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“We will be accompanying your brother to make sure his move to the US happens with ease. You stay here, work on your entrance exam, and look after the house for now, okay?”
When Somin watched her parents and brother leave the premises, an inkling of dread crept into her mind, discreet and unknown, until her exams were over and she woke up alone in that house for the umpteenth time and realized she had been going through the same motions she always had been for weeks. Months, even.
The same wooden ceiling. The same front door. The same forged path, neatly covered books and ironed out clothes fresh from the laundry. Pots, pans and plates washed by the same water and soaps of similar sizes and textures, till they were in pristine condition, shining with the same arc and under the same light sources.
Somin blinked, and thought: what sort of novelty could she hope for to entertain her, when her life was built around the maintenance and almost plastic nurturing of her environment. Not a speck of dirt went unnoticed, or an imperfection left as is.
She blinked again.
Still nothing.
Studying could only do so much for her mind that streamlined thought but offered nothing for her heart that was constantly, revoltingly, at ease. When a paradox of comfort and discomfort like this existed among others, she found it commonly came in the form of paranoia in security—That must be why a writer once regarded it as "mortal's chiefest enemy." Still, it was a situation wholly different from Somin's, which added on to the frustration inherent to boredom.
Her parents' inevitable return after helping Joonhyeok settle in the States did little to improve her outlook. In fact..
"Joonhyeok is adjusting to his new life pretty well," her father said, flipping over a page in the newspaper. It was rare to see him so lax, but even this attitude could inspire some reaction out of Somin's mother.
"You're being dismissive as usual. I'm sure of it: now that we're gone, he might miss us so much he'll be unable to move for a few days.."
A harrumph. "A boy like him can handle it. He's my son, after all."
In the coming weeks, what conversation Somin could get out of her doting, prideful parents were tidbits of commentary of their time abroad. It seemed—in their efforts to ease Joonhyeok's tensions—they brought him around all sorts of places. The arcade, an impressive library full of books in different languages (Somin was certain this was a snooze-fest for her brother), horse riding, ice skating, hockey, trekking, bowling, et cetera, et cetera. They even teased him for a hint of attraction with a girl they could barely remember the name of.
Must be nice, Somin thought, while rubbing her fingers on the wet surface of a newly washed plate, ensuring there was no oil stubbornly clinging onto its surface. The same arc under the same light source.
"You did a good job passing the entrance exam, but just because you have no obligations now doesn't mean you shouldn't refresh your memory every now and then."
"I know. I was keenly studying even while you were gone, and don't intend on stopping now," Somin smiled. "Though, I'm a little interested in volunteering for some non-profits…"
Her mother lit up at this suggestion. "As expected, my daughter is too good!" With a whimsical clap, she spun around and made a bee-line to her room. Her voice faded the further she walked away, but the house was the perfect size to make most speech audible. Thus, Somin could faintly hear: "I'll write to the organizations I am sponsoring and see if they need anyone, just you wait."
This was Somin's half-hearted effort to get out there, killing two birds with one stone by gaining experience outside academics through displays of pro-activeness and altruism, while also narrowing down things in life that stimulated her. Even if her indirect inquiry resembled a robot who found it necessary to spew something out after being presented some input, there was something in the back of Somin's head that hoped: maybe this could bring her some fulfillment.
Focus on your studies here—Somin could hear them now. She could hear it constantly. A mantra that redirected her attentions instinctively, because she didn't have anything else to focus on. She flipped to the first page of practice questions her academy provided for her English lessons, which she indubitably excelled in.
"By the way," her mother one day began on the dinner table, less than two weeks into the academic year. "I hope you are careful roaming around the neighborhood later in the day. Someone's been chain smoking nearby, and the cleaners have yet to rid the cigarette butts on the floor. The stench clings to you! Seriously…"
It brought upon a vague memory Somin recently made.
