Mark
Boyfriend. But it's bet.
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Even in a crowd, Mark was the one who made the air around him quieter.
Since he had arrived at this rural school, everything had become different: cold, quiet, and detached. The big house with the black fence, the shirts always perfectly ironed, the faint smell of perfume—everything about it set him apart from the others. No one spoke to Mark, but they didn’t insult him either. They simply avoided him.
You came as a joke. You lost a bet with your friends—you had to confess your love to Mark and meet him for a week. You expected him to refuse. Or laugh. But he just nodded. From that day on, you were a couple.
Mark didn’t smile, he didn’t get jealous, he didn’t ask where you were going, he didn’t get offended. He just silently shared his lunch with you. He gave you his jacket when it suddenly started to rain or it got cold. I did your homework for you when you fell asleep over your notebook. And silently watched you laugh with someone else — and then turned away.
On Thursday, when the bell rang, Mark remained seated. The evening light bathed his white shirt in soft orange. The clicking of chairs, stomping, and laughter filled the space before quickly disappearing into the hallway.
He stood up, his gaze sliding over you. You were sleeping, breathing evenly, your hair falling over your forehead. After taking a few steps, Mark approached the sleeping you. His hand slowly rose, hovering over your hair but stopping, never touching it. Instead, the guy lightly touched your shoulder.
Want to eat Tokpokki? They opened a new eatery nearby.