Work Text:
School is a sanctuary for youth and a sanction for conformity, the days of innocence and the times of tempering. Adulthood is said to be an acquired taste, relentlessly bitter, meant only to be bearable by hanging on to the momentary reprieves of promised palate cleansers; school gives a sampling, numbs the tongue, fills the mouth so it cannot fit anything else to chew, leaves its children with a taste profile fitted to adulthood.
Giving up the pleasures that can still be afforded now for a pleasureless future seems like a fool's errand, Yoohyeon thinks. The freedom to live without eroding oneself
Handong finds that the moment before surface tension breaks and a body envelops a foreign entity is an awkward pause, a dip and stretch.
To be in suspension
To be in limbo
comes with means to
find-ing (or make-ing) one's own space
make-ing a place your own
If finding a quiet crevice on one's lonesome is the only way to escape the lull in the air during lunch, when community is an expectation, so be it.
It starts as a doodle.
Actually, it starts as an untimely shit, combined with a timely possession of one of the markers Yubin always has on hand in case she miraculously runs into her favorite celebrities.
Handong finds her way to the bathroom stalls on the far side of campus.
A pork sun bun can be eaten on the way.
Another bread or two can be eaten there.
It isn't an ideal spot to consume food, but it is a refuge away from eyes heavy with pleasantry and empty promises of deeper connections.
Simple drawings of a bird and a puppy welcome her from the side of the stall. Cute.
The next time Yoohyeon uses the stall, she's surprised to see a detailed bird, scratched into the surface in blue pen, soaring beside her doodle.
Yubin's marker is hers now, by the law of 2yoo indefinite sharing. Yoohyeon scrambles to leave a comment near the drawings, "u draw beautifully. have a good day!"
It's silly, but it makes Handong's day.
(even if all she writes back is "ty, u 2")
Yoohyeon populates the stall with a new doodle or motivational message every time she visits. It's rewarding to see others join, too, with their own messages and doodles and conversations.
Gradually, the stall's side and door accumulate little trinkets of people's lives and interests, worries and encouragements.
A community unwittingly forms: a quiet junction of the faceless.
Getting to visit the stall becomes a highlight of Handong's days. Scanning for updates becomes as much a habit as a game.
When there are none, simply re-reading and re-admiring is profoundly grounding.
Yoohyeon looks forward to finding new drawings on the stall, particularly ones detailed in the same way as the soaring bird. They're rare, so it's always a treat when they do appear. She makes sure to comment and add her own little doodle next to them, every time.
For the first time, she resents an extended academic break. She returns to the stall scrubbed back into uniformity.
Suddenly, it feels so much emptier.
a while goes by and no one revives the stall
It's just a one-off, but on impulse one day, in another random stall,
she writes, "I miss the Happiness Stall"