That's right—there was that girl Somin met the other day. Besides her height, her silhouette was unremarkable, but her actual appearance was a source of novelty, even acknowledged accordingly by her mom; but Somin found herself largely averse to getting in cahoots with delinquents like her. With wild hair and loosely tucked in school dress and crooked ties, seated on a motorcycle much larger than her already tall figure—what else could she be?
A troublemaker, for sure.
When it came to delinquents, Somin thought that: while it was not hard to read into their actions and behaviour, tolerating and/or navigating their volatility would prove to be a hassle more than entertainment.. perhaps Somin was more sensitive than anticipated.
She decided not to mention the culprit being caught red-handed. How would her mother react if she found out it was a high-schooler, just like her daughter? It was more trouble than it was worth. And if the girl's parents or, god forbid, boyfriend were rich, it would add more complicated social interactions in the future. Somin was certainly not looking forward to those.
The idea of coming across people like that at the start of her high school life put Somin on edge. She tried her best to keep it under control, but it didn't help that she was having recurring dreams of similar themes. Borderline realistic in quality, and only registered as her imaginations reaching her conscious because of how odd her mother and father looked.
"Somin, you've always been such a good girl.." The fuzzy presence of a hand landed on her hair with an aggravatingly gentle ploff. "Your grades are perfect, and you can take care of yourself pretty well. Joonhyeok on the other hand…"
Another fuzzy hand reached her shoulder. Straighten up came the unspoken command that Somin was already performing. "Would you look at the time? It's already been a few months. It's best we make sure he's not getting into any trouble."
"That's right. We won't be long like last time. You'll hardly notice we were gone."
"Like another work trip."
"Exactly."
"You just keep working on your studies, alright? Make us proud."
Somin smiled and kept her mouth shut. Such generic advice was thrown at Somin as if she hadn't been an excellent student for the past few years, dedicating more than a handful of time flipping through pages, memorizing names and proper nouns, bringing together vague ideas to connect and discover bigger pictures.
"You speak english so well. Before we left, Joonhyeok was still having trouble."
"You understand, don't you? You always have."
It had been so, so boring.
—"Noona? You seem a little distracted.."
Somin's hands and mouth were moving faster than her brain. It began to transform into an amalgamation of undefined shapes and colors when the 7-year-old boy she was assisting brought her back to the present after having scribbled lines at random on the page.
Let's pretend that… didn't happen.. She chuckled a little awkwardly before shifting her hand to the empty space beside the scribble. "Sorry, let me try again."
Symptoms of sleeplessness surfacing like this was less than ideal for Somin, who was sure she was getting a decent amount of hours in (it was good for her skin and concentration, after all). She didn't have this urge to yawn as much when she was in school or the academy either—was this volunteering thing really not worth it?
At least, Somin could tell herself she tried.
March is not typically associated with rainfall, but that didn't mean it was ever unexpected. It also didn't stop Somin from being surprised and umbrella-less when the pat pat pat sounds gradually increased in volume, slowly layering several pats over another, vibrating against the school windows and filling the silence of the corridors and sleepy classrooms.
Unlike her peers, Somin did not find herself amused by something as trivial as rain. She knew that the moment the clouds would part and the sun covered the land with its rays, it would be the same as ever—the same arc under the same light source—and when she would re-enter the confines of her home, all she had to do was put her clothes in the laundry, wash the rain water away, open her books, eat dinner, study, and sleep. If she got sick from the cold, she would take some medicine and make up for lost time when she recovered. Calm, orderly, routine.
Somin had no internal desire or compelling reason to deviate from this, despite the strange ache that wondered why it all felt so dull. Children her age would look at this emotion and go out to live life more lavishly, in the moment, but endeavors like that seemed pointless. The terror of not knowing how to pick the broken pieces back up was far too irrational for Somin to sympathize. If you want to indulge, it would be smarter to do so with a future in place.
So many words, when the reality was simply thus: Somin couldn't afford to be that sort of imperfect.
