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Asa is like, totally enjoying university life. It’s so fun. Super fun. What could be more fun than sitting in a study room with three randomly assigned groupmates trying to nail down a thesis statement for the group presentation they’re giving next week after spending the past 53 minutes talking about their annoying TA, and which guy from Seventeen dances the best (like this needs a debate? It’s obviously Dino, even if Hoshi is her favourite), and how Hamlet was based on The Lion King, no wait, it’s the other way around, and oh no look the people who have the room booked after us are just standing outside staring, that’s so weird and rude they should get a life.
Okay, look. It’s not like she cares so much about standing in front of a classroom talking for 15 minutes or maybe 5 PowerPoint slides’ worth of information on whatever it is they’re going to end up talking about, representations of parental death in literature, but like, blehhh. If all they were gonna do was sit here and talk about nothing she could be doing something actually interesting. Or nothing interesting. Or just getting boba from the place she discovered a week ago that none of the other kids from her program have caught onto just yet. She wishes Emiri would hurry up and visit her so she can take her there and they can just like, sit together, so she can soak up the sounds of strangers talking and the presence of her best friend.
“So, do you guys have plans for Mothers’ Day this weekend?”
Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Bleh.
While trying to avoid eye contact with her groupmate, Rimless-Glasses-chan, she accidentally catches the eye of the guy beside her. He looks… he looks pretty blehhh himself. He was the one group member who a) came prepared and b) tried keeping everyone on track, but it didn’t really work. She saw him rebook a study room for tomorrow after managing to wheedle everyone’s schedules out of them with polite conversation after he made a slide deck with 20 empty slides, other than names and titles. But right now he isn’t doing anything at all.
Asa looks back at the other two, who have been chatting about flowers and spa days and whatever. She doesn’t really wanna drop the dead mom bomb and kill the whole vibe.
“Ummm, I dunno, I didn’t really have anything planned.”
“Whaaat, aw c’mon, you gotta do something!” Bleh. Should she text Makio-san? Or is that too weird. Actually it would probably weird them both out. But. She doesn’t know. She never knows what to do this time of year. “Won’t your mom get upset if you don’t do anything?”
Well, what can she even do about it? Haunt her?
“Ummmm, yeah, I mean, I don’t think she really gonna care. I mean, like, she’ll be fine with whatever.” It’s not technically a lie.
“Okay, I guess you know her best!” She almost has to laugh. “Well, what about you, Haejoon-kun?”
The gloomy looking guy just gets gloomier looking. He’s super tall and can barely fit his legs beneath the tables, but he looks like he’s about to curl up into a ball and try to disappear.
“Ah, actually, my mother passed away a few years ago. So I don’t have anything planned. Anyway. Our time is up for this meeting room, so I booked us all in for tomorrow at the same time. That works for everyone, right?”
The other two nod dumbly. Like, they really look so fucking stupid right now. Asa almost wishes she had pulled the dead mom card so she could be the one to make them make those stupid mouth-open faces. It’s like nobody even understands the concept of tact. But also, like, she doesn’t wanna be the dead mom girl.
But now there’s a dead mom guy. And he’s packing his shit up at light speed and flying out the door with those freaky long-ass legs. And Asa can’t even figure out how to stand up and chase after him. Like something’s weighing her down, like there’s a ghost pinning her to the chair with one hand, using the other to point at the open door, whispering in her ear, look, you can’t even do this right, he’s just like you and you’re just going to sit here and watch his loneliness swallow him whole.
If you asked Sousuke what mindfulness meant to him, he might give you an answer that goes something like, Haha, it’s like, being considerate towards people, right? Like, being mindful of how you treat them or something? I’m not really sure… haha. And that’s because he doesn’t want you to start to clue in. If he decided to be honest, if he told you about all the stilted, jumbled conversations he had with Chris, and Mukai, and Mitsumi-chan, all the times he looked up ‘what am i feeling’ and ‘why am i scared’ and ‘what’s wrong with me head empty confused’, all the times his eyes glazed over psychology articles no matter how hard he tried to read them, like it was too scary to look at the words on the page and see himself reflected back, well. It means you might see him too. And he can’t let you do that, not you, when he still hasn’t figured out how to summon the courage to look himself in the eye.
He knows what mindfulness is. It’s what he’s not practicing right now. He’s backstage with the rest of the cast, which is largely composed of eight-year-olds. He’s absently aware of the smile plastered on his face and the high fives he’s giving out, though he can’t remember exactly who he’s managed to give his usual “good job, buddy, I’m proud of you!” spiel to. He’s seeing but not looking at the crowd of parents waiting in the hallway, hearing but not listening to the voices of the real adults saying “good job, buddy, I’m proud of you!”. They don’t even sound like real words right now. It’s more like—waves, big waves roaring and crashing against the empty cave of his head, beating up against him with all their might but failing to stir the sand within.
