A day after that brief conversation with Jiwon, one of our classmates e-mailed everybody the details about the class reunion. It was to take place in the small beer and chicken restaurant near our high school. Bring money for the drinks, they said, and came a few replies that made me chuckle.

I scanned through the list of recipients and found Hanbin’s email address.

Oddly enough, I never managed to send a letter to that email even though it meant a possible reply from him. I had thought about it—even tried to do it—of course, but writing to someone like Hanbin became a painful process for me.

Hey, Hanbin.
Everyone’s always telling me that I’ve changed. For the better? I’m not really sure.
They always say that I’m not as quiet as I used to be anymore; not as scared as I used to seem; not as blunt with my replies; not as awkward—but what if I’ve completely changed? What if we meet and I’m not the same person you liked back then?
But you know, I like how I am now.
With you and Jiwon, I certainly felt loved. I thought, “Ah, so this is how it feels.”
The world wasn’t a very nice place to not have friends, and I only realised that after I met you guys. So, I took this realization and ended up where I am now. Surrounded by friends. The people that I love.
Thank you for being part of that process, in other words: a building block for this moment. For who I am at this very moment.
However, when that time comes and we meet each other again, know that I’ll be scared—and not even at the thought of you not liking the new me, but instead, what if I don’t like the new you? What if the loneliness you caused me turns into hate?
Maybe that isn’t plausible.
But two years is definitely enough to change people. I have my doubts, as I’m sure you have yours. But still, even then I hope we—

Delete, delete, delete.

Hello, Hanbin.
To tell you the truth, you’re the reason I haven’t gone back home yet.
I was scared that the world would continue working normally without you. That everything back home will work even without Kim Hanbin.
Because that meant I no longer needed you.
And there was something in me that just kept yelling: I need you, I need you…
I wanted to need you.
Of course, I do not really need you. You aren’t oxygen or water or food or sleep or shelter. You’re just Hanbin, after all—

Delete, delete, delete.

To you,
I could only hate you for losing in touch, even when you promised we wouldn’t ever break contact.
I hate you for making me hope.
I miss you.

Delete, delete, delete.

. . .

“Y-you weren’t kidding about going home?” Jimin and Bambam synchronised, standing under the door frame as they watched me. It was straight after breakfast—early in the morning—when I headed straight to my room to pack my luggage.

After accepting the invitation to the reunion and telling my parents over the phone about it, I finally booked my tickets using the money I saved up from my part time job at the bookshop. I told the boarders, that same morning, that I was going home for the summer; my flight would be in two days, and I’ll only be there for two weeks.

“Do you really think professor would let you off?” Jimin carried on, sitting on the edge of my bed. “And I mean, our deadline is in a week, Hayi. It may be summer break in Korea, but there’s no such thing as a break for students like us.”

“I already handed my project in,” I answered. “And I’ll only be there for a short time. I already told Aunt.”

“Wait, wait. You already handed your project in?”

I nodded. “Besides, I haven’t seen my parents in over two years.”

Jimin and Bambam stayed quiet for a moment. I understood why I felt some kind of weight when they both looked at me with pity in their eyes. They got to see their families often since they visited home from time to time.

In other words: they had nothing to run away from.

Nevertheless, I shrugged it off and told them, “Don’t worry, you jerks!”

“You…” Jimin said, trailing off. “You’ll definitely come back?”

“Of course I will. I need to graduate.”

Bambam scoffed. “Jimin, aren’t you being clingy?” he joked.

“But I’ve seen it happen twice before,” she continued. “The old boarders, they told us that they’ll only visit home for a short time. But they never came back.”

I flicked Jimin’s forehead. “You really think I’ll do that to you guys?”

“What if he’s there? One person is enough to make you stay.”

Silence.

“Hey,” I said. “There’s at least seven people that can make me stay here. Do the calculation.”

. . .

Leaving the boarding house for the first time, there was no formal goodbyes—since it was not a lasting leave—but instead just a few shouts that demanded, “Bring Korean snacks when you come back! Have a safe flight!”

I gave aunt my thanks, told her I’d be back in two weeks, and she patted my back and said, “Have fun there. Make sure you come back!” Then Jimin and Bambam took the taxi with me to the airport. After helping me bring down my luggage, we parted ways from there with a mere, “See you in two weeks.”

