CHAPTER 6

Gwanju, 2006

The day Jiyong knew about the new festival at the nearest town, he begged to be allowed to go. Not only to his parents, who only gave him a bewildered face at him and his strange excitement, but to Seungri too. It was disappointing the way Seungri, for the first time, had nothing but rejected the idea of the festival and had been doing his best effort to divert Jiyong’s attention to anything else but it. And yet, Jiyong wanted to know, wanted to go. The idea of being able to see something, no matter how small from the city, thrilled him. And this festival was the first thing that came all the way from the city and put foot on such a small and distant town as theirs.

“They said a group of actors with lots of makeup and flashy dresses go around reciting poems and laughing out loud!” Jiyong ranted during one of those walks back from their usual river hang out. The weather was turning colder with the arriving of winter and still they couldn’t find reasons enough to stop jumping into the river to splash around cold water and loud laughs. “… And there are these huge roller-coasters and the whole town skyline is covered in bright lights that sparkle at the rhythm of the music and…” Jiyong bumped into Seungri’s back.

Seungri had suddenly stopped and now was staring in utter silence at the floor. With a frown, Jiyong reached a hand and placed it over Seungri’s shoulder.

“Ri?”

A sigh was all he got as answer and he felt, under his palm, a shiver ran down Seungri’s back. Seungri’s shoulders tensed right before he answered back.

“You are so excited about it,” was all Seungri said while he kicked with his foot one rock to the side of the pathway. It didn’t sound like a complain rather a conclusion. A silent resignation. His hands hid under the pockets of his pants and he hunched over, appearing smaller and smaller, “You want me to go with you, isn’t it?” he asked, but there was a pained edge to his voice.

Jiyong hated it. Hated the sound of distress and sadness in Seungri’s usual sparkly self. He closed the distance between them and his arms circled around Seungri’s waist, resting his head over the dip between Seungri’s shoulder blades. He did want to go with him. Seungri shouldn’t even be asking, but he seemed so disgusted by the idea, so repulsed. Jiyong at times hushed the voice inside his head that screamed it was unfair. Seungri’s recent attitude was unfair. He knew the city; he had traveled to the city many times before and therefore, he clearly didn’t feel the tingle of curiosity Jiyong did. But he should understand. Jiyong immediately shut his eyes closed and pursed his lips together because he despised the maddening complains forming inside his head. Instead, he murmured, “Is ok if you don’t want to.”

But rather than relax, his answer only seemed to tense up Seungri’s shoulders even more. Seungri’s hands grabbed onto the back of his almost painfully.

“Don’t dare lie to me,” Seungri turned around without loosening his grip on Jiyong’s hands while his eyes loomed over Jiyong with something akin to frustration, “I know you think I’m being unfair. And in some way I am, as same as selfish. So I apologize,” he said, caressing the back of Jiyong’s hand. Anger was hidden unsuccessfully behind his irises. He sighed and gave one last look at the floor before starting to walk once more. He pulled Jiyong with him, who walked in silence by his side glancing sideways at him with utter confusion. Seungri let out a choked laugh and shook his head softly.

“I am being stupid, don’t I?” he said more to himself, “I am just… scared.” That last part he mumbled it, as though his mouth had betrayed him and had said something it shouldn’t.  

Jiyong’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, to ask. But Seungri shook his head once more and held a hand up to stop him. Jiyong stopped.

“We will go. I want you to know and to see all those things you want to. You-you deserve to. So just… forgive me. I have been… I,” Seungri bit his lips and swallowed, looking away. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he nothing but whispered and he hid his face, red covering his cheeks and neck.

Jiyong blinked furiously at that and he frowned, “Why would you? It’s only a festival,” he asked, unable to hid the puzzlement in his voice. Seungri blushed even more and pinched his nose.

“I know, I know.”

“You are indeed being stupid,” Jiyong laughed, “Is this really the reason why you were being like this?”

