The sound of air conditioning blasting through the 4-walled box that is Kyungsoo’s downtown office plays like static at the back of Kyunsoo’s thoughts as he stares out of his window. It’s a sunny day but he has three layers of clothing--an inner shirt, button up polo and jacket that serves as armor against the cold. He dreads lunch time, because it was a sordid affair consisting mostly of himself and the microwave. Choices: roasted chicken yakisoba, or teriyaki beef. Maybe spicy ramen.

It’s either that or the 5 minute walk to the nearest grocery to get a pre-cooked meal and diet Coke. Doesn’t sound so bad right now.

Kyungsoo turns off the monitor on his desk and leaves the office. He takes the stairs down three flights. His footsteps echo on the way down. He takes his phone out and checks his messages. Two texts. Both from promoters offering a Las Palmas vip ticket and an invite to a party at so-and-so. Kyungsoo doesn’t even know how they got his number. He doesn’t delete the texts and puts his phone back in his pocket.

A shiny black BMW zips past him as he exits the building. The air is warm and Kyungsoo is glad he left his suit jacket in the office. It takes him only a minute to start sweating though and he feels the white armpits of his polo get a little damp.


I hate sweating, Kyungsoo swears, annoyed, furiously pulling at the tab of the ice cold diet Coke he was holding. It fizzles and sprays out of the can and onto his shirt. Kyungsoo swears again. He looks up at the obnoxious laughter of the boy in front of him. The sun is in his eyes though, and he squints, the image of a bright smile and nose wrinkling with amusement. And light filtering through hair sticky with sweat.

Jongin.

It was Seoul, in the summer. His last summer. It seemed so long ago but Kyungsoo remembers it clearly. He remembers it more than the last 6 months he’s spent half way across the globe, in this city filled with more cars than pedestrians and more blue skies than he cared what to do with. They say the weather in California is perfect all twelve months of the year. Kyungsoo just doesn’t care.

As he walks, he takes out his phone again, scrolling past several messages to one dated almost half a year ago.

Don’t forget me.

The airport is a bustle of people and luggage. Everyone had somewhere they needed to go to, had a destination, a purpose. Kyungsoo stands there, desolate, his phone in his hand on top of his passport and plane ticket, bag and jacket on the other. He hears the PA announce the next boarding flight vaguely. He struggles to type a reply.

Of cour s e--

Erase.

Stupid, why w o u--

Erase.

I l o--

He never sends a reply.



A white traffic light signals expectantly at Kyungsoo on the other side of the street. It turns into the blinking orange number countdown and Kyungsoo snaps from his reverie, crossing the street in a fast-paced walk. He makes it just in time, running a hand through his hair in relief.

There were a lot of people in the grocery, probably buying lunch just like him. He walks lazily to the fresh goods section to get a salad. He skims through the refrigerators for a diet Coke but sees the mint green can of tea on the next shelf and changes his mind. The blast of cold air when he opens the refrigerator door was welcome and he stands there a little longer, eyes closed.


Excuse me, you’re in my way....

Excuse me!

Kyungsoo almost jumped when the boy’s loud call burst through his daydreaming.

What?

...You’re in my way.

Kyungsoo steps back as the boy goes in front of him to get a can of iced tea from the freezer. He recognizes this boy from his Lit class.

Aren’t you from KNUA? Kyungsoo asks. The boy apparently hasn’t chosen what flavor of iced tea to get, one finger pushing his lower lip into an absent-minded bite. Must be a habit. He doesn’t hear Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo repeats his question. This time the boy looks back at him, his eyebrows raised languidly.

Huh? Yeah. Why?

Oh, nothing. I go there too. I think we’re in a class together.

Really? The boy answers but his attention was now back to the cans of tea. He picks out a peach-flavored can. Well, see you!

The boy waves and leaves at a jog. Kyungsoo stares at him, a little incredulous. He leaves the convenience store with peach iced tea and a ham sandwich.



Kyungsoo will never get the hang of eating out by himself. He thinks of how lame it looks to sit at the smallest table meant for two people and eat alone, all the other tables filled with couples or groups of people talking animatedly. So he takes his food back to his office and eats there, continuing work as he finishes his salad.

An email notification pops up on Kyungsoo’s screen, a leaf of roman lettuce halfway in his mouth. The title said “urgent, please read” in Korean, but he doesn’t recognize the e-mail. He clicks on it.

“Hi. I got in the company. I start training for them on Monday. Just emailed to let you know. I hope life is going great! Take care.”

