Two Weeks Ago...
The air in classroom 2-3 was a familiar buzz of adolescent CHATTTER and the clatter of desks. I sat quietly, observing the usual dynamics. Up front, a group of popular girls was laughing, centered around a girl with long, reddish-brown hair—Ajin.
Ajin was holding up a phone, its screen flashing with the light of a selfie.
"Look this way, Ajin," the girl next to her said, urging Ajin to RAISE the phone higher for a better angle.
CLICK! The sound was sharp, followed by bright, sparkly effects superimposed over the image they were taking together.
"My phone is so good for selfies. I should switch to this one too," one of the girls commented, admiring the picture.
I watched them, feeling the familiar, uncomfortable heat rise in my cheeks as they took pictures, their world a brightly lit, exclusive bubble. I was the girl with the cropped purple hair, the one who tried to go unnoticed.
Suddenly, Ajin turned to me, her eyes narrow and a dark shadow of annoyance spreading around her.
"WHOA, WHAT'S WITH YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN," she snapped. I flinched, my legs tucked up awkwardly as I instinctively retreated from her gaze. "BUT I HAVE A BOYFRIEND," she finished, her voice dripping with dismissiveness, though I hadn't said a word. The implication was clear: I was doing something wrong just by existing in her vicinity.
The humiliation stung, but I bit it back. I knew how to disappear.
The Incident
A few moments later, I was clutching my phone, my lifeline to a world that didn't judge my every move. I was looking at something, perhaps a message or a small, private picture.
CRUMPLE!
The sound was shockingly close. I looked up in horror. In an instant, Ajin had reached out, her hand moving like a hawk, and SNATCHed my phone away.
My eyes widened in panic. My heart hammered against my ribs. "GASP," I choked out, jumping to my feet, my blood running cold. "HEY!!"
It was too late. I stared, helpless and utterly exposed, as she held my phone in her grasp. My desperate eyes were wide and pleading.
Ajin's hands—strong, careless—squeezed the device. The glass resisted for a moment, and then I saw the screen buckle, the force of her grip leaving a sickening impression on the casing.
"DAMMIT..." I whispered, the word a small sob of defeat. It wasn't just the phone—it was what was on it. It was the violation of my space, the casual cruelty of her power.
She finally dropped the mangled phone back into my trembling hands. I stared down at the damage, the screen a mosaic of ruined pixels.
"IT'S ALL CRUMPLED!" The shout of despair was trapped in my throat, emerging only as a cracked whisper. My secret, whatever it was, was now literally fractured.
The crumpled phone lay heavy in my hands. I stared at the damage, tears welling up in my eyes. The casual cruelty of Ajin's actions, and the destruction of the small picture on the back, hit me harder than the broken phone itself.
"NO..." I whispered, two small SNIFFLEs escaping me. My fingers carefully peeled back the corner of the small, square photo stuck to the phone case. It was a picture of a guy—Minu—and another girl with long blonde hair, taken on 2014.03.10, labeled "CUMPLERD" (perhaps meaning 'crumpled') and "CUTIES".
But I have a boyfriend, the thought echoed, despite the fact that the picture clearly showed my boyfriend with someone else. I kept telling myself this, even while standing outside the beautiful, imposing school building.
The truth was, I loved him. My chest puffed out defensively as I imagined him. He was a popular figure at the school, often seen laughing with his friends.
"He's cute, haha," a girl said nearby as someone patted her on the head. I crossed my arms, my cheeks puffed out, feeling a surge of stubborn loyalty towards Minu.
My boyfriend Minu is just kind of like that. I told myself this often.
The next day, the stark reality of our relationship was evident in the bustling cafeteria. I sat, spooning a mouthful of rice (MUNCH), trying to savor my lunch.
A tall figure appeared, casting a shadow over my tray. The sound of a tray being placed on the rack next to him went CLUNK. It was Minu.
I paused, rice halfway to my mouth, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "...".
He didn't look at me. He just held his own empty tray, ready to leave, even as I was still eating.
"HEY, MINU!" I heard one of his friends call out from a distance.
If he finishes his lunch first... I thought, swallowing hard. I knew what was coming.
"EH? BUT I'M NOT DONE EATING YET!" I wanted to shout, but the words stayed inside.
He didn't say goodbye or wait. He just gave a small TURN and walked off with his friends.
"...He'll just pick up his tray and leave, even if his girlfriend is still eating".
That was Minu.
I put my spoon down, staring at the remaining food. My feelings were a confusing mess: loyalty, a little bit of hurt, and a fierce determination to hold onto him.
EVEN IF HE ISN'T THAT KIND TO ME. I repeated the mantra in my head. That was the price I paid for having him.
