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Winter 2009

 

I sat in my classroom, at the desk near the windows, watching snow flakes fall to the ground and twirling my pen around my fingers, while my lecturer ranted about the kidney and its functions in the background, his voice only a muted muffle, when the classmate sitting next to me poked me and asked, “What are you writing?”

 

 

Looking back at her and then down on the piece of paper in front of me with the first line reading To Sunggyu, I scratched my temple with the pen, and contemplated how to answer her question. But before I could think of a reasonable response, she already asked something else, “Who is Sunggyu?”

 

 

And that was a really good question. Who was Sunggyu to me? The one I had been dating since the end of summer? The one I occasionally kissed? The one I often held hands with? A guy whose smile made me feel too damn weak? Someone I liked and who happened to like me back? My boyfriend? My lover? Looking at all these suggestions didn't make it easier for me to answer the question. None of them really seemed accurate.

 

 

She looked at me patiently, waiting for my response. Her short brown hair was curled into waves, her lips tinted in a hot pink. There was something in her eyes, a sparkle coming from curiosity, and she looked really pretty under the ceiling's light. Usually, without make-up on, her face was quite ordinary-looking. That one first and last time she came to university without her usual dolled-up look shocked most people. I almost hadn't recognized her. She was still cute, her personality the same as always, but her eyes weren't even half as big as they usually were, and her skin looked quite uneven. Before that, I hadn't even known her nose actually spotted blackheads.

 

 

Generally speaking, she was too nosy. If something scandalous happened around the uni (and that happened quite frequently), she would be the first one to know the details. She would basically know who was dating whom before the couple in question actually knew it themselves. She would know some secrets weeks and sometimes months before everyone else found out. And she was a hardcore Kim Woo Bin fan. (Side note: at that time, he hadn't had his breakthrough yet.) There was even a rumor going around that she had connections to a good-looking runway model.

 

 

Despite all her quirks, she was still the closest I would call a friend at the uni. It was somehow difficult to really get along with the people here and most friendships were just based on occasional acquaintances. University students seem to keep more to themselves, and finding friends isn't really top priority here. Though, at least I had managed to find someone I would almost call a friend, someone I still wouldn't tell personal things about myself. Just for safety measures, that is.

 

 

“Is he your boyfriend?” she rephrased her question, nudging my sides, her eyebrows wiggling up and down.

 

 

I playfully pushed her elbow away, suppressing the smile on my face, and said, “Stop it, or I'll knee you in the groin.”

 

 

“Is he? Is he? Com' on, tell me.”

 

 

“He is...” I trailed off, hesitating somehow. Then, thinking I should just go with the flow, I finished with, “He is someone I like.”

 

 

“So you are not dating? How boring.”

 

 

“We are.”

 

 

“Then he is your boyfriend, isn't he?”

 

 

I started nibbling at my bottom lip, unable to understand myself. “Well, yes, then, I guess.”

 

 

And she just turned around, back to the lecturer, and said, “Sometimes you just don't make any sense, Hana.”

 

 

And I silently agreed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I rushed out the university building, forgetting to put the hoodie of my coat over my head, and struggled to reach the ringing phone in my bag. I knew who the caller was, so it was important for me to get this call. If it were someone like my mom or Sungyeol, I would have waited patiently for the ringing to end before I called them back. But the one calling me was my best friend, and I absolutely had to pick up.

 

 

When my hand finally grabbed hold of the device, and I touched the answer button, the first thing I heard was a “What took you so long, Hana?”

 

 

“I had to save a whale from drowning, okay,” I retorted, stopping in my tracks, standing in front of the gates while exhaling loudly. “Sorry, Hoya, that I am just trying to be a hero.”

 

 

With a click of his tongue, he said, “Since you've began dating Sunggyu, your humor has improved.”

 

 

I laughed slightly, and turned my head to look around. This was a kind of game that Busan guy had suddenly started after I had once punched his stomach because of one of his lame jokes. He said to me, “Since you've been dating Sunggyu, you've become more violent.” Which was, again, one of his remarks that did not bear any truth. Or when I had once put my hair back into a messy bun, which I had just done out of curiosity, he said, “Since you've been dating Sunggyu, you are trying harder to become a girl.” At which moment I had punched him a second time.

 

 

“When two hilariously funny people meet each other, then this is the result of their awesomeness. It's the simple process of addition, my friend,” I counterattacked, switching the phone to my other hand. I looked around myself for the second time, glanced at the gates, and asked, “Hey, where are you?”

 

 

There was slight hesitation at the other end of the line. “Oh, about that...”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“I can't meet up today...”

 

 

“What, why?” I asked, not in the mood to conceal my disappointment.

