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there are a few things lee ruda believes without fail, completely. first, that the world operates on laws such as give and take, and that it is simply a question of weighing priorities. second, that priorities are a consistently shifting matter, contingent on little more than emotions, which are often fleeting.
third, and perhaps most important: he is in love with a girl who does not know he loves her. that this is neither fleeting nor contingent on anything that could be fleeting. that no matter what happens to him, one of the ventricles of his heart will always bear the stamp of her name.
ham. dan. i.
it is only fair that a monster such as lee ruda be cursed with pain in equal measure.
(then he thinks about being a regular monster, not a terrible one, not one of the scary, shit-your-pants kind of monsters, and he breathes a little easier. a little softer, maybe. less ragged.)
it is on days like this—the sun shining, flowers curling between blades of grass, springtime at full throttle—that he feels the twisted little parts of him thicken into veiny tendrils, impossibly thick and lodged in him, at the base of his throat. it is on days like this, when ham dan-i is so focused on the textbook in front of her, scrunched-up glabella a signifier of her concentration, that lee ruda remembers: he is not a good person.
case in point: a good person would, perhaps, help dan-i with her studies, instead of fantasizing about how distracted she’d be if he kissed her. right now. with all of their classmates and god as their witnesses. a good person would remind her she is smart and brave and wonderful; instead, ruda can think of nothing but the strands of hair that have fallen from her half-ponytail, how dan-i would react if he brushed them from her face. he’d be gentle about it, of course. chivalrous. dan-i doesn’t need to know the full extent of ruda’s evil, the way the light disappears from his eyes when he looks in the mirror, the deadened gaze that meets him halfway.
“what are you blushing about over there?” lee mina demands, whapping ruda on the back of the head with the corner of her notebook.
“ow,” he complains. “nothing!”
“how cute,” kim hyehil deadpans.
“when are you gonna confess?” kim hyewoo asks.
“cut it out.” ruda glances over at dan-i, who appears too engrossed in the pathway of an exponent across her botched proof to really notice. her density knows few bounds, he thinks, not without some amount of disappointment.
she’s been weird and distant, too, ever since—
well. that’s not much of a conversation, and one that has already been told besides. the short version of it is that ruda and his mother have never really seen eye to eye, bitterness abounded, and ruda is no longer a corporate heir due to some pretty words from dan-i and some revelation of secrets from his old friend lukas. that’s not important.
what’s important is that dan-i pulls away when he holds her hand, she jerks a foot from him when he leans over her shoulder, and she doesn’t always fully meet his eyes when he knows he’s blushing. and that just can’t stand.
what was the point of everything—of believing he can grow and become a better person—if the girl he’s doing it for wants nothing to do with him? seems counterintuitive.
that’s the thing, isn’t it? if there’s nothing in it for him, ruda can’t be interested. he doesn’t really care about being a better person. he does it because that’s the person dan-i wants. hell, he’ll dye his hair brown and wear contacts if it means he’ll be more her type.
“i know that look,” yoon jeong-in teases.
“no you don’t!” ruda puffs his cheeks out.
“huh?” dan-i blinks and looks up at all of them, math problem forgotten. “what’s everyone doing here?”
“don’t worry about it,” seohyun says. “everyone’s just being silly.”
“right,” she says, lighthearted suspicion clouding her gaze.
“dan-i,” ruda says, “what are you doing after school today?”
“me?” dan-i taps a finger to her chin and looks up at the ceiling, remembering. “i think… i was just gonna go home.”
“wanna hang out?”
“oh, i’ll come too—” jeong-in starts to say, before seohyun shushes him and drags him away yelling, “what? what’d i do?”
“um, are you sure you should be inviting yourself to a girl’s place?” dan-i asks.
ruda pouts. “you didn’t have a problem hanging out with me before.”
dan-i flinches. “right. yes. you can come over.”
“besides,” ruda says, “i didn’t say anything about going to your house. we can go somewhere else if you’re more comfortable with that.”
the set in dan-i’s jaw, though, betrays one thing: she is determined, now, to prove something to herself—and that means ruda will be going over to ham dan-i’s house today.
