FBF chapter 10 part 1

Five by Five (5×5) Volume 3

“Did you skip school without permission?”

Lee Jihoon, who had glanced back at me, asked. I easily caught on to the subject he had omitted and shook my head.

“No, I was just on the phone. I told you to go ahead.”

After a moment of frowning, Jihoon nodded as if he understood. The guy who had taken his hands out of his pants pocket came over. The school yard was noisy with the lunchtime crowd. We walked slowly, like people who didn’t feel worth spending time with among those running around in worn-out slippers.

“Was the fourth period Korean?”

“No, Physics.”

It had been a long time since it was just the two of us having lunch together. It was also rare for us to have such trivial conversations. Whether borrowing gym clothes, having meals, or bumping into each other in the hallways, there had always been Choi Hyuk-jun by my side recently. After all, they were partners and always stuck together during movement. Jihoon seemed to have adapted to that fact more quickly than I expected. His attitude was quite different from when he had acted as if he could confront Hyuk-jun at any moment in the bathroom. I also recalled that day when I had hesitated to say “lunch,” and the moment I did, he had laughed and playfully hit my shoulder.

“Who are you worried about, anyway? I don’t cause any trouble.”

He himself was the one who mentioned “trouble” first, despite me not bringing up Hyuk-jun’s name. However, Jihoon acted as if he knew what I was worried about. It was as if he had forgotten calling Hyuk-jun names and treated him like one of our classmates. It didn’t take long for Hyuk-jun to notice this. From my experience, he preferred being treated like an ordinary student rather than having special treatment from others. I was gradually realizing that Hyuk-jun treating me as a person rather than a subject for gossip was part of why I tolerated him.

When the three of us were together, there wasn’t much conversation. Even when Jihoon and Hyuk-jun occasionally exchanged sarcastic remarks, the conversations were short, perhaps because there was no interest in each other. Still, Jihoon consistently had lunch with me two or three times a week, even if it wasn’t easy to feel comfortable around Hyuk-jun. I thought about suggesting he could stop, but every time he looked back at me, I kept quiet. It was a statement that could only arise under the assumption that Jihoon treated me with special care.

“Are you happy?”

Since that winter, words I couldn’t share with Jihoon had been piling up in my heart like snow. When I felt the fear that something might change if I spoke them too carelessly, those thoughts melted away. When I sensed that some half-melted ice crystals were trying to crawl up my throat, I had to shut my mouth in fear.

Even now, instead of asking Jihoon whether I had given up my routine of racing to the physics teacher after classes to resolve my concerns, I simply turned my head away.

“Oh, right.”

Jihoon, standing at the entrance of the cafeteria, turned to me while scanning his ID card. He looked like he remembered something he had forgotten.

“I can’t go to the movies next weekend.”

Suddenly, what movie? Jihoon, looking back at me, pouted like he was about to cry.

“Wah! Poor our Young-eun.”

“Ah….”

Only then did I remember that next weekend was the day I had planned to watch a movie with Young-eun. The mention of four free movie tickets also reminded me that it had been decided for the four of us, including Kang Young-soo and Jihoon. When Jihoon saw my awkward face, he let out a deflated laugh.

“Just write things like that down, will you? Don’t make the girl feel bad.”

I barely tore my gaze from the side profile of Jihoon, who lightly threw a piece of advice and grabbed his tray. I knew Jihoon had a big affection for Young-eun, whom he had known since childhood. Even though I thought it was meaningless when he said it, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy thinking about how Jihoon always tried to connect Young-eun and me since middle school. Every time I recalled Jihoon laughing next to Young-soo while joking about being a brother-in-law, my heart, which had swelled like a balloon, felt like it was deflating like it had been pricked by a needle. Wanting to connect people only happens when one has no feelings for that person.

It felt natural, but at the moment, I felt my facial muscles stiffen. I was relieved that I was standing behind Jihoon. Only when he received all his side dishes did I awkwardly murmur.

“Ah, right.”

The usual spot where we always sat during lunch was also empty today. Of course, it was because it was close to the teachers’ dining area, a place the kids generally avoided. I thought he would head there, but contrary to my expectations, Jihoon turned to a different spot. It was about two blocks away from where he usually sat. Following him, who nodded toward the empty space as if to show me where to sit, I walked.

