FBF chapter 19 part 1

“Was that your older brother’s friend who just left? Does he have a girlfriend?”

As Ji Seon-uk glanced at the door where Lee Ji-hoon had just exited, Young-eun couldn’t help but chuckle. Certain types tend to flock together, and it seemed like they had similar tastes. Not that I was close with Ji Seon-uk, but seeing her ask me as if I might know felt somewhat desperate, though I couldn’t help her. It was amusing to think that neither of us—whether it was me, who had just met him for the first time today, or Ji Seon-uk, who had been watching him closely for a long time—knew anything about his love life. I shrugged at the eager lamb waiting for my response.

“I have no idea about that.”

“What? Why not? Aren’t you close?”

“We are.”

“But you don’t even know if he has a girlfriend?”

That question reminded me of the delivery box I had seen recently. It had ‘Kim Soo-bin’ as the sender and ‘Ji Seon-uk’ as the recipient. I recalled Ji Seon-uk’s expression as he stared at the well-organized box. His answer in response to my light inquiry about who it was had been anything but light.

I consciously broke off my lingering thoughts and smiled as I grasped the doorknob.

“…Maybe.”

I shrugged once more, as if talking about someone else’s life that I had no interest in.

As soon as I stepped out of the convenience store, I spotted Ji Seon-uk. It felt strange to see him naturally holding a cigarette, like it was an integral part of him, contrasting with the time in middle school when he’d looked at me disdainfully as I passed by smoking at the incineration plant.

There were things that must have changed while I wasn’t looking. There were probably more sides to him that I didn’t know than ones I did. As I considered whether I was prepared for that fact, I lit a cigarette. Listening to the crashing waves in the distance, I turned to look at the guy who was nonchalantly smoking.

In the time I hadn’t seen him, he’d grown taller, and the weight on his face seemed heavier, making him look like someone I didn’t know. What kind of growing pains had he gone through? The thought that it could have been because of Kim Soo-bin crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but ask whether he had met someone while we were apart. I guessed he had, but hearing it straight from him seemed like it would clarify many things.

“It doesn’t matter to talk about the past.”

“…….”

“From the moment we broke up, they became a stranger. It doesn’t seem right to consider them.”

Not too long ago, I realized I had tried not to think about his romantic interests, even unconsciously. Now, I sat face-to-face with that pent-up thought. I consciously blocked any thoughts trying to continue. I needed to compartmentalize it as something unrelated, as a distant world, to dull the pain.

‘Anyway, everyone ends up breaking up in the end.’

Still, it was hard to accept because it was a side of Ji Seon-uk that I was familiar with. I thought someone who could make him express such an emotion would clearly be different, and seeing even such a person say they wouldn’t meet again was telling.

I hesitated, afraid of making foolish moves, but after hearing his response, I felt glad I had asked. There would indeed be people who would have come and gone in his life, but now that I had faced this past, it seemed that there wouldn’t be much to confuse me any longer. At least, we wouldn’t have to brush past each other again.

“Am I a man?”

“…Then are you a woman?”

Even my presumptive question had a sense of bravado in it, yet Ji Seon-uk answered genuinely. I looked at the fist that he extended towards me, a reflection of his unchanged self, and nodded once again. No matter how I thought of it, I was glad I had erased that other answer.

Yes, before being a man to you, I’m a friend.

“…I swear.”

I saw an unwavering version of myself reflected in Ji Seon-uk’s eyes. After eliminating all other options in pursuit of my goal to stay next to him for a long time, I could finally remain there. I sought to express my commitment to confirming the version of myself seen in his eyes moving forward.

“I swear.”

* * *

The catalyst was not packing a razor while heading to Ji Seon-uk’s house.

“……”

Since he spent more time at work than at home, Ji Seon-uk didn’t even resist that fact; he had chosen to leave his electric razor at work. It struck me that I only realized this after washing up. My scruffy beard, which was quite obvious after a long flight, irritated me. Clicking my tongue, I searched the bathroom for a disposable razor, rummaging through every corner until I discovered a small drawer beneath the sink. I might’ve caught a glimpse of it a few times but had completely forgotten its existence since I never had a reason to open it.

Without thinking too much, I pulled the drawer open. Ji Seon-uk was the type to clearly set the things not to do in his own house. There was nothing on my mental list of things I honed in on that included not opening that drawer.

Inside the drawer, there was a razor. However, it also contained unexpected items. I stared, slightly dazed, at the perfume Ji Seon-uk had never owned and a condom whose intended use I could not fathom before a delayed chuckle escaped me.

“Is this adorable or horrendous….”

Keeping these three items in such a place was clearly not something Ji Seon-uk would do himself. There was a higher possibility that someone he had been seeing had set them there. I could easily imagine what they might have hoped for from doing this. Was it a territory marking?