The flight back home felt remarkably short even though the journey took fifteen hours, with a three hour break in the middle between the change of planes. The scenery from the plane made it impossible for me to fall asleep. Especially at night, when the intense glow from the city beneath floodlit to the skies, reaching me. It was putting certain memories back to the front of my mind, as if saying, “You haven’t thought about this for a while! Why don’t you think about it now?”

Oddly, it was the memory of the night when the three of us—Jiwon, Hanbin and I—stayed at the shabby rooftop to watch the sunrise in the morning, which struck me the hardest. The lights at our small town during night-time, the sunrise itself, our everlasting conversation about everything and nothing. I was yearning for those moments to come again. I even found myself wishing that Hanbin and Jiwon were right next to me, watching the scenery below as well. Inside my mind, I imagined the two of them to be gasping loudly in amazement.

Honestly, I felt almost selfish to have that view all to myself.

It was around seven in the morning when I landed in Seoul. Due to the jetlag and the lack of sleep, I was feeling drowsy.

My family was already at the airport, waiting for me inside the car. And upon seeing them, like magic, the dreadful feeling of tiredness turned obsolete.

My father, as usual, wore his favourite cap—the one he used to always wear when he took me and Chanhyuk to the local park when we were little. My mother, on the other hand, wore her favourite beige jacket—the one which my father gave to her for their anniversary. Soohyun, who had already surpassed my height since she was twelve, had grown even taller than she already was before. And Chanhyuk, who was merely the same height as Soohyun back then, had grown taller than my father.

As dad spotted me approaching the car, he walked—faster—over to where I was and just hugged me tight and wouldn't let go. So, I hugged him back.

It wasn’t anything dramatic, but it was a gesture that I missed. There was a gentle warmth which seemed like a permanence inside my parents. It had always been there within them, whether it was through modest gestures like a hug, or a simple “Goodnight.” It had always been there—tender, and still—and I’m sure Chanhyuk and Soohyun had the same hunch as I did, too. However, this time, that warmth hit me like a tropical storm, stirring everything in me.

I missed it too much.

I felt like crying.

But knowing what I did best: I held those tears in.

Don’t make them worry. Don’t make them worry. Don’t make them worry.

“I’m proud of you,” my father said quietly, at the same time in a tone full of confidence. We were walking towards the car. “I’m really proud of you.”

When we got inside my father’s seven-seater, as usual my mother cried and did not stop for a while. Soohyun approached me with a hug and a conversation about how high school was going for her, afterwards she asked me heaps of questions about London, and I simply told her I’d explain everything later; Chanhyuk, on the other hand, thundered in with his typical blaring insults.

“You’ve lost weight,” he remarked. “And you don’t look as ugly as you used to, Hayi!”

“Shut up, you ,” I chuckled.

“Are you going to stay here until summer ends?” Soohyun cut in.

“I can’t.”

“Might as well stay until your birthday,” Chanhyuk muttered.

“Hm.”

“Well, you should sleep for now! We’ll talk about everything when we get home,” said Soohyun.

For once, it felt really nice hearing that word.

Home.

After a brief conversation with my family, I ended up sleeping through the rest of the seven-hour journey.

. . .

To be fair, I didn’t do anything I would have considered special during my short stay at home. Mainly, those days consisted of me eating dinner with my family, staying up all night until morning just to finish a TV series with Soohyun, re-reading the books that I didn’t take with me to England, arguing with Chanhyuk and watching more television. I thought about the people at the boarding house every now and then, but I enjoyed being back at home with my family.

I guess re-living my old life was an enjoyable feeling.

Of course, I tried hard not to think about having to go back to England, and yet without me even knowing, I ended up counting the remaining days I had left.

When Kim Jiwon was back in town from a work trip, I had exactly five days until my flight was due.

It was a short walk to Jiwon’s house, so I took my time to stroll around our neighbourhood. The sky was bright and only faintly flecked with clouds. A clean, concrete pavement ran along the left side of the roads which connected all the houses in our subdivision, and some trees lined at the right, looking almost artificial with its greenness. A fairly stiff summer breeze was blowing, but the branches of those trees never swayed.

When I arrived at Jiwon’s house, he was already there waiting, stood on the steps of the front porch, looking drowsily at the sky.

“Hey, Kim Jiwon!”

His eyes widened. Jiwon ran to me and pulled me for an embrace, squeezing harder and harder by the second. A scent of Western perfume hung over him with the fragrance of a sun ripened fruit. A familiar scent.

And then he flicked my forehead.

“How did you get so pretty?” he started. “God, seeing you like this, I almost regret the texts I sent you when we were seventeen.”

