eight;

I could avoid coming to school with them. I could avoid going home with them. I could avoid spending recess time with them. I could avoid spending my evenings, my weekends with them.

But there was one thing I could not avoid.

Chorong, being my deskmate.

It was strange, I thought, that the fact that she was my deskmate was one thing that I really loved and valued. I cherished our times together in class, be it sneaking to eat without being seen, watching our classmates’ weird behaviours during lectures, or looking out for each other if one of us fell asleep and was called out all of a sudden to answer a question on the board. However, after Chorong was no longer just my best friend, but also Myungsoo’s girlfriend, things became awkward between us. Perhaps it was just me, though, since she never said anything.

One day, she confronted me about my lack of presence in our usual group “adventures”, like going to the hill.

“Why you don’t spend time with us anymore?” she asked during English.

“I’ve got practices, remember?”

“But it wasn’t like this before! You would always make time no matter how busy you were,”

“It wasn’t like this before, that’s true,” I replied. “Before, things were different.”

“What’s different? I’m still your best friend. So is Myungsoo,”

I glared at her. “Before, you two were best friends as well.”

“Woohyun ah,” her eyes softened.

“The race is coming. I lost my form over the winter so I have to gain it back,” I told her sternly, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Woohyun ah, do you hate me?” she asked delicately.

Clenching my jaw, I raised my hand and called for the teacher’s attention. “I’m sorry teacher, but I can’t really see the board properly from here. Can I switch my seat?”

Ms Cha scanned the classroom for an empty seat, and there was none that was closer to the board from mine. At last she turned to the boy who sat in the second row. “Hoya yah, can you switch with Woohyun?”

Hoya threw me a look I didn’t really understand before nodding to our teacher. He quickly gathered his belongings and moved next to Chorong. I, meanwhile, settled in his seat with Chulyong, the class’s loudest snorer beside me.

As I grow up, the runner inside of me gradually changed. First, running was just an ambition; a goal I needed to achieve. Later, it became a hobby; a sport that I was passionate about. Then, running turned to be something else. It became a dark shadow that loomed inside my heart. It grew to be an obsession of mine; a distraction to keep my mine off the harsh reality.

When I run, I couldn’t see anything else but the finishing line. Everything out there would disappear from my sight. There was nothing else but the five-year-old Chorong whom I failed to rescue at the end of the track.

My coach had to stop me once. I kept on running even after passing the mark. I kept on running even when they all were shouting my name, telling me to stop.

“Woohyun! Nam Woohyun! Yah, get a grip!” Coach Han yelled, both his hands were clutching my shoulders, and when I still didn’t react, he gave me few light slaps on my cheeks. He shook me hard; so hard that I was jerked awake, back to the present time.

I finally realized what was happening and blinked at him. “Coach,” I simply said.

“Yah, are you alright?” he asked.

Everyone was staring at me with worried looks on their faces when I glanced around. I faced my coach and gave him a tiny nod. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.

Of course, he didn’t buy that. “Go home,” he instructed.

“But, I have to practice. The race is alre―”

“Nam Woohyun!” he cut me off. “I said, go home. You can’t run today, not in this state. Go home and rest. Come back when you’re better.”

“But―” I wanted to argue, but I knew I wouldn’t win against him. Nobody had ever won against Coach Han. With a sigh, I made my way back to the bleachers to gather my stuffs.

“You alright?” Hoya asked.

I looked at him and saw the concern in his eyes. Hoya is the closest friend I have apart from Chorong and Myungsoo, and for that reason, I knew I couldn’t lie to him. “I don’t think so,” I replied.

He gave me a pat on the back and a small yet encouraging smile. “Get a rest,”

I returned his smile. “I will. Thanks,”

I did not want to go home. Not yet. Because if I were at home, I would be lying on my bed and get reminded of how alone I was. I refused to be alone in a house that contains so many memories with my best friend ―my best friend whom I had drifted away from.

With my bag slung onto my back, I walked on to where my feet would take me. I walked past buildings after buildings, all of which were mostly empty by now since school ended two hours ago.

I was just about to turn back, when I heard a faint sound of music. I thought I was imagining it, but as I took more steps towards that direction, the melody grew louder. It was a classical song. Probably Bach, or perhaps Pachelbel. I wasn’t very sure since I was never a big fan of classical music.

Then I saw it. Inside a building I never knew existed in the school, there was a person dancing. I studied the room through the window. It looked like a dance room, with mirrors covering one entire wall.

I diverted my gaze back at the person, and almost instantly, I recognized her face. She was the one I saw from a distant that one evening when I practically lost my mind from too much running before tripping on my own foot. I watched her careful yet elegant steps and immediately I recalled the white music box with a ballerina dancing inside when you lift the lid open which I received two months ago on Valentine’s Day. I saw her serene face and right away, I remembered her name.

The music stopped, and our eyes met. Her cheeks were pink. I wasn’t sure if it was from the dancing or because I was there watching her without her knowledge. Her hair was tied up in a high bun with few strands escaping. For several seconds, neither of us blinked. There was no movement except for our lungs’ rapid breathing. It seemed as if the time had stopped for both of us.

I was the first to break our eye contact. “Sorry,” I mouthed, and picked up my pace to leave before I could see her reaction. I started to run in order to forget everything. I ran in desperation for an escape, but the image of that petite girl in white tutu whom I just laid my eyes on began to cloud up my mind.

Bomi.

Which means spring. Spring where the coldness of winter begins to drift away and is replaced with warmness of the coming summer. Spring where flowers start to bloom. Spring where hopes repaint the lonely broken hearts again.

Yoon Bomi.