To be cautious or to signal a warning? The intention was clear, and I felt almost apologetic for being the one to stumble on it.

I brought the perfume closer to my nose. The vaguely familiar scent lingered in my memory as I nodded. I recalled that scent from Ji Seon-uk’s car about two years ago. It must have belonged to the girl he had met back then.

A memory surged, as if it had come packaged together.

‘We broke up too, you know? Even Seon-uk had to leave right away because of work.’

It had happened on a day I had to leave in the middle of a scheduled meeting because work called me back to the office. Things had resolved quicker than I anticipated, and I called Kang Young-soo on my way back to the meeting location. I told him to wait since I was on my way back if they were still at the venue. I only had one more left turn before arrival.

‘Work?’

‘I don’t think so. He seemed rushed though. Hey, I gotta go. I’m at the date location now.’

As I turned the car around, a familiar sight outside the window caught my attention. The car parked on the roadside was definitely Ji Seon-uk’s; I recognized the license plate digits. Just as I was about to dial him, I hesitated. Ji Seon-uk had emerged from a nearby porridge shop. Holding his phone, he was engaged in a call with someone. I watched him get into the driver’s seat with a bag of porridge in one hand, and as he drove off, I saw he wasn’t headed to his workplace. When I confirmed that, I thought that whatever urgent issue he was dealing with was likely something I wouldn’t need to know for the rest of my life.

Since turning twenty, we hadn’t spoken about love at all, but even then, I could roughly sense when Ji Seon-uk was seeing someone. It wasn’t hard for me to distinguish the faint scent of someone else’s influence on him.

This was only the third time I had come across it firsthand.

The first was at the movie theater, the second was at the porridge shop, and now it was in the bathroom drawer. As we got older, the places where I learned the signs of Ji Seon-uk’s romances migrated to increasingly private places. It grew amusing to consider that, unless Ji Seon-uk’s usually tight-lipped self unconsciously revealed it, he would somehow let his presence show anyway. Was I to find out about his wedding in Las Vegas through an invitation next? I chuckled, and my reflection in the mirror made eye contact. My expression, more akin to pondering whether it was acceptable to use the razor from my friend’s bathroom rather than being annoyed by the traces of an ex I stumbled upon, seemed to indicate that quite some time had passed.

‘I can’t envision a future with you. You look the same way.’

That notion brought back memories of something his recent ex-girlfriend had said with a pained look on her face. It suddenly became apparent that I had reached an age where such reasons could count as break-up grounds.

The future…

I wondered if Ji Seon-uk might have begun to dream about someone. I didn’t ask, so I didn’t know. The last time we discussed those topics had been nine years ago, and given how many relationships he’d likely had since, his perspective might have changed.

In the end, I closed the drawer without taking out the razor. Getting dressed to head to the convenience store, I took a deep breath. I thought about how next time I came across evidence of his romantic life, maybe it would be alright to gently ask about it first.

“Is something wrong? You’ve looked unwell since the briefing earlier.”

I was caught in front of the immigration inspection area as a cabin crew member. It was a purser I was familiar with, given my role as a first-class attendant. Her long, slender fingers stretched toward the cart, and I noticed she was about to let my carry-on drop to the ground. Even as I adjusted my suitcase, I managed a smile for her, though it came late.

“It’s not that something’s wrong; I’m just a bit tired.”

“Given that… there were only three chime calls this time. I’m glad it got resolved.”

Fortunately, the passengers on the previous flight had been notably tricky, and soon our light-hearted curiosity had shifted back to mundane work talk. Even pretending to look away, your sighting may have been more than dozens. I quickly returned greetings to everyone while laughing broadly enough to hide my nerves and hurriedly dragged my suitcase. It wasn’t until I slid into the driver’s seat in the parking lot that a sigh escaped me. My pale face reflected back in the rearview mirror without even a trace of a smile. It was the fruit of three consecutive days of nightmares.

The name I had looked at dozens of times from the call history gnawed at me.

‘Let’s not contact each other anymore.’

Ji Seon-uk’s avoidance of my contact was a memory from when we were twenty. Even then, he hadn’t stated directly to cut off communication. I vividly remembered the moment he picked up the phone, asking me to wait just a little longer.

We aren’t the same as we were back then. At least, I believed we weren’t. And that belief was why I could ask more freely about who he was dating now. I had faith that I wouldn’t confuse things any longer or make mistakes, at least.

‘The customer is unable to take calls right now-’

The automated message that hadn’t changed during those nine years was relaying an entirely different story.

It was because I hadn’t returned to that situation that I could avoid the dreams from starting, not because I had changed.

