FBF chapter 2 part 1

There’s a crazy guy who transfers schools just a week before the winter break. Seong-ho, who called to ask about homework, couldn’t believe what I said and kept asking me to repeat it before finally saying that. I scratched my nose in response.

“Right.”

I had nothing more to say. It was just that crazy guy. If Seong-ho had called me out of the blue to say he was transferring schools, I would have reacted the same way. Suddenly?

– So, you won’t be coming to school anymore?

“…It seems like it.”

– You’re the top of the class. Isn’t it okay to just leave like that? Just because you’re first?

“Just because I’m first doesn’t mean I can’t transfer.”

– Ah, I guess that’s true…

Seong-ho and I lived in the same apartment. We had been in the same class numerous times from elementary to middle school and shared the same route to school. Among the countless friends I had just played soccer with a few hours ago, we were close enough that he would call to ask about homework. Despite the long-standing friendship we had built up over time, words began to fail me at the thought that we would no longer live in the same apartment or go to the same school together. Losing our common topics, we fell into silence before awkwardly ending the call with the promise to meet up whenever he comes to Seoul.

I glanced ahead, noticing the old man I had seen just three minutes ago hadn’t changed at all. Wearing a slightly tilted white fedora, he was my grandfather, whom I had only just learned about today. He sat stiffly, looking outside just like before. The empty surroundings of the express bus on a weekday afternoon, with only the two of us, felt tranquil. There was no way he didn’t hear me on the phone inside this narrow, enclosed space, yet he pretended to listen to nothing. Observing the unshakable old man, I eventually followed his example and sat up straight, staring out the window.

I wondered how much longer it would take to get there. Surely there must be a middle school there, too.

‘It’s not right to just show up and lecture like this, Father.’

‘Is it okay to leave the innocent boy here because you two are having a conflict?’

‘…It’s not neglect. The helper lady comes over twice a week.’

‘Shut up! You don’t even know what’s embarrassing.’

‘…….’

‘Look at the state of the house! How can you leave your own child like this!’

‘…So, what do you plan to do? Are you going to raise him yourself?’

‘I have no reason not to. This is definitely better than that!’

It all started when someone entered the house I had spent two weeks alone in. The thin old man standing in the living room spoke with authority as soon as he saw me.

“Pack your things.”

That short, blunt statement resonated heavily. Maybe that’s why. Instead of asking who he was and standing on guard, I obediently followed his command. I took out a suitcase that I had only used during school trips and shoved my clothes inside. The old man resembled my dad frighteningly, and I subconsciously knew that I would prefer him over the parents who had announced their divorce and had not shown their faces for two weeks, especially as he took my underwear from the drying rack and placed it beside him.

“Father, why are you doing this? It’s already a tough time!”

My dad’s gaze, which arrived soon after, didn’t even reach me. The moment he laid eyes on the upright old man in the living room, his eyes were ablaze. Reflecting on my father, who had been choking up and shouting, I recalled a conversation from my early childhood.

“Why is Dad not with me?”

He remained silent as if he hadn’t heard me, only to respond decisively the moment he closed the storybook. As if insisting I never ask such questions again.

“Sometimes, not having something is better.”

I mulled over those words at that moment. Perhaps they were meant for Dad; having never met my grandfather, I had no chance to decide whether having him or not was better.

“Did you ask the child’s doctor? How’s a city kid going to cope in the countryside… Seon-uk, can you follow your grandfather?”

For the first time in two weeks, Dad turned to look at me. His gaze felt desperate, as if grasping for straws. Despite neglecting me in the process of preparing for divorce, his face bore a fleeting expression of hope that I wouldn’t betray him.

I had managed everything by myself from a young age. They must have had faith in me for fifteen years to leave me like this, even if I was just a big kid. In that uncompromising emotional battle, the well-being of a model son was long forgotten.

I didn’t want to pick a side, even if I didn’t misunderstand them. Though they’d lived together for fifteen years, I felt closer to the grandfather I had never known than to the father I had grown up with.

“Yes. I’ll go.”

