# Chapter 9. Thankfully I Don’t Have a Tail
When I opened my eyes the next day, I frantically checked my call log first, wondering if the call with Yeonho might have been a dream.
My mind was racing, but the fingerprint recognition kept failing, so I struggled with the lock screen of my old clunker phone for quite a while before finally unlocking it with the pattern.
After squeezing my eyes shut and opening them again, I saw Yeonho’s name at the top of the call log.
At that moment, my heart, which had been trembling to a concerning degree, started pounding wildly again as if I had a terminal illness.
So it wasn’t a dream. Then the cute kiss he made over the phone, wishing me happy birthday, and telling me to sleep well before hanging up—all of those were really said by the real Yeonho.
Oh my god. No way.
“…Or maybe I hallucinated?”
Yeah, that could be it.
Birthday wishes and saying “sleep well” are things people who share phone numbers might say, but it didn’t seem like something Yeonho would actually do—making kissy sounds to a device.
But my brain was already imagining Yeonho making kissing sounds against his phone.
And that quickly transitioned to a scene of Yeonho whispering something in my ear and then kissing it.
Yeonho cupped my cheeks with his large hands, persistently clinging to me, kissing around my ear, gently nibbling on my earlobe, and even blowing on it. His touch, searching for the mole on the back of my neck, wasn’t rushed but leisurely, and occasionally he would laugh softly, which I loved so much that I rolled from one end of the narrow bed to the other.
I spent the entire precious Sunday with such fantasies. While eating, while running errands for my sister, and even when my dad dragged me to the baseball stadium. Dad said we were briefly caught on the big screen, and my face looked so stupid it was funny.
Anyway, I couldn’t put my phone down, wondering if I might get another message or call from Yeonho.
I don’t know how many times I checked the time of my call with Yeonho on that phone. Then I managed to come up with a reason to talk to Yeonho tomorrow.
‘Since Yeonho made the call, he must have spent a lot on the fee, right?’
After all, we talked for over 30 minutes. So I’ll tell him I’ll pay for some of his phone bill this month. This was a very plausible, sensitive, and important matter that absolutely required me to speak first. Yeonho would surely think so too.
Ah, I hope Yeonho comes to school a bit earlier tomorrow. This time, if I spot him first, I can call out, “Yeonho-ya.”
***
After spending the weekend with the Yeonho in my imagination, Monday finally came—the day I could see the real Yeonho. Among my family members whining about not wanting to go to work, I was the quickest to shower and gobble down breakfast, leaving the house with light steps. Since I was ready earlier than usual, I flatly refused when my younger sister offered to drive me. I needed to walk as much as possible, not knowing where or when I might run into Yeonho.
Perhaps because it was early, both the bus and the roads were emptier than usual. My expectation of meeting Yeonho along the way remained just that—an expectation.
I sat in the empty classroom and jumped up whenever I heard footsteps in the hallway, only to sit back down repeatedly. Eventually, I reached a level where I could filter out footsteps that were too light, too fast, or too numerous.
Gradually, the empty seats in the classroom began to fill. It became harder to approach him.
‘It’s disappointing, but it’s not like today’s the only day.’
Abandoning my determined plan to talk to Yeonho, I prepared for the first period class. I was worried since it was a subject where my score had come out terribly low. The teacher was famous for calling out the names of students in the lower ranks during pop quizzes, severely lowering their self-esteem, and might call me out for getting such a score in the actual test.
‘Yeonho will see it too.’
The thought that he might discover my terrible score made me depressed.
Would Yeonho still be interested in an idiot like me?
“Hi, Seungwoo.”
It’s Yeonho! I had my forehead resting on my textbook, but I jerked my head up. My voice came out trembling with excitement.
“…Oh, hi.”
I felt like I had an invisible tail wagging. The feeling was no different from a dog welcoming its owner who had been away. Anyway, I was thankful I didn’t actually have a tail.
‘If I had a tail, I wouldn’t be able to hide it even if I tried to pretend otherwise’
Yeonho was leaning with his hands on the back of my chair, looking down at me. He was close enough that I could smell his fresh body wash.
‘Ah, Yeonho, Yeonho.’
Despite thinking about it constantly, my plan to greet him by saying “Yeonho-ya” vanished from my throat. I don’t understand why calling his name seemed so difficult. Yeonho calls me “Seungwoo” familiarly, but I couldn’t even properly call his name.
It’s all because Yeonho looks especially radiant today.
Yeonho had all his shirt buttons neatly fastened, perhaps having been caught by the dress code enforcers in front of the school. Instead, he had casually rolled up his sleeves, which was so…
“You’ve got a mark.”
Yeonho said, brushing my forehead with the back of his finger. Heat rushed to that spot, though it hadn’t before, and I hurriedly covered my forehead with my hand.
