“This cold and empty room that was closed for so long, your scent that gently carried over in the air. Unknowingly, my heart fluttered because of it. The long night that couldn’t see an end; it’s already becoming brighter with the thoughts of you…You don’t know, my fluttering heart. I’m always gazing at you by myself. I will wait for you, please turn around for me…”

–CHEN “You never know”

Fall 2019

 

Study, eat, sleep, go to class.

Study, eat, sleep, go to class.

Kyungsoo’s routine was simple. Simple and draining in a way that he never actually thought college would be. Sure, he went out to small bar parties every now and then. And sure, he hung out with his friends and watched Vine compilations and commentators on YouTube every other weekend, drinking too much together and laughing too wildly in front of the TV. But that was about as crazy as his days would get.

Moving was a last minute decision. He hadn’t thought it through. He hadn’t done much preparation work for it outside of the 30 minutes it took him to find the job listing and accept. He was just so bored and so tired of his same old routine that it only took a second to decide that anything that could get him out of it was the best decision he could make for himself.

There’s not much that he can really remember in the months leading up to packing up as little of his life as possible and moving across the globe to China. He blames it on the fact that the final semester of college had him preoccupied.

You know…studying, eating, sleeping, going to class, and running across the occasional panic stricken graduation deadline that he would nearly miss and pay too much money for.

What kind of place forces its students to pay for the robes and tassels that they’d earned at the college they were already going into debt to attend? Robes and tassels that they were required to wear in order to attend the commencement ceremony.

Fireworks, speeches, students boldly drinking from liquor bottles in their seats as they’re told they’re officially qualified to work in a field most of them had loss their passion for. But, hey, at least he’d gotten the paper to prove he spent four years and 40k to be where he is now.

Teaching.

Teaching at a small private primary school, in a city in China that he’d never even heard of before they sent him the email with his acceptance into the English as a Second Language company.

Hangzhou, China. A fairly large city about an hour away from Shanghai. He’d done some research (read: watched a ton of YouTube travel videos) so he felt pretty educated on what to expect in his first year teaching.

He’s going to be teaching for a year in this city despite the four years he spent in an entirely different field during college. He thought that he’d like studying Entertainment and Media Studies, but he lost his passion as soon as multiple essays came into play. He was more of a hands-on learner. Like he’d told his friends before, he panicked.

He panicked once, and looked for the job. Panicked again once he applied. Once more when they accepted him and he signed on to start in the fall. And one final time as he rolled his suitcases stuffed to the brim with clothes and objects from home that he decided he absolutely could not live without.

He might have shed tears as his friends and family waved him off at the security gate, but he was back to feeling sure of himself and his decision to move away by the second plane transfer.

His arrival in Hangzhou was eventful. After a gate change and delayed flight from Beijing (that he’d only barely caught due to his elementary Chinese), lost luggage that he would have to claim the next day, nearly losing his passport twice, and the hotel shower soaking him and his slippers before he’d even been in the country 24 hours, he was beginning to doubt his capability to be here.

In his first week he got adjusted, had a few teaching training sessions, and even made friends with a few of the other poor individuals who decided at the last second that they would give teaching in China a shot. He learned quickly that amongst his little group of teachers, he was one of 3 people who could speak any Mandarin or had any experience being in China.

Thank god for that one study abroad trip to Shanghai and that undeserved Chinese minor he got in college.

Park Sooyoung, 22, a former theater major originally from Vancouver, Canada was the first friend he made within the group of new teachers. She had lived in Seoul for the entirety of her undergrad years at Yonsei University, and had visited China a few times within the span of that time. She was gorgeous, he’d noted, and he felt a bit shy whenever she would smile at him, all gums and teeth and happiness. Although she couldn’t really speak any Mandarin, she had plenty of experience living in locations where she couldn’t fluently speak the language. The barrier provided little difficulty for her.

