There’s a strange novelty to the idea of reminiscence. Maybe it’s just the way memories work, once they are engraved in the patterns of firing neurons, they naturally become nostalgic and sentimental. Even the most painful ones can somehow become beautiful after the passage of time.

“Remember that kid, Kim Jongin,” chirps Baekhyun, his voice slightly hoarse from the beer and soju.

There’s a short silence, a few murmurs of acknowledgement and worried glances exchanged, with Jongdae almost falling out of his seat in his attempt to gag Baekhyun. Joonmyun snags the beer bottle from Baekhyun’s grasp, whispering something about him being drunk and maybe they should call it a night. And even though none of the reactions is directed at him, with Jongdae now seemingly absorbed in his phone and Yifan taking a nonchalant swig of his beer, Kyungsoo still knows that they are all watching him in the corner of their eyes.

Yes, it has been five years since they all graduated from high school. Five whole years since Kyungsoo has left Gyeonggi-do for Seoul, which is long enough for the scar on his knee to fade into a barely noticeable mark. Somewhere in those five years, Kyungsoo did think back about the memories from high school, reminiscing about the old days of innocence. It is probably his mind playing a trick on him, but in those memories Kyungsoo thought the classroom seemed bigger than before, the teachers seemed kinder, the homework easier and Kim Jongin’s shoves and punches were lighter.

“I actually saw him the other day, you know, Jongin. He’s in Seoul, too. It seems our entire senior class live in Seoul now,” Baekhyun continues after giving up on getting his beer back from a scowling Joonmyun.

“Yeah, everyone is in Seoul now. You know, I think Minseok-hyung, remember him, captain of the soccer team? He told me he got a job at the Seoul’s Songpa Hospital, and he was planning on moving here soon… But that was a few months back at reunion…”

Kyungsoo frowns at the not so subtle topic change. It has been five years already. His ribs have healed, the scar on his knee is now more of a reminder of a heroic past than a haunting one. Kyungsoo understands why his friends are so worried about mentioning Kim Jongin: Jongin was the underclassman who bullied Kyungsoo all throughout high school. Kyungsoo knows that he used to go into shock at the mention of the name, but he is not the same Kyungsoo from five years ago. Why can’t they have some faith in his strength?

“Kim Jongin, how is he?”

Four pairs of eyes stare at Kyungsoo. What, he can’t ask a question now? He stares back at the one person whom he expects to have the answers to his question. No, not Baekhyun, even though Baekhyun was the one who brought up the topic. Under Kyungsoo’s infamous wide-eyed intimidating glare, Joonmyun shakes his head in defeat and lets out a long sigh.

“You know that Jongin dropped out of high school right?”

Kyungsoo nods carefully. Yes, that much he does know. Kim Jongin had dropped out of high school the summer after Kyungsoo’s graduation. Rumors had it that he skipped town, but no one knew where he went, or at least no one who would tell Kyungsoo. In the age where all the country kids set their life goals as moving to Seoul and finding a job that pays better than their family business of raising cattle, Kyungsoo should have guessed that Kim Jongin would have left for Seoul as well.

“I heard from someone that Jongin is working in a café in Gangnam. That’s all I know.”

“But that’s not all you know, isn’t it? Who did you hear this from,” challenged Kyungsoo. He knows Joonmyun so well already. The ex-president of the journalism club, true to the pillars of honesty of a Seoul Times journalist, really can’t lie. With the slightly narrowing of Kyungsoo’s eyes, Joonmyun sighs again. (If their gang were to rob a bank and get caught, Joonmyun would be the first one to open his mouth and confess. This kid does not do well in interrogation…)

“Well, Kris heard from Tao…”

“What!! Joonmyun!” yells Yifan. Joonmyun only ever refers to him as Kris under very distressing circumstances, like now, when Kyungsoo’s eyes are like laser beams burning into his skull.

“Okay fine. Why are you so surprised Kyungsoo? You know that Tao was part of Jongin’s circle of friends, and Tao is, no matter how much I’m embarrassed to say this about that Gucci-loving drama queen, still my cousin. Of course that side of gossip would reach me…”

“You’re no less of a drama queen Yifan.”

“Shut up Baekhyun, I’m telling a story here.”

