Episode 8: Bitto

Science class had just ended and the girls were walking back towards their homeroom together - Deok Soong barely managing to keep her eyes open enough to not trip over her own feet.

“Girl, you look awful.” Hye Rim told her friend, unhelpfully.

The taller girl groaned in acknowledgement and kept her focus on trying to not fall on her face.

“It’s the Sports Day stuff?” the shorter friend asked, and Deok Soong nodded.

“Amongst other things…” she answered as they reached the classroom, “it’’s not that bad, but on top of everything else, it’s really too much.” She paused, dropping her books on her desk and then stood there, staring into space for a moment before announcing, “I think I’m gonna quit broadcasting club.”

“What?!” exclaimed Hye Rim, “but you love it!”

“Not forever,” Deok Soong retorted, defensively “but I’m not even there that much as it is… at least that way I’d get my lunch period free…”

“Hmm… even with Jinhoo-poo helping out, it’s not any better?”

“His help has been great,” nodded Deok Soong, “but doesn’t make that much of a difference in my sleep levels, honestly…. There’s so much to do. Plus he can’t come everyday because of his other duties. And I don’t wanna ask.”

“You should ask!” retorted the curly-haired girl, “you’ve actually got an excuse to spend time with him, and he’s soooo dreamy…”

Deok Soong rolled her eyes and threw her eraser at her.

“Ow! Well what?!”

Deok Soong rolled her eyes again and chuckled.

*

And so, after classes had ended, Deok Soong had gone to the Broadcasting club room to announce her temporary retirement. Everyone had understood and no one had been that bothered one way or another, so it was with dragging feet that she was making her way back to the main building to finish painting the flag. She was almost done, thanks to Jinhoo’s help, but there was still one or two days of work left in there.

As she was about to exit the annexe, she heard sound coming from the end of a hallway she never used. Curious - and uneager to get back to work - she decided to follow it and it led her to the now defunct Dance Club room.

Some time ago, her school had had a dance club, and it must have been pretty big, judging from the size of it, but there hadn’t been a dance team at Cheonsa High in years, at least not since she’d been a student there. So she wondered why she could hear loud R&B music coming from the other side of the door.

Slowly, she pushed the door open, as if she might scare whoever or whatever was inside, and slipped in. The lights weren’t on, but the room was lit by a series of large window, letting the sunlight in. The place had a slightly claustrophobic feel to it: although it was large, and lined with front-to-ceiling mirrors, half of it looked like it was being used as a giant storage closet, packed with old desks, chairs, school books, and whatever knicknacks people had no more use for but refused to throw away; the whole thing coated with a fine layer of dust.

The other side of the room however looked oddly different. A large space had been cleared off of dirt and dust, and there was a couch in the corner with a pile of snacks - some opened, some not - on it and a bunch of candy-wrappers littered around the floor around it. Next to it was someone’s backpack, and a large boom-box, from which the music was coming from. And finally, in front of the mirror, someone was moving along to the beat with his back to her.

Although her reflection was clearly visible in the mirror, the boy was so lost in his complex dance that he never noticed her standing behind him. She just stood there, amazed, watching him as if in a trance until the music stopped, and so did he - panting.

It was only once he had stopped moving, and gave a start at the sight of her there, that she realized who it had been. It was Bitto.

“I… uh… it’s… it was… I mean… wow.” she stuttered as his eyes bore into her.

Without a word, he marched towards the couch, grabbing his backpack and made for the door.

“Wait!” she called out, grabbing his wrist without realising what she was doing.

He stopped, looking at his wrist down in her hand and then back at her. She didn’t let go and stared back.

“What do you want?” he asked, quietly, which was somehow scarier than if he had shouted.

“I… huh… the festival…” she muttered, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“I don’t think so.” he said, shaking his arm out of her grasp, “I don’t get involved in anything school-related.”

This was the longest sentence she’d ever heard come out of his mouth, and she was surprised by how deep his voice sounded.

It wasn’t what she was going to say, but his retort annoyed her so she blurted out, “Why do you come then?”

He stood there staring at her, obviously not having expected the question; his large eyes rather fierce. “...... cuz… just cuz... I have to...” he finally muttered.

There was an awkward silence as Deok Soong didn’t know what to say and he kept staring at her. Everything that came out of that boy was a contradiction and it threw her off balance. Finally, it seemed as if he had grown tired of the staring contest and was about to go so she blurted out “Your dance!”

“What about it?”

“It’s so good! Like, it was really amazing! You shoud perform on Sports Day…”

“Not this again…” he groaned, shouldering the other strap of his backpack.

“Or not!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm again, “… just… don’t rush off… “ she pleaded at him with her eyes. She didn’t know why she cared so much about it, but she didn’t want him to leave. “You never talk to anyone…. You really like dance, huh?” she asked, with exagerrated eagerness.

He never replied but didn’t move to leave either, which encouraged her.

“Could you… teach me?” she asked cautiously and suddenly, he laughed.

He laughed loudly, a full-throated laugh, and she was taken aback at how nice it sounded. It was unlike the persona he had been showing her all this time; kinda like when he was dancing.

Softly, he took her fingers off of his arm and walked back towards the couch. The gentleness of his touch surprised her.

“I’m not teaching you.” he muttered, in his low, buttery voice, as he threw his backpack back on the couch. All the while, the music had continued playing, and he took his place in front of the mirror again.

Without a word, he launched into movement once more as she watched quietly from the back of the room. Eventually, she sat down on the couch to observe him.

She didn’t get any work done that day.

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