My belief in Minu was a wall I kept building, even as he chipped away at it with every casual dismissal. He was charming, popular, and frankly, my only claim to status in this school.
I had peeled off the CRUMPLED photo from the back of my phone. It was a picture of Minu, myself, and a blonde girl, labeled "CUTIES" and dated 2014.03.10. Though the girl on the phone had whispered, "BUT I HAVE A BOYFRIEND" earlier, the reality was that Minu's attention was always elsewhere.
The school day ended, and I saw Minu waiting by the lockers with his friend. I rushed over, my pink backpack a bright contrast to my GLUM expression.
"HEY, MINU!" his friend called out. "LET'S GO, MINU!"
I looked up at him, pleadingly. "WHAT? BUT YOU PROMISED YOU'D WALK HOME WITH ME TODAY!"
Minu didn't miss a beat. He gave a slight GRIN, a smirk that said I was being foolish. "BUT I'M GOING TO THE INTERNET CAFE!"
I felt my face fall, my lips trembling with disappointment. When I tried to persist, asking him to walk home together... he just patted my head dismissively with a soft PAT.
"WHAT ARE YOU, A KID?" he asked.
Then, with a casual wave, he delivered the final blow: "YOU CAN WALK HOME BY YOURSELF, RIGHT?" He left for the internet cafe without even a second glance, saying simply, "SEE YOU".
I was left standing alone in the hallway, feeling small, rejected, and utterly GLUM.
His casual neglect wasn't limited to mealtimes or the walk home. It extended to moments when I was truly in danger.
One afternoon, Minu was playing soccer outside with his friends. I was standing near the field when a ball came flying toward me.
"HEY, PASS IT HERE!" Minu shouted to his teammate.
"HEY, WATCH OUT!" someone else yelled.
Before I could react, the ball hit me with a brutal THWACK, knocking me down. "URGH!" I cried out.
Minu's figure, blurred with speed, rushed past me with a WHOOSH, focused not on my pain but on the game.
"MINU...." I cried, tears pricking my eyes.
The camera focused on the action in the distance. Minu was yelling at his teammate, "YOU'RE SO USELESS! WE LOST BECAUSE OF YOU!".
I watched him, a slow, burning realization dawning. He was MORE PISSED ABOUT LOSING A SOCCER GAME... THAN SEEING HIS GIRLFRIEND GET HIT BY THE BALL.
I looked away, my lips pressed into a tight, judgmental GLARE. I had always defended him, repeating the mantra: MY BOYFRIEND MINU IS JUST KIND OF LIKE THAT. But how much longer could I cling to the idea of a relationship that barely acknowledged my existence?
I stared at the crumpled photo, tears blurring the image of Minu and the blonde girl. Despite the obvious hurt and the casual neglect, a stubborn part of me clung to him.
"NO..." I sniffled. I still held onto the mantra: MY BOYFRIEND MINU IS JUST KIND OF LIKE THAT. EVEN IF HE ISN'T THAT KIND TO ME.
His thoughtless actions were a pattern: leaving me alone in the hallway to go to the internet cafe, dismissing me with a PAT and asking, "WHAT ARE YOU, A KID?". He was even more pissed about losing a soccer game... than seeing his girlfriend get hit by the ball. I could only stand there and GLARE.
Yet I'm still stupidly in love with him.
A Brief Glimmer of Hope
Then, one day, a rare moment of kindness from Minu occurred. He walked up to my desk and said, "HERE", holding out a small carton of "Tasty Milk".
My face immediately lit up, sparkles surrounding me. I looked up at him, my heart soaring.
"I got you one since you're skipping lunch for art club today," he explained. The small gesture was huge to me, validating my relentless belief in him.
I sat back down, smiling, a quiet "HEHE" escaping my lips as I admired the pink-and-white strawberry-flavored milk carton on my desk. It felt like a treasure.
A Friend's Warning
I was still gazing lovingly at the milk carton when a hand suddenly came into view and gave the carton a quick GRAB. I looked up, startled, eyes wide.
"Did Minu give you this?" my friend asked, looking at me with an expression that was less impressed and more concerned.
Before I could answer, another friend chimed in, leaning over to scrutinize the milk carton in her hand. "Does looking at his gift make you happy?" she asked pointedly. "This should've been for lunch, so why are you still saving it?".
I knew why: it was proof that he cared, a memory I didn't want to consume or erase.
The friends around me began to mutter.
"THAT GIRL HAS NO SELF RESPECT".
They watched Minu's retreating figure as he walked away with his friend.
"HAHAHA!" they laughed, a sound that felt both cruel and truthful.
"...She's not good enough for Minu anyways".
"How can she forget all of his rude behavior after something so small. IT'S CAUSE SHE KNOWS...".