The kids probably can’t remember him saying it to them, either. They’re all squirming around, giggling in excitement, waiting to hear those words from their moms—because that’s who we all want to hear it from, right?
A hard slap on his shoulder sends his scattered mind speeding back into his skull.
“Hey what the f—What the hec—what are you doing?”
That Baek Eunyung kid smiles in that disgustingly innocent way of his. It’s made all the more unnerving by the ghost costume he’s still wearing. “Shima, mind your language!”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to, dude. Your face says a lot. I guess that’s the sign of a good actor, right? Hahaha.” That’s also so weird, the way he “laughs” by saying ‘haha’ instead of actually just laughing. Sousuke shrugs his hand off.
“Did you need something, or?”
“No, dude. Just wanted to say good job. The kiddos seemed to have lots of fun putting it all together and all the moms were going ‘kyaaaaa, that’s my baby!!! So talented!!!’ every time their kids did so much as like, look at the audience, hahahah. Some of them are pretty hot, do you think I could bag a MILF before the end of the day?”
Wasn’t this kid just talking to him about minding his language?
“Don’t look at me like that, these kids don’t know what a MILF is.” Sousuke opens his mouth, but Eunyung cuts him off. “Of course I know what you’re thinking. It’s written all over your face. I just said.”
Sousuke doesn’t see the point of entertaining someone who thinks he’s got him all figured out already. He gets ready to get up and walk away. But then he notices something. The dull roar threatening to engulf him earlier, crashing against—something—and breaking back up into individual, intelligible voices. The placid stillness of Baek’s eyes, unwavering, which might—if Sousuke dared to look—show him his reflection with perfect clarity.
A shifting of sand, deep within a cave.
“Um, well, thanks, I guess. And you did a good job too. The kids really liked you.”
Baek grins. “Heh, yeah. They’re pretty cool. They’re like, people, but they’re just little guys. But they’re already people, even though they look like bags of snot. It’s nuts.”
It is nuts. Sousuke looks at the people milling about, big and small, smiling, talking, embracing. He sees the love in the parents’ eyes, the joy in the children’s eyes, and how they reflect back on one another and create an atmosphere so radiant it hurts to look at directly and acknowledge.
And he, for the life of him, can’t understand why he wasn’t good enough to experience that for himself.
“Hey, Eunyung.” When he summons the courage to look back at Eunyung, he’s met once again with a somber stillness, one he’s never seen on the other boy’s face before today. He’s not sure what he wants to ask. It takes him back to all those nights on his laptop, staring at a blinking cursor on a search engine.
Did your mom ever go to your plays when you were a kid? What made you decide to run this drama workshop with me? Is it really okay for these kids to look up to us? Are we doing something good here? Do you love this enough to do it for the rest of your life?
Do I?
But what he manages to get out is, “What are you doing after this?”
“Do you… come here often…?” Haejoon manages to get the question out, not before his entire face contorts into a grimace. He’s not exactly sure why Takumi decided to drag him to a boba shop. She can’t seem to figure out what to do with her eyes or her hands. But her feet never faltered while leading them here.
He really has no idea what’s happening. He’s not even sure why he agreed to follow her here. He just—needed out of that room. And he thinks maybe she did too.
“Yeah. It helps, like, when I…” She shrugs, fiddling with the ocean wave charm on her bracelet. “Is it helping you?”
Helping him what? “Um, huh?”
“Like, all the people and stuff?” The people?
He looks around. They’re seated at a table out on a busy street. People are walking past, mostly on their phones or chatting with one another. He can’t pick out anything anyone is saying. Is being around random people helping? Helping with what, exactly? Helping him feel better? From what just happened in the study room? He thinks back to all the lunches at the journalism clubroom, how soothing it was to let the voices of his friends wash over him and settle his nerves. But his friends aren’t here right now.
“Uhh, I mean, I kind of prefer quiet, so…”
“Urghhhhh, sorry, this was dumb. I dunno, like. Sometimes it’s just nice to hear people’s voices. Like, this time of year I get all… blehhh.”
“Oh..?” This time of year?
“It just helps when I feel lonely.”
“Oh.” That makes sense, he guesses. She side-eyes him, chewing on her lip.
“Dude, I thought you’d get it. Like, we’re in the same boat and all. With our moms.”
Oh, well, that’s.
That explains things, at least. The way her eyes flit from group to group as they walk past their table, resting especially long on children with their mothers, before she drags her gaze away, like it hurts her to look and hurts more to watch them walk away.
