WTFUDLS 40

Chapter 40

– It wasn’t something I said without meaning it.

…It wasn’t something I said without meaning it…?

Not something I didn’t mean…?

It wasn’t… something I said without meaning it……???

“Holy sh—…”

Jiwoo cursed without realizing it.
Startled by herself, she gasped, “Oops,” and smacked her lips with her hand.

So Noeul really does think Jiwoo is prettier than Hansol…?

“Gasp…”

Thinking it through in a complete sentence made the meaning hit even harder.
Jiwoo rubbed her chest with her palm.

The fact that Noeul thought that way should’ve made her happy.
It should’ve been one of those “See, I am prettier than Hansol” moments.

But then… why was her heart racing like something big had happened?
Why did she feel so nervous, so uneasy… not knowing what to do next?

Why did she feel this way?

It was because Jiwoo instinctively knew that there was another meaning behind Noeul’s words — something more than the dictionary definition of “I think Jiwoo’s prettier than Hansol.”

Jiwoo grabbed her head with both hands and started pacing the room.

Calm down. Calm and rational, okay?
Noeul was just stating a fact.
I asked, “Why would you say something you don’t mean?”
So he said, “It’s not something I didn’t mean.”
That means, according to his personal beauty standards, he just thinks Jiwoo looks a little better than Hansol.
That’s all.
Anything beyond that is just my imagination.

Of course… based on my experience, boys who say that kind of thing seriously usually are interested in me…
But Noeul might not be.
We’re just friends.
He probably didn’t think I’d misunderstand.
Besides, I was the one who pressed him about it first — he didn’t bring it up.

Still… couldn’t he have laughed it off?
Wasn’t that the perfect moment for a joke?
Like, “Oh come on, I only said that ‘cause you wouldn’t stop bugging me, you shallow little appearance snob~”
Why did he have to say it so seriously?
That was basically… kind of like a confession, wasn’t it?
Wait, confession? What am I saying? That’s ridiculous! Stop overanalyzing, Jiwoo!

Okay, think broadly, not just about this one thing.
Don’t look at the tree — look at the forest.
Has Noeul ever acted like he liked me before?
No. Never.
So logically speaking, it makes more sense to assume he doesn’t like me.

…but still…
People can start liking someone later, right?

“……”

Jiwoo sank to the floor.

“Ughhh… What is this… what is even happening…”

She opened her phone and entered her chat with Noeul.
The last message she’d sent glared back at her.

Maybe she should text him something like,
‘You shouldn’t say a girl is pretty so casually.’
Then he’d probably reply, ‘Why?’
Then she could say, ‘Because when you call a girl pretty, she might think you like her.’
And then he’d either say, ‘That’s not what I meant,’ or ‘Yeah, that’s what I meant.’

No… that’s way too direct.
I can’t figure out what he’s feeling with such a blunt question.
I need to ask something else… something subtle.
Maybe I should ask a favor? No, too many variables.

Hmm… what if I ask to hang out, just the two of us?
We usually hang out in groups, not one-on-one.
Not for anything like a contest or school stuff — something casual, almost date-like.
A movie. Yeah, I’ll ask him to go see a movie.

Jiwoo sent a message to Noeul.

[ You like horror movies? ]

She stared at the little “1” next to the message.
He’s not gonna ignore it like earlier, right…?

Just as she thought that, the “1” disappeared.
Jiwoo quickly exited the chat window.

Soon, Noeul replied.

[ Yeah. ]

Jiwoo typed as casually as possible.

[ There’s this new horror movie called “Death Talk Show.” Wanna go watch it? ]

[ Oh. Is it good? ]

[ Yeah, everyone says it’s fun! ]

[ Let’s talk in the group chat with Joonki and Hansol. ]

Jiwoo stared blankly at her phone.

“……”

[ Sure! ]

She put her phone down.

…He definitely doesn’t like me.

It wasn’t just what he said — it was when he said it.
As soon as Jiwoo said the movie was fun, he instantly replied.
Meaning, the moment he saw her message, he immediately decided they should all go together.

If the reply had come after even 5 or 10 minutes, Jiwoo might have still thought he liked her — that maybe he wanted to go alone, but didn’t want to make it too obvious, or hesitated for some reason.

But Noeul didn’t even take a second to think.
Could someone who liked you react that fast when you asked them to hang out alone?

Jiwoo felt her energy drain.
She flopped down on the floor.

Just then, her mom opened the door.

“Jiwoo, dinner’s ready— Wait, why are you lying on the floor instead of the bed?”

“…I don’t want dinner.”

“Why not? I made your favorite — pork kimchi stew.”

…Ah. That explains the amazing smell…

“Mom, do I look fat?”

