.

"Oppa, look at me," I uttered.

However, Yeo Dan oppa hid his face behind his hand, then shook his head. He did look damn cute. I vied for taking his hand off his face, then in the end, a smile also spread over my face.

Putting things back into the first-aid kit, Yeo Dan oppa asked, "How did your conversation go with your parents? You didn't keep in touch after breaking your phone."

"Ah, right, I forgot to tell you the rest of it."

Pulling my knees into my arms, I began to talk in a whisper.

Yeo Dan oppa nodded his head once in a while, and sometimes, stretched out his hand and patted me on my knees or the back of my palm as an act of comfort. We turned our heads outside the balcony when there were noises of cars, drunken people yelling, or dogs barking, also when dump trucks passed, shooting beams over the window.

Suddenly, I realized that this moment would be deeply engraved on my memories––myself sitting uncomfortably in a squat, the cold air crawling up my bare feet, and the darkness and noises at night gently flowing between us rather than weighing me down when I was alone.

I stopped talking and stared at Yeo Dan oppa's side face in the dim light. He tossed me a question, as I paused at an unexpected moment.

"What's wrong?"

I didn't respond. As if it was fine, he held my hand with a tightening grip.

On a sleepless night, when counting the number of people to whom I could reach out, I felt like the little match girl staying up a long night, lighting matches, one by one, to warm herself.

The number of matches sometimes increased and sometimes decreased by mistake; one day, when the number of matches became smaller than the length of night, I pulled all-nighters in anxiety. However, it felt like warming my hands by endless bonfire when staying with Yeo Dan oppa.

Narrowing my eyes, I tried to leave this moment into my memories––the air, the look in Yeo Dan oppa's eyes toward me, his warmth in my hand, even the cold air surrounding me.

At times like this, I felt sorrow that the past time would never come back; we were starting again every day.

The next day, when I opened my eyes, no one was beside me as if Yeo Ryung had already woken up.

Turning my head to check the time, I gently sneezed, "Achoo!" then put my hand on my forehead.

'No, it isn't,' I murmured. Since Yeo Dan oppa and I, eventually, stayed up until five in the morning, it wasn't weird for me to catch a cold.

But no, the June mock exam was just around the corner. While I shook my head, Yeo Ryung flung open the door and stepped inside her room.

"Donnie! My mom is asking if you're gonna have breakfast," she asked.

"Huh? Um..."

After a moment of reflection, I shook my head again.

First of all, I wasn't ready to eat breakfast, sitting face to face with Yeo Dan oppa. My hair was a bird's nest right now; bumping into him with a puffy, sleepy face was also humiliating. And most of all, I would burst into laughter, recalling the situation that happened last night on the enclosed balcony. Then Yeo Ryung's parents would soon notice that something strange was taking place.

Second, I felt the need to check the atmosphere at my house. What were my parents thinking about the things I confessed yesterday? That question ran through my head.

If the air was suffocating, that would, of course, frighten me too, but what scared me the most was my parents downplaying the seriousness of yesterday's happening.

Raising my voice composedly without expressing anger shouldn't make the actual matter of my story appear less important than it really was. If my parents didn't regard it seriously, that would sincerely bewilder me.

I took my toothbrush and went to the shoe rack to put on my flip-flops. Even though I lived right next door, Yeo Ryung came to the front door to bid farewell. Grabbing my hand tightly, she whispered with a concerned expression.

"If something goes hard to understand, just flee to our house."

"Of course," I replied.

"Thank god, we're living next doors."

When she added that way, I was startled. A voice, not mine, seemed to have rung in my head.

'Why is it supposed to be you, of all people, living next doors?'

Those words from the past dizzied me. As I closed my eyes tightly, Yeo Ryung's voice reached my ears.

"Donnie?" she called.

Opening my eyes again, I held her hand, saying that it was nothing, and appreciated her for taking care of me. Until the door finally closed, her worried face appeared in my eyes like an afterimage.

Before stepping into my house, I spent some time taking a deep breath. At last, I opened the cover of the door lock and entered the password, tensing myself, as if just pressing a wrong number by mistake would lead me to a deathtrap.

With a bright beeping sound, the door opened. As soon as I went straight inside, the sight of the living room perplexed me that I came to a halt.

Both my parents were facing each other in the living room, looking pale and exhausted. My dad was sitting straight, instead of his preferred, lying posture; so was my mom.

Just in case that they could have drunk all night, I glanced beside them, but no bottles of liquor came into view. It was very different from the sight I usually encountered after my parents pulled an all-nighter. Only two cups of strong coffee were between them.

My mom slowly turned her head toward me like a scene in a horror movie.

"Hey, you're back, my dear. Had fun?" She smiled, looking haggard.

I had never seen her talk that way except for the time in my childhood. It made me have goosebumps. Mom, what's wrong with you??

At that moment, my dad also uttered, "My dear, thanks for having a good time with your friends."

"..."

Was he being sarcastic? I questioned and looked him on his face, but my dad's face was also conspicuously unwell from fatigue.

The awkward atmosphere was so unbearable that, in the end, I slipped away from them and came into my room. There I found a little box on my desk.

I exclaimed, "What is this?!" toward the living room, but there was no response.

After unboxing it, I confronted something that immediately caught my eyes. It was none other than a new phone, the latest model that only a person like Eun Jiho was using around me.

I threw another question to the living room. "Mom, what is this? A new phone all of a sudden?"

"Yours is broken, so your daddy and I bought a new one for you this morning."

They would have other important things to handle since early in the morning. Thus, it seemed odd that they had got me a new phone out of the blue. Wondering about it for a moment, I doubted, "But you told me to get rid of the original one since it was distracting me from studying!"

And now they bought me a new phone? For real?? I observed the device with widened eyes.

Even though I removed all the tags and original packing––no longer available for a refund––I still couldn't believe that it was mine. My parents could also snatch the phone away from me that they had made a mistake, but instead, they dropped a friendly response.

"Dealing with academic pressure is also significant, right?"

"..."

"You've been under a lot of stress, self-studying at home. Mommy was too harsh in concerns when you were able to handle yourself better than we expected."

Instead of replying to her, I touched my phone and directed my eyes to the living room. When our eyes met, my dad cleared his throat, then got up from the couch to go to his room. Before leaving the space, he left just one word.

"This time, use it carefully, dear."

That was it. He didn't try to explain how phone waves damaged our brains. Nor did he nag that I wasn't desperate enough to get rid of my phone, resulting in better grades. Strangely, no lecture was given this time.