What He’ll Never Have

Part Nine: Memory Ramen

Baekhyun’s POV.

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The temperature had dropped early this year and though it was only late fall, it suddenly felt like mid winter. 

Cold hands buried deeper into coat pockets, my nose taking refuge beneath the safety of a large knitted scarf my mom had made for me as a child. As a seven year old I had hated the thing; the neighborhood kids laughed at it, saying that it was ‘homemade’ because my family was poor... which had been true but that didn’t make hearing it sting any less. Eleven years later, it was the best article of clothing I owned, and it reminded me of my mom’s infectious smile.

Numb fingertips wrapped around the door handle to my favorite ramen shop that was like a second home to me and I hurried in, encouraged by the promise of warmth and food. 

“Baekhyun! It’s been too long!” 

I tossed a happy smile towards Ae-Jeong, the shop owner and an old friend of my parents, leaning across the bar she stood behind and allowing her strong arms to tug me into a cozy hug. She was a somewhat plump woman, though her largeness did not make her unattractive by any means, rather I found it made her quite the better hugger. “How’s school?” She chirped and I rolled my eyes at the juvenile question, feeling like a kid again as I slid into the same stool I always did - the one closest to the cooker where she was always stationed - and breathing in the welcome scent of familiar ramen. 

It has been too long, I couldn’t help but think. 

I always felt that way when I stopped in at Ae-Jeong’s but it was one of those things I found difficult to motivate myself to do sometimes. She reminded me of them - of my parents - and I missed them dearly. The reminder was painful.

“It’s fine,” I supplied, blowing onto my fingers to warm them. I felt seven years old again, and suddenly carefree - thoughts of the unpaid bills currently spilling over my kitchen counter and the dust bunnies covering my living room floor, calling for my attention, quietly slipping away in the familiarity of the ramen shop. Ae-Jeong had a way of doing that and I almost missed it, though years of raising myself had made me feel very far from` adolescent. The woman laughed, shaking her head in a knowing way as she poured me a bowl of her best ramen. 

“You still only hanging out with the girls? I haven’t seen Hyomin in a while.” She said. 

I smiled, thinking fondly of the time I had brought my friends over and Hyomin had hit it off so well with Ae-Jeong she had almost been hired. The old woman had done everything to convince me I should date the girl, only backing down when I finally (after almost a full hour of lecturing) admitted that I was attracted to boys. 

Ae-Jeong was kind of like having a crazy aunt and genuinely felt like family - or the closest thing I had to that at least. I couldn’t help but love her for it. Especially on days like today, days when my parents’ death felt extra painful, their memory flooding every corner of my mind. It was in a moment six years ago that their car was flattened by a drunk truck driver, who had walked away with only shallow bruises and the inconvenience of a suspended license to show for it.

That same day I had walked away from the hospital as an orphan - the only child of a couple who had no other family and almost no money to their name. 

Today was the anniversary.

Hot soup landed gently in front of me, followed by my favorite hot sauce and chop sticks. I blinked, realizing all at once that I had been staring at a roll of napkins, consumed by their memory for much longer than anything that could pass as normal. My gaze returned to Ae-Jeong to find her watching me in a silent, contemplative way, loving sympathy flitting across her eyes in a way only she could do. She was the only other person who knew, and the only person I ever felt comforted by on the anniversary of my parents’ death. We had all been incredibly close. 

Of course Ae-Jeong had insisted on taking me in after the incident, doing her best to care for an orphaned, twelve year old boy in the small, one bedroom shack she owned above the ramen shop... but that hadn’t lasted long. She was sick and busy and quite frankly, too poor to care for another person at the time, though she never spoke a word of complaint nor did anything but smile. She didn’t have to, I knew. It had taken me almost a full year of delivering newspaper and cleaning the houses of anyone who would let me before I had saved enough money that, when added to the small bit my parents had left, was able to cover rent for a tiny apartment (more like a closet) in a slummy part of town. It was good enough for me, and at age fourteen I declared my independence and moved out, learning to raise myself while remaining in school. I would accept any job I was offered.

I sipped the broth slowly, spooning some noodles sloppily into my mouth. Ae-Jeong’s soup was the best, and had a way of keeping the wave of sadness that encroached upon my mind at bay for just a little longer. I knew it would hit the moment I made my way back home - the moment there was nothing but silence and memories - but I could afford to put that off for a little while longer. 

Somehow it felt extra painful this year - the thought of being alone even more dreadful than before - like there was an extra hole inside my chest now, screaming its need to be filled, and I knew why. 

Jongdae.

His name made my chest tighten in painful little knots that couldn’t be rubbed away though my hands always tried. Seriously. It was a problem that I didn’t know how to fix. 

“So, are you making any new friends this year?” I blinked up at Ae-Jeong, pushing my hands away from my chest and back towards the bowl of soup, contemplating. 

“Yeah actually,” I answered honestly. “I’m hanging out with a guy in my class lately, and occasionally with two of his friends as well, though I don’t know them too well yet.” Ae-Jeong smiled pleasantly, looking the slightest bit surprised. Slurping my soup, I thought back on the amount of guy friends I had had since childhood. There really weren’t that many. No one at least that I trusted. 

“Wow,” She nodded, prepping a new bowl of soup for an elderly gentleman sitting at the other end of the bar. “That’s exciting. What’s he like?” I could see her question - the real one that she wanted to ask but wouldn’t for the sake of my privacy - I could see it in the way she tilted her head ever so slightly to the left, lips quirking upwards in an almost smile. It was endearing and I couldn’t refuse.