The sign on the email said Kim Jongin. Kyungsoo feels blood rush to his head. That jerk. He reads the email again, once, several times over. Jongin never emails. He has a Facebook he never uses. It doesn’t even have a profile picture. Kyungsoo knows he doesn’t keep in touch like normal people. If possible, he would spend all his time in the studio, practicing or learning dance. He doesn’t like doing anything else.

Kyungsoo clicks Reply carefully, his lungs feeling heavy. The last time they talked was back in December, a short call to greet Christmas. Even their conversation then was curt. Small talk.

“Jongin. I’m glad you emailed!--

No. Kyungsoo deletes the sentence. He stares at the screen, fumbling for words. He rereads what he types five times before he sends it. He wants to write something longer. Maybe tell a story or two. But he couldn’t so he ends up with something as short as Jongin’s email.

“Jongin. That’s great! I am sure you will do great! Life has been O.K. I go to work every day now. Please say hi to your mom and dad for me. Kyungsoo.”

Two minutes later another email comes. Kyungsoo almost had a heart attack.

“Your email .”

Kyungsoo stares at Jongin’s newest email. Jongin. Sending prompt replies. Via email. It was like a dream. Kyungsoo sends something back just as fast.

“Yours was shorter. What are you doing right now? It’s 5AM in Seoul.”

1 new message.

“Reading manhwa. What time is it there?”

Reply.

“It’s 1PM. What are you reading? You should read books, not manhwa.”

Send.

1 new message.

“Are you my mom? Eat lunch.”

Reply.

Kyungsoo starts to type, “I already did.” when his phone rings.  It was an unknown number. Could it be?

“Hello?”

“Yah.”

“Jongin?”

“You never called me again since Christmas.”

“I’m... I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you were interested in hearing about my stories here. You know, if you can’t relate... Our conversation was so short that I thought--”

“YAH DO KYUNGSOO.”

“I’m sorry.”

The line was silent for a while. Kyungsoo catches himself gripping the phone a little too tightly. He hears Jongin sigh on the other end.

“When are you coming back?”

Kyungsoo’s voice is small when he answers. “I don’t know.”

“Just come back.”

“It’s expensive.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Just come back okay.”

Jongin is silent when Kyungsoo couldn’t think of anything to say. They get off the phone when a colleague enters Kyungsoo’s office with the mail. He tells Jongin he’ll call back.

His hands are cold.



The way you talk, it’s like rain.

Wet and wild?

Shut up, Kyungsoo laughs. It was almost 3 in the morning. They’d been on the phone for five hours now. Even with school the next day, they stay up like this until sunrise.

Kyungsoo stares at his ceiling, thinking of nothing, letting Jongin continue his narration of Top Blade into the phone. He’s really getting into it.

Good, Makoto! Your power and speed are awesome! Whoooosh-- Hey are you still listening?

Yes I’m still listening. Jongin, this is really stupid.

Hey this is like, the best part.

Kyungsoo can see Jongin flipping through the pages of his comic book, biting his lip out of habit like he always does. He really does talk like rain. Steady and comforting, words that soak into his thoughts and a voice that makes him shiver. But he’ll never tell Jongin that.



By the time Kyungsoo calls Jongin back, it was 4 days since. He reaches Jongin’s voicemail but doesn’t leave a message. He sends a text instead.

“I tried to call you. Sorry it took so long. Hope the new training isn’t wearing you out already! Kyungsoo.”

Jongin doesn’t reply until a week later.

“You know sending a text is more expensive than calling. I’m having fun! Great people. You should come back here and meet them.”

“It sounds really good for you. I was worried you’d be a loner like in college. I was like your only friend. LOL”

“I told you to call! I’m not replying anymore!”

It was very late at night for Kyungsoo and he falls asleep before receiving Jongin’s last text. The next day he wakes up to it and tries to call but only gets Jongin’s voicemail again. He tries every day  for a week, gets the voicemail every time, but doesn’t leave a message.

Kyungsoo gets into his old routine after that. No emails and texts, no Jongin. It was a numb state of mind he’d grown accustomed to back in January, always feeling uninteresting, irrelevant. He wanted to reach out to Jongin again, but he can never bring himself to talk about his life in California. He didn’t want Jongin to think of him as the boring person he’s become. What can he say? He just wants to talk about things the way it used to be, back in Seoul. But it will never be the same as being physically there, with Jongin.

Every day on his way home Kyungsoo thinks of booking a flight and returning to Korea. He thinks of telling his parents, no, this isn’t what he wanted. It doesn’t matter if he can earn more money here. This isn’t the heaven they promised. And besides, heaven is overrated. All he wants is to go back.

Every day he thinks of all these things and every day he shuts it down. Shuts the idea down until he stops thinking about it and forgets about how much life here in comparison. Until he stops missing Jongin.

//...