“But why can’t you go on Saturday?”

As I grabbed my spoon, I finally managed to ask. Jihoon, who was eating his soup, answered without lifting his head.

“Because I have a mock debate orientation.”

Ah… I nodded. The upcoming mock debate in the second semester was apparently a considerable event, and there were many activities to participate in, such as sharing preliminary assignments ahead of time. According to Jihoon, the organizers had temporarily created a cafe-like space on social media for students to communicate with each other.

“Participants from Seoul are having a preliminary meeting. They said it’s Saturday morning, so I plan to head up right after the vacation ceremony.”

Even then and now, Jihoon had that look of annoyance. Still, I figured he was trying his best in some way since he re-joined the SNS he had previously quit and was following what the organizers asked him to do. It wasn’t surprising, considering he had been twice as active in all school activities since then. I reasonably suspected that Jihoon’s homeroom teacher had purposely involved him in this activity knowing this pattern.

Thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t see Jihoon during his trip to Seoul made me feel oddly uncomfortable. Was it because I had hardly gone a day without seeing his face? Hesitating for a moment, I tried to ask in as casual a tone as possible.

“Are you coming back on Sunday, then?”

Next Friday was the vacation ceremony. Though it was called a vacation ceremony, after a short week off excluding the weekend, we had to come back to school for supplementary classes. When I recalled Young-soo lamenting about how this was a real vacation and asking to hang out together, the chances were high that we would spend the weekend together. I thought if Jihoon joined us even at the last minute, we could hang out together for at least a day on Sunday.

“What? I didn’t hear.”

Jihoon looked up and asked again. I noticed he was holding his phone under the table. I suspected he was texting someone. It was something I had seen him do often recently. Most likely due to the mock debate. I shook my head.

“…No. Just have a good trip.”

“Who’s going where?”

With a thud, I turned my head toward the sound of Jihoon pushing his tray. I didn’t know when he had arrived, but Hyuk-jun was there. He pulled out a chair next to me and looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for my answer. It seemed he had caught on to the conversation. Perhaps not having fully understood, his gaze moved between Jihoon and me. After pondering for a moment, I opened my mouth nonchalantly since it was a topic entirely unrelated to Hyuk-jun.

“Not me, Jihoon. He said he’s going to Seoul for the mock debate orientation.”

Hyuk-jun, who frowned slightly, grabbed his spoon without saying a word. Jihoon also lowered his gaze back to his phone without saying anything particular in response. As was usual when the three of us were together, it was quite silent. Surprisingly, Hyuk-jun was the one to break the peaceful atmosphere.

“Aren’t you the biggest punk among the people you hang around with?”

It wasn’t a sarcastic comment; his expression was indifferent. It almost sounded like he was genuinely curious. Perhaps that was why Jihoon didn’t seem affected by the question.

“I guess it should be okay since I’m not a piece of trash like you?”

Watching Jihoon reply without tearing his gaze from the phone, I turned my head away. Using terms like punk and trash in their conversation didn’t feel like something friends would typically say to each other, and I was unsure whether I should intervene. Yet looking at the two of them, who didn’t even have the will to engage in a fight, and weren’t even meeting each other’s eyes while doing their own things apathetically, it felt ambiguous. After all, they shouldn’t have even been connected as friends to begin with.

Having seemingly finished whatever he was doing, Jihoon caught my eye as he put his phone away. Seeing my expression, which was as ambiguous as my thoughts, he gave a smile. He picked up his chopsticks and naturally piled a handful of bean sprouts on Hyuk-jun’s tray.

“Eat the bean sprouts. That way, you’ll catch up in height with the older kids.”

Geez, what are you doing… I watched as Hyuk-jun pushed all the bean sprouts Jihoon had passed him into the soup compartment. On my own tray, something had also slipped over. It was a drink we received, one per person. As I looked at the drink labeled plum flavor, I had received a pineapple flavor, I noticed Jihoon winking and mischievously explaining.

“Just eat a lot. That way, you’ll have the strength to study.”

Before I could reply, Jihoon’s gaze lowered. For a moment, he was staring at his phone screen before letting out a small laugh. It seemed the recipient of the message had said something funny. Watching that scene, my heart sank. For the first time, I wondered if there were girls among the participants of that mock debate, a sudden and useless curiosity.