And no one would know whether avoidance or acceptance of this could free her from the obsessive thought. Relentless, invading the crevices of her mind, clouding her conscious. For every rain drop that sank into her uniform, and caused her body to shudder from the cold, the thought pounded against her skull. She was freezing. Her teeth chattered. She hugged herself.
It's the same. It's the same. It's the same, it's the same, it's the same, it's the same, it's the same, it's the same, it's the same, it's the same, it's the same.
The rain stopped, sudden, and the world became darker—but, somehow, Somin felt a little warm. She looked up, and the delinquent girl grinned back at her.
If you're reading this, you probably know what happens next.
"Y'know Som.. Do you think your brother will ever pay a visit to Korea while he's studying?" Sol asked with her mouth full of a hot dog they bought together. She had always wanted to try one after hearing her classmates talk about it, but finding a place that sold them in Seoul was far from easy, and she wasn't even sure of its price until today.
Somin, on the other hand, didn't care about the food. It was more like whatever Sol wanted to do, Somin found joy in following. Saying yes to an invitation to hang out came naturally.
But this inquiry was the sort Somin wanted to shut down. "If he misses it, maybe. Why?" She responded curtly.
"Hehe.. I was wondering if he got the attractive looks in the family too."
This again? Somin physically had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, biting into the hot dog with a tighter grip on the stick. Sol was always entertaining the thought of a man. There was that ex with a motorcycle, someone before that (she could hardly remember) and that guy from the restaurant that served Tteokbokki. Joonhyeok didn't need to get in the mix.
(Not to protect Joonhyeok, but..Hm.)
"He's alright. Still pretty young, so I can't be entirely sure."
Sol blinked before bursting out in laughter, loud, as she always was, and face slightly, just slightly, red. Despite her ambivalence at the topic, Som looked at her fondly. She thought Sol was lucky she didn't choke while doing so.
"Not like that! C'mon, you know me. I like older guys." She waved her free hand in the air dismissively. Maybe even placatingly. Leaning in Som's direction, Sol smiled and pointed. "But you.. You're just so pretty. Too pretty. I'm wondering if it's because you're you or because your family hit the jackpot."
—Somin's breath stopped for a split second. "Flattery won't get you anywhere," she lied, scratching her chin and looking away.
"Huh? I'm serious though," Sol bit her lip, an anxious habit. For once in the conversation, her mouth was not full, but there were remnants of oil around her lips from the hot dog. Somin found herself following the way they moved— They weren't as dry as usual.
"You're pretty too, Sol."
She reached out with the tissue that came with their order, dabbing at the area around Sol's lips.
"Hmf?"
"Call me vain, but if I'm going to spend time with someone, I'm going to make them the prettiest they can be."
"..Is this you trying to tell me you wanna dress me up? That would be fun, but you know I've been tight on money!"
Somin smiled. "Sure but.. even then, I think you're fine as you are."
"Even with my scary scars and bruises?"
She blinked.
If I had any say in it, I'd make sure you didn't have them at all..
"Don't make such a scary face!" Sol lightly tapped Som's cheeks on both sides. She felt the oily, wooden stick tickle her temple, and snapped back to the present. The effect was instant and noticeable. "For you, I promise I'll try not to get hit as often."
"Is that so?"
"Trust me! I know now, I gotta preserve my looks for my friend, and any boy that comes my way!"
Som lifted the corner of her lips in near-adoration as she looked directly at Sol, who grinned at her awkwardly while brimming with positivity. She really looked less like a delinquent the more you got to know her.
..If Somin could choose a person to spend an eternity with, there was no question about it—She'd choose her in a heartbeat.
Somin had known her family her whole life, but never experienced this strange longing for attachment until Sol. Her relationship with her parents and brother was one borne out of obligation, nothing more, nothing less. But Sol was different. To feel so strongly to want to be with someone—was this what people meant when they spoke so highly of future relationships? Did her mom or dad ever thought about their best friends the way she did, too?