Kim Junmyeon, 25, a former pre-med major originally from Busan, South Korea but a self-proclaimed Los Angeles native, was the second person he came to know. Unlike most of the others, he’d had experience teaching. 2 years in Pueblo, Mexico, 1 in Chiang Mai, Thailand, and now his first year in China. Although he’d never been to China, he’d learned a bit of Chinese before deciding to accept.

He hadn’t meant to clique up with the only others who were also Korean and who’d been to China or spoke any semblance of Chinese (Mandarin or even Cantonese), but he did. They were both easy going and would also be working in the heart of the city with him. It made sense for them all to be friends.

And it turned out that they were all Gay As . All the more reason to stick together he thought.

It wasn’t as if he’d introduced himself like that.

“Hi I’m Kyungsoo Do. Do Kyungsoo; I’m 22 and gay as it’s nice to meet you.”

No. It came out when they’d hung out at a karaoke room and the conversation of uality came up as Junmyeon queued Killer Queen and started to talk about Freddie Mercury. Junmyeon and Sooyoung began to gush over their shared biuality and shyly Kyungsoo admitted to being gay.

Then and there their bond was solidified. He felt relief at being not having to hide this part of himself with them. Although it was unexpected, he’s happy they discussed it sooner rather than later.

China was new and exciting for them all. They would get the chance to truly try something new, and that bond was enough for them to click immediately.

Realistically, the three of them could have taught in South Korea. Junmyeon and Sooyoung were fluent, and Kyungsoo had grown up with the language, even if he was rusty from years living in the States and mainly speaking English with his family.

But here he is now, 3 days before he’s supposed to start teaching at the primary school 10 minutes from his house, if he speed walks, and 5 if he decides to ride a bike. He’s visited the school already and smiled at the students even as they stared at him in wonder (at times he could have sworn he saw plain old fear).

He’d officially “moved in” to his apartment, and now Kyungsoo finds himself laying on the ty pillow and sheets he bought at a corner shop for 150 yuan, staring at the ceiling wondering –

What now?

It’s 6pm and it’s his first night in his home for the next year. His first place on his own – no parents, no pets, no roommates, no nothing. It’s a bit chilling to realize. Kyungsoo flips on his side and grabs his phone from the nightstand, hoping –no praying- that his VPN connects so that he can check the news, go on YouTube, do something just to feel like he’s back home in the States if even just virtually.

It connects –but only for 10 minutes. Not enough to really do anything useful. He contemplates sending Sooyoung or Junmyeon a message just to cure his boredom, but his fear of annoying them outweighs his desire to be entertained. He sends his family another couple of messages with photos of his apartment letting them know that he’s moved in and he misses them. He not so subtly implies that he can talk now because he’s not busy (code for: bored out of his ing MIND), but he knows no one will get back to him due to it being anywhere from 3am to 6am back home.

He could go grab something to eat. There are plenty of places around that he wants to try out. He could even go walk around the area just to kill some time. Realistically, there’s an infinite amount of things that he could do, but he stays glued to his bed and decides, just for tonight, to do absolutely nothing.

Hunger becomes strong enough for him to brave one of the 外卖 delivery apps and order some food. He scrolls through the list only half interested, more inclined to find something familiar for the night than try out one of the tens of restaurants available.

A frown finds it way on his face as he finds McDonald’s in the list and his stomach growls angrily. It’s boring, but it’s safe and he just doesn’t care that much right now. His finger hovers over the 麦当劳 icon with the familiar yellow M and clicks through objects to put in his order. The hardest part is trying to remember his address and what apartment he lives in so that they can come right to his door and he won’t have to go out to meet them down on the first floor.

A quick check of his police registration for the address and he can finally let out a breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad, not at all. A bit nerve wracking, but he was able to get through it with minimal stress.

By 10 o’clock he’s ready to go to bed. He’s eaten, taken a shower, washed his face and brushed his teeth, and he even put away most of the things that he brought with him from home. He lies in bed ready to fall asleep when he hears the sounds of someone singing (obnoxiously) loudly from next door.

Usually, this kind of thing would piss him off. It’s discourteous to be singing at this time. Who starts belting out song at 10 on a weeknight?