Eyes cannot be counted in units. However, when something cold accumulates in my heart, I could feel it distinctly. Feeling the depths sinking further, I arranged my expression and pretended to move my spoon casually.

* * *

28. Drug addiction has been considered as a complex and chronic…

I stopped mid-sentence, caught in a habit of breaking the lines. The reason my gaze lingered on a sentence I would have read mechanically without thought in the past was because I felt the word “drug” was not one I’d expect to find in such discussions anymore, especially due to Hyuk-jun’s constant mention of his father. My gaze naturally fell on the empty chair beside me. Hyuk-jun had not come to school since the beginning of vacation. According to his muttering the day before the vacation ceremony, he said his family was going on a trip abroad. He didn’t look pleased, but he apparently lacked a strong reason to refuse going. It felt as if it were similar to how he came to school every day despite sleeping on his desk.

The empty seat beside me, which had been vacant since the start of the vacation ceremony, no longer felt awkward. Since I had turned my head, I surveyed the whole class. Perhaps the principal’s ambition to enforce new educational policies worked, as there were a few empty seats in the classroom, and the supplementary classes were no longer mandatory. Considering that our school in Taean had the most academic enthusiasm, many of the students likely opted to go to a study academy instead—just like Hyung-soo and Jihoon had been doing since last week.

Recently, Jihoon had advanced to an advanced class in the academy. I heard that it was a selective class where only those preparing for prestigious schools like Seoul National University or military and police academies could join. The students in the advanced class were known to get special attention, even getting provided with study rooms separate from others. According to a message Hyung-soo sent after Jihoon separated from the class, Jihoon was spending his breaks stuck to a study spot rather than playing with him. To think he could study all day and then continue at a study hall at night was impressive. Even I, who had been studying habitually my whole life, sometimes wondered how he could sit still like that for so long. I could relate to Young-soo, who would pop his head over Jihoon’s desk jokingly, saying the statue looked like it blinked.

Since attending the mock debate orientation last week, Jihoon had become even more intense. Whenever he had a moment, he plugged earbuds in and repeated English phrases he had just memorized, seemingly stimulated by his peers. He appeared to have become closer to some people through the orientation, occasionally seeming to be on calls. “Wow, this is really hard…” The tone of Jihoon, who was hunched over with a sigh at the reading room, accompanied by sounds of someone’s bright laughter slipping from his hand… When Jihoon caught sight of me, he stood up, adjusting his grip on his phone, saying, “My friend came over. Yeah, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Hey, look at this. They all look really smart. This person even looks handsome. Oh, no, scratch that. Forget what I just said. It’s Ji Dong-ik. Damn… Hey, but this person, wow… how did Ji Dong-ik manage to stick to the side of him? Isn’t it great? Look at this guy’s smile, Seon-uk. Did you know he had such nice teeth?”

Recalling the photo of the mock debate orientation that Hyung-soo had painstakingly found and shown me, guessing who among the smiling people next to Jihoon was the cause of the laughter I had heard that day was unpleasant. The reason I was curious about these people, whose names I didn’t even know, was due to my feelings, which I could hardly adapt to. Why does the heart drift towards places that cannot be controlled? I know too well that it can’t change anything.

As I hurriedly cut off those tangled thoughts, my gaze fell downward. Just as my eyes landed on my phone, the screen unexpectedly gleamed. A message popped up.

Even though it was an unsaved number, I recognized it as Hyuk-jun’s the moment I saw the message. Until now, I had never messaged Hyuk-jun. Outside of school, there wouldn’t have been any reason to contact him.

Surprised by the message, I stared at the screen, and it vibrated. I reached for my phone to silence the vibrate. The number that had been on the screen for about five seconds left an indication of a missed call before disappearing. Only when I saw the screen turn black did I look around the classroom. It was afternoon self-study time. I could go home in another hour. It was a hot, humid summer day. No teachers were out in the corridors to catch the few students taking advantage of the slack, which made the atmosphere feel heavy. I managed to slip out of the classroom relatively easily.

“Hello?”

As I entered the empty restroom to answer the call, I thought Hyuk-jun might have dialed the wrong number. I thought he had realized it was an error when I greeted him, giving him an opportunity to hang up.