My closest friend looked me dead in the eye, her voice filled with frustrated empathy. "NO MATTER HOW MUCH I LIKE A GUY, I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO STAND SUCH A RELATIONSHIP".
But even with their words, even with the evidence of Minu's neglect piling up, I hugged myself tightly, trying to hold onto the faint warmth of his small gift. The popular girls could call me what they liked, but I wasn't going to let go of him.
The sweet, untouched carton of "Tasty Milk" sat on my desk, a beacon of Minu's rare, momentary kindness. I was still smiling, happily ignoring the judgmental whispers of the other girls: "THAT GIRL HAS NO SELF RESPECT", and "She's not good enough for Minu anyways". I thought, Yet I'm still stupidly in love with him.
Then, a sudden GRAB snatched the carton away. I looked up to see a boy—Eunhyeok, Minu's best friend—holding the strawberry milk.
"Did Minu give you this?" my friend asked, concerned.
"This should've been for lunch, so why are you still saving it?" another friend pressed.
Eunhyeok, completely ignoring me, peeled back the corner of the milk carton. "If you don't want it, I'll drink it for you", he said with an indifferent look. And then he started to drink.
My treasured gift, my proof of Minu's affection, was being consumed by his best friend.
"HEY! WHY ARE YOU DRINKING THAT! GIVE IT BACK, YOU BASTARD!" I shouted, jumping up with fury.
Eunhyeok stopped, his mouth still on the carton, and looked down at me with a dangerous expression. "DID YOU JUST CALL ME A BASTARD?"
A wave of panic washed over me, but the rage was stronger. I stood my ground as he raised his hand in a sudden, threatening movement.
"WHY YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—!"
He lowered his hand and stared at me. I looked away, uncomfortable. "I feel so uneasy around him".
I had a reason for that. Eunhyeok was always polite, but his words were often sharp, cutting through the flimsy reality I built around my relationship with Minu.
"HEY, CHEOLMIN," he said to a nearby classmate. Then he turned his attention back to me, his gaze cool and scrutinizing.
"You almost whacked me," he observed, referring to the incident where he threatened to hit me.
He gave a small, mocking smile. "You know how many people would be devastated to see a scratch on my face? Try to be more careful, haha...".
He was arrogant, aware of his own popularity, and had just casually destroyed the one good thing Minu had given me.
THAT'S RIGHT, EUNHYEOK MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE. I felt it instinctively. I was on the outside looking in, while he and Minu stood together, confident and untouchable.
Minu with his happy GRIN and Eunhyeok with his cutting remarks—they were an impenetrable pair, two handsome boys standing side-by-side.
I was left alone again, holding onto the thought: EVEN IF HE ISN'T THAT KIND TO ME.
Eunhyeok, Minu's best friend, had just finished drinking the strawberry milk Minu gave me, the only kindness I had received in weeks. When I had called him a bastard for taking it, he had momentarily threatened to hit me, before giving me that unsettling smile.
"You almost whacked me," he said, and then, "You know how many people would be devastated to see a scratch on my face? Try to be more careful, haha...".
I felt so uneasy around him. THAT'S RIGHT, EUNHYEOK MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE.
An Uncomfortable Glare
Despite the confrontation, my heart still foolishly belonged to Minu. Whenever Minu treated me badly—leaving me to walk home alone, ignoring me at lunch, or being more worried about a soccer game than me getting hit by the ball—I would simply tell myself, MY BOYFRIEND MINU IS JUST KIND OF LIKE THAT. Even my friends worried that I had no self-respect.
But there was always Eunhyeok.
He would always look at me... whenever Minu treated me badly. It was a constant presence in the background.
I recalled a time when Minu had put his arm over my shoulder, forcing me to lean into his body as we stood outside. BACK THEN, I DIDN'T KNOW. I didn't know how pathetic I looked, clinging to him when he barely cared. Minu had just a big smile on his face, and I felt a faint, fleeting sense of being accepted.
But even then, Eunhyeok was there. He would always look at me with that gaze, one that was clearly telling me... THAT I WOULD CHEAT ON MY BOYFRIEND... WITH EUNHYEOK.
The memory of the milk incident returned, and I felt the old shame and fury flare up. The day Ajin had crumpled my phone and ruined the picture of Minu and the blonde girl, all I could think was, IT'S ALL CRUMPLED!. I felt sick when I looked down at the ruined photo—a picture of him and the other girl. The girls around me just whispered that I had no self-respect.
I looked up, catching Eunhyeok's eyes across the room. He was walking away, and I felt the weight of his final judgment: ...I LOOK PATHETIC. The feeling of being exposed and judged was suffocating.