“it’s fine,” she says. “come over. we can watch a movie or something.”
“there was that movie based on the book we’re reading for class,” ruda offers.
“there’s a movie based on that?” dan-i looks horrified. “that sappy garbage?”
“you know,” mina interjects, “i was surprised they made us read that for class. it was way too romantic. i heard a couple in class three got together after the guy used some of those lines.”
dan-i makes a sound like a steaming tea kettle.
“what’s wrong, dan-i?” ruda asks.
“nothing,” she deadpans. if ruda could see into her head, he would know that her thoughts were something along the lines of, this damn author. “do you wanna come too, mina?”
if ruda were a good person, he’d encourage mina to come. hell, he’d ask everyone if they wanted to all hang out together with dan-i. share her a bit. unfortunately, ruda is not a good person. he meets mina with a glare that makes her look away, perturbed in its emptiness.
“n-no, i’m good,” mina says. “i got stuff to do. plans. you know.”
(ruda does not know that mina would’ve said no without the glare, anyway. she, and the rest of the group, are too committed to a successful ruda/dan-i confession. she and jeong-in have even been calling them rudan in private, but that is neither here nor there.)
“oh, that’s okay.” dan-i looks up at the twins, who then look at ruda. “what about you two?”
“no thanks,” hyehil says. “i need to study.”
“i promised my friends on league we would play today, so…” hyewoo says, very pointedly not looking at any of them.
“you guys are so weird,” dan-i says. she turns back to ruda. “guess it’s just us then.”
“no problems here!” ruda chirps.
dan-i makes microwave popcorn for the two of them. she has ruda sit on the couch as she hovers by the microwave with a big plastic bowl. the microwave is situated under the overhead counters—it looks way too high for dan-i to reach, but she manages somehow. ruda breathes a laugh into his fist. she’s really too cute.
nervously, dan-i brings the now-filled bowl to the coffee table and perches at the edge of a couch cushion on the other side of the couch from him, poised to run. this in itself is both heartwarming and terrifying: is it safe for ruda to think she sees him as a man? as something more than just a friend?
he slides closer.
“w-what are you doing?” dan-i stammers.
“nothing,” he says. “i can’t reach from over there.”
“…right.” dan-i takes hold of the remote and navigates to the movie in question, the one based on that disgustingly sappy novel they read for class. personally, ruda was a big fan of it. he loves romance; the cheesier, the more unbelievable, the better. if he’s trying to emulate that couple from class three, that’s no one’s business.
the movie opens on an overhead establishing shot, moving down into the family’s home. cut to the main female character reading a book. the narration reveals she is smart, reads, and is not like other girls. at this, dan-i’s soul seems to leave her body.
the main female character’s ailing father gets chosen for the yearly athletic competitions for their country, so naturally she dresses up as a man and goes in his place. ruda does not miss the sidelong look dan-i sends him when the character sets out in place of her father—a look dan-i quickly retracts, facing back to the movie, only to cringe again.
“watch,” dan-i says. “she’s going to beat everyone with her athletic skills and the main guy’s gonna fall in love with her from that.”
“yeah,” ruda says. “that’s what happens in the book.”
“don’t laugh when i say this,” dan-i says. “i didn’t read it.”
ruda laughs.
dan-i takes him by the collar and shakes him. “i said don’t laugh!”
“s-sorry,” ruda gasps. “it’s just, you hated it so much you didn’t even read it for class …”
“i have standards,” dan-i sniffs. “and i don’t really like sappy romance movies.”
ruda knows this about her, and he loves her.
why would he recommend a movie he knows dan-i won’t like, then? well. he is in no small part hoping it encourages her to pay more attention to him. and perhaps do things apart from watching the movie. things that might involve him.
just more evidence that lee ruda is not a very good or honest person.
the main character and the love interest meet. sparkles surround them. their meeting is shown in slow-mo, from three different angles, over and over. it is so painfully obvious they are destined to fall in love. dan-i drapes herself over the couch’s arm, defeated.
not that ruda can say anything—his first meeting with dan-i wasn’t necessarily immediate attraction. he’d found her unremarkable at a first glance; just another person to pretend in front of. then—
she’d understood him, in a strange way. she’d pushed him away. she’d been his friend despite her fear.
