“Wait up!”

SuBin runs towards us carrying two sport packs and a water bottle, grinning widely despite carrying all that stuff; not quite the picture of what a class president one expects. Well, my classmates have elected him because he's all sunshines and rainbows; nothing can go wrong with a leader this positive, they say.

“Hey, Seo JaeHoon! Why did you have to scurry off like that? Are you avoiding someone in there?”

“Sort of,” JaeHoon calmly responds.

“Did someone confess to you again?” SuBin giggles.

JaeHoon just responds with a sigh. SuBin’s eyes wander to mine.

“We must get to the nurse’s station. Quick. How are you holding up, MinSeok?”

“U-uh, fine,” I respond, awkwardly.

“Hold on tight. You might fall over.” Oh right, my arms are just dangling awkwardly on JaeHoon’s shoulders.

His stare bores at me. It seems we will not be moving until I do what he says. I give him a slight nod and cross my arms around JaeHoon’s chest, making sure my forearms don’t touch his neck.

“That’s a bit awkward. But anyway, just hang in there for a bit.” SuBin taps JaeHoon’s shoulders. “Let’s go! Faster!” he shouts and jogs ahead of us. While the air around me remains heavy, someone is rather full of energy.

“Don’t worry about him,” JaeHoon whispers. “I'm sure he’s no Perceiver. I’ve known him since pre-school.”

An assurance. I still don’t understand why he is doing all this.

❖❖❖❖❖❖❖

“Wait. Just a moment,” I halt everyone. We are now by the side of the main building.

“Can you drop me there... on the bench?”

“Why?” JaeHoon asks but approaches the bench anyway.

JaeHoon lowers me and SuBin supports my back so I don’t fall over.

“Is there something wrong?” JaeHoon continues asking. His friend stares at me, waiting for a reply as well.

“I-it’s just… I can’t go to the nurse’s station,” I tell JaeHoon, hoping he understands what I’m getting at.

“But you need to get your wound treated,” SuBin comments; confusion written on his face.

“I’ll do it myself.”

SuBin wants to argue more, but JaeHoon speaks first, “Ok. Uhm… How do we…?”

“I have a first aid kit in my bag.”

“But isn’t going to the nurse’s—” SuBin prods.

“Ok. I’ll get it,” JaeHoon volunteers, ignoring the other guy.

“Hey. You’re tired from carrying MinSeok all the way here. I’ll go get it,” SuBin suggests.

He looks at each of us one more time then runs to the entrance. He’s probably confused about what’s happening and just decides to go with the flow.

I’m left with Seo JaeHoon. I expect an awkward silence to come our way.

❖❖❖❖❖❖❖

Fortunately, Yoon SuBin comes back in less than fifteen minutes, my bag hanging on his shoulder. He approaches us with an embarrassed smile.

“I didn’t want to probe the insides of your bag. It didn’t feel right… so I brought the bag itself.”

“It’s ok. Thank you,” I say as I accept my bag.

“SuBin, if you go now, you won’t be late for the next period,” JaeHoon notifies our president.

“But how about MinSeok?”

“I’ll stay with him.”

SuBin’s eyes shrink to a line, his irises moving back and forth between JaeHoon and I.

“It’s as if you’re getting rid of me.” There’s an implication in his words that I don’t understand.

“Just goooo.” JaeHoon turns his friend around and pushes him by the shoulders.

“Okaaaay.” SuBin pauses. “But I’m telling you I’m not dense.”

He glances at me and presents a naughty smile. JaeHoon responds with a glare. SuBin laughs at this reaction.

“I’ll head first then. Take care, MinSeok!” he shouts as he runs back to the building.

Once our energetic president is no longer in sight, I open my bag and bring out a compact plastic case. My personal first aid kit. Because we cannot be sure whether the school nurses are Perceivers too, I am tasked to tend to my injuries as well. Should I receive an injury I cannot handle—which thankfully has not happened yet—I should immediately reach out to my uncle, a doctor in a university hospital and the only other person outside my immediate family who knows about me. Well, other than JaeHoon now.

My first aid kit contains everything I may need for any common injuries. Different types of bandages, medical tapes, bottles of antiseptic, cotton pads, some medicine. Just like a typical kit, except that everything is in small amounts so I can conveniently carry the kit in my bag everyday.

I grab some cleansing tissue and attempt to wipe the wound. But its location is a bit hard to see.

“Do you want me to help?” Seo JaeHoon asks, “That is... if it’s ok with you, of course.”

“No, I can do it myself.”

“But isn’t it a bit difficult? How would you put a bandage on it later?”

It would indeed be easier if he helps me out.

“I won’t let my hand touch you, I promise.”

“Uhh… ok,” I reluctantly agree.

JaeHoon gets the wipes from my hand, careful not to touch my fingers. He crouches beside my leg and wipes the wounded area. JaeHoon continues to wipe it a few more times before asking, “What’s next?”

I soak a cotton pad with antiseptic and hand it to him. The pad stings my skin as soon as it touches my wound. He dabs it a few times.

Then, I cut a roll of gauze and give it to him, along with some medical tape.

True to his words, JaeHoon works with caution. As he attaches the dressing on my injury, creases form between his eyebrows. I wonder if not touching me is as much of a challenge to him as doing this myself.

I think this is the first time I’ve seen anyone this close. Besides Mom and Dad and Uncle. Somehow, it’s amazing how I let someone this near. So close that I can clearly see the details of his face.

His skin isn’t fair, but the tone suits him really well. His sharp nose is so tall. It does make his face look strong, but the gentleness of his round eyes balance it out. At the moment, his lips form a hard line. Unlike his usual bright image, his face exudes a manlier vibe. No wonder many girls in TaeYang—or even from other schools—have a crush on him.

A light breeze blows through his usually neat hair. It’s a bit messy right now. Clumps of hair spring out, like shafts of grass on a tended lawn. But the color is that of caramel against the warm afternoon sun.

I comb my fingers through his hair, trying to tidy the mess. Its silky strands brush against my skin in response. It is soft, like newly made fabric. My fingers run through the filaments as gently as possible, as if touching a dandelion that may disperse in the whispering wind.

JaeHoon lets out a soft cough, waking me from this trance-like state.

“Uuuuh, sorry.”

I withdraw my hands as heat blooms in my cheeks.

“A-are you done?” I ask, trying to change the subject. Why have I done that?

“Yes, I’m done.” He stands from his position.

I reorganize my first aid kit, trying not to look at my companion. I stuff it into my bag, but it bumps on something. I insert my hands into my bag, reaching for that small obstruction. My hands touch a round mass. Like a rock but softer. I pull my hands out, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. Still, I recognize what it is.

It’s JaeHoon’s letter.