 

 

“I've got a lot of homework due tomorrow. And it's too hard right now. I have to create a new choreography to a 3 minute long song. Hana, that's not easy.” I rolled my eyes at that. Then he added, “It's good if it's just the two of you. You guys should be together alone more often.”

 

 

“I see Sunggyu almost everyday,” I objected, more calm now. “It's you I am always unable to meet.”

 

 

He sighed softly the way a father would do when the young son refused to give up on wanting to buy that particular toy. I understood I was being whiny and inconsiderate and selfish, but not having seen my best friend for weeks made me feel scared of us drifting apart, scared of a segment in my life to repeat itself.

 

 

Howon said, “To make up for it, I will send you someone to replace me and pick you up for your date with Sunggyu.” There was a smile in his voice. “You just need to count down to ten, and a magical person will appear right in front of you if you just close your eyes.”

 

 

“I would rather have my head smashed against a bricked wall than close my eyes and count down to ten.”

 

 

“You are so brutal,” he said, his voice almost too clear, sounding too near, as if he were standing right behind me, as if he had whispered that into my ear. And then I felt soft fingers covering my eyes, the mixed scent of Sunggyu and Busan guy surrounding me with gentleness, and I finally realized that I got pranked, that I really fell for that stupid joke, that Howon had been lying all along, and I couldn't help smiling to myself although that prank was already too outdated and overused and I probably would later be punching them for it, but not at that moment, because at that moment I felt too relieved and happy.

 

 

I giggled, despite me not being able to see anything, and said, “Okay, okay, you got me.”

 

 

“So what's your guess?” Howon asked from behind, his voice full of mischief.

 

 

I reached up for those hands that were still covering my eyes, and touched them, trying to find out whom they belong to. My heart was leaning towards Sunggyu, suspecting him to be the one behind me, to be the one hindering my eyesight. But when I actually came in touch with those slender and soft fingers that didn't rightly felt like his, something strange occurred to me and I pulled the hands down from my face and turned around. Tears almost stung in my eyes upon the sight.

 

 

“Oh God, Eunji!” I exclaimed, clamming my hands over my mouth. She grinned brightly, her newly bleached set of teeth displayed with confidence, then opened her arms, inviting me for a hug. I let no time pass to go right in for it, and when she embraced me the way I was only embraced by Sunggyu, the reality of your best friend being in town hit me. She was back. Eunji was back.

 

 

“Surprise, surprise!” Howon next to me hollered. He sounded quite satisfied. “We've been planning this for days.”

 

 

“But it was mostly Eunji's idea,” added Sunggyu.

 

 

Smiling and refusing to let go of my best friend, I asked, “Why did you guys do this for me?”

 

 

“Because of this dude,” said Busan guy, pointing at Sunggyu, a smirk on his face. “He said you've been hanging around with boys too much. And you need more female companionship.”

 

 

“I never said that,” retorted Sunggyu quickly, a veil of amusement covering his voice.

 

 

I finally pulled back from Eunji to look at him. He looked back with lips pressed together, as if he were trying to conceal a smile. His eyes turned into half moons, and for a moment I considered making a plan to hand Eunji over to Howon and run away with Sunggyu. But the idea vanished as suddenly as it appeared.

 

 

“Either ways, I'm back,” Eunji intervened. “And I'm hungry. So let's finally get going.”

 

 

We went to a Dumpling shop near my university, just beyond the crossing. On our way, it started snowing heavily, even more than before, the soft falling of snow turning into a mad storm, so Sunggyu pulled the hoodie of my coat over my head and walked in front of me, keeping the strong wind from directly hitting my face. We weren't the kind of couple that would kiss in front of others, the kind that would publicly display their affection for each other. But when we were alone, we were passionate, so when Eunji asked me why we weren't really acting like any other couple that held hands and kissed and whispered compliments into each others' ears, I told her that the way he walked in front of us, the way he left us alone to our girl talk, the way he didn't cling onto me when friends were present was just how he naturally showed me his feelings. We didn't need confirmation every single minute. We were already certain of each other.

 

 

In the restaurant, Eunji and I caught up on each others' lives, updating the other with details and events and surprising encounters. I found out that she had been in Seoul since yesterday and that my and her parents and apparently everyone else had already known about her arrival prior to the surprise. She told me about the kids at her kindergarten and how endearing they were. She showed me some photos on her phone, pointing at the kids and telling me their names, and when Sunggyu excused himself because of a call from his mother, she steered the conversation to a really uncomfortable topic, and asked, “How far have you already gone with him?”

 

 

Upon the sudden and blunt question, I gave Eunji a meaningful look, suppressing the urge to throw her into a sea full of sharks. “I am not going to discuss this with you,” I told her, glancing at Howon.

 

 

She turned to him as well, furrowed her eyebrows slightly, and said, “Please cover your ears.”