“My dad’s dead too, I guess. Like, not to one up you or anything.”
“Oh, lucky. Wait, I—”
Takumi bursts out laughing, tears immediately springing to her eyes.
“Dude, what the fuck? Hahahahah, are you serious? Oh my god,” she wheezes, “oh, that’s too good. Is he a real asshole, or something? Oh man. Maybe we can, like, team up and hunt him down. Like, pew pew.” She makes finger guns at him. He realizes he’s smiling.
In one fell swoop, she shatters the awkwardness between them. Since coming to university, he hasn’t quite managed to close the distance between him and the, well, the normal kids. Sure, he looks the same and mostly talks the same, but he can’t shake the feeling that he wears his otherness like a heavy coat, that it dogs his steps and presses down on his shoulders. He’s not at the dorm anymore, he can’t just… hang the coat up whenever he wants.
But finding someone wearing the same coat… that makes it easier, just a bit.
“Yeah, he fucking sucks. I cut ties with him. He might be dead now for all I know.”
“Hahahaha, that’s awesome. You’re crazy. Hey, what was your name again?” He scratches his head. They’ve introduced themselves within the group twice already.
“I’m Goh Haejoon.”
“You can call me Asa. Haejoon-kun,” she sips at her bright pink monstrosity of a fruit tea, “when you think about your mom and stuff. And you feel lonely. What do you think of? Like, where do you go, in your head?”
It’s almost too easy, the way her question drags a picture to the front of his mind, a photograph that just gets more warped and hazy the more he pulls it out and touches it.
“Home. My living room. Or the living room at my mom’s place. I guess it’s not her place anymore.”
“Hmmmmm. You don’t have much of an imagination, do you?”
“Huh?”
“For me, it’s like a desert. Like walking in a biiiig, empty desert, and nobody’s around except like, the cactuses.” She taps at her bracelet. “For my best friend, she said it’s like the beach, or an ocean.”
…He doesn’t really get it. Somehow, he feels like someone close to her must be really into metaphors or literature, or something.
She continues. “So is it like, you don’t feel like you don’t have a home anymore? You feel like that place is still your home, but it’s just empty now?”
He… doesn’t know. That doesn’t feel accurate. He turns the words over and over in his mind.
“Um… I don’t think it’s like that. I dunno, I’ve never really asked myself that before.”
Asa just blinks at him with her impossibly round eyes. “Well, if you ever wanna talk about it more, text me and we can get boba again.”
With that, she turns her attention completely away from him, back to the throngs of people walking past, wrapped up tightly in their own lives. He turns too, letting his mind wander and settle over and over, finding himself surprisingly soothed by the sounds of strangers’ voices. The foreign registers and cadences, the familiar displays of care, what did you eat for lunch today? What did you learn in school? I’ll be home soon, want me to pick anything up? Did you have a nice day?
Yesterday
Me [18:27]
How’s your day going?
Eunyung [21:43]
Lmao what am i, your girlfriend? 😂
Me [21:49]
Ok fuck you too then
Today
Me [13:07]
I think this girl is kidnapping me
Or i might be going on a date?
How are you supposed to know
Me [13:41]
Do you feel like your parents’ place is your home?
Eunyung [13:41]
Fuck no
Me [13:43]
Where then? The dorm?
Eunyung [13:44]
No bitch
The tent
That you tore to pieces
Bitch
Me [13:44]
Move on already
Eunyung [13:56]
Are u still on the date
Or did she steal your kidney
You sent a photo.
Eunyung sent a photo.
You know, Eunyung never really understood why kids seem to fucking adore him. Was it his height? Hair? His irresistible handsomeness?
People always say children are good judges of characters, so why are the brats always clinging to his legs? Doesn’t that prove they’re fucking stupid?
“Wahhh, you did such a good job, Seonmi,” he says to the current stupid brat clinging to his leg. She looks up at him with a bright grin, half milk teeth.
“Mr. Eunyung, this was so much fun! Are you and Mr. Sousuke gonna come back next year, too?”
The Mr. Sousuke in question is lurking by the door, shifting around uncomfortably and not really talking to anyone. He’s so weird sometimes. Even though Shima was the one to invite him to dinner ten minutes ago, he decided to flee the scene the second kids started to come up to Eunyung, like he already decided they didn’t want to talk to him. Eunyung bets he’s going to go home and tell himself all the kids hated him and never want to talk to him ever again and oh, he’s so awkward with kids, whatever will he do, he should just crawl in a hole and cry. What a loser.
“Hmmmm, I dunno. Should we go ask him?” He puts a hand on Brat #8’s shoulder and pushes them towards gloomy Shima lurking in his corner.
