Chp. 41| The Kid in HIM

“Sarang hae yo,”he spoke softly, and then chuckled to himself before lifting his gaze from the magazine to focus his attention onto me. “I love you,” he repeated, only this time in English.

For the past five minutes, while I was trying to concentrate on my math homework, Park Jung Sang who was seated across from in inside the café has been repeating the three lines over and over again as if the words were meaningless. It was to the point where it became almost unbearable. Almost, but not entirely because his handsome face made up for it. With a new haircut and donning a new denim jacket with matching jeans, I couldn’t help admire the way he looked. Honestly, who could resist such a guy?

Because I missed him, the more time I spent with him I realized that every single gesture started to matter. From the way he raised his eyebrow, to the way he blew on his hot beverage, to the way he would constantly reach out to tuck a tendril of my hair behind my ear and especially in the way he gazed into my eyes whenever he was speaking directly to me. I could honestly admit that I was falling in love with him all over again, just by those simple gestures, but not in the same way as I had.

He touched my hand gently, drawing me out of my state of contemplation. “Ji Won?”

Pulling my hand away, I replied, “Yes?”

“Sarang hae yo,” he said, followed by an innocent shy smile.

Aigoo! I think he means it. “Jung Sang, you’re---"

He rested his chin on his hand. “Oppa. How come you don’t address me as oppa?”

“I have never addressed you as oppa before.”

“Why not?” he inquired.

“Because…” I paused, trying to find a reasonable reason. “Because it seems like such an intimate term.”

Jung Sang finally looked away to pick up the straw on the table and began to sip fthe hot chocolate from his mug.

Seriously, I’m beginning to think that Jung Sang was losing it. I have never seen him do something so…so…not him. As if the hot chocolate had quenched his thirst, he made an ‘ahh’ sound before saying, “But I’m your boyfriend and I’m older than you are. Besides it’s a respective term.” He looked back at me with a stern expression. “You should call me your oppa.”

"Why? You don’t even act like one,” I blurted unknowingly.

Once I realized that I had stated it aloud, I covered my mouth and took a sip of my hot chocolate and ended up burning my tongue, leading me to choke on it. Patting lightly on my neck, I coughed and winded up spitting out the liquid onto Jung Sang’s face.

Uh oh.

I pictured his face contorting in anger and shouting, “YAH! JI WON, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!”

I snapped back to reality to see him quickly reaching for a napkin and leaned over to help wipe my mouth, instead of wiping at his own face. What’s wrong with this guy? “You okay?”

I was baffled by his closeness. I prefer to just stare because staring does things to my heart and I like that feeling. When he caught me looking at him, he smiled and said, “I like the smell of your shampoo.”

That was really random.

This might seem a little strange, but if he gets any closer, I might just have to bite his nose off. I’m sure every girl goes through their moments when their boyfriends start to become ‘biteable’. My moment happened that very day he offered me his arm. However, that goes to saying that perhaps I might have some kind of biting ? I took the napkin from him and inched my head back. “I’m okay.”

He nodded in understanding before settling back onto his seat. “I know it must be hard on you. It’s hard enough on me. I can’t seem to remember anything even when I want to.”

The good side to it is that he was willing to remember. He understood the sitation he was in. The bad side to it is that he can't seem to remember.

I thought back to what the doctor had mentioned.

”Jung Sang is suffering from a mild case of amnesia. He’ll eventually recover, but I’m not quite certain when that will happen. It could take days, weeks, or maybe even months.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Stay by his side. Just help him get in touch with himself again.”

“But what about his current behavior? He acts like---like a kid.”

“When he was under a coma, he must’ve dreamt of being a kid again. Those childhood memories probably have embedded themselves to his brain, therefore causing him to have childish behaviors. Don’t worry, it’s only short-term.

As drama-ish, cliche and cheesy as that sounds, it was happening. Those bastards that did this to him were going to pay for it. Whenever Jung Sang recovers, they sure as hell were going to pay for it.

“You’re drifting off again,” Jung Sang said, interrupting my thoughts.

“It was nothing. Now, let me get back to my homework.”

I was staring at the math numbers on my notebook, but all I saw was his screenname, PingPongBoy, written all over it.

Out of nowhere, Jung Sang removed the pen from my grasp.

He was smiling like a kid who was trying to do his best to tease me. “Yah! Ji Won. Don’t look so sad. I’ll order you another hot chocolate.”

