February 10th, 2019

ʕ･_･ ;ʔ≡ʕ; ･_･ʔ

When Seulgi left the office, it was already late.

As the wind begins to pick up, it feels chilly on the skin. The kind of cold-numbing wind that will knock her out. The wooden toggles of her Paddington coat flutters in the gusts, as if trying to break free from the ropes. Despite the late hour, there is not a single seat left at the bus stop. Seulgi even caught one man who was sleeping while standing. To pass the time, she watched the rows of windows in the tall building across the street, noting how the lights were still on. She watches it slowly, reminded by the similarity to her workplace. That somewhere in the dull office, there’s another version of her who works through the night.

The bus appeared around the corner; it float to a stop before her eyes as the people starts to stand up, lined up, and got on one by one. It was packed. Seulgi squeezed herself near the door with her hand on the crowded strap. As she leans into one of the railings, she catches a woman in her age in front of her. The guy next to her was busy playing games on his phone. The middle-aged man behind her hug his briefcase tightly as a pillow while sitting down. Each and every one with different minds, different faces, different bodies, and yet, they are equally the same, leading a life equally tangled and as tiring as she was. They, too, deal with misunderstanding at the office. They grieved over their unlived life. They feel insecure about their faces. And there is nothing more comforting than seeing into the empty stare of a stranger with complete indifference.

Seulgi sways along with the direction of the bus, suddenly feeling like she’s wandering directionless despite being in this same bus—in this same route, for years. Just as much as her future. What will she be doing years from now? Will she still clock in and go to her desk to write an article? After starting with the company, in five years, anyone can apply for a transfer or promotion. This is her third year now spent writing about other people's lives in exchange for money. Though it feels good to have one place to go to five days a week, to see the same faces, to receive a steady paycheck, yet the only realistic outcome for her is rising to a senior columnist or become an editor at large like her boss. However, Sooyoung is passing thirty three and has been in the same position for the last five years that Seulgi can’t help the feeling every time she looks at her that this is all she can ever hope for. And even if she get the promotion, the work would have been the same, the only thing that’d be different is having more responsibility. 

The bus slows down, Seulgi looks up at the moving messages at the display board. It’s her stop. Releasing a big sigh, she steps into the open door and leave for her home.

At the familiar beeping sound of her apartment door, Seulgi opens the door to find her lights are on.

“Oh, you’re back. Welcome home.”

Just then, Seulgi spotted Mino across the room. Feeling depleted, she shuffled her own shoes and change into her indoor sandals, trudging towards the kitchen. Mino chipper welcome couldn’t fix Seulgi’s aching neck from the emotional exhaustion. She didn’t even bother to answer back out of politeness.

Ever the ignorant, Mino press on, “you’re pretty late. You doing some article?”

“The usual,” was her curt reply.

“Huh,” taken aback by her not-so-friendly tone, Mino takes a sip of his drink, only to realize the glass is empty. An awkward silence descends between them which makes Mino stood up and fill in by saying, “um, anyway, we have to donate our blood today,”

She looked at him a little defiantly. “Today?”  

Mino his chin to the watch on Seulgi’s wrist. Has she really been pushed to exhaustion to not realize that it’s one in the morning now? He takes a closer look at her face and notices that her eyes are deeply rimmed with redness, her lips cracked and dry. Her hair is frizzy and unkempt, probably due to the February’s weather that has brought snow mix with rain. Despite it, Seulgi must have taken the bus to get home at this ungodly hour, and looking way past her, he spotted her bag left unattended at the hallway, her hands still gripping printed drafts. She didn’t even bother to take off her coat first.

I wouldn’t mind to pick her up if that would make her day a little bearable, Mino thought. 

She blinked and checked the clock on the wall just for reaffirmation.

It’s already Saturday.

She was planning for a peaceful weekend where she can eat in peace and look at pointless website only to come home and find out that her friend adds a damning blood donation to her schedule?

Wait. She could be forgetting the promise she made, that could happen, Seulgi is known to have a goldfish memory. With a twitch in her eye, she asks, “when do I agree to this?”