In response to my answer, Dad wore a look of betrayal. The silent grandfather let out a tsk sound, picked up the suitcase, and led the way. As I passed by Dad, I murmured softly, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t reply, just like how he hadn’t answered my questions about who I was going to live with after the divorce.

“Get off.”

The grandfather finally turned to me only when it was time to leave the bus. Those two sentences were all he’d spoken to me since we met. “Pack your things. Get off.” It was strange how it felt like I was compelled to obey those words as if by magic.

After getting off at the terminal, we took another bus. Adults paid 1000 won, students 800 won. I realized that it was true when they said bus fares differed by region. My grandfather picked up the coins that had dropped from the change machine and led the way. Even while following him, my eyes kept wandering out the window. Unlike the unknown fields and highways we had passed before, the vast ocean outside offered much to see. Growing up with busy parents, trips to amusement parks were all I had during vacations, so seeing the ocean up close like this was rare.

The bus smoothly navigated the winding roads. The grandfather only spoke after we passed five more stops.

“That’s the school.”

Although that was the end of his explanation, I roughly understood. The reason he specifically pointed out this school was that it would be the school I would attend. I confirmed the name “Jaehang Middle School,” which was mentioned at the stop we had just passed, and nodded, signaling my understanding. Though it hadn’t been long since we met, I sensed that he wasn’t the talkative type. That made me focus even more whenever he did speak.

After about thirty more minutes on the bus, we got off in front of a shabby bus stop. An endless stone wall stretched along the slope. Without a word of instruction to follow, I began to walk behind my grandfather. Perhaps because the horizon unfolded not far away, the mere act of walking down the stone-wall path felt like I was getting closer to the ocean. I couldn’t see the waves, but I could hear their sound. I walked diligently behind him, wondering if the sound of the waves was real. Even now, it was hard to grasp that I wasn’t in Seoul. After all, just six hours ago, I was in a place where I could only encounter dirt during gym class on the playground.

The grandfather finally stopped in front of a blue-roofed house. Seeing his attire, reminiscent of an ancient person that belongs in textbooks, contrasted with what I expected; his actual house was much more modern than I had imagined. Everything, except the slate roof, was surprisingly clean and well-organized.

Entering through the blue iron gate that matched the roof color, the grandfather took off his hat and hung it on a nail on the pillar beside the porch. He disappeared inside, only to reappear shortly after with a gruff voice.

“It will get warm soon.”

I cautiously removed my backpack and set it down on the porch while glancing at the grandfather. I sat down beside him, feeling the warmth in the house soon after, just as he had predicted. I turned slightly to look around. The old television was far from comparable to the one at home, and a basket full of sweet potatoes caught my eye, along with a well-arranged household. It had little to do with what I had just seen, but my mind went back to the thing I missed most from Seoul.

“Did you fight with Dad?”

I didn’t expect him to laugh at my question. But he did. It was faint, but it was clearly a laugh. The first time I saw him smile felt akin to watching a balloon slowly deflate. At first, I had thought his face reminded me of what my father would look like decades from now, yet the more I scrutinized it, the more I felt he looked less like Dad. Despite Dad having a profession that required him to smile often, I couldn’t find anything of him in my grandfather’s smile. In moments where he had shouted angrily at his son, he now felt like a tender presence that could vanish at any moment.

“Did he say that?”

I hesitated and shook my head. Adding anything would likely be pointless. He let out a deep sigh that seemed to reach the ends of the world.

“Isn’t the conflict between parents and children just another altercation?”

“…….”

“Only the abandonment and regret remain. What do you plan to do with that?”

The grandfather never explained the reason for his fight with my dad. In that respect, he resembled my father more than I had realized. Just like Dad, it seemed he had never brought up family matters until I had grown up.

We sat in silence for a while longer. The winter night approached quickly. After the sun set, the grandfather stood up and prepared a table for dinner. Despite having no special side dishes, I finished a bowl of rice effortlessly. As soon as I placed my chopsticks down, I stopped the grandfather from clearing the table, thinking I was to wash the dishes after dinner. Even though the kitchen, hinting at its solitary occupancy, looked a bit empty, it was organized efficiently enough that it wasn’t difficult to find what I needed. When I put on the rubber gloves to wash the dishes, he let out a small sigh instead of stopping me. Leaning against the door, he watched over me as I washed the dishes. The sounds of the news drifted from the television in the living room. Whenever the anchor’s voice grew louder, I would occasionally see him glance toward the living room, but he kept an unwavering eye on me throughout the entire chore, mumbling softly just as I finished.

