First Love

Back home, I pulled out my phone.

I stared at Han Gangun’s number among the handful of contacts I had saved. Lying on my back and staring at the yellowed ceiling, I sank into thought.

The text that always came never arrived today.

After hesitating for a while, I tapped the keypad.

[What are you doing?]

I just hoped he would reply.

It was the first time I had texted him first.

The little “1” beside the message stubbornly refused to disappear.

It was past ten o’clock.

I checked my phone while washing up, checked it again with wet hands, checked it while drying my hair, checked it after changing into my pajamas.

Nothing appeared in my notifications.

Then, at 11:25 PM, my phone chimed.

[Sorry]

[I was taking Shim Yuyeon home and just got on my way back]

I had forgotten.

Today was one of the days Han Gangun walked Yuyeon home after her academy classes.

Normally I stayed for evening self-study too, so I never really noticed his absence.

Maybe it felt different because I’d gone home early today.

I lay stretched out on the sofa and waited about ten seconds before opening the chat.

[Oh right, today was one of those days.]

[I forgot.]

A short reply came back.

[Where are you?]

[At home, obviously.]

It sounded like he was asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Before I could reply, another text arrived.

[Can I ask you something?]

I immediately started typing.

[What?]

There was a brief pause.

Then:

[About what the guys said at lunch today.]

[Even if they were joking.]

[I thought maybe it could’ve upset you.]

He was talking about when Kim Yunho had jokingly asked if I was gay.

I hadn’t thought about it once since lunch.

It had meant nothing to me.

Just one of those thoughtless comments people tossed around.

Which was why I found Han Gangun’s question unexpected.

If he was bringing it up now, it meant he’d been thinking about it all this time.

I replied right away.

[Not really.]

[It was a joke.]

[Just something he said.]

[It didn’t bother me.]

His answer came quickly.

[That’s a relief then.]

How much of me are you planning to worry about?

I typed back.

[Why are you worried about it anyway?]

His reply arrived almost immediately.

[Just thought of it suddenly.]

Then:

[Oh, right.]

[I have something to tell you.]

I rolled onto my side, clutching my phone like it was something precious.

[What is it?]

His answer came.

[I broke up.]

Has anyone ever experienced it?

That feeling where your head suddenly goes cold, while your chest burns hot?

Where every hair on your body stands up and your fingers curl involuntarily?

The moment I read Han Gangun’s text, a tidal wave of physical reactions crashed over me.

I had to sit up.

It was a day I came home early after after-school classes.

I attended evening study sessions three times a week.

Friday wasn’t one of those days.

At our school, students could choose which days they stayed for self-study.

The seniors had complained endlessly about it.

Back when they were in our year, staying until late five days a week had been mandatory.

Some even had to come in on weekends.

Now the rules had relaxed.

The seniors insisted it wasn’t fair.

That everyone below them should suffer through the same thing.

It was ridiculous.

Friday afternoons were my favorite.

The weather always seemed better on Fridays.

My mood always seemed lighter.

And there was the promise of Saturday waiting just beyond it.

That day, I practically ran up the hill toward home.

Maybe because I was in a good mood.

No.

That was definitely why.

During seventh period, Han Gangun and I had exchanged at least five pages worth of notes.

Most of them were completely pointless.

Complaining about cafeteria food.

Making fun of our overly serious Korean teacher.

At one point, I’d drawn a picture of Han Gangun’s face and written:

Mutt.

Instead of retaliating, he’d drawn a smiling face and written:

Thanks ^^

This is our pretty Ijae hehe

Mutt~

Han Gangun never responded to teasing with more teasing.

He had a strange ability to make the person calling him a mutt look like the mutt instead.

I folded that note carefully.

When I wrote him another one, I tore a fresh page from my notebook.

The folded note went into the left breast pocket of my uniform.

As I climbed the hill, I unfolded it again.

The pencil marks had smudged from being folded.

I stared at the words: our pretty Ijae

I nearly collided with a bicycle while reading.

After blowing gently on the smudged graphite, I tucked the note away again.

For some reason, I was sweating.

Maybe because of the weather.

Or maybe because I’d been walking unusually fast.

Halfway home, I stopped at a convenience store.

I bought a grape-flavored ice pop.

Tore open the wrapper.

Bit into it.

As I wandered into the familiar alley, I saw two figures ahead.

School uniforms.

A boy and a girl.

Instinctively, I stepped to the side.

Then peeked out again to make sure.

Han Gangun.

And Shim Yuyeon.

Yuyeon was saying something.

Her lips moved nonstop.

She kept looking up at him.

The height difference between them was enormous.

Both backpacks hung from Han Gangun’s shoulder.

Yuyeon wasn’t carrying anything.

Han Gangun laughed lazily.

Yuyeon laughed too.

I stood there silently watching them.

Then they entered the snack stall.

The same one where Han Gangun and I had eaten three servings of tteokbokki.

The same place where we’d run into Jooho.

Han Gangun held the flap open.

Yuyeon slipped inside.

He followed.

The plastic curtain fell shut behind them.

The grape ice pop had completely melted in my hand.

I poured the sticky liquid into a storm drain.

Then stood there.

Staring.

Cars and motorcycles passed.

I eventually turned around and went home.

Lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, I suddenly remembered something Jooho had once told me.

The rumor.

About seeing Han Gangun entering Dongyang Motel with a girl.

A story I’d brushed aside without caring.

Now the image of Han Gangun walking into that snack stall with Yuyeon merged with the image of Han Gangun walking into a motel.

I fell asleep early that night.

A boy and a girl entering a snack stall together.

Whispering I love you.

Holding hands.

Looking at each other with affection.

Walking together beneath neon lights.

Before sleep, I imagined scenes of a romantic date.

But the people in those scenes weren’t me and Han Gangun.

They were Han Gangun and Shim Yuyeon.

I stood far away.

Unable to call his name.

Only watching.

Listening to him tell Yuyeon that he loved her.

I buried my face in my pillow.

Along with the tears I couldn’t explain.

In my dream, I became Yuyeon.

I looked at someone standing before me.

Replacing Han Gangun with anyone else felt wrong.

Unpleasant.

Unnatural.

But in front of me stood Han Gangun.

With an expression I’d never seen him wear for me.

He touched my cheek.

Held my hand.

Whispered that he loved me.

I wrapped my arms around him.

Buried my face in his shoulder.

And just as I opened my mouth to tell him I loved him too—

I woke up.

It was still early morning.

An entire hour earlier than usual.

The damp pillow disgusted me.

I stared at the tear stains covering the pillowcase.

Then ripped it off and threw it aside.

I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face.

I washed longer than usual.

Then I looked up at the mirror.

And realized I was crying again.

Tears slid down my wet face.

I didn’t know exactly what emotion it was.

But resentment came first.

I felt humiliated.

Embarrassed.

Angry.

Han Gangun’s face kept appearing in my mind.

Until yesterday, none of this had bothered me.

But the more I thought about him, the angrier I became.

It took a pathetic dream for me to finally understand.

I liked Han Gangun.

My heart raced whenever I thought of him.

Thinking about him having a girlfriend made me feel resentful, wronged, furious.

Unfortunately, there was no denying it.

That was the truth.

Maybe I’d liked him for a long time already.

Since we started texting.

No—

Since we started passing notes.

No—

Maybe ever since that day when the soccer ball he kicked struck me in the forehead.