The twitch made Mino wipe the non-existent dust at her dining table. “Well, on your behalf, I signed you up yesterday.”

Seulgi wonders what she’s done in life to be subjected to Mino funny ideas on the day she decided to stay at home? Getting angry doesn’t suit Seulgi, but if Mino is hell-bent on making her even more tired by messing with her weekend, it left her with no choice but to summon her inner crazy self.

“Isn't it just a waste of time?”

He lights up. “We’ll get free movie tickets in exchange and I’ve been watching this doctor drama and I just reali—you’re mad.”

She only looked at him. 

“Are you mad at me?” Wariness shrouded Mino’s tone.

“No, not even sure why you ask that,” with a heavy sigh she turns on the tap, starts washing her hands, hoping the cold water will calm her down.

Seulgi knew she’s acting like a child who’s sick and unable to tell the parents where it hurts, only that it does. 

It was only an invitation to blood donation, it wasn’t as if Mino is asking her to hike during this bad weather. But maybe the blood donation wasn’t really the problem. Had Mino taken the time to actually ask her how her day went? Or letting her decompress for a minute before attacking her with a surprise? Not that it would make a difference if he know about what’s happening in her life lately. Seulgi hates how she feels so frustrated, a side of her that always easily slips out when facing Mino. She didn’t like that; she never plans to show all her shortcomings when Mino is always as cool as a cucumber. Why is she the only one who’s red and fuming? Why does she have to go through this conversation now? Why did Mino just stood there, clueless?

As she grew older, Seulgi realizes that her problems of being an adult is that she over-personalizes issues that she is not principally responsible for. How she’s just tired of being a person. A person who follows orders at work, coming home only to feel like she’s wasting this life of hers. As the days start to slip in between each other, the way her family problems start to creep up on her, appointments began to overlap, she wonders how many hours have she spent, just to get up, shower, drink a water, and go to work, so that she can be the person.

Mino didn’t take the hint of the silence treatment he’s given. “I can tell you’re angry by the sound of you walking.”

Seulgi almost scoffs at his ridiculousness. She was doing him a favor by keeping quiet because she wasn’t usually like this, but out of pettiness, she would use the hardship she accumulated for the past week as the reason to her unparalleled resentment towards him. 

“Is that what I’m doing?” She answers, casually turning on the kettle. 

Mino inch closer in frustration. “I have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Do I have to go with you?” she circles back. The conversation doesn’t seem to go anywhere.

“I signed you up—”

“But do I have to go with you?”

“Whoa, Seulgi,” Mino hold up one hand at her hostility. “If you don’t want to just say so, no need to get so worked up about it.”

Right. Suddenly she’s the one who’s worked up about it. She glances at the dirty plate on the dining table, momentarily distracted by it. She starts looking around to find a half-eaten fried dumplings with crumbles scattered around it. She whimpers at the imminent fate of cleaning up. Mino often eats at her place whether she’s home or not, but for today, she feels like his presence is just adding more work. Instead of replying, she grabs some of the plates and starts washing dishes.

Feeling unfairly treated by Seulgi’s puzzling attitudes, Mino dare to make a turn for the worse. “Are you seriously mad at me—”

“Who says I’m mad?”

“—because I signed you up for blood donation?”

“It’s not about that,” is her firm response, slightly louder this time. “It just doesn’t make sense why are you—“

Mino looks at her pointedly. “It’s not about what?”

Seulgi only glances at him, albeit short but sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here this late?”

“Why are you shouting?!” Mino opens his mouth but closes it again, not comprehending.

Seulgi gritted her teeth, stopping herself from exploding or, even worse, cry. “It’s my place, my plates,” she exaggerates by holding the dirty dishes in the air, suds trickling down to her wooden floor. “My cup, my spoon—“

“’Of course. You made that real clear.” Mino huffed in frustration.

“Then why did you still not get it?” She sounds even more agitated.

Mino was perplexed. Get what exactly? Trying to gather his thoughts, he continues to stare at her, who decided to turn her back on him, struggling with the almost-empty soap dispenser.

Feeling the lingering stare from Mino, Seulgi cast a sharp glance at him.