 

 

He looked at me, then at Eunji, then away. He shook his head in bewilderment, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't even want to listen,” Howon pointed out before he stood up and left.

 

 

My eyes followed his retracting back regretfully, wondering just how I (or rather, Eunji) had managed to drive him away that easily, wondering why my best friend had to let her tongue loose in situations like these, and when Busan guy was surely out of earshot, I whispered loudly, “How can you ask such a question!?”

 

 

“It's important to know such things about your best friend,” she answered nonchalantly. “It's like this burning ache in your heart that can only be eased by the answer, the truth.”

 

 

“I won't talk about this issue,” I insisted.

 

 

“Butㅡ”

 

 

“I won't.”

 

 

Eunji, eventually seeing I wasn't going to surrender, reluctantly gave up, and asked a different question instead, a proper one, one that didn't make me feel uncomfortable, a topic that could be talked about in public. “How are the things going around here? Any news? Any gossip?”

 

 

“My aunt and her boyfriend recently adopted a dog from the animal shelter. It's a Jindo.” The waitress arrived and put the drinks onto the table. I thanked her, turned back to my best friend, and went on, “Oh, and I met Hara once. At the end of summer. She has a new boyfriend.”

 

 

“How's Sungyeol doing?”

 

 

“He is maintaining the shop really well,” I said. “Haven't you seen him yet?”

 

 

“Nah, didn't have time. I just arrived yesterday.”

 

 

After a while, Sunggyu returned and sat down next to me, and for the briefest second I thought he was going to reach for my hand and squeeze it, but he didn't. Instead, he initiated a conversation with Eunji, asking her about the kindergarten and the kids and whether she had a lot of fun working there, and I just watched them conversing, having a completely normal talk, being able to speak to each other with the same amount of respect. Howon joined us later, his fingers mostly occupied with typing into his new phone, and I sat back, arms crossed in front of my chest, observing the small smile appearing on his lips, which was when I knew. When the dumplings arrived, I felt the small touch of Sunggyu's knee against mine, and that was the second time that I imagined running away with him, away from curious eyes, from the public, so we could be alone and be passionate. After having emptied all the plates, he asked me whether I was still hungry and I giggled and shook my head in response, and then Eunji started teasing us, saying we were being lovey-dovey, telling us to stop acting all cheesy and affectionate, but that was just her way of approving our relationship.

 

 

When we all walked back to the neighborhood of Hannam-dong, Eunji was the first one to part with us. She said she was going to pay her family book shop a visit, and told me she would definitely be crashing my couch and eating all my snacks away later that afternoon. When the crossing between two big, mansion-like houses came into our view, Howon hugged me, then gave Sunggyu a guy hand shake, and left, for he had to turn the corner in order to get back home. It remained just the two of us.

 

 

And as we were about to arrive at my street, Sunggyu took my hand, and smiled, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards. He looked at me with genuine eyes, and my knees felt like they were about to give up on me. The sound of my own heartbeat thumped against my temples, my cheeks hurting from the wide grin on my face. I suddenly felt hot despite the snow falling endlessly to the ground.

 

 

We stood in front of my house when Sunggyu turned to me, squeezed my hand once, and said, “I am really not jealous of you hanging around with Howon or Sungyeol or any other guy. When Howon said that, he was just playing around.”

 

 

“Yeah, I know,” I answered, chuckling.

 

 

“You should go in. It's getting cold.”

 

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

 

Sunggyu reached down for my muffler and adjusted its position. Then he kissed my lips, and he stayed there for a really long time, without making any movements, his warm breath tickling my upper lip, and pulled back just as I was getting used to the sensation of his lips on mine. He gazed at me, a sparkle of wanting more, of wanting another kiss, of wanting to be approved, laid unmasked and exposed in the colors of his eyes. I suddenly felt myself accepting everything about him, and the thought of harboring such great feelings for this person scared and excited me at the same time.

 

 

I said, “I have something for you.” And searching in my bag for that certain letter that came into being during that awfully boring class at university, I added, “It's not really important, and I was just bored. But,” I paused as I found the piece of paper folded in between my planer, “I want to give this to you.”

 

 

He took it in his hands, carefully opened the letter, as if to not dent the paper, and read its short content. His eyes scanned the lines I had messily written, darting from one end to the next. An indescribable expression started forming on his face, a smile gracing his lips with honesty. He shook his head, chuckling, then set his hands down and looked at me.