However, instead of knocking on the wall, or better yet going next door, he finds himself listening to the music, sort of, at peace. It’s comforting to have sound filtering into his otherwise silent apartment. It almost feels like company in a place he now occupies all on his own. And besides, the singer isn’t that bad. As a matter of fact they have a beautiful voice.

Whoever they are.

Kyungsoo allows himself to fall asleep to the sound of his neighbor’s voice floating through his wall.

“On Monday you’ll have your first real lesson with the students. They are all very interested in you after your introductions this week. Keep up the good work!” Kyungsoo’s co-teacher, Yixing, says happily. He claps Kyungsoo on the shoulder as if they’ve been friends for years, and not only a week, but Kyungsoo finds that he doesn’t hate the contact.

Had he been back home he would have sent the offending action a glare and a clipped “Don’t touch me.” But here…Kyungsoo is a bit touch starved. He sends Yixing a genuine smile and feels the apprehension he felt at the quality of his work this week fade away.

This is the first time he’s taught anything to a class. Especially to a class of children who speak neither of the languages he speaks comfortably.

“Thank you Yixing. You’ve been a big help so far. I’m a bit nervous about next week though…” Kyungsoo finds himself admitting to the older, more experienced teacher.

“Just use the textbook and plan out the next 3 lessons based on Unit One. If you don’t feel confident, then you can send your PPTs to me and I’ll look over them,” Yixing offers, dimple appearing as if offering itself as extra reassurance.

Kyungsoo finds himself a bit eased as the words and the caring tone of the other, so he nods. “Okay.”

“Go ahead and pack up. We’ll see you Monday at the same time!” Yixing tosses his own laptop bag over his shoulder and pops an earbud in his ear. “Don’t work too hard this weekend!” And with another sweet smile, he’s off.

Given the fact that Kyungsoo has already mapped out his lessons for the next six classes, he doesn’t think that not working too hard this weekend will be a problem. All he really needs to do is finish the PowerPoints and then he can send them to Yixing and get feedback.

Kyungsoo is glad that he has Yixing at his school with him. Yixing learned English as a second language throughout high school and college and then went on to become an English teacher. He grew up in Changsha but moved to Hangzhou so that he could try something new in a new place. In the week Kyungsoo has known him, he knows that Yixing is very caring, loves his job, and knows far too much about the music industry to be working at a small school like this as an English teacher.

But Yixing loves working with kids and he loves being able to help them understand the use of knowing more than one language.

Kyungsoo wishes he had the vocabulary of Yixing’s to be able to communicate with his students more comfortably outside of class in Mandarin, but he isn’t quite confident enough yet.

He’s already traumatized from when he mistook a box of lube for contact solution and had a cashier laugh directly in his face on his second day in the country.

Kyungsoo buys his contact solution online now.

He packs up his things and looks around his little desk in the teacher’s office happily. Photos of his friends and family in a simple frame along with a couple of markers and pens, all in black, neatly placed in a holder and not cluttering up his space decorate it. It resembles him he thinks.

He leaves the school feeling accomplished. His first full week went well. He didn’t have to raise his voice, and he thinks that his students respect him as much as they can a new teacher. They’re only anywhere from 6 to 10 but they’re all very sweet and he already got two cards from students with a poorly drawn version of him on it surrounded by hearts.

He put them on display at the top of his desk.

Out the main entrance of the school, he waves happily to kids he recognizes from his classes, bows to the guards at the exit gate and hikes his work backpack higher up his back. After popping in his nearly broken pair of headphones he climbs on one of the copious rental bikes available around the city and heads home.

The way home is simple, just 3 turns near memorable landmarks. A left at the Family Mart that he has visited daily during lunch for juice, another left at the Starbucks that always looks concernedly full, and then a right at what may be a mall but could also just be a business center. He isn’t sure and doesn’t really care.

As long as he wears his glasses or contacts, getting home is no problem. Parking the bike right outside of his apartment building and paying the 2元 for the ride each day is a routine he is already becoming comfortable with.

