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The bell above the door to the convenience store chimes as Choi Han and Kim Roksoo exit, the cashier’s soft, “Have a good night,” echoed by their synchronous, “You too.”
Kim Roksoo has headed out first and so he doesn’t worry about the glass door closing on him. It had been held open for him, actually allotting him time to finish pushing his wallet back into his pants pocket.
Why are two high school boys out by themselves in the middle of the dark night, the skies clear and lit up by the faint glow of stars, one could ask.
Well the answer is simple:
The whole school, the Rowoon Public Academy of the Sciences and Fine Arts, is here, on a school trip.
Just that morning all three grade levels had boarded hired buses and after three and a half hours sans the roadside breaks to use the restrooms and purchase themselves snacks for the students who hadn’t brought food but had extra money to spare, they had arrived in this quaint but secure town surrounded by woods and the peace of a simple agricultural life. Now evening, the whole school, a group of chaperoning faculty, and even several townspeople are gathered in the aging but sturdy town hall. They are throwing a welcoming party of sorts, an excuse to show off their talents and “bond.”
Obviously having no talent of his own, Kim Roksoo has bailed. Sure, some of his classmates had tried to trick, bribe and beg him into staying, and some brave enough to arrange for him to go on stage but Kim Roksoo is a crafty bastard. It wasn’t ten minutes before he found himself out in the cool autumn air and thankfully he hadn’t been the only one who preferred not to participate so when the teachers came to corral them it had been easy to hide within the rapidly dispersing group and to freedom.
A set of shy footsteps crunch behind Kim Roksoo, with them the crinkles of a plastic bag rustling.
When Kim Roksoo had escaped he hadn’t expected to be dogged by an underclassman who ranks number one in kumdo within their district but when he had noticed it had been too late to protest.
Also he doesn’t mind overly much. Choi Han has always been a bit awkward but well meaning.
Not that he’d ever say it aloud but the guy reminds Kim Roksoo sometimes of a large enthusiastic, all-too-trusting Labrador.
He even has the fluffy part down pat, his hair, when Kim Roksoo turns his head back to confirm the guy is still there falling loosely over his face as he ducks his head.
“T-thanks —“ he speaks! Choi Han stammers, timid eyes gleaming out from under his bangs. “Thanks for buying us food, Roksoo hyungnim. You didn’t have to…”
He trails off, glancing away. And he looks so pitiful and his calloused large palms as they crumple the plastic handle in his hands so intimidating that Kim Roksoo swallows the statement that he had only done so to avoid having the act of starving an underclassman who took time to deliberately follow him starve on his conscience.
“I just don’t want to watch you starve while we’re out here.”
But then again Kim Roksoo thinks Choi Han probably won’t go around beating people up. Especially his sunbaedeul. He’s too well mannered unless overwhelmingly provoked.
At that, Choi Han falls silent. For a terrifying while the only sounds are the crunches of gravel beneath their feet.
Kim Roksoo looks toward the clear skies, his eyes catching on the bright glowing shape throwing light on the black canvas between the stars.
He breathes, “The moon is beautiful tonight — isn’t it?”
He doesn’t expect an answer so when Kim Roksoo hears a slow, “Yes,” from behind the surprise must be what makes his heart skip a beat in his chest, his throat dry.
“We can go sit over there.”
Eventually the two boys happen upon a bench by the road. The area beyond it looks like it was meant to have been a playground once but these parts must not see many children because between the structures weeds have taken over and many of them look rusty.
Kim Roksoo sits down on the bench.
“You need an invitation or something?” he asks.
Choi Han sits down on the bench immediately after that. He scoots back sheepishly when Kim Roksoo looks at him askance.
He sets the plastic bag of snacks between them and starts rustling through.
Soon after Choi Han and Kim Roksoo dig out the container of ddeokbokki damp from the heat of the food, they help themselves to it, popping open the lid.
“You mind handing me a napkin?” he asks.