 

 

I remembered my friend from university asking me about Sunggyu and what kind of person he was to me, and I realized that it wasn't a matter of giving him a label, a term to define him with, some word to call him by, a name to reduce him to, but a simple matter of having your heartstrings pulled by that person, of your chest constricting with every gesture they make, of your knees feeling weak and unstable, on the brink of tumbling, of your eyes seeing beneath the good and the bad and still liking what they see, of accepting every flaw and quirk and mistake, of feeling the reality of their kisses and touches. It wasn't about showing him off or about shouting to the world that he was yours. It was just about him and me and the side effects of our feelings.

 

 

He leaned in for a kiss, pressed his cold lips on mine, and molded them with gentleness. His hands found themselves entangled in my hair, mine around his torso. I felt him smiling into the kiss.

 

 

When he pulled back, only far enough to let my eyes focus on his, he said, “I do, too.”

 

 

We both did. And we still do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer 2013

 

The sun burns on my skin with such a vehement hate that I'm truly starting to believe Summer is hell, the devil in person, and everything that is considered bad. The humid weather makes it unable for me to breathe properly without thinking I am going to die. Despite me wearing a peach-colored dress, my shoulders bare, hair braided to the side, I still feel like sweating like a pig. (No offense.) And watching Sunggyu next to me in his black suit makes me feel even hotter, the beads of perspiration gathering under my armpits.

 

 

“Where the hell is Howon?” I ask, slightly annoyed, the hot weather doing nothing to lift up my mood. We are currently standing next to the right pillar of the wedding hall, just under the shelter, trying to seek refuge from the burning sun to no avail.

 

 

“Let's wait ten minutes, and if he's still not here, we'll go in,” says Sunggyu.

 

 

“He is usually not one to make people wait,” Eunji in her black mini dress chimes in, her face as awfully scrunched up as mine. “But when he does, he lets them suffer under the sun for half an hour.”

 

 

“Yeah, and then he always asks me, 'What took you so long, Hana?'” I mimic, causing the two of them to laugh.

 

 

Some people we have never seen before walk past us into the wedding hall, a place full of dreams and sweet air conditioning, their eyes scanning us from bottom to top. I can almost swear having seen a sneer on the girl's face, but that may as well have come from my weather-induced temper, which generally likes to cause hallucinations in my mind, playing out scenes that did never really happen.

 

 

After the promised ten minutes, Busan guy still hasn't arrived yet, so we decide to go in, walking through the glass doors before being welcomed by the highly coveted air conditioner. Finally inside, I let out a relieved sigh, my eyes closed in order to fully enjoy the chilly air, and when I open them again, I see Sunggyu smiling down at me, amusement etching his face. He mouths, “Satisfied?” And I sheepishly nod.

 

 

In the lobby, we find Hara and her fiance standing before the wooden doors to the actual wedding hall with their respective family members beside them, all dressed in Hanboks. They haven't noticed us yet, for they are busy greeting the guests, so we walk to the collection desk and hand our money-filled envelopes with our names written on them to the man behind it, signing into a book afterwards. I scan the list for familiar names, but find none. Not that I am really expecting someone.

 

 

Sunggyu takes my hand, squeezes it, then lets go before we stroll over to Hara, her good-looking fiance and their family members, Eunji following behind. I don't know the groom very well. In fact, I am not even that super close with Hara, so I was surprised when she gave me the invitation and I saw an unfamiliar guy backhugging her on the photo. He is not the one I had met in Summer 2009. He is a different man. And when I once asked her about it, in order to sort out my confusion, she said that she had already broken up with that guy from 2009 ages ago and that she had been dating her current fiance for two and a half years.

 

 

We greet each other formerly, exchange a few words, before the next guests arrive, and some worker from the wedding hall urges us to enter. The floor inside is covered in white marble, its surface reflecting the lights on the ceiling. In the middle of the hall, there is a black, shiny pathway raised from the ground, with small glitter sprinkled on top, ending at the back with steps to the podium. White flower pots line each of its sides and separate the runway from the tables where the guest sit and witness the ceremony of two people being united.

 

 

Sunggyu, Eunji and I sit down somewhere in the middle of the row, keeping the seat next to Sunggyu free for Busan guy. After one or two minutes, a strange couple joins our table, their faces pressed against each other, causing us to feel pretty uncomfortable with the way they make out in front of us. I nudge Eunji and whisper, “Is this the reality you want from us?”

 

 

According to my best friend, Sunggyu and I should be acting like a couple more often since we've been dating for four years now. But I always tell her that we aren't going to change our ways, that it's the way we lead this relationship, but she never really understands. Whenever she comes back to Seoul, she always asks me the same damn question, “Don't you guys love each other anymore?”

 

 

But she just doesn't understand. She didn't understand it back in the beginning of my relationship, and she still doesn't understand it now. We both don't need this confirmation. We are certain of each other.

 

 

Eunji looks at me and is about to say something, but Howon interrupts her with his sudden appearance. He places his hand on my shoulder, breathes heavily, and says, “Sorry for arriving so late.”