“There it is,” he moves towards her, wanting to grab the dishes and do them by himself. “Let me do it.”

She refused to let go. Mino tugs at it again but Seulgi is unleashing her hidden power, holding on so tight the knuckles on her hands turned white. Suddenly, the kettle pounces with its whistle, startling them both. The jump made Seulgi fumbled with the plate, falling to the floor.

Instead of helping, the noise makes him even more frustrated. “Jejeongsin-iya? Why are you so angry at me?”

Seulgi refused to look at Mino, kept her silence, and pick up the plate. Mino duck down a little, trying to catch a glimpse of her expression hidden behind her thick hair, but it was impossible. She is resisting and was pretty good at avoiding his eyes.

After a moment, Seulgi says, “I know you’re trying to help, thank you, but you should head back.” Her voice was so thin, it almost feels distant.

Was his presence too burdensome for her? Her silence is so loud that it’s enough to make Mino leave. There is no way in hell that he is staying to see this one through. He waits for her diligently while eating some food—yes—he uses some of her plates and okay, maybe he did step out of line by signing her up for blood donation without asking her schedule first, but if it is the prominent reason, and a big if, why don’t she just say no? Why bother stirring up some argument about it and then sulk while washing the dishes?

“Okay,” he sighed.

As he reached the door, he hears a sniff, but he doesn’t have the courage to turn back, not exactly knowing the comforting words Seulgi needs at this moment. If he can’t contribute something to the argument, the room, much less to the world, why would he stay anyway? He walked away, knowing that to get the last word in any argument is the wiser.

Still standing in front of the sink, Seulgi chest heaved from the adrenaline. It was always a weird feeling after a fight, especially an unfinished one. Seulgi is usually exceptional at keeping a straight face and leveling a cool head at the same time her nosy colleague would pull up crackers after crackers leaving a trail of mess while muttering, ‘shouldn’t you realize by now that our directors are mostly conservative? You’re supposed to be smarter than that’ while looking over her computer screen. She also always excels at remaining outwardly nice or neutral at the office where she managed to be seemingly interested in the fiftieth conversation of the day about the traffic, the weather, politics, and latest idols scandal, and she’s doing all this while trapped behind a desk in a windowless office for ten plus after hours who clearly leave anyone cranky by the end of the day and does not want to hear any more of this bull and superbly have a thin reasoning once she clocks off. This has been her life for the past couple of weeks.

Except, is it truly her life Seulgi is living?

It hasn’t felt like that. Even when she’s not physically in the office, the work emails would still follow her. From the moment she wakes up until the moment she got to bed, all she ever does is following a schedule that involves work. With the deeply rooted South Korea’s hierarchical system in the company, her standing in the office is determined by her job title, age, and the worst part, wealth. It just felt like everything was out of control, like she can’t get a grip on her own life anymore. Why is she automatically becoming the go-to person to go buy lunch when her boss is pressed for time? All the while, she has three opinions pieces in the making. Why she got scolded for eating dinner at her desk at 8:30 PM when clearly, it’s her first meal of the day?

Trivial matters might be individually small, a brush-it-off situation, but before she knew it, the dust had piled up.

Seulgi, by definition, feels disconnected. With her own life. With her needs. With her wants.

Cutting her trance of thoughts, her stomach grumbled. The last meal – or the first meal – she had was at 16:45, which is fish cakes. She can’t believe that to be an adult means she still has to eat meals amid the exhaustion of having the entire world her. But she doesn’t want to do it. Staring on ends at the wall, looking at one particular spot, she just feels too tired to eat.

At the twenty minutes mark of staring and feeling overwhelmed, Seulgi harshly rubbed her eyes and nose, laughing at herself. She’s been sitting on a chair, worrying about how long it will take to prepare food, the waiting time, eating, and cleaning it all up when she could just get up and go do it first.  Why does it always come to this? After another tiring day at work, unnecessary fight with Mino, she will always have herself to have a fight with.

Get up. Get up. I’m trying. I’m trying to stand. Is echoing inside her mind back and forth. Please, I want to eat. Please, I want to take care of myself. Please, get up. 

