In my dreams.
Su-ho wakes up at the same time JiJi does—both staring at their ceilings, both with that quiet ache in their chests. In his dream, they were dating like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand fit in his. His laugh didn’t feel so guarded. He exhales, rubbing his eyes. Somewhere across the neighborhood, JiJi does the same, whispering into the dark like the words might carry: in my dreams.
After school, Su-ho rides his bike home, wind biting at his cheeks. He hears it before he sees it—JiJi’s laugh, bright and reckless. She’s chasing after him on her bike, standing on the pedals, waving like she’s already won. “Wait up!” He slows, grinning despite himself. For a moment, it feels like the world agrees with them—living happily forever after—even if neither of them dares to say it out loud.
In class, Su-ho leans back in his chair, eyes drifting. JiJi is a few rows ahead, hair tucked behind her ear as she listens. He imagines the end of a long day: her curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders, quiet kisses pressed into shared exhaustion. He blinks, jaw tightening. In my dreams, he tells himself, and looks away before the thought hurts too much.
Middle school flashes by—JiJi shoving him in the hallway, laughing when he misses another basketball shot. “You’re terrible,” she teases. “Watch me get better,” he shoots back, heart racing not from the game, but from her smile.
Earlier still: five years old. JiJi sits cross-legged on the floor, a book too big for her hands. She reads carefully, serious about every word. Su-ho doesn’t hear the story. He just watches her, chin in his palms, thinking the world must be nicer because she’s in it. In my dreams you’ll love me back.
Late nights. Phones pressed to ears. No rush to hang up. They talk about nothing and everything—breathing syncing, laughter soft, comfortable silence doing most of the work. In my dreams you’ll love—
JiJi is exhausted now, eyes heavy, sadness leaking through cracks she tries to hide. She steps close, too close, hands cupping Su-ho’s cheeks. Their breaths mix. “I like you,” she murmurs—then the weight of the day pulls her under. She falls asleep against him, forehead resting near his lips.
Su-ho doesn’t move. His heart pounds, careful not to wake her.
—love me back.