“Fat? No.”

“So I’ve always been this chubby?”

“Why? Did someone say you were fat?”

“…Mom, should I start working out?”

“You said you hated exercising because it’s too tiring… Wait, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No! What boyfriend? I’m getting a personal trainer. Give me money.”

“Oh, really now.”

“C’mon, mom~ pleaaase~”

“Is cram school that hard lately?”

Hansol raised her glass of Chinese liquor.
Noeul clinked his against hers.

“Cram school? Eh, it’s whatever.”

“Then why’s your energy so low?”

“…Fatigue, maybe? And, y’know, anxiety about an uncertain future?
Plus, the climate crisis? The urgency of addressing global warming?”

“So… you’re hot and tired?”

“Exactly.”

Noeul drank.
Hansol downed hers too.

Noeul was talking more nonsense than usual today.

Honestly, Hansol didn’t feel like comforting him.
If anything, she wanted to be the one whining.
She wanted to complain for no reason, and when Noeul asked what was wrong, she’d say “nothing”, and when he looked flustered, she’d just giggle and tease him.

But Noeul didn’t seem like he had the energy to deal with that.
Sure, he’d probably still respond kindly — “He must be feeling unstable,” and all that — but it wouldn’t be genuine.
He already had too much on his plate; nobody wants to carry someone else’s emotions, too.

So Hansol decided to put her feelings aside and listen to him tonight.
Her own issues wouldn’t be solved by talking anyway.

“Okay,” she said. “So you’re hot and tired, and what else?”

“In a bumpy, muscular body~ wearing red clothes~ and a green hat~ the stylish tomato~”

As he hummed and scooped tomato-egg soup into his bowl, Noeul said,
“Even if he’s wearing red and green, he’s called stylish because he’s ripped.”

“It’s bumpy, not ripped.”

“Same thing. They probably used ‘bumpy’ instead of ‘ripped’ ‘cause it’s a kids’ song.”

“What the…”

Whenever he was in a bad mood, Noeul would just ramble nonsense endlessly.
It was his way of avoiding problems — if he kept joking, he didn’t have to think about them.

Hansol wondered if she should play along and laugh, to help him forget.
But if she were in his shoes, she’d probably want someone to ask again, sincerely — to pull it out of her.
Pretend to be fine, act like an adult, but deep down want to cry and vent everything.

So she asked quietly,

“What’s making you depressed?”

“Me? Hmm… what was it again?”

“……”

“Have you ever met Hyunsu’s sister?”

“…No.”

“Her nickname’s ‘Pinking Shears.’ Wanna know why?”

“…No.”

“She loves drinking. One time she got super wasted, fell forward, and smashed her head on the asphalt.
Woke up totally fine the next morning — except when she laughed, her front teeth were all jagged.
She’d chipped them. So Hyunsu laughed his ass off and said, ‘Sis, your teeth look like pinking shears.’”

“Hyunsu’s such a psycho.”

“Then he kept teasing her — said when she bit into carrots, they looked like they’d been cut with pinking shears.”

Noeul chuckled.
Hansol followed along, laughing — until suddenly, she caught herself and asked,

“Wait, I asked what’s wrong with you. Why are we talking about Hyunsu’s sister?”

“Isn’t it funny, though?”

“It is, but…”

“Oh, and there’s this guy I know who bought a sweater at Dongmyo for like five bucks, right? Such a steal.”

“Hey, don’t change the subject.”

“No, seriously, listen. The sweater had that musty basement smell, right? So he called his mom for advice. She said to soak it in fabric softener, then wash it. He said, ‘Okay,’ and—”

“…No way…”

“Yeah. You’re thinking it. He poured in the pure softener. Used up everything at home, then went out and bought more. Said, ‘Man, the sweater cost five bucks, and now I’ve spent over five on softener. Is this right?’”

Both burst into laughter.

“So?”

“So he basically pickled the sweater in softener and threw it in the washer.
Then bubbles started exploding out of the machine.
He freaked out, called his mom, told her the story — and she screamed, ‘You idiot, why’d you soak it in pure softener?!’
But it was too late. He rinsed it like five times, bubbles still everywhere.
Finally gave up and dumped it in a basin. Said the whole house smelled heavenly.”

“Haha!”

“He said, ‘Whatever, I basically bought an air freshener!’”

“Optimistic guy.”

“Right?”

“So what happened to the sweater?”

“Oh, what did he say again… I think he threw it out.”

Noeul looked up toward the ceiling, trying to remember.

“……”

His face grew slightly darker.
And Hansol’s smile faded too.

“Now,” she said gently. “Tell me what’s actually wrong.”

“……”

“Take a drink first.”