However, Hyuk-jun remained silent even while I spoke several times, keeping the call connected. Pondering over the mystery, I glanced toward the sound of pattering. It was the sound of raindrops hitting the window frame at the end of the restroom. The humidity that felt particularly strong since morning was apparently a sign of upcoming rain.

Did I bring an umbrella today? I recalled seeing the weather forecast from yesterday or the day before that indicated heavy rainfall would start tomorrow. I had handed my usual three-fold umbrella to Young-eun last Saturday on our way out of the movie. I suddenly remembered how Young-eun had hesitated as she reached for the handle, asking if I wasn’t coming with her. I had shaken my head at that moment. She had said she would return the umbrella later after nodding on and off when I told her I needed to go to the reading room afterward. Did I buy a new umbrella after that? I felt like I had visited a store near the bookstore the next day, but then again, I couldn’t be sure. The heavy rain was continuous but felt weaker than a downpour or too soft for a drizzle. Would it stop in an hour? I hoped so.

“Are you studying well?”

Hyuk-jun opened the conversation with an unexpected question. It sounded like something Jihoon would say. I mulled over that disconnection while approaching the window. I held my hand outside, and instead of the window frame, my arm began to get wet. The droplets fell similarly, yet the sounds were different. As I watched my gradually dampening arm, I spoke up.

“Just about. Why?”

Hyuk-jun presumably wasn’t curious enough about my studies to call me. It was a natural question, but Hyuk-jun hesitated, as if he couldn’t find the words to continue. The sound of Hyuk-jun’s breathing, vying with the rain outside, disturbed my ears. I blinked and quietly asked.

“What about you? Did you come back?”

Rainstorm sounds echoed in my right ear where the phone was. Hyuk-jun was likely somewhere getting wet. The faint sound of the rain came through even clearer due to Hyuk-jun’s silence. The rain was invisible in the moment it fell. Perhaps it was because it had already hit the ground the moment I realized it. I stared off at the stream of droplets that would never meet my gaze, waiting impatiently for Hyuk-jun’s response.

“Want me to tell you a funny story?”

For something like that to come up, his voice was surprisingly dry. I didn’t feel the need to respond. I knew Hyuk-jun would continue to speak without prompting. As expected, it didn’t take long before he began again.

“I just found out my tutor is having an affair with my dad.”

So he was getting tutoring. It suddenly made sense why Hyuk-jun had scored unexpectedly high on the first semester final exam before summer vacation. His drug-abusing gangster father, who wanted his son to succeed academically, was cheating on him with a college student nearly the same age as his son.

The mixture of understandable and incomprehensible statements weighed on me, but I didn’t feel the need to separate them out.

“My new stepmom learned about it in Switzerland and caused a scene from dawn, then booked a flight to Korea. Dad, for some reason, got mad and took off with his goons. So I just woke up the next day and flew back.”

“…….”

“But now that I’m back, there’s not a single person at home, just chaos. All the toys the kids played with are still there, but their clothes are gone. The house is… damn, it’s like it got bombed.”

Listening, I began to understand the reason behind Hyuk-jun’s call. The only person he could share such stories with was me. Despite rumors circulating among the kids about him potentially being forcibly transferred or expelled, it felt like he couldn’t confide such things to anyone else. Each time he spoke to me about his life, I could see him awkwardly swallowing, indicating his nervousness.

I recalled all those times during lunch when Hyuk-jun would use me as his captive audience. I also considered why Hyuk-jun had fallen silent since Jihoon’s arrival. After a few weeks of that behavior, I felt confident that Hyuk-jun only shared those kinds of stories with me, almost to show that discussing such gloom was possible only with someone as indifferent as I was.

I listened without interrupting. In Hyuk-jun’s version, he recounted how the presumably idiotic college student had bluntly called the hotel to tell the stepmom every single detail and how his father had remained cocky even when confronted. He also described how the stepmom had smashed all the vases decorating the room when facing the father. Hyuk-jun laughed as he shared those stories, occasionally oddly expressing that he wished I had been there to witness the absurdity alongside him.

Amid the rain sounds, Hyuk-jun’s dim family saga rang loud and clear. Naturally, it reminded me of the time I had stood in a similar position, holding my phone while apologizing to my mother. Her quivering voice clung to my ears. Indeed, for families with normal circumstances, these were the stories that didn’t need to be shared at all.