I have a cute younger brother.
He's not my real brother, but we've been close for several years now—
a sweet little brother.
"Why did you call me?"
Hmm… maybe not that cute?
"Is it about my test scores?"
No, actually… still kind of cute.
"Yeah, how did you do? I bet you did well, right?"
"No… I really tried though."
"Yeah? And then?"
"It was just… too hard."
"Then let me see your report card."
"...Here."
"How bad could it be if you say you didn’t do well…"
"Ugh… seriously."
"...50 points?"
"..."
"Hey, that's actually not bad!"
"You’re teasing me, aren’t you?"
"No, you were way worse before, remember?"
"Still, other kids…"
"It doesn’t matter what others do. What matters is that you're better than before."
"...Okay, haha."
"Well, should we call it a day then?"
"...You're leaving already?"
"Yeah, why? Did you have something to say?"
"I thought we could… maybe eat together or something."
"Eat?"
"...Forget it if you don’t want to."
"No, I want to. What do you feel like eating?"
"Whatever you want, noona."
"Alright, let’s go, haha."
At that time,
I didn’t know how you really felt about me.
If I had realized it then,
I would’ve drawn the line.
I should have stopped you—
before your feelings for me grew any deeper.
If I had done that…
"Please… don’t leave me behind."
Maybe things wouldn’t have ended up like this.