I burst out into laughter, as so did Jiwon.

“Didn’t we promise we would never speak about that again?”

“It’s been two years, Hayi,” he chuckled. “And besides, I have a girlfriend now.”

“You have so much to tell me,” I said to him. With that, we got inside his car.

“True, and I’m sure you have things to tell me, too. Put your seatbelt on first!”

. . .

For his 19^th birthday, Jiwon was given a car, which made it easier for him to travel from here and there for the business trips his father sent him on. Of course, I was shocked too when I found out Jiwon started working under his father. But Jiwon told me he had a plan.

Like his father, he was exceptionally good at business, he said, which gave him another advantage to working like that. After Jiwon was inspired by the volunteer work he did when he was seventeen, he eventually persuaded his father to start charity projects like building small homeless shelters in Korea; giving charity to places who were experiencing terrible droughts or sending in a team of employees to help people all over the world. Little by little.

So as long as Jiwon worked under his family, doing the job he was best at, he could provide for the less fortunate, as well.

That’s how he explained it over the phone, as simple as that so somebody like me could comprehend the whole thing. Of course, I knew it was much more complicated. So I replied, “Jiwon, after I finish my degree—you know, I’d want to write a book about you. You’re like a saint.”

“How flattering, Hayi.”

. . .

Jiwon and I ran into lots of old friends. Friends from elementary school, middle school, high school. Everyone had matured in their own way, and even as we stood face to face with them they seemed like people from dreams.

“Hey, weren’t you guys friends with Kim Hanbin?” An old classmate asked. The restaurant was fully booked. There were a few big tables that could hold eight, and everyone gathered around those tables. It was really noisy, considering it had been a really long time since we all last saw each other. Jiwon and I joined the table with the classmates who we were closest to at the time.

“Yeah, they were really close, I remember!” Yerin said, sitting next to me.

“He’s a big shot now,” Yugyeom added. “You guys listened to his radio shows? I heard he makes money for every time a viewer tunes in.”

“Damn lucky. Is he too big now that he can’t even come to a reunion? I mean, our Hayi here flew all the way from London!”

“Hey, Junhong, you used to be scared less of him!”

“He was really scary at the time! How am I supposed to know he wasn’t a thug when he always came to school with bruises on his face?”

“That was one time!” Yerin said. Everybody laughed.

Jiwon and I could only sit, nodding our heads and going along with the banter as they continued all kinds of talk.

Even after two hours, Hanbin didn’t arrive, and yet I still had some hope somewhere within me—that like the heroes I saw on television, or the protagonist I read about in books, Hanbin would turn up at the last minute.

“Round two: karaoke, anybody?!”

The whole restaurant now filled with drunk people went frantic. “Yeah!”

Jiwon looked at me, and I could see him from the very corner of my eye. “We should get going,” he said amongst the loud noises.

“To the karaoke?”

“Let’s face it,” he whispered. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

I shook my head, and whispered back, “You’re right.”

“Yeah, I don’t either.”

With that, we said our goodbyes to everyone. We smiled and waved, exchanged a few words, and then walked on in our separate directions.

We didn’t get to see Hanbin that day.

. . .

“Where are we going?” I asked Jiwon.

“To the rooftop,” he said, both of his hands on the steering wheel. “Look at the back seat.”

So I looked. A big bottle of vodka and several cans of beer. “Smart move.”

He shot me a typical Jiwon kind of smile, where wrinkles moulded his eyes and turned them into a pair of crescents, as his mouth spun into a goofy beam.

And then, so quickly, that smile was gone.

“Are you disappointed that he didn’t come?” Jiwon asked.  

“Of course I am. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for asking you to come all the way here for a stupid reunion and—”

“It wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t come here for that. I came here simply to see my family—and you. Are you forgetting how long I’ve been away? I missed this town!”

A pause. Another smile from him. And then silence.

I rolled down the windows, and what greeted me—along with the calm summer breeze—was the sound of the cicadas’ humming from the forest. We were driving near the rooftop, and near the forest, I could already tell even with my eyes shut. But it was still silent.

And Jiwon was the first to break that silence: “Lee Hayi, you’ve been running away all this time, haven’t you?”

. . .

the idea of growing old // 

honestly a bit rushed...but yeah...sorry it took so long. i was feeling a little lazy and unmotivated since i just finished studying for my exam, but after reading your comments i felt really encouraged ^^! thank you ♡