“Yeah, shut up Baekhyun, here’s your beer bottle back,” joins Jongdae as he reaches over to Joonmyun to wrestle the captured alcohol out of Joonmyun’s grasp. “Now be a quiet drunk and let us listen…”

“So as I was saying, Tao is still in contact with Jongin. He told me that Jongin did indeed move to Seoul after he dropped out of high school…”

--E--X--O--

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Kyungsoo’s hand slams on the phone vibrating on his nightstand. The clock next to him reads 7:00 AM, but he really can’t care less with this searing headache ripping his brain apart. The morning after drinking is always the worst, and even though Kyungsoo and his friends get together for soju at least once a month, his alcohol tolerance never manages to improve.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Slam. Silence. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“What?!”

“Wow that is the most annoyed you’ve ever sounded in the morning, Kyungsoo-yah. Anyway, this is your usual wakeup call at seven hundred hours. You have work in exactly… eighty-seven minutes and counting. Don’t be late, Kyungsoo-yah!”

“ off, Joonmyun-hyung.”

“Always a ray of sunshine. Well, have a good day Kyungsoo, I still have a couple more wake up calls to make.”

Kyungsoo contemplates completely skipping work today; he could tell his boss that he’s come down with a heavy migraine, which isn’t too far from the truth about his hangover headache. But Joonmyun would call again... By the time Kyungsoo manages to remove the battery from his cell phone to prevent Joonmyun from pestering him, he realizes that he’s already awake. Might as well go to work, Kyungsoo sighs. Computer bugs to fix, national security to defend.

Only after getting into the shower with his eyes close and toothbrush still in his mouth do the memories of last night slowly come back to Kyungsoo. The story about Kim Jongin’s life after high school comes back as vividly as the remaining alcohol in his system would allow.

According to Yifan’s cousin Tao, Jongin had dropped out of high school the same year that Kyungsoo had moved to Seoul to attend Yonsei. There were a lot of rumors swirling around among the underclassmen about why Jongin had left town. Some said his mother had run off with a man, others said that Jongin was involved in some shady smuggling business, and a deal going sour had him packing his bags even before receiving his diploma. This theory is somewhat believable considering Jongin’s bad behaviors and disregard for compulsory education.

The last theory, though, had Kyungsoo burst out laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. Jongin tried to kill himself, Yifan whispered, alcohol on his breath, and they took him to an asylum in Seoul for therapy.

“Ridiculous...” Kyungsoo mumbles, barely audible in the running water. The shower has turned cold, so Kyungsoo turns it off and steps out. Water drips from his hair and body onto the ceramic floor, but he just cannot care less right now, still lost in the story that Yifan offered.

Even Tao does not know what really happened, Yifan had claimed. Jongin only started meeting up with his old friends again last year after accidentally bumping into Sehun while grocery shopping. He currently works at this small café called Kamong in Gangnam as a waiter, and he doesn’t dance anymore.

And that is as far as Yifan knows. Looking at this objectively, leaving out the crazy theory that Jongin tried to put himself to sleep, or so to speak, it is not too scandalous of story. Country boy Kim Jongin, for whatever reason, ran away from his secluded town to escape the prospect of poverty and seek out the new world of opportunities in the big city. He starts off a little later, probably due to unforeseen difficulties in moving to a new place, but is now working hard to make a comfortable life for himself in the capital.

Kyungsoo frowns, hanging up his towel after drying himself and fishing out the comb from the bathroom cabinet. There is something too nonchalant about this narrative. It is too simplistic, too subdue.

All prejudices aside, Kyungsoo knows Kim Jongin well. One has to know his enemy, and that is what Kim Jongin is to Kyungsoo: only an enemy. Kyungsoo knows him well enough to know that Kim Jongin is neither simplistic or subdue. And his story, the one that spans the four years from after high school to last year, Kyungsoo is determined to find out.

Stepping out of his bathroom after buttoning up his shirt, Kyungsoo grabs his phone from the nightstand, ignoring Joonmyun’s text messages about how he once again failed to wake up Baekhyun this morning and types ‘KAMONG’ into Naver search. The first result pops up in Gangnam district, and Kyungsoo smiles, determined to head straight there after work today.

--E--X--O--

Kyungsoo does not end up going to Kamong Café that day after work. Work was too overwhelming today, he tells himself after getting off at 8pm, although he did consciously take a two-hour lunch break to eat out with Baekhyun who finally woke up from his hangover at noon to raging hunger and a strange craving for jjajangmyun. He also consciously procrastinates on his assignments to play Minesweeper for a whole half hour, thus unfortunately ends up having to stay late to finish debugging the few lines of code that he actually wrote today.

Tomorrow, Kyungsoo tells himself. He will go tomorrow to Kamong to see Kim Jongin.