If Somin had to preserve this happiness, the novelty of desire that other instincts could not compare to, Sol must learn to take care of herself or, if not that, let herself be taken care of.
Just do what you're told. Eventually, you'll find the freedom to walk away.
A few minutes later, the pair found a trash chute to throw the skewers in.
"Kids these days are actually pretty attentive," Somin's mother said after putting the telephone down. "The young boy from the orphanage says he misses you. Apparently, the last time you met him, you were in a great mood. I wonder what's been going on with my daughter?"
"Yes.." I made a wonderful friend. Somin didn't know why, but she stopped herself from saying that. "My classes have been going pretty smoothly. Volunteering benefited me more than I thought— explaining things to my classmates is a lot easier than before."
"That's good to hear. I'm sure you have a lot of responsibility as the class president too," Father took a sip from the coffee cup set down for him earlier.
"I'm not sure if I believe that's all there is to it," Somin's mother hummed, swaying as she approached the dining table. "He seemed to think you were more than mild. Rather, ecstatic. Especially compared to when you first started."
What a snitch.
That caught her father's attention. "..It's not a boy from school is it?" He looked up from his contemplation, and turned to make eye contact with his daughter. "Somin, you're free to do what you want, but don't be careless when it comes to relationships."
She almost made a face. You know, the one that made her feelings pretty clear. Indulging in behaviour like that in front of her parents was pretty improper, though.
"You two are getting too excited. I'm always focused on my studies, as promised."
"My daughter is beautiful, so I wouldn't be surprised if people went out of their way to confess to you."
They did try. It would be a lie to say Somin hadn't notice eyes trailing on her when she entered the room, but it didn't have to mean anything. Somin made sure it didn't. Sometimes, when someone tried to ask her to talk in private at the end of the school day, Som either used the academy as an excuse, or found herself walking to the side branch and peer into Class 8 to make eye contact with Sol who, like a little puppy, bounced to her side and asked if she wanted to go out later.
It was a pretty ridiculous notion to make. Just because Som seemed a little happy, why did that mean a boy had to be involved?
The only boys she personally knew were the ones from the orphanage and, ugh, Joonhyeok.
"..She's making a face."
"Indeed, she is."
But you know… If Som were a boy, she'd ask Sol out.
And protect her from the weirdos out there that encouraged her to join them in dark corners of Seoul and smoke and drink and whatever activities she felt she had to do.
Somin didn't like that changing herself was the only way to protect Sol, though.
That's why, she decided, she would do her utmost best to prove she was capable of it as she was.
The loneliness I felt back then stemmed from being unable to find someone who understood me and who I could be loyal to for the rest of my life.
Parents are pretty complicated, aren't they?
They say things like, I love you and I just want what's best for you, but the only 'best' thing about the unextravagant and ordinary Bok-Il high school was meeting Sol and exceeding expectations by passing the first test with flying colours.
Not that it bothered Somin. As long as she was a good daughter, she could get what she wanted.
Eventually.
And if Som was stupid, she'd call Sol a bad daughter, but she was sensible enough to know that was false. One eventful afternoon, Somin reached two absolute truths after spending all this time with her special friend:
Her prick of a mother was the bad one.
So was her negligent father.
Som leaned close to Sol, conscious of giving her the space to rest her head on while she sniffled and sobbed. Tears stained both their clothes, but, surely it was better than crying in an alleyway, alone.
Somin would never choose the bad guy. She was capable of dissecting the world enough to know who was worth it and who wasn't, and she chose Sol because Sol was worth it. Sol's parents didn't see that, and now she was suffering for it.
When Somin saw her now, she saw a freak who hated herself. Such imperfections could be amended, with enough coaxing and persuading, and—
"Do you want to live together when we grow up?" She suddenly said.
Sudden might not be the word for it. Som grasped Sol's hand with both of hers, and leaned curiously. Enthusiastically. It was the thought, or rather, instinct, that emerged that was sudden.