“Oh… Hi, Mr. Sousuke, um…” How cute, she’s shy. He’s definitely going to think she hates him.
“Seonmi has a question for you!”
“I was um, I was just wondering if… you and Mr. Eunyung are coming back next year and we can all do another play together…” Her voice trails off shyly. Eunyung wiggles his eyebrows at Shima.
“Oh! Well, uhh, depending on, uh, various factors we might, um…” She stares uncomprehendingly as he stutters his way through a diplomatic, non-committal answer.
Truth be told, he really didn’t want to be the one to answer the question. Eunyung doesn’t really do things like make plans a year in advance beyond get rich and find a hot older woman and become her boy toy. This whole pairing up with a local elementary school and running a drama workshop thing their university’s drama club does was fun and all, but he doesn’t want to make any promises. What if he walks out of here and an anvil drops on his head and he fucking dies? Then he wouldn’t be coming back next year. And all the snotty brats would wonder where he went, and maybe they’d look out into the audience, wondering if it was all just a misunderstanding and that he’d be showing up to watch them any minute now. And then he wouldn’t come. And then they’d get sad.
He doesn’t think he likes that he has the potential to make kids feel sad.
And it looks like Shima doesn’t like it, either. But he’s looked him up. This kid already had his fall from grace back in like, middle school or something. Maybe Shima is less scared that he’ll screw up in the future, and is more scared that everyone will find out about his screw ups in the past.
But that’s not his problem. He’s the one who had the limelight and screwed things up for himself. Eunyung will never be able to understand people who have a good thing going and throw it all away.
But… the guy just gets this look on his face sometimes, like he’s a miserable wet dog or something. And Eunyung just finds it too funny to leave alone.
“I think what Mr. Sousuke is trying to say is that we don’t know where our school might send us next year, but we’re gonna try really hard to make sure they let us come back here! Okay?”
The kid nods shyly, clinging to her mom who just walked over from the gaggle of moms in the corner.
“Aww, darling, you were so brave up there on stage! Why are you getting all shy now, of all times?” She turns her attention to Shima and Eunyung. “Ahh, you two must be the instructors from the university! My, you’re both so tall and handsome!”
(Eunyung glances down to her left hand, then back up.)
“You know, my daughter has talked you both up so much over the past few weeks.”
“Mom…”
“Aww, sweetie, don’t be embarrassed! I just wanted to thank you both for everything you’ve done for her. She’s such a shy kid but she’s really started to blossom recently! You know, just the other day, she…” At this point, Eunyung stops listening.
Everything they’ve done for her? They didn’t do shit. They just sat there and acted as walls for the kids to bounce off of. And then they pretended to be a ghost and a vampire.
Is something that simple enough to make a huge change in a kid’s life? Just… showing up for them?
When he peeks over at Shima, he looks just as lost as Eunyung feels.
And then he takes a deep breath and kneels down to the kid’s level.
“It was really fun getting to work with you. You did a great job. And even if Mr. Eunyung and I don’t get to come back here next year as your instructors, we can always come back and watch your play as your fans, okay?” Eunyung is impressed. Seonmi looks like she’s glowing. She probably hasn’t felt the full force of Shima’s attention until this very moment.
“Oh… okay!”
“Isn’t that right, Mr. Eunyung?”
“Yeah, of course, kiddo. We’ll try our best to be here.” He can’t make any promises, after all. Whatever school they’re assigned to might have their plays on the same day. Assuming they get partnered up again, even. Or he might be Blackpink Jennie’s husband by then. Or dead.
“Well, boys, we’re heading home now,” the mom says, checking her Apple watch and smoothing her hair back. She looks like a real career woman, the type who usually wouldn’t come to their eight-year-old kid’s school play that takes place during the work day. “Say thank you, darling!”
“Thank you Mr. Shima, thank you Mr. Eunyung.”
“It was our pleasure, truly,” Eunyung replies, forcing sunshine and professionalism to shine out of his ass as they wave the two off.
He looks back at Shima. There’s no trace of sad wet dog in his face right now. He wonders who he might be thinking about.
Shima looks back at him, like he knows Eunyung psychoanalyzes him for fun and he’s getting really sick of it. “Are you ready to go then, Mr. Eunyung?”
“Whenever you are, Count Draculasuke.” Shima rolls his eyes, ripping off the cloak he forgot he was wearing and stuffing it in a storage bin labelled “STUFF”.
“What did you want to eat?”
“Hmm…” Eunyung thinks. He could go for Burger King or something easy like that. Or he could ask for what he’s really been craving the past few days. “Let’s hit up a supermarket. You can come to my place and I’ll make us something to eat.”