Deciding to live with Ji Seon-uk was in hopes of showing me that, the feelings I thought would eventually fade could be faced instead of shoving them away. I had taken my confusion over something I’d struggled with long before and was determined to prove to myself that it was unnecessary to abandon that struggle. I needed to sift through all buried background knowledge explaining it, even if it meant digging through the past I had purposely discarded.

Fueled with the idea that I would never face this issue again, I had clung to him as if begging for us to solve it together, but what Ji Seon-uk revealed was strange. The answer key was different from what I once knew, and faint pencil marks were left on parts I’d never expected. Was this really your problem sheet? I was going to ask when he gave me a look I had never seen before, and as our eyes locked, I found myself at a standstill. What I had always maintained was a distance from him—if only I could stay within his gaze now, constraining myself was the only intention. Seeing myself reflected in those eyes made my heart thump awkwardly.

Seeing the scars from a time I never dared to reveal in that way—the entire scenario felt like a lie.

What have I been doing all this time?

I had thought it was all enough if he could stay miraculously healthy by my side, and yet I had erased all my other answers while focusing solely on that one.

But how could this be happening? How could every one of those decisions be proven wrong in such a way?

How could I have been so oblivious to that?

“If I had known it would turn out this way…”

I wouldn’t have indulged in my escape plan. At the very least, I wouldn’t have fled.

In the face of this blurring agony, I couldn’t stand being twenty-nine. Eighteen, then sixteen—it felt like I was catapulted back to a time where I never solved any of those problems, running away from the weight of it all.

Without a destination, I drove away. Any place that allowed me to escape my past would suffice. I came to a place devoid of both sea and mountains, and as soon as I checked into the hotel visible ahead, I sought sleep fearfully. Pulling the curtains shut, I liked not knowing whether it was day or night. Even if I woke from nightmares, I fell back asleep as if I were trying to cloak those nightmares with another. Eventually, even those nightmares seemed to slip away from me. Out of ten hours of sleep, there would be five in which they didn’t come.

A noise knocking at my door startled me awake. Struggling to sit up, I found a staff member standing there, relief evident on her face. She explained that since I had not answered their calls after checkout time, they had come looking for me. I then pulled out my phone and realized two days had passed. After settling my additional fees, I muttered in confusion, “Where even is this?” The staff member, showing a slightly baffled expression at my stupidity, informed me I was in Cheonan. It struck me that I hadn’t traveled far enough away from Taean. A laugh of disbelief bubbled up. I hastily washed and reached for a disposable razor on the sink, only to chuckle once more.

Right, the location isn’t the issue here. The person who places meaning on even the slightest of things is the real problem.

Evidently, it had only snowed in Seoul two days ago. The fierce winter sunlight seemed to aim to revive even the dead grass as I walked. The pine trees, resilient through the seasons, had grown quite considerably. There must have been someone looking after them, but it was also likely the regular visitors who came reminded to tend to the trees. Today, beside the gravestone, there were still fresh flowers. It seemed Dad had visited again over the weekend.

With each return, it felt like there were more seedlings scattered around. Initially, they had stood quite apart, yet just looking at the seedlings at the entrance of the arboretum showed they were slowly closing in. There would be increasing demand for a forest burial. Yet, the seat right next to Mom was still empty. While Dad assuredly paid a hefty sum to secure it ahead of time, I could tell when he came to clear away small branches under the tree, waiting for the day he’d be buried next to her.

On that day, it seemed it would be my responsibility to clear away the branches beneath the tree where they both lay.

“Mom. Lately, the old man keeps coming to me in my dreams… do you know anything?”

No matter how I thought about it, I felt I’d experienced parting too early. I wished I had learned that people could part ways without dying long ago instead of learning about parting in the most brutal form of death, leading me to immediately imagine the worst for anyone I didn’t want to lose.

“I’m scared he’s trying to follow you. It feels like it’s been years since he’s laid down, and now suddenly, he’s doing this.”

As I longed for something more or wanted to expect it, I spoke as if to steady myself. ‘It’s okay. As long as you’re not in pain.’ Just suggesting that as long as he remained by my side, it would suffice.

“If you know anything, please tell me. No, tell Seon-uk; send him some sort of telepathy that Mom is sending. If it comes from you, he might get it even while he’s asleep. Seon-uk… doesn’t seem ready yet. He never says it, but he just gives off that vibe.”

I wondered if Mom noticed. Each time I stood here and spoke, how somehow, Ji Seon-uk’s name would inevitably find its way into the conversation. The boy she had never seen, but nonetheless, he had taken root deepest in my life.