I continued to slurp. “Well, his name’s Jongdae. He’s in his final year, like me, and I’m not sure what he’s doing after graduation... we haven’t talked about that yet.” I ladled another spoonful into my mouth, considering what other tid-bits to divulge. There was really no reason to hide anything from Ae-Jeong and I was grateful for the distraction. “He’s taller than me, muscular, and he doesn’t try to hide it from anyone that he hangs out with me,” I didn’t miss the way her eyebrows rose ever-so slightly, though she tried to hide it behind overly-deep concentration towards her ramen. “He’s smart- brilliant actually and top of our class, he’s kind... and...” I trailed off remembering the way his face had looked - all scrunched up - that time in the library when he had tried his hardest to pretend he was studying physics instead of trying to talk to me. I stifled a laugh at the memory. His book had been upside-down, though I doubted he had ever noticed. “...and I really like him.” I finished, unsure of how else to put words to the enigma that was Jongdae, or worse- how to put words to what I felt for said enigma.

Ae-Jeong had paused from her soup-ladling, forgoing any pretense of business in favor of watching me in a contemplative way. From anyone else, the open-ended stare would have been uncomfortable to sit through, but I trusted Ae-Jeong and I knew that she felt the same about me. 

“Wow.” She finally breathed, expression loosening into one of more gentleness and sincerity. Like how mom used to look at me... I choked on the thought. “That’s-” she trailed off. “I’m happy for you. He sounds like a quality guy.” I nodded, sipping the last bit of noodles from my bowl to distract from the sudden onslaught of emotions. “Have you guys talked yet, about how you feel?” 

I shook my head, eyeing the bowl as that familiar tension gripped my chest once again. “No. I- I don’t know.” My voice cut out the tiniest bit, the questions that had been buzzing around my head now for weeks suddenly swelling. “I don’t really get where he’s at.” I let my eyes lift back to Ae-Jeong, who now stood directly in front of me, leaning against the counter in an ernest, interested sort of way. “I’m pretty sure he likes me... I’m positive actually- but one moment he’s there looking at me like I’m all he can see, and the next he’s pulling away with this sort of guarded - angry expression on his face.” I felt myself deflate, my body sagging a little against the counter as the stress seeped out from my shoulders. For some reason, it felt good to just talk to someone about this. “I don’t know what to do.” My voice was barely over a whisper volume, but I couldn’t seem to force it any louder.

A cup of some sort of orange/yellowish liquid appeared in my peripherals and my head bobbed up, eyes catching on Ae-Jeong as she slid into the bar stool next to me, a cup of her own in hand and apron neatly removed and resting on a rack behind the counter. Warmth spread through the spot on my shoulder that she gently rubbed, pushing my cup towards me with her other hand encouragingly. So soft. It was easy to open up to her. I always felt so safe, as I had with my mom once upon a happier time. Tracing the glass rim with my pointer finger, I lifted it to my lips and took a testing sip, not at all surprised when the familiar burn of rum and something I didn’t recognize filled the back of my throat. 

Normally Ae-Jeong wouldn’t give me alcohol. But today was different, and we were both okay with me bending the rules a tiny bit if it got me through this day. Numb was always the best way to go when the only other option was pain. 

“Baekhyun,” her voice was gentle but I found I didn’t want to look up from the glass as I took another sip. “Does Jongdae know about your job?” 

The pressure in my chest tightened. 

I shook my head. A small sigh released from beside me and I felt Ae-Jeong’s arm wrap around my whole back in a comforting way. “You know honey,” Honey, it was the word she had used to calm me down as a child when my parents died. “You don’t have to be so afraid. If-” her voice faded out into a considering sort of pause. “If this boy really likes you, and I’m sure that he does, he’ll like you for who you are, not what you do. I’m sure he’ll understand.” 

Unapproved tears began b at the edges of my eyes, one or two droplets slipping past to roll down my cheeks before I could stop them. Using my jacket sleeve, I wiped messily at my face, tilting my head back to try and blink away the rest before they could fall and make me look even stupider than I already did. 

Stop it. Stop crying, Baekhyun. 

“Oh Sweety, it’s going to be okay.” 

It took a couple minutes - and more rogue tears managed to slip past my watergates - but finally I had it under control again, leaning a little more into Ae-Jeong’s comforting hold. I was secretly glad that the restaurant was slow tonight and only held one other patron at the moment, though I knew that Ae-Jeong desperately needed more business.  The moments I allowed myself to feel pain - to really sit and feel it - were very few and incredibly far between. But somehow, in the warmth of the ramen shop, there was something comforting about it and I found myself letting go.

Before I could really stop myself, I was opening my mouth and telling Ae-Jeong everything - every thought, every worry, every shared memory with Jongdae - I divulged them all and she continued to listen, topping up my glass when it ran empty and never once interrupting me or telling me that I was wrong to feel the way I was feeling. 

It was well past dark when my head finally sagged limply onto Ae-Jeong’s shoulder, and the old man sitting at the end of the bar was long gone, leaving the whole place to just us two. In the cozy silence and safety of Ae-Jeong’s warmth, I fell asleep and was unaware when she quietly took my cell phone and began thumbing through the contact list for Jongdae. 

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What He’ll Never Have

Part Nine Completed.

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