‘A mark? Is it from leaning against the book? Even so, it shouldn’t be very noticeable since it was just for a moment…’
He has a good eye for detail. He doesn’t seem to have the courtesy to pretend not to notice, but lately, Yeonho seems desperate to tease me one way or another, so this level was just cute.
“Were you sleepy this early in the morning?”
“Ah, no…”
Even now, his smiling face is incredibly annoying. I thought it remarkable that such a pretty smile could look so annoying. Yeonho laughed out loud at my response. It’s baffling how loose his laughter is.
‘Does he laugh this often with others too?’
Even in places I can’t see.
‘Did he smile like that to the kids who gave him gifts in the morning?’
When I imagined it, I felt strange, like my stomach was twisted.
‘He probably patted their heads too, thanking them?’
Maybe he gave them his number in return. Or made plans to meet.
‘It’s Yeonho’s choice to smile, so why do I feel this way?’
Anyway, I wish he wouldn’t smile at just anyone. That thought stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t even bring up the phone bill to Yeonho.
Our conversation didn’t go any further. Partly because my mood had soured, but also because Yeonho was taken away by Kim Jungwoo who came in afterward.
Around when the bell for the first period rang, I heard Kim Jungwoo trying to persuade Yeonho, who had sat in his seat, to play basketball for drinks with kids from the next class during lunch.
I wanted to hear what Yeonho would say, but almost all the students had arrived and were each saying something, so the voices of the two didn’t reach where I was sitting.
‘Would Yeonho agree? I’d like to watch.’
***
“Ah, it’s hot.”
Yeonho sat in front of me, shaking his wet hair. To cut to the chase, Yeonho played basketball for drinks with the kids from the next class during lunch, and he won. That’s why there was a cool apple juice, freshly dispensed from a vending machine, on my desk.
‘He did this last time too. Does Yeonho like this? Surely he didn’t give it to me to drink? Why did he come to me as soon as the game ended?’
As I was staring at the apple juice placed a bit more towards where I was sitting, pondering, I saw Yeonho resting his arms on the desk. The old desk with uneven legs wobbled briefly.
“Did it do something wrong?”
Yeonho said with a hint of laughter in his voice.
‘Surely he doesn’t think I’m trying to fight with the apple juice?’
It’s absurd and funny, but it’s Yeonho’s way of speaking that’s wrong.
Yeonho tore open the straw attached to the apple juice, stuck it in, and put the straw in my mouth.
‘Ah, so he did give it to me to drink.’
I gripped the juice from Yeonho’s hand properly with my own and sipped it deliciously. The cool fruit flavor moistened my mouth, momentarily improving my mood.
While I drank about half of it that way, Yeonho didn’t look anywhere else, just at my face. His face was full of smiles, as if something was so amusing.
‘Should I tell him it’s delicious? Did I say thank you?’
I pondered what to say, but in the end, embarrassment washed over me due to Yeonho’s gaze, and I blurted out any random words.
“…A-are you very hot?”
“Yes, hot and tired.”
Yeonho’s brown eyes sparkled as he exaggerated in a way that didn’t suit him, as if he had been waiting for the question.
‘Maybe I should have asked earlier…’
But his cheeks were slightly flushed, perhaps because it really was hot. Water droplets were still dripping from his hair, which he had doused at the water fountain on the playground.
I reflexively raised my hand and fanned Yeonho’s face.
Yeonho grinned at the action, which even I found pathetic.
It was too pretty. While I was mesmerized by that pretty smile, Yeonho grabbed my wrist and pressed it against his cheek.
“That’s cool.”
If Yeonho hadn’t been holding my hand, I might have jumped two meters high. Anyway, I was so surprised that I tried to pull my hand away, but Yeonho kept rubbing his cheek against my palm. Even though it wasn’t summer, I was scared that my whole body would melt, starting from where we touched.
“S-stop it…”
As before, Yeonho didn’t care at all about the stares around us.
He only removed my hand from his cheek when it had become lukewarm from the heat of his cheek. Although it was clearly attached to my body, somehow it didn’t move well, as if it had been separated.
Hiding my hand under the desk, I diligently wiped the sweat from it on my uniform pants.
‘Was I sweating this much when Yeonho was holding it? What if he thought it was gross?’
Ah, my heart is beating too fast, it’s hard. It’s like I’ve run ten laps around the playground.
‘Actually, do I have a weak heart, and my parents have been hiding it from me?’
When I couldn’t meet his eyes and couldn’t say anything substantial, Yeonho leaned his body forward more.
Things like how broad his shoulders were, how he still had a cool scent despite sweating, and how Yeonho was tightly gripping my hand and not letting go—all mixed chaotically in my confused mind.
“Were you watching me well?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
