Even If It's Not Love Chapter 22.2

Yoo-hwa's eyes became increasingly blank and blurred. They were eyes from where the thought had disappeared. Looking at Yoo-hwa, who was wandering without a sense of reality, Woo-hyun stood up.

“Let's go.”

Yoo-hwa stared blankly at Woo-hyun, asking, 'Where?', with her eyes.

“The mart. Your bowl is broken. The sheets are a mess, too.”

“… It's fine.”

It's not like she will die if she doesn't have those things.

Yoo-hwa spoke to him in a self-mocking way.

“I'll buy it for you.”

At his words, Yoo-hwa's expression distorted the most for the first time. Although she knew that her life deserved sympathy, and that it was bound to look like that, Yoo-hwa was hurt by Woo-hyun's words. Like she had heard it from the person she didn't want to hear it the most.

“I know I look pitiful, but…”

“So give me some time.”

Woo-hyun stopped Yoo-hwa's words.

“Let's go get some air.”

Yoo-hwa stared at Woo-hyun instead of answering. The moment she met his indifferent dark eyes, the tip of her nose crumpled.

Only then did she realize that she was afraid that Woo-hyun would turn around and leave her.

The daughter of a murderer, stigmatized as a murderer, who, on top of that, owned nothing and had a lot of debt. They were too heavy to overlook as alumni. She was afraid he would just buy her some stuff out of sympathy and leave, as if throwing a coin at a poor person.

However, there was no strange change in Woo-hyun's expression and tone. The fact made her feel relieved.

“… Alright.”

She felt like she would cry if she stared into his eyes even longer, so Yoo-hwa nodded her head.

As always, Yoo-hwa pressed down her hat and walked with her head down. Even though she was walking while looking only at the floor, she avoided the obstacles that appeared in front of her here and there. Despite walking side by side when they left the narrow street, Yoo-hwa fell far behind Woo-hyun as they came out the side of the street. She wanted to stay away from the mart at all costs.

Among the many things they came to buy, they couldn't buy the sheets. It was quite a big mart, but it wasn't big enough to sell bedclothes. Instead, they bought a thick blanket. So that she could hold out until she did the laundry and the sheets dried.

It was after stepping out of the mart and walking for about five minutes that Yoo-hwa came to Woo-hyun's side. As they entered a deserted neighborhood, Yoo-hwa raised her head a little.

“Isn't it heavy? It's my stuff, so I'll take it.”

Yoo-hwa reached out her hand. The fingers sticking out from the big sleeve cuff were as thin as the tips of the branches of a tree during winter.

When they were in middle school, Yoo-hwa used to write for a long time while holding a pencil in that thin hand. Even though the hand holding it for a long time seemed to hurt, Yoo-hwa wrote frantically.

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“You said you wanted to be a writer, right?”

Instead of answering, Woo-hyun took a memory out of the sudden memories that occurred to him and asked. Writing passages that one could relate to although they were difficult to understand, Yoo-hwa's dream was naturally to be a writer.

At that time, as soon as he heard Yoo-hwa's hope for the future, he thought that it suited her well enough to make him nod his head unknowingly.

He didn't know why he remembered this and why he asked, but Woo-hyun looked at Yoo-hwa with an expectant look. He didn't think she would be happy, but Yoo-hwa's expression was so rigid that it exceeded his expectations.

“I did.”

Yoo-hwa replied faintly, to the extent that it could only be heard if he was listening attentively.

“But not anymore.”

Yoo-hwa said that and tried to take the load from Woo-hyun. Woo-hyun easily avoided Yoo-hwa's hand.

“It's not heavy.”

“It looks heavy.”

As Woo-hyun refused twice, Yoo-hwa took a step back as if she couldn't help it.

Most of the houses on both sides of the alley had their lights turned off. The lights were on in about one every three houses, but, even so, it was so quiet that it was doubtful whether people were living there. The wind blew over the silent world.

“Do you… have a dream?”

Yoo-hwa cautiously asked him a question as they walked uphill.

“A dream?”

Woo-hyun briefly asked. At the same time, his lips crooked, like a person who heard something they couldn't hear.

“Yeah, a dream. Something you want to be.”

He didn't know that words that felt so distant and uncomfortable could come out of Yoo-hwa's mouth.

“I don't have anything like that.”

As he started getting blood on his hands and began to realize that money was above people, he only had one goal. He knew it was called a dream because dreams and all those fluffy things like rainbows don't come true.

For him, for example, was to live a normal life. These kinds of things.

“What about you?”

Woo-hyun asked Yoo-hwa, who had come a step closer than before to have a conversation. Even so, they were walking about three steps away from each other.

“… I don't have one either.”

After giving a concise answer, Yoo-hwa walked silently while looking straight ahead. It was after discovering a congratulatory flower wreath discarded in the corner of the alley that Yoo-hwa's steps went off track. Asking him to give her a moment, Yoo-hwa stood still in front of the atrociously abandoned wreath.

It was a wreath that had been discarded illegally, with its message removed so that it was impossible to know what it was celebrating, and all its teeth were falling out. It was dumped in a deserted neighborhood because it cost them money to have it handled.

Chapter end