Weeks passed by faster than I’d imagined, and December finally came. Which meant every now and then, the snow would fall for a while and stop. “God, I love the snow,” Hanbin said eagerly. We sat in my room watching the scene beyond the window, where there was nothing to see but snow. Snow clouds hung low and heavy in the sky, with only a small gap between them and the snow-filled earth.

“I heard that it doesn’t snow much in Seoul.”

Amused, he replied, “Are you trying to persuade me not to go?”

“Not really.”

“You’re terrible at lying,” Hanbin remarked. “Besides, it’s not for certain that I’m going. It isn’t that easy. Most people spend their entire lifetime chasing after their dreams.”

“Seoul’s only five hours away from here,” I said, my eyes shifting from the book I was reading to meet his stare. “I’m sure it’ll happen if that’s what you really want.”

“If only things were that simple, though.”

“You talk to me like I’m a kid,” I scoffed.

“Well, aren’t you? Then, what’s your dream, Hayi?”

“I don’t know.”

“But surely you must have thought about it.”

“I do, but it’s those kind of thoughts that never really sticks forever. Maybe something like a writer. I thought about travelling the world, too, but it seems too farfetched. Too not me.”

“Strangely enough, I can imagine it. You travelling the world,” he replied shortly. Then, a long silence approached, with the sound of the snow falling outside merely filling in that gap. Honestly, I always wondered why the silence wasn’t awkward with Hanbin, why it felt so comfortable. Why neither of us opted out when it occurred. The answer was never clear to me. I wasn’t even sure if there was an answer for it.

“Let’s get Jiwon,” Hanbin suddenly said.

“He should come here instead.”

“That’s just cruel,” he joked, pointing at the snow.

After that, I texted Jiwon saying: “Free house all day. Playing some vintage video games with Hanbin, ordering pizza later. Come if you’re free.”

Shortly, he replied with: “I’ll be there at six.”

“Don’t walk. Take the taxi, idiot.”

“Thanks for your concern.”

“That was Hanbin’s idea.”

“Liar.”

I didn’t know why, but I could just imagine what Jiwon’s face looked like while sending those texts. His eyes must have turned crescent like the shape of his mouth when he’s smiling, and wrinkles would deepen in the very corner of those same deep brown-filled eyes.

“You really smile a lot these days,” Hanbin remarked.

. . .

When it came to video games, I was the better one out of the three of us. Me, Jiwon and Hanbin. It developed from when I was little and Chanhyuk and I would always play competitively, whether it was between who runs faster in a race or who finishes the food on their plate first. One of my earliest memory was trying to get the highest score on Tetris on our old Nintendo console. I think Chanhyuk won, most of the time.

“So, where’s your folks?” Jiwon asked, his eyes completely absorbed at the TV screen as he tapped numerous buttons on the Nintendo 64 controller. Jiwon and Hanbin were playing Tekken.

“Hey, Hanbin! Don’t get pizza grease on my controllers!—and they’re visiting my uncle in Seoul.”

“Why didn’t you come with them?” Hanbin cut in.

“I’m waiting for some package to arrive.”

“Are they staying overnight?” asked Jiwon. I told him that they were. “So can we sleep here?”

“Oh gee, my parents will be so happy.”

“I’m not sure about Jiwon, but your parents trust me,” Hanbin mentioned. Which, technically, was true. My parents trusted him as if he was one of their own. And he’d visit every so often that when he didn’t, mom or dad would find it suspicious and ask me why he hasn’t come to our house that weekend. On several occasions, Hanbin even slept over when the weather got really cruel.

“Fine,” was what I told them. “Leave before six.”

. . .

“Hey, Jiwon, what’s your dream?” Hanbin asked, after winning another match in Tekken. He laid down, and folded his arms underneath his neck like a pillow. “Hayi and I were just talking about it before.”

“I don’t know. My dad wants me to become a doctor.”

Hanbin scoffed. “I wasn’t asking about your father.”

“Well, it sounds like a pretty good deal to me. My grades are worthy of becoming a doctor.”

“You haven’t changed since middle school.”

“Neither have you,” Jiwon quarrelled back. For some reason, it made me smile, the way they got along sometimes, the easy and affectionate way they talked to each other as if having a friend was easy and uncomplicated.

“I have. For the better or for worse, I don’t really know. But I have. Hayi, what do you think?”

“About what?”

“This punk becoming a doctor.”