 

 

“What prevented you from coming earlier?” I jokingly mock him, shrugging his hand on my shoulder away. “Your girlfriend or what?”

 

 

He smiles at that, and shakes his head. “Nah, I had to refuel my father's car and I met Inguk, so we chatted a bit. It's his fault.” Howon sits down next to Sunggyu and puts his jacket over the back rest of his chair. “It's such a hot day.”

 

 

“Word,” I say.

 

 

More and more people pile in, faces we don't recognize confusing our view of the podium. I look over to my right and spot really strange youths sitting there in casual clothes, and I start to wonder whether they are wedding crashers. Especially the girl in the long white top, dipped at the back, which reaches above her knees, who is wearing black boots during such a hot summer day, looks like a delinquent. Her eyes are slanted upwards, giving the bad girl look a deeper touch. Next to her sits a guy who seems to be watching a video on his phone, and the other one, who is playing with the cutlery, slightly reminds me of Woohyun.

 

 

Before the ceremony starts and we can see Hara in her beautiful white dress, Eunji throws a question into our silence, one that makes us all feel a bit regretful and contemplative, a question which allows us to ponder about life. “What happened to Oh Gwangsuk, by the way?”

 

 

And then we remember the guy who used to smile at lame jokes, who was able to dance confidently in front of people who had as much of a talent as him, and we remember our classmate, a guy I never talked to for more than five minutes, someone I hadn't cared to get to know. We faintly remember his face, the curves of his eyes, the way he talked, but then the memories stop there, and they turn into blurs. In a few years, he'll be the high school classmate who died in a drunken car accident that couldn't be blamed on him, and after a few decades he'll be no one. One day we'll forget he existed. One day we'll forget him.

 

 

And then, while watching Hara walk down the aisle, I look at Sunggyu and can't help but wonder. I wonder...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wedding ends after half an hour, and when it seems appropriate to stand up and leave, I rush out with a headstart to find the restroom, knowing I am getting my period. I almost even crash into the girl with the black boots, the delinquent, the possible wedding crasher, but manage to sidestep at the right time. I arrive at the ladies', finish my job quickly, wash my hands, check my hair, and leave.

 

 

I find Sunggyu waiting for me outside the restroom, his black jacket draped over his arm. He seems to be playing with his phone, checking text messages maybe, until he notices me watching him. The corners of his lips tilt upwards at my sight, then he approaches me with slow steps, walking with so much confidence and grace.

 

 

“The others are waiting in the car,” he tells me, brushing back the strand of hair framing my face.

 

 

“Why didn't they wait inside? The air con here is amazing.”

 

 

He shrugs. “Eunji supposedly saw someone she didn't want to see or something.”

 

 

I laugh, knowing my best friend too well. Sunggyu then takes my hand, and we both walk out, holding each other tightly with certainty and assurance. I feel a rush of electricity stir inside me upon his touch, and I silently hope this will make me stop wondering about weird stuff. I just hope I can hold his hand like this until I can't anymore. I just hope it won't stop.

 

 

When we stand in front of Howon's father's car, hands still interlocked, Sunggyu knocks on the window to the driver's seat, where I can see Busan guy talking to someone on the phone with a smile on his face, probably his girlfriend, but that lover boy just raises the palm of his hand, telling us to wait a bit. I look at him with judging eyes, hoping he can feel the burn of my gaze through the thick windows. Sunggyu next to me tries opening the door to the backseat, but it's locked. I glance back at Howon who is happily chatting with his girlfriend, Eunji riding shotgun, and I start to slam against the window with my sweaty palm, again and again and again, until Eunji rolls her eyes and reaches over, ignoring the Howon giving her a look, then finally unlocks the doors. Sunggyu lets me enter first.

 

 

“Because of you, Howon has to visit the car wash,” Eunji comments, watching the people from the opposite street pass by.

 

 

“It's not my fault,” I say, “that Mother Nature has her period at the same time as me.”

 

 

Busan guy looks back and smiles. “I knew you would have your period today.”

 

 

Disgusted, I look away, ignoring his remark, which proves itself as a wrong action on my part, for I involuntarily go back to wondering... Howon himself resumes talking on his phone, and when he eventually hangs up, he turns around to us backseaters, and asks, “So what are we gonna do now?”

 

 

“Something useful,” says Eunji. “I don't want to go home just yet.”

 

 

“Me neither,” I add, thinking about Sunggyu.

 

 

“How about the sea?” asks Hoya with a grin.

 

 

Sunggyu laughs. “You want to get tanner than this.”

 

 

Eunji and I stare at Busan guy for a long time before my best friend holds her wrist next to his face, displaying the difference of skin tone more apparently. He looks sunburned in comparison to milky skin Eunji.