After another tiring mental battle with herself, Seulgi finally manages to move her legs, going towards the fridge. When she opens it, she found the familiar packaging that she hadn’t bought.

It was her favorite tripe, and it must be Mino who left it.

On that cold Saturday morning, in her small kitchen, she looked at the red-broth boiling with fluffy beef tripe. She admired the juicy fullness of the bite-sized brisket, the seasoned oyster mushrooms, drizzled with chopped green chili peppers. She prepares a cold beer for companion and sits down to enjoy the sizzling spicy stew. Seulgi takes a sip of the broth gratefully, letting it soothed her as if all of her weight has been lifted off.

Sehun walks with a grunt. As luck would have it, it was the coldest morning in February. Turning around in the corner near the Han River, he’s met with a gust of wind that feels so sharp it feels like it could scrape his face. He didn’t want that, not when his face is the one that’s earning him money.

He punched Mino on the arm out of pettiness. “Why am I giving a blood donation with you?”

“Ssshh, we get free movie ticket out of it.” Mino took a sudden deep breath of fresh morning air while lightly stretching his sore joints, just like one of those old people that do tai chi in the park. “If you hadn’t gone with me, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy this.” His hand spread to show the view of the river, which looks cold, gray, and very much uninviting.

“Don’t you usually go with Seulgi for this kind of thing?” Sehun yawned, clearly not interested in the view. Mino’s expression turns sour. Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since Mino last bothers him with such trivial activities. “Are you in a fight?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Sehun mumbled, suspicious with his friend's quick reply. “Then did you get her anything?”

“Huh?” The question caught Mino off guard. “Yeah, I bought her favorite tripe.”

Now it’s Sehun’s turn to be confused. “For her birthday?”

“What do you mean it’s her birthday?” Mino laughs.

Sehun’s footsteps fall silent along with Mino’s laughter as the guilt starts to creep inside him. He quickly checks his phone.

It’s the tenth of February.

The defensive argument Mino had built so carefully in his head to counterattack Seulgi when he meet her suddenly feel quiet and useless.

Mino thought Seulgi was just being difficult. He assumed she’s in her one of those moods.

Running through his hand across his face, again, and rest his hand on top of his forehead, pushing his bangs away is when Mino realized how he is as a friend. Always cockily thinks that he’s there in the flesh to help her with her overbearing daily task. Readying himself to be the first one on the scene if she’s not feeling particularly well. He will also gladly pick her up at the bus stop if it means making a different in her daily outlook, prepared with an umbrella too in case it rains.

Turns out, all of those things need an effort. Effort at communicating, where Mino has to actually express whatever it is using his own mouth or hands. That he had to give in to the mortifying ordeal of offering emotions and hoping it would not weird her. It really serve no purpose if it is just in his head. Why does he think she would easily reach out to him for help if he doesn’t even remember her birthday? The moment that Seulgi was there, in front of him, exhausted, and he had responded reservedly. 

He looked down at himself, embarrassed with his apathy.

“You forgot,” Sehun deadpans.

“I thought it’s not for another week,”

“That’s forgetting, still,”

“It’s my fault…” Mino whispered, much to himself. “I’ve been watching too much trains.”

Sehun raised his eyebrow at Mino. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Watching trains?” 

“Yep,” Mino said, stoic.

“Watch them do what, exactly?” 

“Be trains.” Mino flashes a rueful glance at Sehun.

“Right.” Sehun pressed his lips tightly, noticing the shadows under Mino’s eyes. They’ve been so permanent. He’d thought that it’s just part of Mino’s face, but now he sees it as fatigue. A deep ingrained fatigue. “So, you just like stood there?”

Mino realizes how the train station in Hannam-dong can tell so much about what kind of city Seoul is. To walk into a station and faced with a great number of plastic surgery promotion, weight loss flyers, makeup commercial, and endless hall of idols birthday announcement. Much of the excitement also comes from observing the pace of change that happens at the train station that host a few million overworked workers, who are too tired and yet still crammed books on their way home, bunch of high schoolers sparing their energy to talk with friends, depressed individuals who listen to music during commute, citizens of Seoul holding back their yawn mimicking the advertisement above them with young model next to a slogan that usually goes ‘Fatigue? No More!’ as if the vitamins would cure everything. While standing there, in another five minutes, a new train is approaching and there’s a lot of subject to observe by Mino and he found the sense of impermanence all thrilling. Most things don’t last very long, like his decade-old easel that starts to show its crack.