“Here you go!” Choi Han exuberantly responds.
They feast in the returned wordlessness, chopsticks carting sustenance to their mouths in turns.
The spice and warmth of the ddeokbokki provide a nice contrast to the coolness of the air. Kim Roksoo realizes he’s comfortable and he savours that enjoying the sensation.
“Kim Roksoo hyungnim. Can I ask you a question?”
Choi Han breaks the silence first this time.
Kim Roksoo glances up at him as he sticks his chopsticks back in the container. But the guy isn’t looking at him, cheeks oddly flushed as he peers out into the darkness of the night.
Kim Roksoo responds, “What is it?” He feels tempted to follow the kid’s gaze but somehow he feels also that down that path lies a whole new can of worms.
So he keeps his answer brief. And is it getting warmer out here? The spice must be really kicking in now.
Out of the corner of his eye, Choi Han stops gazing ahead. He drops his chin to his chest then he lifts it back up.
The gravel crunches like someone is bringing their toes together.
“Do you… Is there anyone you’re thinking of dating right now?”
Kim Roksoo halts, his chopsticks stopping inches from his open mouth. It’s a small miracle that he doesn’t drop sauce on himself, which is great. He only has one hoodie for this trip and he’s wearing it now.
Kim Roksoo also in that same vein is internally grateful that his shoes are spared too but more importantly he has an epiphany.
This guy likes me, he thinks. There is no doubt; how can there be because on Choi Han’s boyish cheeks he now realizes is a blush and the guy still won’t look at him.
But…
But.
Kim Roksoo answers, “…no.”
He rustles as he returns his chopsticks to the plastic container.
He doesn’t look at Choi Han. He doesn’t have to really. From this distance he can see quite clearly and unfortunately out of his periphery as the guy slumps.
He thinks, You’re a kumdo champion. What do you think you’re signing yourself up for wanting to date me?
Choi Han says nothing. Kim Roksoo pretends he doesn’t see it — the hope that was there, now crushed, the disappointment and the despondency.
The longer Choi Han stays wordless and the ddeokbokki which is steadily disappearing like an excuse shrinks, the more Kim Roksoo’s throat closes.
Am I having an allergic reaction? Kim Roksoo frowns down at the plastic bag but that doesn’t explain why his chest is also squeezing. It’s like his body is trying to go to war with itself, what is happening?
Crunch.
The ground grunts under Choi Han’s sneakers feet when he stands.
Kim Roksoo doesn’t look up. If he’d had his fragile hope dashed he would want to remove himself from the situation too.
Choi Han pauses on his feet only to tilt and start pulling the now empty container of ddeokbokki out. He leaves the unopened bags of chips and other snacks on the bench as Kim Roksoo is reminded again of how well mannered the kid is, rolling up the container in the plastic bag so the congealing sauce doesn’t spill.
Choi Han straightens wordlessly for a moment when he’s done, probably trying to smoothly extricate himself from the awkwardness.
Kim Roksoo tells himself that he’s making things easier on the guy by avoiding. His eyes though the longer Choi Han shifts on his feet like he wants to leave something cold gnaws at his stomach.
Leave, he partly wants to say because the sensation makes him uncomfortable.
Choi Han goes still then he plucks a bag of chips and strides off though it isn’t before he hands something nervously to Kim Roksoo, stammering through an explanation that, “I’m going to do my best to change that.”
Kim Roksoo is left blinking down at what is a postcard. It has a woman with long hair sprinkling what look like stars against a blue and black nebulous backdrop.
He thought he had seen Choi Han picking through the stand of postcards at the convenience store earlier but he hadn’t seen him pay.
Kim Roksoo flips the postcard to the back as he feels himself warm. He thinks to himself that maybe Choi Han isn’t just well mannered when it comes to his sunbaedeul at least not all the time.
“…ho,” he smirks.
Kim Roksoo hyungnim—
I like you.
Will you go with me to the fall festival next month?