(he understands. he knows why she pushes him away, fearful of her own perceived inadequacy. he’d understood that—he has never lived up to impressions of him, either. there has always been something dysfunctional in him.)
ruda peers over dan-i’s shoulder, making out her haggard face. “dan-i? are you okay over there?”
“all good,” dan-i says. “this movie is just…”
on the screen, the love interest says, “you’re the first person to ever talk to me that way.” dan-i groans in agony.
ruda remembers using that line on her. or something to that effect. he wants to laugh thinking about it.
“this is terrible,” dan-i says. “i’m dying. my soul is descending.”
“don’t you mean ascending?”
“no i don’t.”
ruda pats her on the back. “there, there.” for a moment, dan-i has forgotten she’s pushing him away, and relaxes into his touch.
“just watch,” she grumbles, pushing herself back up into sitting. “he’ll only find out she’s a girl when he finds her without a shirt on.”
“is that a big cliche?”
dan-i seems to remember something that makes her face flush bright red. “um. yes.”
is this his chance? ruda leans in close and asks, “are you okay? your face is red.”
“i’m fine,” dan-i squeaks. “just thinking about something.”
ruda pouts. “you’re thinking of other men? when i’m here?”
“n-no,” dan-i splutters. “i’m thinking of—um. um. braised pork ribs!”
“huh.” ruda blinks at her.
“yep! braised pork ribs! man, i’m sooo hungry!”
all ruda can do is smile, knowing she’s fumbling. he chooses to think that it was him on her mind, and she’s trying to cover it up—otherwise, why would she double down on something so unrelated?
“do you wanna order takeout?” ruda asks.
“ugh, i spent all my allowance for this month.” if they were in an anime, this would be the part where dan-i is drawn with tears streaming down her face. as it is, she just sighs heavily.
“my treat,” ruda says.
“you… it must be nice to be a corporate heir,” dan-i says.
“not anymore,” ruda reminds her gently. “thanks to you.”
for a moment, dan-i seems to feel bad about saying that; she recovers quickly, saying, “that makes it sound like i took away your chance at being a bigshot!”
“you know i have no interest in being a bigshot.” ruda grins, turning up his charm factor. dan-i shields her eyes, as if blinded.
“i’m sure you still could be if you wanted, with that face of yours,” dan-i grouches.
“oh? so you think i’m handsome?”
“i have eyes, don’t i?”
“hehe. it feels good to know you think i’m good-looking.”
dan-i gives him an exasperated look. “i don’t know if my opinion should hold that much weight for you.”
“of course it does,” ruda says. “after all, i—”
the words get caught in his throat. why is it always so hard to just come out and say it? i like you. they’re just words. it should be so easy.
“you…?” dan-i prompts. the way she says that just…
heat explodes across ruda’s face and he looks away. “um, nothing. so, takeout?”
“nooo, that’s okay. i’ll live without braised pork ribs until my next allowance. it’s expensive, you know.”
“is it? but i want to get it for you.”
dan-i frowns at him. “ruda… are you trying to pay me back for rescuing you?”
well, he supposes she’s not entirely wrong. after being taken captive by his mother, it was dan-i who saved him. the world is kind in all the wrong ways to demon boys like him, making a corporate heir of a free spirit. what can he do but owe his life in return? he’s perfectly willing to give it to her.
“something like that,” he says.
“you don’t need to,” dan-i says. “i just wanted to help you. that’s all.”
“and if i just want to help you? what about that?”
dan-i stares at him. “it’s just takeout.”
“i want to do something for you. as payment for helping me, or just because it’s something you want. i want you to rely on me.”
“oh.”
ruda blushes down to his fingertips, and dan-i looks away hurriedly.
