Go Nam-soon felt indifferent to most things – school, his low-paying part-time jobs, his father’s persistent absence, what his classmates or teachers thought of him, homework, people in general…  Nothing was really that serious or mattered that much.  Would the world care if he got a measly tip from a customer?  Would life seem brighter if he worked out all that ‘n goes here and there, and then to sigma infinity’ crap in math class?  Would his father pay more attention to his daily life if he didn’t ask for a won and brought home all A’s from school?  Would life ever regain a figment of what it once held, that is before he'd ed it all up? No, no, no, no, NO..  Life was mundane and hollow at best.

Nam-soon figured he lived because he was alive.  And he was alive.. just because.  After Park Heung-soo, there was really no after… Just a blur of long days and hazy nights and tears and troubled sleeps and a day here or there cramming for an exam, then more school and a bloody nose, bruises and flying fists in dark corners.  He didn’t care about scars or shiners; he’d gotten used to absorbing the pain of a good beating.  None of it fazed or scared him.

After Park Heung-soo, what was left?

Some days, he hung out by the soccer field, and stayed out of sight as he checked the jerseys and kept watch for a tall, familiar figure. 

Some days he took the road he had taken a hundred times, only to hover outside the closed gate for an hour – there was another family living there now, and if they knew who or where Park Heung-soo was, they weren’t telling.

Some nights, he fell into restless sleep and imagined Heung-soo had snuck in at night and crept up by his side – if only sleep would last forever. 

One day, the hyung at the comic book store pulled him aside and told him, as gently as he could, to give up already.

After Park Heung-soo, what was left?

Nam-soon rolled the question around in his mind more times than he could count.  Heung-soo made it all easy.  Heung-soo was brother, best friend, first love, father, companion.  Heung-soo was there, always, each day, yesterday, was, WAS.  Heung-soo was purpose, direction, affection, loyalty.  Heung-soo was the only one, besides his mother, who had told Nam-soon that he loved him, taught Nam-soon what it might feel like to be loved, whether he was worthy or not.  Heung-soo was the one who got it, who got him, who understood the loneliness, the poverty, the absent parents, the fading dreams, the needs.. without such concerns ever being voiced.  Heung-soo was the constant – tried, trusted, true – when little else around him made sense.

After Park Heung-soo, what was left?

Nam-soon had three actual photographs of Heung-soo.  Three.  After how many years?  A decade?  There was a shot from their elementary school days.  Taken outside Heung-soo’s house – the paint was fresh in those days.  There they sat, shoulders linked, making funny faces at the camera; Heung-soo in his denim overalls, Nam-soon in his best red and yellow shorts.  There was another shot of Heung-soo after a soccer game – muddied yellow jersey, arms outstretched, fingers pointing to the sky, smile wide, eyes gleaming.  There was another of Heung-soo and his noona – she looked shyly at the camera, while he stood arms akimbo with a silly pair of blue-framed sunglasses on. 

Nam-soon studied the photos, knew every detail, kept them in a crinkled envelope in a bedroom drawer.  He didn’t dare put them up.

Different day.  Same classroom banter. Same boring lectures.  

Nam-soon felt himself start to doze off when a trail of words invaded his space…

‘Please welcome a new friend to the class: …

…Park Heung-soo .. please take care of me’. 

The words hung in the air.. He was thrown out of his sleepy daze as he raised his head. 

Their eyes met.  The look was loaded and pierced like daggers.  It suddenly felt like he was in a vacuum with a bag of lead crashing into his chest.   His eyes watered and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

He wished he were made of glass - perhaps Heung-soo would read his truths.

Or break him down to a million pieces.