Chapter Text
Chapter 1
They said first love never lasted and was easily forgotten. They said it was nothing more than a phase—an emotion that appeared briefly during adolescence before dissolving into something harmless and distant. Like a balloon that burst the moment it brushed against a nail. Fragile. Predictable. Gone in an instant. Like a gentle spring breeze that passed through open windows and left no trace behind. Kim Dokja had believed that, once.
But what if—
What if the nail never pierced the balloon?
What if first love did not disappear with time?
What if it stayed—quiet, unresolved, lingering in the spaces between days?
Why do birds suddenly appear?
Every time you are near.
Just like me, they longed to be
Close to you.
Kim Dokja sat on the bench in front of the school, the afternoon sun warm against his skin, a book resting open in his hands. The song played softly through his headphones, just loud enough to drown out the noise of the world without fully shutting it away.
The bell rang.
Almost immediately, the school erupted into movement. Chairs scraped against the floor. Voices overlapped. Students hurried past him, laughing, complaining, making plans for the rest of the day. Bags were slung over shoulders, friendships reaffirmed through casual touches and shared jokes.
Kim Dokja stayed where he was.
He always did.
After carefully packing his books and adjusting the strap of his bag, he returned to the bench, pretending to read. In truth, he had already memorized the page. His eyes moved, but his attention was fixed elsewhere—on the direction of the hallway, on the sound of footsteps he had learned to recognize without trying.
He was waiting.
Waiting for someone who never waited for him.
Kim Dokja had never spoken to him properly. Never stood beside him. Never been someone worth noticing. He existed quietly, persistently, in the background of that person’s life—close enough to see, too far to touch.
Kim Dokja was a secret admirer.
The person he admired was everything Kim Dokja was not. Popular. Confident. Surrounded by people at all times. Teachers praised him openly, classmates gravitated toward him naturally. He belonged everywhere he stood.
To Kim Dokja, he felt unreal—less like a person and more like something out of a storybook. An angel who had wandered down to earth by mistake, glowing too brightly to be reached.
“Hey, Joonghyuk, let’s grab lunch together.” The voice cut through the air, and Kim Dokja’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of his book.
“Sure. Where to?”
“How about the usual place?"
“That works. Let’s go.”
Kim Dokja did not look up immediately. He waited, counted his breaths, let the moment settle before allowing himself to glance toward them—just once, just enough. Those slightly wavy black hair caught the sunlight as he walked, every movement effortless. His laughter came easily, unguarded. The way he spoke, the way others leaned closer to listen—it all felt distant and painfully close at the same time. Kim Dokja watched as they headed toward the school gate. He always watched until the figure disappeared completely, until there was nothing left to hold onto but memory.
Only then did he move. From his bag, he took out a small, worn diary. The pages were filled with dates, fragments of observations, moments that meant nothing to anyone else. He flipped to the next empty line and wrote carefully, as if afraid the words might vanish if he rushed them.
This was the 1,198th day I had seen you.
He hesitated. The pen hovered, trembling just slightly, before he added the last sentence.
I hope I would see you again tomorrow.
It was never a confession. Never a promise. Just a wish he repeated day after day, knowing it would likely remain unanswered. Kim Dokja closed the diary and slipped it back into his bag. He stood, adjusted his headphones, and began the walk home alone, the song looping quietly in his ears.
That is why all the girls in town
Follow you all around.
Just like me, they longed to be
Close to you.
And Kim Dokja wondered—
not for the first time, and not for the last—
how long a first love could last when it was never allowed to begin.