 

 

“The sea sounds nice, though,” I reply. “It doesn't necessarily have to be the sea, but we can go in that direction.”

 

 

“Yeah, sounds good. Especially since Hana doesn't have to work tomorrow, Sunggyu is currently free from university and Howon wouldn't have refueled the car and arrived late for nothing.” Eunji sits back, smoothly pulls her sunglasses out from her purse and puts them onto her nose. “And I'm on vacation.”

 

 

I roll my eyes at her statement, and focus on Sunggyu who is smiling. Then he knits his eyebrows together so suddenly, in the blink of an eye, that I find it almost too strange. He says, “Wait, but what about my car? It's still standing in the parking lot.”

 

 

Howon hums a random note, thinking. “We could use two separate cars, although that would not be quite eco-friendly.”

 

 

“But what's the fun in driving with two cars when we can't even talk? The four of us, I mean.”

 

 

Busan guy looks at Eunji, thinking hard again. “Or maybe we can use walkie-talkies.”

 

 

“What a great idea,” I acknowledge truthfully. “That would be so fun.”

 

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just because Mrs. Awkward Turtle wants to be alone with Mr. Awkward Turtle,” teases Eunji, pushing her sunglasses back. I playfully hit her head, earning myself a chuckle from Sunggyu. Then she continues, “Jokes aside, I think it's a cool idea. We should do that.”

 

 

“I might have some walkie-talkies left at my place,” says Hoya, fastening his seat belt and turning the key in the ignition.

 

 

“Okay, let's meet there.” Sunggyu turns to me, and nods, a sign for us to leave. We both exit the car, only looking back to see Howon going into reverse, his attention fixed behind him. When he manages to straighten the car's position, he looks back at us and smiles, waving his hand. Eunji is wearing her sunglasses, but I can see a grin on her lips. Before the vehicle is out of our sight, a really funny thought occurs to me. Although both of them are currently seeing someone else, I still find the idea of them together quite amusing.

 

 

But when I tell Sunggyu about it, he just shakes his head with a smile, refusing to even imagine such a thing. So I just look at him, a privilege that only belongs to me. I look at him with affectionate eyes. And, while carefully slipping my hand into his, I say, “You look good today.”

 

 

And he smiles with his eyes, the way he always does, and he says, “I know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We arrive at Howon's place after half an hour, the traffic not letting us reach it earlier, finding the two of them outside the car. Busan guy holding two black objects that seem to be the walkie-talkies he has been talking about and Eunji talking to someone on the phone. His family house looks exactly the same way I have last seen it. With the same porch, the same lawn, the same emotions and memories it evokes in me. The gates to his house remind me of the time when Howon had his family problems and I had this certain issue of sticking my nose into people's business. Upon remembering the days we miss so much, I feel my heart squeezing slightly.

 

 

Sunggyu pulls up in front of them, the tires screeching to a halt. Only opening my window because (1) it's still hot outside and we don't want the cold air from the air con escape from the car and (2) we want to revenge Howon for not opening the doors earlier, I stick my head out and ask, “Are they working?”

 

 

Busan guy answers without looking up, “They are. Although they are quite rusty and make strange noises sometimes. And we can't be separated for more than 10 kilometers.” He hands me one of them. “Try it.”

 

 

I take the walkie-talkie and inspect it carefully, turning it around a few times. They look like those walkie-talkies you get from the kid's store with a bright blue covering half of the device. At the bottom, you can see a few scratches that remind you of childhood dreams and untold stories. Holding down the Push To Talk button, I lead the device to my mouth, and say, “Pancakes, pancakes.” And after the slightest second, the walkie-talkie in Hoya's hand echoes my voice.

 

 

“Good enough.”

 

 

“Better than most,” Eunji joins in, putting her phone back into her purse. Then, looking down her black dress, she asks, “But are we really going with these clothes?”

 

 

“Why not?” Sunggyu jokes.

 

 

Everyone seems to be getting the irony in his remark, except of Hoya who repeats, “Yeah, why not?”

 

 

I look at him from the corners of my eyes, judging him without mercy. His fringe is pushed back, the sides of his hair shaved. A half moon is dangling down from his left ear, a present from his girlfriend, I guess. Looking at him now and remembering the Busan guy from high school, I realize how he hasn't changed much. Of course, we have all become more mature, and we all are wiser now, and we all are a step closer to knowing how to deal with loneliness or sadness or pain, but the way we are still friends and the way we both haven't changed in that sense and the feeling around him – all these things suggest something I can't really pinpoint.

 

 

“Sunggyu was just joking,” states Eunji, her eyes narrowed at him.