“Yeah, they all just passes by,” Mino murmured, scratching at his chin. “I also been spending time by reading books and—”

Sehun held up one hand, stopping Mino from continuing. He knew immediately that Mino is in one of his moods. He’s been missing in action and asking crazy questions like the purpose of life only to end up spending all his time watching trains? Maybe his exhibition didn’t go well? He might also not receive enough good feedback as Sehun knew best by watching him struggle. He obviously did not have the time for his friend’s emotional crisis because there is a pressing matter at this moment. 

“Are we still going to the blood donation or—“ He take a peek at Mino, trying his best to seize any opportunity that can bring him back to his bed right now.

“Huh? Of course, we’re going.” Mino turns around, facing forward and continues putting his right feet in front of the other.

“Still going? Okay,” Sehun cackled, understanding. Mino is clearly annoyed at himself for forgetting Seulgi’s birthday and when he’s being difficult, he always becomes more determined. Acting unusually compliant, Sehun claps Mino in the back, hurrying him along. “Let’s go. Should we get jjamppong after? At that place we like?”

The thought of the comforting spicy soup and fresh seafood filled Mino’s head. He sniffs, already looking forward to the smell of the savory soup. “I do miss that old lady’s jjamppong.”

“That set it! You’re paying though,” Sehun wraps his hand around Mino’s neck. 

“What?”

“You still haven’t paid me back for that wedding gift money I sent on your behalf,”

“It’s just that so many people get married lately. Oh, your mom called me to ask how you’re doing, said you didn’t pick up any of her calls. I said you were busy with your modeling jobs, or I could also say that —”

Sehun throws a scorning look at his friend. “I’m not a lawyer, but isn’t this an extortion?”

“‘Course not.”

By 10AM, Mino and Sehun are seated in a restaurant where the owner is an ambitious ahjumma with a debilitating mentally unwell sister where they just fight all the time. It’s a two-storey building where seating only available in the first floor. Mino noticed the new two squares of freshly white paint applied to the wall, the sign are crooked on top of the cashier table. From the outside, it didn’t look much like a restaurant, it possessed the gloominess of a vacant building, though normal goers know it’s always filled with cheerful banter amongst the visitors and especially the usual shouting between the sisters as background noise. The worn table, chair, and utensil that’s been here since they opened 20 years ago only add more human warmth to the place, and this place only serves one dish that is the famous jjamppong. Theirs are especially different because of the soup thickness and the toppings that are almost the size of a fist. It’s always a good sign when you go to a restaurant and they only sell a few dish. 

On the corner of the shop, Mino is hiding in plain sight with a pale face. “I’m not going to do that again.”

For someone with a huge built, Mino is a coward when faced with a needle. He was wheezing, rushing to breathe in and out to ease the prickly feeling in his arms. At one point, Mino rattles in his chair so hard at the start of injection that three nurses have to hold him down. Sehun was no better. The poor man kept standing and sitting back and forth in a cold sweat and kept spouting excuses to avoid it. Even through the masks, both of them knew how much other people laugh at their antics for being scared.

Sehun was sitting limply, sticking to the wall, head leaning to the side. “God, the dizziness won’t go away,”

“Ah, what to do with the movie tickets...” Mino’s fingers starts to crawl through the front of his coarse hair, brushing it back.

“You’re on your own,”

Mino’s forehead touches the table with a loud thud. “The food is taking too long…”

The thoughts of red spicy soup filled with plump seafood and thick noodles make Sehun suddenly swallow down whatever that’s coming up to his throat. “You know what Mino, I don’t think I can eat anything now.”

“Don’t throw up,” Mino half-heartedly lifts his head and takes a peek at Sehun’s fragile body. Sehun is much paler than he is, much leaner too. It got Mino thinking, although Sehun will probably break in half if someone pick a fight with him, he sure uses his brain. “You’re pretty observant, huh?”