“the truth is,” dan-i says hurriedly, “i wasn’t thinking about braised pork ribs. i was thinking about you.”
“me?” there it is; confirmed. a quick pulse thrums beneath ruda’s skin.
“yeah. about—you know. when i walked in on you changing.”
one person’s face should not be able to contain the heat in ruda’s cheeks, akin to that of the sun. “i remember that.”
“that’s all,” dan-i says, pointedly not looking at him.
on cue, the love interest on screen walks into the main character changing. his eyes bulge out of his head. soft music plays as he stumbles back, stammering, “you’re… a girl?”
“this is so cheesy,” dan-i complains.
“hey,” ruda says.
dan-i looks at him. eyes wide, waiting for him to go on. doe-like, he’d call her, if maybe he had more of a propensity for poetry. “what?” she breathes, a syllable in the space between them.
their faces are so close. for once, she’s not running away. for once, he isn’t, either.
“i like you,” ruda says.
“ah,” dan-i says. “as a friend, right? me, too.”
she starts to turn back to the tv, but ruda reaches out to grasp her wrist—the one further from him. he presses their hands palm to palm, fingers up and pointed toward the ceiling, until he interlocks them. her hands are small, soft, and impossibly warm.
“no,” he says. “more than that.”
“i—you—” dan-i opens her mouth over and over again, a multitude of sounds barely resembling words tumbling out.
“i can’t believe you didn’t know,” ruda whispers.
“how would i have—!” dan-i cuts herself off, clapping her other hand over her mouth—interestingly, not the one still holding ruda’s. that one stays in place, trembling against his skin.
“didn’t i make it obvious?” ruda’s voice is low, now, intentionally so. he’s seen this in movies. rehearsed it, this voice bordering on sultry, for the perfect moment.
“you can’t,” dan-i says. “what if i disappear? what’ll you do then?”
“even if you disappear, i’ll keep loving you,” ruda says. “how could i not?”
“you don’t know that.” dan-i’s voice is desperate, pleading. like she’s begging, don’t do this to yourself. don’t do this to me. but ruda presses on.
“i can’t say i know what you’re always afraid of,” he says, “but i wish you would tell me. i wish you knew that i worry about you when you’re hurt, i think of you when you’re not around, and my heart aches when i see your name. i wish you knew everything about me, and that i knew everything about you.”
“god,” dan-i says, cringing. “what is this, a romance movie?”
“you won’t get it if i don’t do this.” ruda leans in, closer. their noses are mere centimeters apart.
“i don’t…”
“dan-i,” he says, desperately soft, holding all his yearning in his mouth, “will you let me in?”
dan-i swallows thickly. music plays from the tv, a sad ballad longing for closure. ruda searches her eyes for any trace of dan-i’s inscrutable emotions.
and she nods.
“good morning!” lee mina chirps upon entering class four. yoon jeong-in and an enraged shin seohyun trail behind her.
“morning,” ruda says, perched nervously at his desk, always the first to get in.
“sooo, how’d it go?” mina plants her hands at the front of ruda’s desk.
he fiddles with his bangs. “we’ll see today,” he says evasively.
mina huffs. “whatever you say.” she turns to jeong-in and seohyun. “you brought this on yourself, yoon jeong-in.”
seohyun is currently beating jeong-in over the head with a ruler.
“i was just giving you advice!” jeong-in cries. “don’t get attached to that character because they die!”
“shut up,” seohyun hisses viciously.
the door slides open with a “good morning” from the twins.
dan-i doesn’t show up until a minute before class starts. ruda was hoping to get a word in before classes started, but the teacher walked in right as dan-i sat down—and so another day started on its merry way.
lunch couldn’t come quickly enough. it wasn’t that dan-i was avoiding him per se, more like they didn’t get the chance to even look at each other. with a quiz in math and lectures in everything else. dan-i studiously took notes, keeping to her newfound resolution to work even harder than she already was. ruda has to admire her tenacity, even if he’d rather be slacking off with her in class.
he has to try hard too, now, since he gets to decide what he’s doing with his future.
the moment the lunch bell rings, he has a hand on dan-i’s arm, a brilliant smile on his face. “dan-i,” he says. “hi.”
she flushes. “hi.”
