Chapter 4: Watermelon & Ghosts
Hae-won's POV
"Isn't it strange?The people you grow up with — they leave without warning.But their memories?They keep showing up like they never moved out."
"You're gonna take the blame if we get caught," Jungkook whispered, crouching beside me like we were planning a prison break.
"That's what you said last time, and guess who ended up writing apology letters to every single teacher?"
He grinned. "That was character-building."
We were just kids then. Fourteen and sixteen.Desperate to watch Korea play Japan in a baseball match that was apparently more important than, you know, History class.
So, obviously, we snuck out of school.He smuggled in his brother's ancient portable TV. I supplied watermelon slices and rice balls from our fridge.We snuck into my house, locked the door, cranked the fan, and cheered like wild animals every time Korea hit a home run.
At one point, Jungkook declared we should "quit school and start a baseball cult."I laughed so hard, soda came out of my nose.It was disgusting. And perfect.
We were happy.
The memory fades too fast.
Because now, I'm here. Outside a dorm building in New York. And the boy who used to yell at the TV beside me is standing under a streetlight like he just stepped out of a dream I buried two years ago.
Jungkook.
He looks... older. Sharper. His jawline's more defined, and there's a faint scar on his eyebrow I've never seen before.There's a tattoo peeking out from his sleeve. His earrings catch the glow of the light.But it's still him.Same eyes. Same stare.And it guts me.
He takes a step forward.
"Hey," he says softly. His voice isn't the same. It's deeper. Rougher. But still his. "How long has it been?"
My heart kicks inside my chest. But I manage to smile, like it's just another casual conversation on another casual night.
"I don't know… two and a half years?" My voice is steady. That's good. Don't crack. Don't shake.
He studies me for a second. I hate it — how he looks at me like he's trying to put together pieces of a puzzle he forgot to finish.
"You're all grown up," he says, with the smallest smile.
I shrug. "Well, you changed a lot too. The hair. The tattoos. The entire 'mysterious bad boy' look. I barely recognized you."
He chuckles. "Guess I finally matched my childhood personality."
We fall into an awkward silence. Not the old kind—the comfortable quiet we used to have when we were sharing snacks and watching clouds. No, this one's heavy. Like all the things we haven't said are hanging between us like fog.
He shifts on his feet, then asks:
"Why did you pretend we didn't know each other back at the restaurant?"
I laugh lightly. Not because it's funny — because it's easier than saying because you broke my heart and never looked back.
"Oh, that?" I say, breezy. "Just avoiding unnecessary drama."
He blinks. "Unnecessary… drama?"
I nod. "You know. Surprise ex-neighbor reveals. Childhood-best-friend-turns-campus-mystery-man. Messy."
His jaw tenses slightly. "I didn't think it'd be messy."
You didn't think at all. I don't say that out loud.
Instead, I steer the conversation away from the rising temperature in my chest.
We talk — just a little. About majors. He's doing Music Production, which somehow fits him more than I want to admit. I tell him about Media & Communications. Leave out the fact that my writing assignments are probably all going to be thinly veiled rants about boys who leave without saying goodbye.
And then, out of nowhere, he hits me with it:
"Are you and Liam... dating?"
I blink. "What? No. God, no."
He raises an eyebrow.
"We're just friends," I say quickly. "He's like... my very loud emotional support giraffe. We're nothing alike."
Jungkook hums like he doesn't quite believe me. Or maybe he does. I can't tell anymore.
Before he can ask anything else — or say anything that might shake the walls I've rebuilt — I take a step back.
"Hey, I actually have some stuff to do," I say. "I should head back."
He doesn't stop me.
Doesn't say anything.
And I walk away.
My boots hit the pavement like they're trying to outrun my thoughts.
He's here.He's here.On this campus. In this city. In my life again.
Why?
I don't know if I want answers or if I'm too scared to hear them.
My mind's still spinning when I hear it—
"Wonie."
I stop.
That voice. That name.
I turn slowly. And he's standing there. Under that same streetlight. Looking like every chapter I swore I'd closed.
And just like that…
I'm fifteen again. And my heart? It's not listening to me anymore.