She could picture it already. Saving up all that money behind her parents' backs, scouting furniture for their living quarters. There'd been talks of plans to build skyscrapers in downtown Seoul; Sol didn't seem the type to be afraid of heights, since they climbed steep terrain together with no qualm. The view would be beautiful, though the rush to reach class or work would be a hassle. One that Som was ready to deal with when the day came.
She'd live with Sol with a wall full of photos she took on a camera gifted to her and developed. Som, free from the gossip about Joonhyeok's time overseas, and succeeding in her own educational pursuits, and Sol no longer getting bruised on the daily, pursuing something she truly loved.
Som still had no idea what she wanted to do in the future, but she had time to contemplate. It was all so riveting, not like the time Somin found herself constantly losing interest in every path laid before her. She would experience more things with Sol and use that to narrow things down, and Sol's new confidence would open up new possibilities that needed their own focus. It might've seemed endlessly confusing, but they could be confused together.
The real, un-imaginary Sol, on the other hand, looked confused. Perhaps she didn't know what it was like for two girls in the same age group to live together, or if it was allowed to do so as adults. Truthfully, Som hadn't looked into it yet, but she was positive she would find a way to make it work. Her parents were pretty influential after all, and her moving out could be justified with some excuse if she manipulated the circumstances hard enough.
It would be nice if this center knew anyone that could help streamline the process.
Heart laid bare, skin stretched thin. Eyes burning from the heat of the sun.
Somin thought it was strange. She hardly had anyone she could consider a friend, and if she did, it was largely different from what she had with Sol. If anything, her friendship with Sol made everyone else feel like acquaintances. Memories of the past blurred to put the recent ones with her on a high-RES pedestal. Something as petty as differences in grades didn't matter as much to Som as a person, though it was a point of concern due to its inherent ties to their future independence, together.
Indeed. To Som, the "future" always implied "together."
So when Sol explained the difference between a lover and a friend, Somin was at a loss for words.
Someone who is special to you above all else.
Someone who is your first thought in moments of stress.
Someone whose decision to part ways out of nowhere despite promises of a lifetime together would reasonably disappoint you.
Someone who you hope to have a future with.
Somin stood at the entrance of the hospital outdoor area and found Sol cuddling Jihoon on a bench. His arms wrapped around her, one hand at her waist. She leaned close to his touch and smiled dreamily with her eyes closed.
Was Jihoon even able to imagine a future with Sol?
This here is a picture of two people who love me the most!
Did he want to?
Sol's mother "loved" Sol, and hit her when she behaved outside the expectations set for her.
Jihoon "loved" Sol, and hit her when she behaved outside the expectations set for her.
Som didn't hit Sol. Quite the opposite. She defended her with everything she could. Was there no other stronger display of "love"? She was the perfect person. Flexible, capable of violence but never resorting to it on impulse, loyal, exemplar grades, respectable, rich.
(she thought about Joonhyeok, barely passing several exams in a row, if not failing. Teachers always reported him to their parents about his deviant behavior, loudness and inability to sit still. He existed in America now, living a life outside of Seoul and just Seoul. Why was Som reminded of him suddenly, when she had been trying to enjoy her life here? )
with a vague understanding that her feelings for her classmate existed beyond the constraints of friendship, despite having no concrete framework of what else it could be, Somin looked at Sol and thought: maybe this is how people feel when they take in a new pet.
She barely remembered owning a pet in all her years of living, or ever wanting one. But dog owners would get sad if their dogs suddenly left, wouldn't they? Just as a lover grew anxious at the thought of their partner leaving.
Surely, that was it.
When Jihoon exited the picture, Somin felt she could breathe a sigh of relief.
"A question like this is sure to show up on your midterms and finals, so study it well."
She circled the start of the question and thought of practicing it by rewording it with different but solvable numbers. The intention was to make calculating it muscle memory.
"Somin works at the speed of light, doesn't she.."