As expected, Kyungsoo does not venture anywhere near Gangnam tomorrow, or the day after, or the next month. It’s not that he’s scared, Kyungsoo reasons, he just never has time. His job as a coder requires a lot of brainpower and energy. He’s not going to break routine and faces lower productivity at work just for the sake of seeing Kim Jongin the old high school bully and Kyungsoo’s mortal enemy.

--E--X--O--

It’s funny how these things work out actually. That Saturday morning, the new tenant across the hall from Kyungsoo moved in. Kyungsoo and all his antisocial anxieties had gone against his better judgment to come out to greet the new neighbor. Instead Kyungsoo stays in the whole day, listening to the rustling sounds of furniture being moved around and assembled. He only steps out when the clock hits 6pm to do his usual round of grocery shopping.

And as fate would have it, one minute Kyungsoo is eyeing the frozen salmon, his mind wandering and his thoughts drifting to Kim Jongin and Kamong Café again. And the next, Kyungsoo finds himself reaching for the last packet of frozen chicken drumsticks as the person in question.

Their hands touch, and Kyungsoo turns his head, argument on the tip of his tongue to claim the chicken for his dinner just to stare into two brown eyes. The eyes open wide in innocent surprise, although a flash of memory in which those same eyes were filled with anger and a fist landing on Kyungsoo’s jaw had Kyungsoo stumbling back into his cart.

“Kai…”

Memories come flooding back now, each one as vivid as ever, as if they had been etched into Kyungsoo’s eyelids. His reminiscence was wrong. There was nothing beautiful about the way Jongin’s fist connected with Kyungsoo’s face or his knee coming up to break Kyungsoo’s ribs. There was no nostalgia here, just Jongin, Kyungsoo and the hate-filled glare that Jongin could spare for the pitiful boy on the ground.

“Kai…”

Why must Jongin be here, at the supermarket right next to Kyungsoo’s apartment, on a Friday night? Why must it be tonight of all nights that they meet again? And why must it be in the aisle between the frozen meats and the refrigerated kimchi that Kyungsoo stumbles back, fingers grasping at the shopping cart to keep himself from falling.

“Do Kyungsoo?”

Kim Jongin stands there, stunned for a second as if he could not believe what he is seeing. A ghost from his past is what Kyungsoo sees in Jongin’s eyes. Yes, Kyungsoo knows Jongin well, but he never imagines Jongin would ever be making the facial expression that he is wearing right now: a mix of disbelief and, strangely, fear.

“Kyungsoo? What are you doing here...?”

Jongin reaches out, his right hand inches away from Kyungsoo’s shoulders when muscle memory kicks in. That’s right, there are some types of memories that are not stored in the cerebral cortex, Kyungsoo has learnt. Muscle memory, for example, is in the body itself. The muscles remember the pain that they have experienced, and they work to protect the body from further damages in similar situations.

And here it is, a similar situation, but not similar enough with Jongin’s arm outstretched, his fingers hovering over Kyungsoo’s upper arm, not in a hard fist but with tender fingers open wide as if to soothe and comfort. And Kyungsoo stands in front of him, both arms raised to shield his head.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice sounds gentle, with a hint of nervousness. Soft fingers land on his arm, and Kyungsoo peeks through the crook of his elbow to look at his mortal enemy Kim Jongin.

Here stands Kim Jongin, clad in a simple Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and athletic shorts, light brown hair clean and well conditioned. The mental image of the old Kim Jongin always with his uniform untucked and silver hair gleaming in the sunlight flashed through Kyungsoo’s mind, and somehow this new Kim Jongin looks tame and domesticated to a fault.

Kyungsoo slowly lowers his arms, becoming painfully aware of the stares and murmurs from the group of housewives over at the dairy section. Embarrassed at his previous overreaction, Kyungsoo clears his throat and stands upright, hoping that his fear of Kim Jongin raising his hand against him does not show.

“Funny seeing you here,” Jongin tries again, but Kyungsoo just turns, grabs his shopping cart and heads toward the cashier.

He was totally going to meet Kim Jongin at Kamong Café, yeah right, if he keeps telling himself that, maybe courage would materialize out of thin air. He was going to confront Kim Jongin, but the mere sight of Jongin gently tapping him on his shoulder has him cowering in fear. After all these years – Kyungsoo has to fight to keep the tears from spilling out – nothing has changed.

After all these years, I’m still the coward that I was back in high school.

A hand grabs onto his elbow, and Kyungsoo freezes in his track. Is Jongin angry now because Kyungsoo did not greet him? Is Kyungsoo going to get beaten now?