Sehun only raises one eyebrow.

“With Seulgi earlier. It’s pretty amazing that you can tell that there’s something wrong between us.”

“I did?”

“You also grab me when I was in the way with Seungyoon that one time,” Mino thinks back to the time when he agreed to go to a mixer with Sehun and the others. Seungyoon is clearly smitten with a girl, but Mino had kept playing cupid by not giving them some alone time. The more he talks, the more it become uncomfortable for them.

From what Sehun remembered, he was happened to be there when he overheard Seungyoon getting anxious because Mino talk too much.

“I just want you to stop talking,” he let out a long sigh, “and you’re known to be dense.”

“I’m not dense, not by a lot at least.” Mino was never good at picking up social cues, he’s even worse at conveying things, whatever he blurts out usually leads to miscommunication. He has to bitterly admit that Sehun saved the night. Sehun is a prick, sure, but he’s always kind enough to not interfere with other people’s business, what he would do instead, is spectate from a distance and let things flow naturally.

With a playful smirk, Sehun knocks his knuckles against the table, gaining Mino’s attention. “Alright, Mr. Observant, what happened last night?”

“I forgot her birthday,”

“Was she mad?”

“She chewed me off.”

Lines start to form in Sehun’s forehead. “You sure it’s because of the birthday?”

It’s clear that Sehun is having his doubts about Mino because no matter how good people are with words, it’s inevitable that meaning might get lost between one’s mind and someone else’s. Let alone Mino, as Sehun observed these past years, Mino communicate like throwing a cup of water at a thirsty person’s face. 

On that note, can Mino also really blame it all on his case of forgetsies? Wasn’t he just too preoccupied with his own thoughts to give others a single thought?

“Just to be clear, she’s been silent about it. But whatever it is, I still forgot her birthday.”

“You remember now. Are you going to explain to her?” Sehun caresses his chest, trying to ease the heartburn.

Mino softly bumps his forehead against the table, sulking. “I just want to say sorry – “ and see her, and help her, listen to her, and most of all say happy birthday to her. But there’s no way he could be so arrogant to pretend like nothing happened, not when he interrupted her night, knowing she’s dead tired. He could tell just by looking at her dry hands, it was tattered, the wind is ruthless, she is weary and looking dreadful, and the papers she’s been gripping last night are filled with marks, that she intensely worked through it.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know anything. She looked so tired last night and I don’t even know what I can do to help her...” Mino mumbled. “I guess that fact unsettled me, but I do want to figure it out. Although I should gift her something to make up for it...”

“Didn’t you just buy that massive giraffe plushies in our living room a week ago?”

Mino let out a strangled groan. How come an adult with daily responsibilities like him can have the luxury to spend on an impulsive shopping spree?

“I spent almost a thousand for color paint too. That store scammed me.” He had been pretty confident at the sale signage outside the store, but they weren’t telling him that the ultramarine color is regular price.

“Or you can paint something for her,” Sehun slammed his fist to his chest, a bit harder this time. He sounds funny because he’s been holding his burp.

“Don’t die on me,” Mino turn his head sideways to take a peek at Sehun.

Sehun managed a small burp. “No, seriously, you said you bought fresh paints. Just paint something for her, you know what she like.”

“Well, she like—“ he pauses and as the silence falls between them, Sehun look, at him wide-eyed.

“You don’t know? Aren’t you being too much?”

Mino traced back all the things he did with Seulgi, concentrating so hard he actually bites his nails. There are so many things she like though?

“No, no, no. Of course, I know,” Mino scoffed. “The tripe I bought her last night was her favorite, it’s just that–“ he paused, recalling the donut shop they walked by earlier. He was hardly interested in sweets, but Seulgi always tells him about what she likes, what she is interested in, this and that, and as he continues to learn about her, he just knew that she would like the donuts. Gifting a painting of donuts or tripe sounds ridiculous, but at dire times like this Mino could only procure the random stuff she likes; rye bread, fries with ice cream, cordless vacuum, things that Mino had re