I sneered and held out my hand, unwilling to join in with his game. “Give my pen back, Jung Sang.”

“Close your eyes first.”

Lately, he enjoyed playing small childish pranks like wandering off on his own and when I go searching for him, and he ends up appearing behind me. If not that, he would steal my things and make me chase after him until I run out of breath. “Why?” I asked.

“Just do it,” he insisted.

I took a deep breath before closing my eyes. I felt him taking hold of my hand and writing something on it. I could feel his warm breath grazing along my wrist teasingly. And his hands were gentle, being careful not to hold on too tightly. I peeked. Or at least I tried to when he scolded me not to look. “What are you writing?” I asked, growing impatient.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

I opened them and stared at my hand. Park Jung Sang had printed the words in English right in the center of my the palm. It read, I love you.

I wonder whether the other Jung Sang would ever do something as childish and sweet.

“Do you like it? I prefer to show you how I feel rather than saying it. It’s more meaningful. When you sayit too much, it loses its meaning.”

No wonder why he kept repeating it earlier.

I smiled, feeling my cheeks flushing. “Yes, I like it.”

“You’re smiling again.”

I snatched for my pen and started to do more of my homework but I couldn’t concentrate because I felt his eyes on me. I raised my head to glance at him, finding that he was indeed staring like a curious cat. “What?”

He leaned forward and moved in closer so that our legs were touching. I didn’t know whether or not it was a good thing that he was being affectionate. Just two days ago, he held onto my hand and refused to let go, even after he walked me home. “Do you need help?”

“No,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Are you sure? I finished my homework right after school,” he bragged.

And I was capable of finishing my own homework. The only person standing in my way of it was Jung Sang himself.

Another odd occurrence happened. It had only been a week and a half since Jung Sang left the hospital and return to school. Surprisingly, he was acing his tests and quizzes and his teachers were shocked at his sudden improvement. His parents were happier that their son was no longer ditching school for ping-pong.

Speaking of ping-pong…

I closed my notebook and said, “I’m done for today. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“What about a game of ping pong?”

“Ping pong?” he questioned.

I waited, trying to read through his expression. Something was registering; it just wasn’t going through his head.

“My head hurts,” he said, rubbing at his temples. “Every time you mention a word that I’m familiar with---when I try to think more of it, my head starts hurting.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, realizing that I probably made a mistake by mentioning it. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“We should. I want to play,” he said eagerly.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

---

Park Jung Sang was bombarding me with questions when we stood inside the lobby of his apartment, waiting for the elevator to open.

“Was I a champ at it?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“And this is my apartment?” he asked in disbelief, observing the place.

“Yes.”

“Do you play well?”

“Kind of," I lied. Truth is. I .

“There’s really a ping-pong table in my apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Do I play well?”

“Didn’t you already ask me that question?”

“I asked if I was a champ.”

“That’s the same thing!” I snapped.

“But I want to know what you have to say about it.”

“Yes. You play well.”

He reached out for me, and I thought he was going to pat my head. He pinched my cheeks instead. “You get very cute sometimes.”

I pretended to smile.

“So what do you---“

I him, growing irritated. “If you don’t stop asking me questions, we won’t be playing!”

The elevator finally opened and standing inside was the same fat man on the train. The very same one that Jung Sang had beaten up a while ago.

He froze the moment his gaze landed on Jung Sang with recognition.

The man refused to budge, so I entered with Jung Sang following behind.

“What floor?” Jung Sang asked me.

“Top floor.”

Jung Sang turned to regard the older man. “Floor?”

The man didn’t answer him. I turned to see that he was clutching onto his you-know-what as if he was holding onto his dear life. He was afraid that the same thing would happen again. Poor guy.

Several seconds later, the elevator stopped and the lights went out again.

I rolled my eyes in the dark. Oh please. This is too much of a damn coincidence.

The man started to whimper and cry out desperately. “Help me, somebody help me. I’m gonna die in here!”

The fat nose-picker was overreacting. No one was doing anything to him.

I felt Jung Sang moving past me to help the man, but the man kept refusing his help. “No. Don’t you come close me! I know what you want to do!!”

“Sir, I can help,” Jung Sang offered.

That’s when the lights came on again.

When it reached our floor, the man ran out first, leaving a trail of water behind him.

Wait a second here. Water isn’t yellowish.

“That guy just pissed on the floor,” Jung Sang pointed out, pinching his nose in disgust.