There are three other doors on Kyungsoo’s floor. 401, 402, 403, and 404.

Kyungsoo lives in 403, right next to 404 on the leftmost part of the small floor. He’s seen and somewhat met the family that lives on his other side in 402. It’s a woman and her son; he sometimes hears them yelling at each other over the young son’s homework. He tries to greet them one evening, but they scramble inside without even acknowledging him.

In 401, he knows there is an older couple. No matter what time he gets home he can smell the fragrant meat and veggies that they cook up to use in their meals. Sometimes they leave their door open and will try to strike up a conversation with him if they see him coming up the stairs. Kyungsoo fumbles and stutters through his interactions with them in broken Mandarin and tries to say and understand as much as he can despite the speed and accent that speckles their words.

He gets a bag of dumplings, a liter of egg drop soup, and whatever fruits they claim they have too much of shoved into his hands any time they see him. Even when he tries to reassure them that he is eating and doesn’t need them to make sure that he’s getting his daily intake of nutrients they insist and Kyungsoo can only say no so many times before he just lets them take care of him as they want. They remind him a bit of his own grandparents, and it feels good to be coddled a bit.

He still hasn’t met 404…the singer. Kyungsoo still hears him through the wall nearly every night. He sings anything from old Korean songs that Kyungsoo’s mother would play, to popular American music that Kyungsoo grew up with. Sometimes, Kyungsoo finds himself humming along –until he realizes what he’s doing, flushes with embarrassment, and hurriedly puts in his own headphones so he doesn’t feel like a creep listening to his neighbor.

The first weeks pass quickly. Kyungsoo wakes up, goes to work, smiles and teaches and drains himself with the physical exertion it takes to be a teacher of young students. He packs up his things after work and tries to find somewhere with free internet to work on his lesson plans up until he’s finally able to get someone to come out to install Wi-Fi in his home. Some nights he returns home so tired that he barely manages a dinner outside of a bag of chips and sweetened lemon tea from his fridge. Those nights he’s thankful that the elderly couple next door filled his fridge with foods he didn’t think he needed.

His gas is finally connected two weeks in, but he is too tired each day to go to the store or to cook anything for himself outside of dressed up ramen. They feed him well at school during breakfast and lunch; he can cheat a bit on dinner for now.

He finds his place living in a city that is so different from his own hometown.

He buys a grey rug to put in his bedroom. He orders a few other things online so that his home doesn’t feel so stale, so empty –an oven, a cheap IKEA cabinet, nicer bed sheets. The walls of his room are a baby blue –he wishes it were black- so he buys black and grey knick knacks to dull down the brightness.

He can’t change the walls or the matching blinds, so making everything else black will have to suffice.

He discovers cafes and restaurants on weekends, tries out foods he only had the bastardized versions of in the past. He takes pictures of the good meals and send them to his mom with a message detailing what he thinks is all in it. They make a promise to each learn to make it on their own and taste each others’ when Kyungsoo returns home.

In the moments that he’s not too busy or too tired to think, Kyungsoo misses home.

His neighbor still sings and Kyungsoo can say without a doubt now that he’s loud. He curses and shouts and if it didn’t amuse Kyungsoo to know that his neighbor has such a colorful vocabulary in multiple languages, Kyungsoo would confront him about his volume.

Maybe Kyungsoo is a bit afraid to knock on his door.

It isn’t until late September, nearly October that Kyungsoo finally sees the person in 404. Kyungsoo drags up bags full of groceries after finally convincing himself to try out one of the dishes he’d been eating at a little family-run restaurant not far from his building when he bumps into him.

Not literally, but nearly. Huffing out a breath and lifting his gaze from the stairs where he was glaring intensely, willing them to just end already, he hears the shocked yelp and closing of the door next to his. The door to 404.

He isn’t positive that it’s his neighbor and not someone visiting, but he feels nervous for some reason all the same looking at the man in front of him. He thanks whatever God there may be that his cheeks are alr