 

 

“Yeah, I know,” says Howon. “But let's just be young and stupid for onceㅡ”

 

 

“We are still young and stupid,” I interrupt, sensing a smile creeping onto my lips.

 

 

He chuckles, gazing at me as if he were recalling our shared memory, as if he can see that scene from graduation right before his eyes, then continues. “Let's just do things without looking back or thinking about the consequences. Let's live life freely.”

 

 

“This is the first time I see him like this,” remarks Eunji, chucking her thumb towards him.

 

 

“Mine, too,” I say.

 

 

“It's just that,” begins Hoya, “I feel so invincible right now. With my tuxedo on, you know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have been on the highway, towards Incheon, for ten minutes, the sky slowly darkening around us, clouds harboring the colors of orange and purple, as if they were dipped into a tin of paint, when Hoya (through the walkie-talkies) suggests to take a small break at the next exist since Eunji apparently has to go for the ladies'.

 

 

“My phone tells me there will be an exit in fifteen kilometers,” says Busan guy. “Let's turn into the rest area there.” Then a short moment of rustling echoes from the walkie-talkie on the dashboard before Eunji adds, “Don't you guys think of driving on without us, you love birds. This is not your honeymoon.”

 

 

Sunggyu laughs lightly, the sound coming from his throat filling me with the same light-hearted happiness, as if the worries that has been plaguing me since the mention of Oh Gwangsuk were being swept away, replaced by his laughter. Unlike me, he finds Eunji's attempts to tease us whenever she comes back from Busan quite funny. He considers her little, harmless jabs as friendly communication. But that's probably because she has never asked him the same question she always asks me. Don't you guys love each other?

 

 

I figure, she always ironically says we are flirting, although we aren't in public, because she wants to show me how it's supposed to be like, the interaction, between couples. Maybe she gets the impression that we don't seem to love each other enough, or maybe she feels like we are about to break up, which is why she always acts as though we are all over each other. Or maybe that's just how best friends are. Teasing one another without shame and consideration. A pair of idiot friends.

 

 

“Why does Eunji always call us Awkward Turtles?” asks Sunggyu out of the blue, looking at me from the corner of his eyes, gaze still fixed on the street in front of him. If Hoya is a reckless driver, and he definitely is, when you just look at the way his car, that is front of us, sometimes sways to the lane next to it before returning to its straight line, Sunggyu will be the responsible and careful one. I have a driver's license myself, and whenever I sit in Hoya's car, and the car driver in front of us steps on the brakes, I automatically press my right feet down, as if I were the one driving and not riding shotgun, because Busan guys always does that at the last second. In Sunggyu's car, I always feel safe.

 

 

I stare at his profile as he elaborates, “I mean, she calls us love birds sometimes or newly-weds, and I get why she calls us those names, but why Awkward Turtles? What's the story behind it?”

 

 

“Don't you remember that time back in high school when we used to be awkward to each other?” I ask, and he nods. “That's the story. Simple as that.”

 

 

“Oh, really.”

 

 

“She is reluctant to let go of our past selves.”

 

 

“The past, huh?”

 

 

I hum in response, gazing absentmindedly into the distance. “She's too far away from the birthplace of our memories. I guess, she just wants to reassure herself that nothing has changed.” Which is probably why she refuses to understand the way Sunggyu and I lead our relationship. “And Howon is currently feeling the same way. I don't know what triggered him, but he seems to be missing high school.”

 

 

We exit the highway towards Incheon, turn into the rest area to our right, and park next to Howon's car. Eunji is the first one to leave as she sprints out in order to find the restrooms, without once looking back. Busan guy stays in his car for some minutes while checking his phone before turning his head to us, both eyebrows raised, his lips slightly agape and his eyes widened. As if something had just come into his mind.

 

 

He exits his car, locking it with nonchalance, and walks towards us. He motions for me to roll down the windows, but I refuse to until some moments pass by and he gives me this annoyed look. When I finally do, he leans in, his forehead almost touching mine before I sit back in my seat, and says, “Hey Sunggyu, have you brought some money with you?”

 

 

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing into his pockets, “and I suppose, you guys haven't?”

 

 

“I have,” I chime in.

 

 

“I have my wallet, but there is no money anymore.” Hoya reaches his hand out towards Sunggyu, his palm up. “Used all of it for gas and for Hara's wedding.”

 

 

“Are you going to the convenience store?” asks Sunggyu, opening his wallet and placing a few bank notes onto Howon's hands. “Buy us a few water bottles, then.”

 

 

Busan guy thanks him with a slight bow. “I was about to do just that.” Then he looks at me, and randomly nudges my cheeks with his knuckles. “See you.”