“Mom. Seon-uk…”

As a child, while watching movies with Mom, I couldn’t understand the scene where people stood in front of gravestones, overflowing with words, when the deceased couldn’t even hear them. ‘They can’t hear you anyway.’ Beside me, the unyielding Mom never stopped teaching love. ‘No, words spoken between people who love each other will somehow be conveyed.’

In truth, I’d never tried to communicate that way. The moment I did, I feared love would take flight.

“I have so many scars I’ve never known about Seon-uk.”

It’s the love you can’t afford to lose, but if you try to hold onto it and end up losing it, it’s of no use.

“If I didn’t know, it’d be one thing, but now that I do, I can’t just pretend, no, I simply can’t.”

But now, it wouldn’t do to back down. I needed to confront it head-on.

“I need to be by his side.”

When I turned on my phone after two days, the first notification that popped up was a reminder for Seon-uk’s birthday, which would be in two weeks. I had never forgotten it, but I had set that reminder just in case.

But Mom, the only person I had set that for was him.

And in the future, it’ll only be Ji Seon-uk.

For fourteen years, the only thing I hadn’t tried with him was ‘love.’ But if that was the last choice left to me, and surprisingly, if it had been something Ji Seon-uk had ever thought about…

“I’ll do it. In the way you would.”

I suppose I should at least try with a heart anchored in an ending. I shouldn’t run away or hide for fear of loss.

So, with a fragile heart, I’ll speak to the one who loved the strongest first.

If it meant becoming a scar from an encounter with him, then I could take on the wounds that could heal. Even if it required us to endure pain together.

* * *

I had heard the street dubbed as the artist’s quarter underwent significant development, and yet as I visited, the street still felt familiar. The fact that the apartment’s exterior was a dusty yellow as if it was made of bricks, galleries being filled with more exhibitors than viewers, and the weary-looking international students—though each of a different ethnicity, were agonized and scattered across the streets. As I stood transfixed at the wall where, two students living on the second floor had carelessly tagged it with the same-colored marker, I rose from the bench.

First floor, second floor, third floor, fourth floor…

My gaze halted at the furthest right room on the fifth floor, where two windows stood side by side. Even though the fabric used instead of curtains blocked my view from the inside, I could vividly recall the interior layout, having once lived there.

The moment Ji Seon-uk entered that room with me, the drummer in the adjacent room was pouring his soul into his drums. It was a place where one quickly learned that the thin walls were often abused with shouted requests for borrowed pasta noodles, so Ji Seon-uk must have been startled.

“Isn’t it loud?”

“No, not really.”

Upon hearing the earsplitting crash of the cymbals, I only asked again, glancing back at the wall. I remembered him looking at me sideways when he caught me peering. With a stoic expression, he shrugged his shoulders, and it made me laugh.

At that time, it was the poorest I had ever been. The eight-story apartment that students like me crowded into was filled with romantic dreams and determined spirits despite the prickly monthly rents we could barely afford. We had even rented out some spaces just to squeeze in a washing machine, sharing it with others. My room, smaller than our living room, had to be halved to fit two beds, and I was living here, paying a rent of one hundred fifty each. I was unsatisfied when living in a cramped space with an overloaded roommate, barely sleeping through the night, and I had to seek another place right afterward. At least mine was only shared with one person.

When I wasn’t in school, every breath was laden with relentless work, leaving no money left after training fees, rent, and food. So, when Ji Seon-uk asked to see me, I hesitated for a moment. Yet, it was an opportunity I couldn’t bear to pass up. Nearly two years had flown by since I last set foot in Korea, and sometimes, just hearing his voice invoked a strong longing.

Since our meeting at the airport, it felt like Ji Seon-uk was bewildered by my presence as though I was a stranger. The experience was visibly engrossing for him, as he often stole glances in my direction even while on the subway. “Why?” Along with the uncertainty surrounding this sometimes awkward chatter, he questioned, brushing his freshly shaved jaw while muttering, “Have you lost weight?” Did I? I wasn’t really sure. Ji Seon-uk, not taking his eyes off me even when I shrugged, eventually turned his head and pulled the suitcase I had been holding towards himself as he announced, “I’ll carry it.”

…Yes, that indeed happened, didn’t it?

I wonder if he still remembers that moment.

“Lee Ji-hoon?”

My thoughts snapped in two as I heard my name being called. As I adjusted my coat collar and turned back, I recognized a figure with a similar expression to mine from about ten minutes earlier, surveying his surroundings.

“If it still looks the same, don’t you feel like we’re the only ones who’ve aged?”

He gestured towards the dusty yellow apartment I had just been observing and smiled, a smile I was familiar with. He was also a roommate who had shared a room with me during our three years here. As he instantly donned a white headband over his forehead right as he stood up from his coat-clad posture, the image of the long-haired international student who once opted to go out for photography sessions over exercising began to overlap in my memory.