“can we talk?”
she nods.
ruda leads the two of them to the empty classroom—the one they’d once upon a time hid from her friends in. how things have changed: now he’s sort of best friends with joo-in, chunyoung still hates his guts more than anything but at the very least tolerates his presence, and yeoryeong doesn’t actively threaten him with death to his face anymore—though he suspects a lot of that will change if… if…
“did you get the chance to think about it?” ruda asks softly.
“i… did.” dan-i grips the hem of her shirt, readjusts her cardigan. “first, i have a question for you.”
“sure,” ruda says.
“do you think,” she says slowly, “if i were to disappear—”
“we talked about this.” ruda moves to take her elbows in his hands, but she steps back.
“if i were to disappear,” she says again, “and you didn’t remember me. i would’ve wasted all the time we were together. i would’ve stolen that time from you.”
“i don’t care,” ruda says. “i don’t care about time or disappearing. i care about you. and that doesn’t just… disappear.”
dan-i pauses. takes in a deep, shuddering breath. her eyes are red, but her eyes—oh. they’re filled with more affection than ruda thinks he can bear.
“lee ruda,” she says, “i didn’t know you had such a way with words.”
“keep learning more things about me, then,” he says. this time, when he moves forward, she doesn’t move away.
ruda dips his head toward her, eyes on her mouth. dan-i quickly presses her fingertips to his lips.
“what if people see us?” she asks. “i don’t want…”
“the security guards are all on break,” ruda says, counting off on his fingers, “your friends will start looking for you for lunch in about four minutes, and…” he pulls her down behind a desk. “…now we’re hidden.”
“how did you…” a tiny smile pulls at dan-i’s lips. “alright. just this once.”
ruda grins at her. “just this once, then.” he leans down and kisses her.
as far as first kisses go, it’s a little awkward. the two of them stay stock-still against each others’ lips—ruda because there are fireworks bleeding his brain empty of all rational thought at the close contact, dan-i because she doesn’t particularly know how people kiss outside of those dramas she watches where the two stand with lips pressed simply together while the camera alternates shots of the characters on all sides.
dan-i pulls back after a moment, presses the back of her hand against her lips. “was that…”
“let me try that again,” ruda says.
“i said just the once,” dan-i grumbles.
“please?” he turns on the sparkles, the begging puppy dog look. dan-i rolls her eyes.
“alright, one more chance,” she says.
this time, when ruda kisses her, he’s ready. his lips part just slightly, encouraging dan-i to move against him. kissing is less one single kiss and more a collection of tiny ones, after another, after another. and when dan-i gets used to it, starts kissing him back, ruda think he might die. he holds onto her sleeves for dear life, keeping himself anchored against her.
a moment later, they break apart, hearing eunhyung calling after dan-i in the hallway. his voice fades along with his footsteps. ruda presses his forehead to dan-i’s, breathing heavy. she takes a shivering breath that he can feel against his lips—stay in control, lee ruda, right now isn’t the time for further thoughts.
“dan-i,” he whispers. “i love you.”
she smiles, dazzling and so immutably herself.
“me, too,” she says.
“can you say it?” ruda whispers.
again, dan-i rolls her eyes, full of affection. “fine,” she says. “i love you, too. now let’s go to lunch.”
if ruda were a good person, he would leave it at that. he’s trying now; he really is. still, he can’t help but be a little selfish.
“can i eat with you and your friends?” he asks.
she laughs. “let’s not push it yet. one day.”
“okay.” he presses a kiss to her cheek swiftly. he’s trying; he is. “i love you.”
“alright, alright,” dan-i says. “i love you too. now, come on.” she takes his hand, and the two of them are off—carving ahead, despite everything.
if ruda were a good person—less monster, more human—maybe this wouldn’t be so world-changing. maybe he wouldn’t feel like a fallen angel relearning salvation. but he is—and it does. god, it does.