 

 

When we are finally alone, Sunggyu and I, without anyone to interrupt us, as I can clearly spot the walkie-talkie that Hoya and Eunji have left behind in the car on the dashboard, without any noises coming from the radio since Sunggyu has turned off the engine all together, he grabs my hand and squeezes it, an affectionate smile curving from the corners of his lips. He really wants to kiss me, I can see it in his gaze, but he resists the desire, and turns all serious instead.

 

 

He asks me, “What's wrong?”

 

 

And I look back in confusion, bewildered, not knowing what he is referring to, and reply, “What do you mean?”

 

 

“What's wrong, Hana?” he repeats.

 

 

And something just hits me. I don't know what exactly it is in his question that hits me with so many emotions all at once. Maybe the fact that he knows when something is bothering me or the fact that he can read my body language so easily. Or maybe because he is able to find the burdens in my voice without trying too much, because it comes naturally. There is just something in the way he asks me that simple question that makes me want to appreciate him even more than I already do.

 

 

“Tell me what's on your mind,” he says, looking at me the way I've always wanted him to look at me. So I tell him.

 

 

“I know I'm still young, and it's a bit too early to think about all these, but you want to know what's on my mind, so I will tell you honestly. I've been wondering stuff, you know. I've been wondering, what if one day we will all forget we were together, that we used to love each other, that we used to have so much fun hanging out. What if we can't remember this trip anymore and the time we spent in the past. I mean, for what purpose are memories so sacred and significant when they don't even reflect the truth, when they are always altered, when they will end up being forgotten.”

 

 

I slip away from his touch, tucking strands of hair behind my ears. “It's... I'm just wondering. I'm not really scared of it. I'm fine. I'm just wondering, just simply wondering.”

 

 

“Is it because of Oh Gwangsuk, your classmate?”

 

 

“Yeah, maybe,” I say.

 

 

“Are you scared I will just leave you one day?” asks Sunggyu, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

 

 

I chuckle slightly. “No, I'm not, but I appreciate your means to lighten the mood.”

 

 

“Hana,” he then calls out, his voice so soft and genuine, I find myself wanting to stay in it forever, “remember the letter you gave me four years ago?”

 

 

I do. I remember the letter I had written him back in university, the one I gave him under the falling snow as our lips touched.

 

 

I nod, and he continues, “In it, you said you believe in me and you believe in yourself, and that that's enough and much better than believing in eternity or a forever.” He pauses for a small second. “And I do, too. I believe in us. I believe in our memories even if they are wrong, and I believe that right now we will love each other passionately, and then anticipate what tomorrow has in store for us. I believe in our conservative ways of showing as little affection in public as possible. And I believe in you, Hana. I believe in you. So it doesn't really matter if we forget all of this. It doesn't matter, really. Because it once existed anyways, with or without us remembering it.”

 

 

He takes my hand back into his, and says, “This,” as he leads his other hand to my face, cupping my cheek, leans in without gazing away, and kisses me. He kisses me with no desire of holding back.

 

 

“Can you feel how real this is?” he asks, after pulling slightly back, not at all awaiting a response. “In a few days, this kiss will seem too far away, too out of reach, as if it were a memory from a distant past. So when that time comes, we have to kiss again and again until we remember, until we are certain. Do you know what I mean?”

 

 

I nod, feeling like I'm going to cry soon. I imagine dialing a number, making a call to an unknown place. I imagine taking the walkie-talkie and screaming into it, hoping the receiver's end will be the place I miss so much. I imagine writing a letter, addressed to the time of our youth, with the demand for them to come back, to return in its truest form. But, of course, no one will be picking up. Of course, no one's voice will be echoing from the speakers. Of course, I won't receive a reply.

 

 

That's the thing about memories: they do whatever they want, with or without you. You can't tie them down when they want to float away; you can't force them to come back. You can't expect them to answer when you simply call for them. Just like how you can't hope that letter from Elizabeth will be answered by Johnny when it's only a pseudo-letter. A letter that has no demand for a reply. It's a pseudo-call to our memories, the response of which we will never receive.

 

 

And when Hoya comes back with Eunji, holding ten bottles of water in their hands, and they enter our car, and Busan guy says it's more fun to be driving together, more eco-friendly, and Sunggyu reminds him that he can't just leave his car here, to which my best friend says he will return to pick it up on our way back, which is a really reckless idea, the kind of reckless idea we don't mind much, and when Sunggyu scoffs at the two additional pounds of load in the car, and he starts the motor, driving off towards the highway, I realize that we are the wedding crashers and we are reckless. We are uncertain and most of the times insecure, but we just keep on driving and driving until the sun sets and the sky twinkles, and when we arrive at the next stop, we see the world in a different shine, and we call out to our memories once more, maybe even to our future, and we won't be answered, but we know they are there. So we just keep on driving and driving. Because we aren't perfect, but we once existed.