“I want to be an actor when I grow up,” mumbled Doyoon, his eyes glued to the TV. He was a mere five years old with clear, soft, baby-like skin, the voice of an angel to match it, and a teddy bear wearing a Santa hat hugged tightly to his chest - Christmas was still a month and a bit away, but it seemed like people were beginning to prepare for it earlier and earlier every year. He had almost four presents already, even though it was only November. The teddy bear was a present from his friend’s uncle, who was starring in a popular drama at the time.

He’s only five, his mom thought to herself, settling down on the cushion beside him. Children say throwaway comments like that all the time – he’s not serious. Just let it slide.

Doyoon’s mom knew how it felt to want to be an actor, but the feeling had faded into a distant memory on account of the fact that her parents had been extremely strict about what kind of career their children would have. Her eyes blankly stared at the TV, although not registering anything that was happening on it, as her mind drifted back into the past.

                “Mom, can I be an actress?”

                Her mom produced a sound that seemed to be somewhere between a scoff and a mocking chuckle. “You know that you can’t – you’re going to be a doctor. Actors can’t get anything close to as much pay as a doctor does; don’t think you’ll be getting anywhere near that ‘career’.”

That was the exact moment that Doyoon’s mom’s heart had shattered into razor-sharp pieces: 19^th September, 1982, at 12 years old and approximately 7:42pm. The courage she had built up to ask that question probably could have produced a brick-wall apartment building as its final product, yet it had been demolished in an instant.

She understood, as clear as a cloudless day, the pain that comes with being rejected. So, she didn’t directly reject Doyoon when he asked the question at 6 years old, or again at 7 years old, or again at 8, or 9, or even 10. She simply ignored his requests, and, eventually, he realised the question had become futile – not like that would stop him from asking.

But as time passed, Doyoon’s mother forgot about the times she had a passion. She told him that education is the most important thing in life, that he should become a doctor like her, that he should worry more about his future career length expectancy than what he actually had a desire for. She said that dreams aren’t made to be followed – that’s why they’re called dreams. She matured.

But so did Doyoon.

x-x-x-x-x

It was just past sunset and Doyoon was in the public library, habitually scrolling his eyes across the pages on the thick textbook in front of him, taking nothing in. The words were beginning to appear as if they were floating, so he shook his head and stared at the wall in front of him in an attempt to refocus. Like that was possible. He had just celebrated his 13^th birthday a couple of months ago and was ecstatic to have crossed the line between child and teenager – maybe he would finally be taken seriously.

A cool breeze blew through the open window across the room, brushing the lace curtain aside and refreshing the dry skin on Doyoon’s face. Finals were coming up, and he was supposed to be studying 24/7 in order to squeeze into the highest of ranks. Due to these unrealistically high expectations – especially for someone like him – he was often alone, not unwilling, but not particularly allowed to have friends. Friends would lead to communication, communication to socialising, socialising to who-knows-what, and, of course, that scared the rationale out of Doyoon’s mother, so no, he wasn’t allowed friends – except one.

“Doyoon!” a familiar voice exclaimed, running from the library door into the corner of the table Doyoon was sitting at.

“Min…su!” Doyoon managed to sputter through fits of hysterical laughter that were causing his stomach to cramp. Laughing at your best friend’s pain was definitely one of the greatest ways to relieve stress. Doyoon squinted through tears of temporary happiness, lifting his shirt up to dab his eyes clear of water while his shoulders continued to bounce. Minsu placed pressure on his injured hip with one hand over another, grimacing in slight pain as Doyoon’s laughter began to settle. Doyoon’s peripheral vision allowed him to quickly catch a brief, fierce glare from the librarian who, of course, insisted it be quiet at all times of the day. “Let’s walk home?”

Doyoon and Minsu had been neighbours ever since three years ago when Minsu moved houses to transfer schools, and they had been best friends ever since they created the perfect cocktail together while their parents fumbled over their awkward introductions. The drink consisted of Sprite, a little Dr. Pepper, an accidental addition of apple juice, and a touch of milk. Unsurprisingly to the two 10-year-old minds, it tickled their tastebuds to the point of approval of both the beverage and the friendship.

“How’s your study going?” Minsu asked on the path home, kicking what he thought was a loose stone on the side of the road, only to be greeted with a stub to the toe from an unforgiving, unmovable rock.

Minsu had always been someone that was top of the school ladder. He flourished in grades, ranks, sport, and popularity – even with the teachers. He usually spent weekends, birthdays, and holidays flicking through notes and researching unnecessary information that could somehow help him to the top of the ladder, yet still had time to take care of his looks.

Doyoon looked up at the darkening sky, pushing his hands as deep into his blazer pockets as he could. His fingers brushed against an old, crinkled wrapper, but he didn’t care to check what it was from.

 “Meh, it’s okay,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “You know that I’ve never really been all that great at studying. I’ve been thinking about other things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Just, like… ah, never mind. We’re home,” Doyoon stated matter-of-factly. They were still a street away from their addresses, so Doyoon sped up to get ahead of Minsu, his hands still engulfed in his pockets.

Minsu wondered if Doyoon was having girl troubles.

Doyoon wondered if Minsu would ever understand what his thoughts had really been.