"You understand the equation, right? Can you explain it once more, I'm having some trouble."
When the room was mostly empty, Somin heard Minjoo whisper beneath her breath. "You sure have everyone flocking to you."
Somin smiled. "These people care about their grades, so.."
"Hey, what do you think you're saying to me? Maybe I'm not as obsessed with them as you are, but I care about my grades too. I'm just not going to approach someone with bad.. vibes." A pause. "What if you sabotage me?"
Does she really think I'm that petty? "You're probably one of the only people who think I have bad vibes."
"Uh, duh, because I've seen you when you're not like this." She gestured at Somin almost discriminately.
Minjoo could have sworn she heard a restrained huff, but maybe she imagined it.
"I can assure you I do not intend on sabotaging any of my classmates, especially if there is no injustice or bad blood between us. Otherwise, I'd risk my perfect social credit…"
"Perfect social credit is a weird way of saying it."
She looked at Minjoo from the corner of her eye. "It's only weird because you don't care about its implications."
"The implications being…?"
"That I'm perfect."
Minjoo visibly grimaced. She said it so matter-of-factly. "You're still on about that?"
"It's something I've decided to accept to move forward to the next steps in life. That, and.." Somin drew back a few strands of hair framing her face. "It would be nice if it motivated Sol to become better."
When Minjoo went home that day, she concluded something very simple.
Somin might be a freak, but she must've cared about Sol, her dignity, pride and humanity, to be the way she is. Sol was just too avoidant and reliant on validation from social systems outside herself to believe in Somin's intentions.
Of course, so was Minjoo. It came with the age, so..
It was an understatement to say the world Somin lived in was falling apart.
Every single plan she made for the ideal future that she was sure was set in stone began to crumble into nonexistence. Sol spoke about leaving Somin, but this future was built on the prospect of them being together forever. Just the two of them. No Joonhyeok or Jihoon or parents stopping them from being happy. If there was no Sol, then where would Som go?
Her vision grew cloudy remembering the resolute look Sol threw her way after declaring her intentions to leave. Tears streamed further down Somin's face. This was, perhaps, her first catharsis after everything she went through—it might be her only catharsis. No one knew what would happen to her in the future—all while tightening the grip the thread had on Sol's neck. Her pleasant, mature face was stained with red; her eyes began to lose their life, and Somin's tears would fall and bring a blink of warmth onto Sol's gradually freezing body.
When Somin's parents drove her home from the police station, she couldn't help but look outside and observe the way the sun's beams transformed into glares from the surfaces reflecting it. It was excessive, but there was something dauntingly nostalgic about it: producing the same arcs from the same light source.
If Somin stared too long in the mirror, things like I want what I don't have and I need to perfect someone began to reverberate loud and clear in Somin's conscious, almost as loud as the scratch of boredom against her cortex, and the instructions to study repeating like a broken record. That's right, she answered herself, dragging down the skin beneath her eyes to observe the way the fat moved with her touch. Surely, there was no other possible explanation for being the way she was besides that.
When Gyu-on's hands were around Somin's throat, she couldn't help but picture Sol choking. Losing her breath. He accused her of the most outrageous things, blaming her for all his faults, for transforming him into an unrecognizable creature fixated on things like riches and reputation. Things Sol, a young teenager who had to drop out of her first year of high school, didn't give a damn about in her final moments.
What a pathetic man, she thought, trying to keep herself conscious lest her eyes rolled to the back of her head. He has no self-worth, but he thinks that he can just do whatever because he's bigger and the man of the house.
That was her money, her prestige and social influence overpowering him. It was her plan that led to his successes, and his "good will" that made her lose hers. Just thinking about it made her sour.
Was this the sort of romance Sol was interested in? Because Som grew bored of it a long, long time ago—that day when Gyu-on's heart raced while her hands teased his chest, and when she had pressed her head against it, she thought her blood boiled as several revelations collapsed atop one another.
I miss her.