“Hmm,” I pondered on. “Not that my input matters in this, but shouldn’t doctors be saying things like, ‘I want to help people’ instead of ‘my grades are worthy for it.’”

Hanbin laughed. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Jiwon gave me a playful frown, and threw a pillow at Hanbin, causing it to land on his face. “It’s a technical way of thinking. I mean, really, I thought about it, but isn’t it safer to go for the more realistic option? I’m not exactly going to be an astronaut.”

“I guess that’s true,” I said. I did partly agree with what Jiwon had to say, because not everyone was as fearless as Hanbin was when it came to making decisions. Hanbin had told me once that he didn’t have a real family. I got to thinking, then, that his fearlessness derived from him not having anything to lose. But in the end, I couldn’t say it to him. “Doesn’t life frighten you, Hanbin?”

“Of course life frightens me sometimes. I want my words to change the way others think. I want to share music with people. I want to move to a totally new place and restart. It’ll be hard, but I'm going to give it hundred percent and go as far as I can. That's how I intend to live my life, and if things go bad, I'll stop and reconsider at that point,” Hanbin said as if he already knew what struck our minds back then.

The three of us just lay on the floor with our futon blankets, gazing up at the ceiling. For a few minutes, I wanted us to live in the universe of children instead of the universe of almost-adults. Then, the snow was replaced with heavy rain, and a warm, intimate mood took hold as the three of us talked into the night.

I began to wish that the rain would keep on falling.

. . .

Autumn posted:

I’m only a child, but I know the feeling that came when you parted with something, and I felt that pain. I don’t have a clear understanding of what it means to say goodbye. What I know, though, is that it will happen at one point, and I’ve been aware of that as long as I can remember.

Maybe that’s why I'd never really been very close to other people.

So many times it seemed like there were chances to stop things before they started. Or even stop them in midstream. But what’s even worse is when I know in that very moment that there’s still time to save myself, and yet I can’t even budge.

. . .

Mom asked Hanbin to come over for Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve landed on a Friday, the same day as his radio show, so Hanbin couldn’t make it in the end. Nevertheless, after our family dinner, dad offered to give me a ride to our town’s broadcasting station just twenty minutes before Hanbin’s show started. My parents, I was unsure whether they felt love or pity for Hanbin. Though, there were times where I had felt that it might have been a mixture of both. I thought, maybe pity was a seed that grew into an understanding of what it meant to love someone.  

I bought Hanbin an Elliot Smith album with a track of his favourite, Between the Bars. I wrapped it myself and added a bright red ribbon.

“Damn,” he said, blushing. It was the first time I’d seen Hanbin’s workplace. It was a small room—enough to fit at least three people—with three large computer screens and a lot of complicated buttons. “You could’ve told me that you were coming! I’ve a gift for you, but I left it at home. Sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“Also, tell your mom I said sorry I couldn’t make it today. I would have went and cancelled my show but it’s kind of a special day.” He looked at me. “Take a seat, why don’t you?”

“Am I even allowed here?”

He nodded, and as soon as I sat down, he swivelled his chair to face the computer monitors.

“So? Why is it a special day?”

“There's this guy, and he’s interested in my show. He works for some broadcasting company in Seoul. You know, those big ones.”

“So he’s listening to your show tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here, then?”

Hanbin rested his cheek on his hand and smiled at me. “It’s okay. Maybe you can be like my lucky charm or something.”

“Hmm,” I said. “But if you get a bad response, don’t blame me.”

“Merry Christmas, Hayi,” Hanbin suddenly said. “It’s twelve.”

“Merry Christmas,” I said back.

He let out a soft chuckle, and with that, Hanbin’s Twelve o’clock playlist began.

I understood that music was something he loved, something he respected. He understood its beauty and its dangers. He talked about music as if it were a way of life.

That night, as I watched him, Hanbin became one more mystery in a universe full of mysteries.

. . .

as much as i ever could // :-(

xxxggom #4 Nov 21, 2014 21:33:19 Reply All 
I want to know something, about those thoughts, are they your real outlook on life, or just something you made to liven up the character? 

honestly, some thoughts were made to liven up the character. i can't say that i still view life in the same way as i used to. but still, i believe that some of those thoughts are still there within me, somewhere. 

some people messaged me a similar question, so i figured it'd be better if i post it on here. thank you for asking. ^^

once again, i was encouraged by your comments. thank you!