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It's easy. Even as Byul forms that sentence in her head, she knows it's a cliché. But when she looks at Yongsun chewing on her pencil, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and one foot dangling under the table, she knows it's true.
Loving Yongsun is easy.
There is a bit of everything to Yongsun. She is all the places Byul never visited but knew by heart just from the way Yongsun talked about them. She is the food Byul never really liked but found she loved to cook just to see Yongsun's happy smile at the first bite. Yongsun is the songs Byul hears playing in the coffee across the street from the bookstore where she works, songs that talk about the beauty hidden in the sky and the sound of crashing waves.
Yongsun is her sun, in a way not even her parents could have predicted when they gave her that name. Because Byul's day won't start until Yongsun walks into the bookstore and smile at her; because it doesn't matter the time or place, Byul feels that everything becomes brighter the moment she hears Yongsun's voice. Like Yongsun is her private sunshine, the act of nature that turns Byul into a sunflower.
A text, a silly convo, a quick "Have you eaten?" in between their working schedules. The fact that Yongsun could be busy from morning until late at night but still find it in her heart to ask how Byul's day is going, because it matters to her.
Byul knows she isn't what Yongsun should have. What she deserves. In way, it is like Byul thinks less of herself. But that isn't exactly it, either. She feels that Yongsun deserves better than a dropout from college who lives in a one-bedroom apartment and works in a shabby bookstore, yes. But she also wants Yongsun to have a life like in the movies. Yongsun, her Yongsun, deserves a dream life. Visiting the places she is always studying, living the life she has always dreamed of. Not only that - Yongsun deserves someone who knows how to love her, how to treat her, someone who isn't completely clueless about love. Because Byul doesn't know a thing. All she knows is that her heart bleeds everytime she catches a glimpe of Yongsun, that she doesn't know how to get the world in a plate so she could offer it to Yongsun. Her baby, her love, her adorable Yongsun deserves nothing but every grain of love there is in the universe. And Byul doesn't even know where to start.
She does know, however, how to watch. And she watches, because everything Yongsun does is a poem. From the way she paints her toenails resting her chin on her knees to the way she hums to the songs she is listening to without even realizing what she is doing. There is poetry and rhyme in the way Yongsun studies her so loved books about historical architecture, talks about modern constructions, blends in her speech about traffic engineering. No renowned author in the history of Literature can compare to the way her cheekbones go up when she smiles and how her hair seems to dance in the wind, under the sun. Yongsun is a masterpiece, her masterpiece.
And when Yongsun goes back to the bookstore, sits on her favorite spot under the stairs and sips from her coffee, Byul feels like she doesn't deserve this. That maybe God planned to send Yongsun to some place where she could be adored by many for her smile, brightness, beauty. There, in the tiny bookstore, it's just Byul. And she wonders, for the nth time, how can she thank God one day for letting her enjoy the company of the most beautiful creature on earth, just her, as she dusts piles and piles of books and magazines.
She comes close to confessing a few times. When Yongsun goes over to her place and sits on her couch, the one Byul always forgets to have restored, she thinks maybe she could offer that girl something. She doesn't have much - an old couch, a few CDs, her heart - but maybe that could be enough. Maybe, just maybe, Yongsun could let her in, allow her to take her hand and walk by her side. But the idea is gone before it finds a place in her brain, and Byul doesn't fight it. She allows it to slip from her mind because even there, in her tiny apartment and on her stupid couch, Yongsun is much more than Byul could ever be.
Eventually, Yongsun makes it clear that she isn't really looking for anything. She never spells it out, but Byul is watching her so closely, it's impossible to miss it. She knows Yongsun isn't interested in a relationship, and that makes things somehow easier. Byul is there if Yongsun ever needs it, even though she is sure she isn't half of what Yongsun should have. A sunflower can look up to the sun all it wants, but it will never be able to reach it.
And long after the sunflower died, the sun will be there. Shining.
Byul knows it would never be more than it already is. They are close, but not too close. They are there for each other, although not with each other. They share their days, but never their life. Byul dreams about it, but she knows better than to ruin her chance to be next to her sun, her living poem. She can love Yongsun from afar, and she will, until all her petals fall to the ground and she becomes nothing under Yongsun's light.