The First Game I Played in the First Month of My First Time in Korea

It is two days after the late night picnic. Things have been amazing since then. The boys talk with me, and are teaching me more all the time. I’m learning a lot, I’m already sort of fluent, and it’s been under a month.

When I speak it well enough, Cheondung says he’ll teach me Hangeul. Still, every night, I find myself staring at the piece of paper, feeling as though it’s screaming something at me that I should be catching, yet am not.

Joon has been acting weird lately, but that’s not something I’m particularly thrown off by. Still, it’s the kind of weird that’s even weirding out the others. He’s very jumpy, spaced out, and constantly seems to be looking, desperately, for something. And then you ask him about it, and he chills out, lies back, and taps his feet. All the time, he taps. TaptaptaptaptapTAP. I hate it.

I haven’t seen him all day, he hasn’t been home, but the boys aren’t practicing today, so I plan on leaving for the studio in a few minutes.

Right now I’m sitting in the living room with Cheondung, G.O and Seungho, watching some movie that’s in Korean with English subtitles. It’s been a nice compromise; sometimes we watch movies in English with Korean subtitles or vice versa. I think it’s making us just a little closer every day.

The boys are certain kinds of movie watchers—it’s weird. Seungho eats throughout the entire movie. G.O. laughs, loudly, at everything. Mir usually doesn’t watch movies with us, but when he does, he laugh loudly, eats, and spend copious amounts of time on some sort of electronic device. Joon taps. The entire time. Cheondung sits quietly, explaining something if I’m confused by a custom or something, but otherwise keeping to himself.

I don’t know if I like Cheondung—ya know, like that. He’s been taking such good care of me that I feel a strange connection with him. Like, in a way, we belong together. But that could just be because he’s the only person I can talk to and be my complete self around. Around all the other boys I have to hold myself in, because I know I’m too abrasive for their personalities. With Cheondung, though, I know he’s laidback enough to just let me do my own thing. Though, right now, everyone’s pretty laidback.

Seungho’s sitting in the recliner, a bag of popcorn in his lap. G.O. is sitting on the floor, back against the couch. I’m sitting Indian style on the couch as Cheondung stretches out. He’s tapping beats with his feet against my thigh. For the past half hour I’ve been trying to catch what song it is, because he keeps repeating it. And I can’t figure it out.

But, my legs are falling asleep. At first I tried to ignore it, but I think my legs are starting to turn purple, so I pull out the first leg, and wobble to a stand. Cheondung’s foot presses gently against a slice of skin where my shirt had ridden up, making me shiver—in a completely nonual way you erts: his foot’s cold. I look over at him.

“You okay?” He asks, smiling. He’s wearing a beanie, and his hair’s falling in his eyes a little, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Man, he has a really nice smile.

What?

I shake myself away from myself, and nod at him. “Yeah, I think I’ll head to the practice room now though. I’m going to get this dance if it kills me.”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “No, Oppa, you may not teach me. We’ve been through this.”

Surprisingly, however, he rolls his eyes. “I was just going to ask if I could watch you. Not teach you, just maybe see if I can see what it is you’re unhappy with.”

I think about it for a minute, gnaw on my lip I contemplation. It has been a few weeks since he last asked. Maybe I could get a few pointers…

At my silence, however, he decides that I’ve accepted his offer, and he stands quickly, smiling brightly and running to his room to change in record time. He was in skinny jeans, red socks, and a hoodie with the beanie on. Now he’s (still) in skinny jeans, red socks, only he’s traded the hoodie and what I know was a tank top underneath for a white t-shirt. His socks are still red. So I guess it isn’t really record time because he didn’t really change that much…

“Are you done staring at me?” He teases with a smile.

I snort, walk up to him and notice that he’s quite tall compared to my five-foot-four-inch height. I never knew five-eleven could be so enormous. And then I smirk up at him as he stares down me curiously, “Oh, yes. I enjoy your perfect impersonation of a chopstick.”

He smiles, amused by my jab at his small weight. Then I notice his hands twitch, and he says, “Ja! Do you know what tigers like to eat?”

Immediately my mind reminds me that in Korean stories, one of the scariest things is a tiger. I take a step back. “Aniyo! Geuligo nan sang-gwan eobsjyo!”

And then I ran. And that’s where I went wrong. Because immediately the others make noises as they notice Cheodung and I playing cat and mouse—or, in this case,Tiger and foreigner.

We run around the small space several times, knocking things over, laughing, giggling, until finally he catches me in a corner, by the door. His arms wrap around my waist, tickling me. And as I try to do the impossible and contain my embarrassingly loud giggles, Joon walks in the door.

I squeak, escape Cheondung’s arms as they slack in surprise.“Annyeonghaseyo!” I say brightly with a small bow.

He gives me a nod, looks at me and then Cheondung, and then, to me, in Korean.“Come with me.”

“Eh?”I ask, noticing that Cheondung seems to deflate, and shuffles back to the couch, flopping down on it and causing G.O. to spill his drink everywhere, which he lets the entire world know with a loud noise.

Ignoring the ruckus happening about us, I stare up at Joon. In Korean, I ask, “Why?”

He thinks for a minute, and then, “I said I would teach you.”

I glare,“Yeah! Like sixty bagillion freaking years ago!”

He tilts his head to side, letting me know I spoke too fast. I, too, find myself deflating. “Oh fine,” I give in, “one second.”

And as I walk into my room, I notice in my peripheral vision that Cheondung gives Joon a smile, and, I think, mouths,“Gamsahabnida.”

Whatever that's supposed to mean.