had once suggested to him long ago.

“We could even be… something like friends for the four seasons ahead.”

Once, they had been best friends for ten years. Then, they had been secret friends. Then, at one point…

“Until I leave.”

They had been each other’s only boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Just regular club seniors and juniors.”

Just regular. The kind of people who greet each other when they cross paths, who can eat with the group after a meeting without feeling weird. People who don’t overthink or bristle at each other’s presence.

That was what he was proposing.

Dating as teenagers hadn’t been some deep, unhealed wound, after all. He was suggesting they toss that old memory aside and become someone who would remain as a pleasant face in his mind before he left.

She knew it was the reasonable choice. She wanted to finish this project well, to give herself a stepping stone for whatever uncertain path lay ahead. Maybe even keep the option open for a study abroad program, and relieve her mom of tuition worries.

So yes, his suggestion was a welcome one. In her position, it wasn’t exactly easy to take the first step toward making peace.

She nodded. She should say, Sure. Thanks.

But for some reason, she hesitated. Just as she was about to open her mouth, he spoke again, his voice quiet but heavy.

“But if you don’t want that…”

“…?”

“I have another idea.”

If she didn’t want to be just club friends—

“…What is it?”

Their eyes locked. His gaze felt like it could pull her in completely, dark and unyielding.

“Six years ago…”

“….”

“I thought I’d given you everything, but it turns out I hadn’t.”

The things Seokyung had given her—every one of them had been bright and beautiful, in shades that weren’t quite blue or green, but somewhere in between.

“I gave you my heart, but…”

He glanced past her, at her apartment building outside the window, then looked back.

“…Can I come up to your place right now?”

The one thing they hadn’t given each other—the thing they’d been too young, too unready for.

“…Do you… think about that too?”

“Lately, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. Because of someone.”

Fingers laced, a quick brush of lips, the light graze and tug of skin—those small things had been everything they’d shared at the end of that summer six years ago.

Even so, he’d said he’d given her all of his heart. All but one thing.

The car was utterly silent when his low voice came again, almost secretive.

“Your choice. We can be just club senior and junior—just Ji Minseo, Class of ‘06, and Cha Seokyung, Class of ‘02. No contact outside club work, just polite greetings if we run into each other. Four whole seasons like that.”

“….”

“Or…”

The unfinished thought made her nervous, but the back of her neck was getting hot.

“…Or we go upstairs right now, and you take the thing I couldn’t give you back then.”

“…Me? Give it to you?”

He shook his head.

“No. We give it to each other.”

The thing they both could have given six years ago, but didn’t.

“To be honest… I think I still have some lingering feelings. Not romantic feelings, not the heavy kind. Just… the feeling that we never wrapped it up properly. That’s why I wanted to talk tonight—so we could get closure.”

Clean, final closure.

But when he met her eyes again, his voice shifted.

“Now that I’ve said it out loud… I’m not sure talking is the way to do it.”

“….”

“We’re adults now. There are… other ways to work it out.”

There was a glint in his dark eyes—not just attraction, but something deeper, sharper.

Eighteen-year-old Yeonseo had believed that love, pure love, could turn into madness.

Twenty-five-year-old Yeonseo knew that love, when left unfinished, could turn into desire.

Grown-up matters. Grown-up choices. Grown-up things only grown-ups could do.

He tapped the steering wheel lightly with his finger, counting seconds—or maybe just trying to hide his impatience—his gaze fixed only on her lips.

She looked straight at him. Once, he’d been teal and mint and the fresh mix of blue and green.

But now, he was all deep red. Dark as the abyss, sharp as bl00d, so blatant that she almost had to look away.

“…You.”

Her lips finally parted.

“What if I don’t want either option?”

He leaned back against the headrest, turning his head lazily toward her.

“I don’t think you’ll say that.”

He said it like he knew her too well, like he was certain she’d choose one or the other.

“Which four seasons we spend together—that’s up to you, Yeonseo.”

“….”

His “lingering feelings” weren’t his alone. Something unspoken was lodged in her throat, catching every time she swallowed.

She could have just agreed to being friends again, but she didn’t want that. Or rather, she didn’t want it to end that way.

Her mom had once told her: There are things you can only experience at a certain age.

Maybe this was one of those things—something that could only be finished now.

If they started as lovers, maybe they should finish as lovers too. Doing what they couldn’t when they were young, now that they were fully grown.

Yeonseo unbuckled her seatbelt.

Her hand reached for the door handle, but before opening it, she looked back at him.

“Come upstairs. To my place.”