“You’ve grown up too fast.”

Though it wasn’t the first time I’d heard a sentiment like that, it caught me off guard. I was new to being told such a thing in that tone. My parents had always been proud of it. They didn’t show up for any of the school events, sports days, or even at the Olympiads. They seemed pleased that I didn’t show any disappointment despite their absence. The housemaid at times conversed loudly enough that I could hear her, saying things like:

“Still, the kid is good, unlike his parents. Maybe he matured faster under parents who fought….”

So, I found myself responding awkwardly to the grandfather. I just found it uncomfortable that he seemed to regret that I wasn’t acting my age.

“I’m good at washing dishes.”

He laughed. This time, it wasn’t like watching a deflating balloon, which relieved me.

The room my grandfather gave me was originally a spare room. However, the moment I saw the picture of my dad wearing a graduation cap stuck to the wall, I realized it must have been my dad’s room.

I knew better than anyone that my dad wouldn’t have visited here after I was born, yet I couldn’t help but wonder if he had never missed this room even once as I took in the immaculate condition of the space. If he had truly never missed it, I thought it was unjust that he deserved to meet my grandfather. My grandfather raced to Seoul upon hearing that his grandchild was being left alone, while my dad hadn’t even visited here to maintain that bond.

If there’s no conflict between parents and children, I didn’t fully understand it. I felt my grandfather might have let things slide if my father had taken even the smallest step towards reconciliation. The way he offered everything to his grandchild, who had suddenly become his responsibility, showed me that much.

As I surveyed the room, which only contained a closet that occupied a whole wall and nothing more, I pulled out bedding and a pillow from the closet. In the room back in Seoul, I always slept with the window open. Since my apartment was right by the Han River, the sounds of cars were a constant presence outside. Here, even though the door was open, it felt strangely silent. If I held my breath and listened closely, the sound of the waves seemed like white noise, so much so that it didn’t register as a noise I could consciously pay attention to. It felt so incredibly strange.

I spent a long time unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling, before finally rolling over. The grandfather’s room was right across from mine. Because the door was left open, I could see his faintly lit figure as he slept. The back of an old man seemed much smaller than I expected. It even made me think about why he sat so straight with his back during the day. I pulled the quilt a bit closer, keeping my gaze on his back. Suddenly, I thought my life would unfold in a completely different way going forward. Strangely, that thought didn’t bother me. I even thought it might be better than before.

Because, in this new reality, I wouldn’t be alone anymore.

* * *

Transferring schools turned out to be a much simpler process than I thought.

“Really? You’re from Seoul?”

It was surprising to suddenly have a transfer student come just a week before break, yet the new homeroom teacher accepted it shockingly quickly. Flipping through the faxed papers we received from the previous middle school, his questions were limited to that.

“Yes.”

I answered, trying to avoid looking awkward as I glanced away from the pile of disorganized textbooks on his desk.

“Come join us for the morning gathering.”

He waved for me to follow, clutching the attendance book under his arm. As we passed, the students in the hallway peered at me with curious eyes. Some whispered to their friends while stealing glances at me. I had seen this scene before when transfer students came to my old school, but now being on the receiving end made it feel a bit weird. I pretended not to notice their stares, tugging my newly fitted uniform shirt down a bit more, as if trying to digest its unfamiliar crispness.

The teacher walked a bit ahead and stopped in front of a sign that read 2-5. The noisy class suddenly fell silent when he opened the front door and stepped inside. The sounds of desks moving and chairs scraping against the floor… The teacher, standing silently by the door, waited until the classroom fell silent to step in. It didn’t take long for the students’ gazes to shift from the teacher to me. The collective curiosity directed solely at me was something I could never get used to, no matter how much time passed. I wished for this moment to be over soon.