Seungri’s eyes kept refusing to look at Jiyong, “Yeah,” he chocked out, “I told you, I’m just being stupid over nothing.”

And they said no more. Jiyong never asked whys and Seungri never considered appropriate to give those. Both apparently accepting the fact the whys were not important. The day of the festival came closer and closer, until it was only a night away.

Jiyong had all prepared. From his clothes, which were the best and cleanest ones he had, to the little amount of money his mom had given him in secret. And of course, the loud buzzing of his head at his excitement of been about to watch something his eyes had never seen before. The opportunity to fulfill his imagination was just a night away, and Jiyong rolled over his bed until very late at night unable to fall asleep.

Two boys walked early in the morning through the shortest road to Buk-Gu, where they would take the earliest truck that could take them to Damyang. Seungri said they would arrive at the early afternoon. Jiyong believed they would get there earlier. It was all forgotten when they boarded the truck and soon they found themselves travelling through tick red roads. Tall, red sequoias enclosed the dirt roads; and their leaves, pulled by the late autumn wind, fell in whirls over the ground and their clothes. Jiyong smile was radiant, and he leant his weight over Seungri’s shoulder and pointed at the sky, or more accurately, to the red ceiling above them. There was no sky but a constant shining web of reds and browns, and tinny sparkles of sunrays trying their best to pass through the foliage. It was magical, and they soon decided it didn’t really matter when they arrived.

A couple of old ladies were sat in front of them, engrossed in their own conversation about their daughters and their marital lives. At the far right a man was carving something on a wood chunk, ignoring the rest of the passengers. Only a mother with her little daughter stared at them a couple of times, squinting her eyes when she spotted their joined hands. By his side, Seungri seemed to be unaffected by her inquisitive stare. He kept whistling tunes and telling stories about the legends of the roads they transited through. But for Jiyong, soon her stare became overwhelming, and what had been an easy gesture before, now it wasn’t. His hand became sweaty, uncomfortable. His arm seemed to increase in weight more and more with each minute until it was unbearable. At the end, when not only her but also her daughter turned to look at them, Jiyong snapped and retrieved his hand in a sharp move. Which caused Seungri’s to stop mid-song and jerk his head at their now separated hands and then at him. His eyes studied Jiyong’s face for a second and his face tightened unpleased at what he saw. With a scowl, he glanced around and soon his eyes met the ones of the lady; his eyes turned hard and cold. He raised one eyebrow while a toothy, forced smile appeared on his lips.

It was enough. The lady flinched on her seat, coughed and looked away; her eyes never turned to look at them again during the trip. But so did Seungri’s whistling or stories. He remained silent by his side. His chin stood tilted down and his scowl never disappeared entirely. And when Jiyong tried to push him to speak once more, there was heaviness in his stare and answers, one that wasn’t there before. And his hands never seek to touch Jiyong again, either.

Damyang was far enough to be a long journey but close enough for Jiyong’s parents to let him go. Even better was that Seungri’s mom had a sister at the town, so they didn’t have to return at midnight to Gwanju. The sun was already above their heads, burning their scalps, when they arrived. With only a quick look around, Seungri’s aunt was an easy sight to spot. She was standing at the main square of the town wearing a straw hat and holding a bad of groceries waving furiously at them. She looked similar to Seungri’s mom, too kind and cheerful; and treating Jiyong as if she knew him from a long time ago.

 “You both must be hungry. My sister is not feeding you right, Ri-ya. Look at you! A bunch of sticks, you are! And your friend is not even better,” she kept complaining on their way to her house. Seungri’s smile was back, his previous off-ness no longer there. And he kept sending amused smirks to Jiyong who, for the sake of appearing educated, kept nodding and apologizing for his lack of body mass.

They eat a stew that tasted way better than anything he had ate before and not minutes after ending to dry their dishes they ran out of the house, pushing each other and crinkling their eyes in laughter, looking for adventures. The field where the festival was taking place was nothing but a square of gritty sands that blew on their faces with the wind and made everyone sneeze. A perimeter fence made