Kyungsoo squirms, desperate to get out of Jongin’s grip, fully expecting Jongin to yank him back to land a punch any moment. But to Kyungsoo’s surprise and maybe the passersby’s amusement, Jongin simply drops the chicken drumsticks into Kyungsoo’s cart.

“Weren’t you going to take these?”, asks Jongin softly as if he is fully aware of Kyungsoo’s fear (he probably is). He releases Kyungsoo’s arm, muttering something about how chicken from this brand is the best and should be eaten fried with some beer, but Kyungsoo does not hear a word of it as he is shuttling his cart as fast as possible to the nearest cash register.

Jongin’s arm falls to his side, dejected from what onlookers would think of as the prospect of not having chicken for dinner. But surely, if anyone from their old high school in Gyeonggi-do were to witness this scene, they would all be surprised. Did the notorious Kim Kai – Kim Jongin – just yield chicken to none other than the resident gay nerd and permanent punch bag Do Kyungsoo, without even at least a push, a shove or an insult?

--E--X--O--

Kyungsoo does not cook dinner that night, even though fortunately he had the sense to put his milk and other perishable items in the fridge before crashing on his couch, head buried in the comforter. What just happened? Kyungsoo doesn’t know, and the more he replays the memory in his head the more blurry it gets. Or maybe the blurriness is coming from the uncontrollable stream of tears from his eyes.

Now that Kyungsoo is back in the safe confines of his apartment, his walls are crashing down faster than ever, not that they were ever that strong to begin with. His shoulders are shaking, and he’s gasping for air. He knows he’s hyperventilating from the shock; this has happened so many times before. Each time after getting beat up by Jongin, Kyungsoo would be left there, in an alley or the men’s bathroom; he would curl into a fetal position and fought against the onslaught of emotions that shook his body.

Kyungsoo once thought the violent shock that he experienced could be a seizure of some sort, but it wasn’t, as he had learnt when he was taken to the hospital by his classmates at Yonsei after a serious episode. It was just hyperventilation, the doctor had told Kyungsoo, and he also recommended therapy sessions for whatever trauma Kyungsoo had experienced. Kyungsoo had refused, outright lying that it was a onetime occurrence and excused himself under the pretext that he had an Operating Systems midterm next week.

Fumbling with the plastic bags in the drawer of his coffee table, Kyungsoo manages to pull out a paper bag and holds it to his mouth. Breathe in, breathe out. Hyperventilation is just a state of exhaling more carbon dioxide than the body can produce, Kyungsoo recites to himself. Breathe in, breathe out. He just needs to keep the carbon dioxide concentration in this bag high enough… Breathe in, breathe out. Kyungsoo can survive this; hyperventilation is rarely fatal. Breathe in, breathe out. Kyungsoo had survived Kim Jongin before; he can do it again.

--E--X--O--

“You saw Kim Jongin?”, Joonmyun exclaims, his eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes, I did,” Kyungsoo nods, trying to be as calm as possible despite the situation. There is no need to let Joonmyun know how Kyungsoo freaked out after his encounter with Jongin. If Joonmyun knows, he will tell Jongdae, who will undoubtedly tattle to Baekhyun. And if Baekhyun knows, the whole world would know; Kyungsoo does not need his image to go any further down the drain.

“How was he? Did you guys say hi?”

Kyungsoo nods again. Jongin was the one who said hi, and Kyungsoo was the one who unceremoniously ran away with his tail between his legs.

“Nothing else happened right?”

“No. He said hi, and I walked away. Nothing else… Why? What did you expect would happen?”, the words come out in a flurry and Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. Joonmyun seems awfully suspicious, even more so than the night Kyungsoo had made him cough up about Kim Jongin.

“No, I mean, I guess I wasn’t really expecting anything else.”

“Then why did you ask as if you did?”

“Well,” Joonmyun casts his eyes down to the uneaten gamjajjigae for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. “When Yifan told you the story about Jongin, he wasn’t… it’s not that he was being dishonest. He was just not telling you about the important stuff.”

“The important stuff?”, Kyungsoo mutters, a frown already forming on his face. What else could be more important than Kim Jongin leaving town mysteriously and reappearing as a waiter in a coffee shop in the middle of Seoul?

“Like, hm, like…” Joonmyun picks up the ladle, poking at the piece of potato in the soup. He clumsily scoops up the potato along with some broth and dumps it into Kyungsoo’s rice bowl. “Eat, Kyungsoo-ah, the jjigae will get cold.”

“Just get on with the story already, hyung.