The teacher appeared oblivious to my discomfort. Without hesitation, he placed the attendance book down and grabbed the edges of the teacher’s desk, beginning his lecture.

“Class monitor, did you air out the classroom this morning? And didn’t I tell you not to leave anything on top of your lockers? I will check again during the last period, so get your belongings picked up quickly. And that’s the end of the fourth table, right? Next to Hyeon-ji. Who’s sleeping so late in the morning?”

The ongoing reprimand escalated to pointing someone out by name. The teacher’s disapproving gaze was fixated on a boy at the end of the fourth table. However, the boy, propped up on one arm, was sprawled out, sound asleep, failing to move an inch. Because of him, I only caught another glance at his head, which was shaved so close it shone.

“Lee Ji-hoon.”

Instead of responding, the boy’s seatmate chimed in. The teacher raised an eyebrow and turned away, making me suspect that this Lee Ji-hoon was someone who could sleep so openly in class without consequence.

In a school with regulations about hairstyles, his was notably short, which made me think he might be an athlete. There were similar students in my previous school, busy with training and too occupied to attend classes; on some school days, they would extend their sleep while catching up on rest. Teachers didn’t usually reprimand them, either. Reflecting on this, I turned away. I thought that just like those students, I would probably never run into this boy again.

“Alright, class monitor. Go ahead and introduce him.”

“Stand at attention.”

With the admonition from the supposed class monitor, dozens of heads nodded in unison. Finally, the teacher introduced me.

“This is Ji Seon-uk, a friend who just transferred from Seoul. Treat him well, everyone. If he needs anything, help him out. Class monitor, be sure to sit next to him and take care of him. Show him the textbooks too. Now, Seon-uk. Give a brief introduction before you sit down.”

Even though we were only going to be together for a week, it felt appropriate to introduce myself since I’d likely share the class with some of them again in third year.

“…I’m Ji Seon-uk. Nice to meet you all.”

Although it felt awkward to make eye contact with people I didn’t even know, I desperately searched for the one person who wasn’t looking my way. I found my gaze settling upon the boy with the close-cropped hair who had not raised his head since I entered.

“Please take care of me.”

This thought reminded me of the athletes I had seen in the morning who would leave right after attendance. It was highly likely that this boy wouldn’t even realize I had transferred a week later. I felt somewhat relieved, thinking he might not even hear this awkward greeting.

During breaks, I was able to observe my classmates crowding close to the window to peek into the classroom or casually glance around during moving classes; it was surprisingly smooth sailing. The class monitor, who began looking out for me just because I was a transfer student, seemed to have a great personality, so he was easy to deal with. He provided me with the information I needed and introduced me as the new student whenever the subject teachers came in. It was fortunate that, with finals ending and winter break only a week away, we didn’t have to keep up with the curriculum. I was grateful that the day passed without any incidents.

“So, you ride bus number 72?”

I wasn’t quite sure if that was the number of the bus I took that morning. I attempted to recall the number of the bus I had ridden with my grandfather, but it didn’t come easily. I nodded without certainty.

“Ah… um, yeah, I think that’s it.”

Reflecting on how there weren’t many bus numbers listed at the stop, it was likely that was the one. Right… murmurings faded as the class monitor suddenly raised his head, as if remembering something he’d forgotten.

“But if that’s the case, you’ll need to run right after the last bell, right? Bus 72 doesn’t come often, so you need to time it well.”

“It doesn’t come frequently?”

“Nope. Well, maybe one comes every hour or so? It’s a coastal area, so buses don’t circulate often. It’s not a place a lot of people visit, after all. I’ve heard the buses tend to be quite full all the time.”

As soon as I processed this new information, I stiffened. I had only just realized that we had been chatting because the last period had just ended.

Apparently, I should have already left for the bus stop by now.

“Are you saying I should have made it to the bus stop already?”

The class monitor’s eyes widened as if he had just had the same sudden realization.

“…Yeah, I guess?”

I quickly adjusted my backpack. If it only came once an hour, missing the next bus meant I would have to wait at least another fifty minutes.