Min Ho

It was his sister checking about the university application. I told her I hadn’t applied at all. The timing was in my favour — I didn’t have to submit anything in his presence. I added the acknowledgment detail because he never questions extra information. If he trusts you, he doesn’t double‑check. But one must avoid becoming the subject of his distrust or dislike.

Hyun Woo was a force. Even at seventeen, his sharp mind and immense power — thanks to his father — could cause serious damage. I had seen it myself. The boy who hurt me not only lost teeth but was suspended; his whole family had to move. For Hyun Woo and his father, it wasn’t about physical injury. It was about reputation.

One should avoid being hated by people like Hyun Woo. Worse still is being loved by them. His hatred could kill you. But his love — so fierce, so consuming — could bring such ruin that you might wish you were dead.

I would have loved to stay with him, to have a friendship that lasted a lifetime. But it is better — more practical — to stay away. No matter how beautiful a storm looks from afar, getting caught in one only leads to destruction.

I had already applied to a few universities here and in the UK. Once Hyun Woo doesn’t see my name in the selection list, I’ll just say it was bad luck. His sister and father will make sure he goes to the US. That will be the end of it. If he insists, I’ll keep talking to him for a few weeks, maybe months. Eventually, things will dull for him as he meets new people, and I’ll bring this friendship to an end. After all, no one stays together forever. No one misses anyone for long.

“Why are you spacing out?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

“I was just thinking about something.” I answered.

“I’m going to sleep. Will you continue studying? Or…”

“Yes, I’ll continue. You can go.”

“You sure?” he asked again. I knew he didn’t sleep well alone. On nights when we fought and I chose the sofa, I could hear him tossing, waking up constantly, drinking water or cold drinks from the fridge. But some habits need to change — the earlier, the better.

“Yes. I’ve never been surer.” I said, irritated.

“Okay, okay, don’t get all angry. All your anger is only for me, is it?” With that, he crashed onto the bed.

As I had thought, when I got up and walked into the bedroom at 3 AM, he was still awake.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Couldn’t sleep. It feels a bit cold.” he said.

“It’s a hot summer night. How could you feel cold?” I settled next to him and touched his forehead. It was burning. “You’ve got a fever. I told you yesterday not to stay out in the sun so long. Why didn’t you come home with me? Those friends of yours have all the time in the world, but you don’t. I even told you to skip your part‑time shift today. Why don’t you listen? Why are you so stubborn?” I scolded, but his eyes were already drooping.

I pressed a cold cloth to his forehead through the night until the fever receded. His clothes were drenched in sweat; I had to change them. I couldn’t sleep at all, but in the morning, when my eyes finally closed for a moment, I woke to find him still lying there, awake, staring at me.

“What is it? You’re looking at me without blinking. Did I turn into a girl overnight?” I joked, gesturing under my blanket as if checking my pants. He laughed, and for a moment the room was full of light.

“Where are you going?” I asked when he got up.

“Taking a bath.”

“Stay here. Let me warm the water. I’ll help you.” I boiled some water, then called him. “Come here.” He was beside me instantly. “Take off your clothes.” I said, touching his forehead again. The fever lingered.

“All of them?” His eyes widened.

“Yes, all of them. What’s there to hide? Do you have something extra, or nothing at all?” I teased, though I was laughing inside.

“Well, if you see, you may faint.” he mocked.

“Rubbish.” I blushed — why was I blushing? “Wrap this towel and sit on the stool. I’ll help with the bath. I’m afraid you might fall.”

“Okay, master.” He went into the bedroom, changed into the towel, and sat on the stool.

I poured the water and rubbed his back and shoulders. Suddenly, he pulled my wrist, bringing my face inches from his. “Thank you” he said with a smile.

“It’s okay.” I was flustered, my ears burning red. He noticed, of course. He always noticed.

“Your ears are all red.” he teased, touching them. I shooed his hand away, but he caught my palms. “Your hands are so soft. Pretty.” He rubbed my palms with his fingers; eyes locked on mine.

I pulled free. “Get up. We’re done with the bath. Let me dry your hair.”

He bent slightly so I could reach, standing taller and broader than me. In any physical fight, I would always lose to him. That’s why I decided long ago to defeat him with mind games instead. But even that was difficult — he was too intelligent.

One shouldn’t be fooled by his pretty face. He had great manipulation and convincing skills. At school and at work, I’d seen many fall victim to his charm, eating out of his hand. His lies were so clean, no one doubted them. He was used to getting his way, and for that he would do anything.

Once, during a fight, I called out his win‑at‑all‑costs attitude. His reply was chilling:

“I never have to lift a finger for anything that’s needed. There are very few things worth my effort, and even fewer that truly require it. When it comes to those, it means they’re meant for me. I deserve them. And since I deserve them, I am bound to have them. Whatever path I must take, I won’t give it a second thought.”

One has to learn someday that not everything they want can be had. Some learn it early, some later.