“You think he was scared, or he just needed to pee really bad?” I asked, covering my nose and mouth.

“Why would he be scared? The elevator probably just needs fixing,” Jung Sang said. “What a strange guy.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He looks familiar though.”

He’s no more strange than you, Jung Sang.


---


He was a natural at it. I was ecstatic that Park Jung Sang had caught on so quickly. One moment, he was holding onto the racket, and in the next he was practicing against the wall of his apartment.

I stood there flabbergasted while I counted his strikes. When he reached a thousand, he turned and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I feel really good. Like, I could go on forever.”

He looked down at his racket and something clued in. “This racket, I’ve seen it before.”

“Really?” I asked, going over to him.

He nodded, still staring at it. “It’s…it’s my second best racket.”

My heart pounded in excitement. “What about your first?”

“My first. My first was a butterfly racket…that…my grandfather had passed onto me.”

Yes! We’re getting somewhere!

“Do you remember the name?”

He scratched his head. “I think…I think,” he shook his head. “I have no idea.”

My face fell. It was hopeless. How much longer would I have to continue to do this?

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Let’s sit down and talk. Maybe we can make this easier?”

He took my hand and guided me to the loveseat, making sure I sat down before he did. “Now. Tell me about Park Jung Sang and how he used to be like.”

I brought up my legs and hugged them. “Well for one thing---“

“Wait, let me get my recorder out,” he suggested.

I held out my hand for him to hand it to me, but he shook his head. “No. I don’t want your hand to get tired.”

“I wasn’t the one playing ping-pong,” I reminded him.

“Still, I don’t want you to hold it. I’ll hold it for you.”

Stubborn sweet fool.

I smiled and then started. “Park Jung Sang? How should I describe him?” I giggled, feeling like I was being interviewed. “You know, I really don’t know where to start.”

“How did you two meet?”

I snickered. “It was kind of stupid.”

“How so?”

“I met him online.” When I realized that I was speaking of the same person, I quickly corrected myself. “I met you online…”

“And what was your first impression of me?”

“Online?”

“Yes, online.”

“You were this arrogant son-of-a-b*tch.”

He held up his hand to stop me. “Wait. You have to answer that again. This time without the swear word.”

“Why not?” I asked incredulously.

“I don’t like hearing them.”

You stupid idiot. You curse way more than anything!

“Okay, go answer,” he said, placing the recorder near my face again.

“You were this arrogant son-of-a-gun.”

He stopped and tssked at me. “You’re still swearing, Ji Won.”

“So what? Was it my fault you were an assh0le?” I snatched the recorder off him. “This is not a fricken’ interview so screw the censoring. Gosh, don’t make me smack you on the side of your head!”

Park Jung Sang frowned and then settled back. “Fine. Hold it for yourself. But a girl like you shouldn’t be swearing like that. Girls should be---“

I was sick and tired of all of his morality bullsh*t, so I decided to speak over him. “PARK JUNG SANG LIKES TO SWEAR A LOT. HE’S ILL-MANNERED, TEMPERAMENTAL, JUDGEMENTAL, BLUNT, HONEST, ARROGANT AND SOMETIMES SWEET. HE HATES ICE-CREAM AND LOVES PING-PONG MORE THAN HE LOVES HIS GIRLFRIEND. HE HAS A NEICE NAME NA-NA EVEN THOUGH HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY SIBLINGS. HE’S STUBBORN AS A HORSE. HE USED TO RESEMBLE ONE TOO. HE ALWAYS GETS HIMSELF INTO FIGHTS EVEN WHEN HE DOESN’T ASK FOR IT. HE’S AFRAID OF GHOSTS AND I THINK HIS APARTMENT MIGHT BE HAUNTED. HE DOESN’T LIKE BEING CALLED UGLY EVEN THOUGH HE WAS ONCE UGLY BECAUSE OF HIS LONG HAIR. HE PLAYS JUST ABOUT EVERY SPORT THERE IS,” I paused, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. My voice grew softer. “Even with all those flaws and bad traits, I still like him a lot. Because I accept those bad traits, Jung Sang likes me back for that same reason. He can be a real pain most of the time, but it’s the other times that really matter. The time that he has to show his caring side. That’s what I like about him most.”

I wiped at my eyes and added, “And he’s a superb kisser.”

I turned to see Jung Sang nodding as if he understood. “I remember the name of the racket.” He lifted his eyes to look at me and said softly, “ButterflyKenji.”