A Stone Upon Still Water
Ji-eum sat in a daze, habitually unlocking her phone to check the group chat with her friends, but there hadn't been a single message in days. For all she knew, the two of them were talking without her.
Once, that would have stung. But with Seung-jo around, she couldn't quite bring herself to feel too down.
"Maybe I should ask Seung-jo to go to the library this weekend..."
She was rocking back and forth on the old iron swing, the chains groaning with every creak, when a familiar cluster of boys appeared in the distance. Seung-jo was among them. The moment their eyes met, he sent his friends on ahead and walked over to the playground.
"Ji-eum, what are you doing out here by yourself at this hour?"
"Yeah. My mom and dad are fighting, so..."
The words slipped out so readily that Seung-jo seemed a little startled. Eyes widening, he sat down on the swing beside hers.
"You okay?"
"They fight a lot. I'm fine."
"Can I ask what happened?"
Side by side on the swings, pushing off with their feet, Ji-eum let the dark story spill out. She wasn't ashamed of talking about her family. She was simply sad, and it hurt to be in this situation. Listening to someone else's household troubles was surely a burden, and yet Seung-jo heard every tedious word through to the end with a grave expression.
"Thanks for listening. I should head in now. If I get back too late, they might start fighting about that, too."
"Want to listen to a song together before you go? It's electronic, so it might not be your thing."
"What is it? I'll give it a listen."
Seung-jo picked up an earphone and carefully slipped it into Ji-eum's ear.
The warmth of his hand against her cold ear made her flinch, and she turned to look at him. The instant she met his faintly smiling face, her heart was dyed in quiet ripples, as if a pebble had been cast upon a still lake. It wasn't even her kind of music, and she couldn't make out the English lyrics, but little by little her heartbeat quickened, falling into step with the song.
When the track ended and she pulled the earphone free, her entire ear had flushed a deep red.
Seung-jo got off the swing first and laughed softly.
"If you ever don't want to be alone like today, call me. Honestly, I'm pretty bored myself."
It was the day an unrequited love she could never speak of began.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh...!"
Ji-eum, who had been drowning in the memory, nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped her head around toward the sudden ghostly wail. A familiar mug was humming along, butchering the melody beyond all recognition.
"...Wh-what are you doing?"
"Singing along."
Kwon Beom-ju's expression was dead serious, veins standing out on his thick neck as he rolled his tongue around the lyrics.
"I aaam hiiim oooooooh...!"
Her assaulted eardrums were ringing.
Oh my god. Has he actually lost his mind?
"I neeeed hiiim anyyymoreeeaal...!"
She couldn't take another second. Unable to bear it, Ji-eum hastily skipped to the next track. Fortunately, a gentle, lyric-less piece of classical music began to play.
"Why'd you skip it. It was good."
"Drop it. I'd rather not listen at all."
It was the first time she had ever cut this song short — the one that always brought school-days Seung-jo to mind. Ji-eum shuddered, the ghostly racket from a moment ago replaying in her head. She had a feeling she'd think of it every time she heard the song from now on.
"Haa..."
Regret washed over her for putting on a song she liked in the first place. Of all the things...
Even the mellow strains of Bach did nothing to settle her heart. Kwon Beom-ju, wearing an expression of complete disinterest in classical music, drove on with casual indifference, turning the wheel.
"Hey."
"What."
"That traditional music class you're sitting in on. It's Truth Hall 201, right?"
"Yeah. It is, but...?"
How had he memorized that? She'd only shared her timetable with him once yesterday, and yet he had it down cold. He'd even gotten the lecture hall number exactly right.
Was his memory just that good? Well... getting into Hankook University meant you were either a hard worker or brilliant, and looking at him, it definitely wasn't the former. So the latter, then.
"I've got a special lecture on social philosophy, and that's in Humanities Building 105. Factoring in the time to get over there, noon work for you? Come to the front of the New Building cafeteria at twelve."
Starting today, Ji-eum had agreed to help Kwon Beom-ju eat lunch. The time he'd proposed was fine.
"Okay. But like I said yesterday..."
"Ahh, right — you've got a friend you eat with? Bring her. I don't mind."
A sigh of relief slipped through Ji-eum's lips.
Helping him eat wasn't hard, but she'd been worried about Na-hee. Maybe because of high school, Ji-eum hated eating alone out in public. And she didn't want Na-hee eating alone because of her, either. She'd talked to Park Na-hee on the phone yesterday, and if anything, Na-hee had seemed thrilled and all worked up. Kwon Beom-ju said it was fine, so the lunch problem was settled.
The car passed through the campus gates and parked neatly in the lot behind the Central Library. He looked like the type who'd drive like a maniac, and yet Kwon Beom-ju observed the speed limit and every traffic light. His parking was no different. The two of them stepped out of the car, which sat squarely within the painted lines. She was briefly aware of sidelong glances from people around them, though whether that was because the car was rather flashy or because of Kwon Beom-ju's presence, she couldn't tell.
"Go on in. Don't be late later."
Kwon Beom-ju tossed her the bag with his left hand.
"Oh, wait. Don't go yet."
Ji-eum rummaged through her peddler bag and handed over the pen-shaped recorder she'd packed that morning. One of Kwon Beom-ju's eyebrows ticked upward.
"What's this?"
"If you record the lecture with this, it converts it to text. You should be fine even if you can't take notes."
"And?"
"It's for you. Study hard with it."
She'd prepared the recorder in case he tried to claim he'd bombed his exams because the cast kept him from taking notes. Kwon Beom-ju turned the device over in his hand, examining it slowly. His eyes gleamed with curiosity, as if a caveman had just been handed a piece of cutting-edge technology.
"They really do make everything, huh... I'll put it to good use."
...What is this? Him thanking me so readily feels weird.
Flustered, Ji-eum quickly turned on her heel and waved with determined cheer.
"I'm going! See you later! Last one there buys lunch!"
Recorder tucked between his fingers, Kwon Beom-ju walked into the lecture hall — and couldn't sit down right away.
"Holy crap, he actually has a cast."
"Oppa, I heard you got hit by a kickboard?"
The students who'd been clustered together chatting swarmed him the moment they saw him. Surrounded by people pawing at the hard full-arm cast and pouring curiosity over him, Beom-ju responded with a well-practiced expression. The life of a popular guy was, by nature, an exhausting one.
"Rumors already out?"
"Yeah, yeah. The witness posts on the school community board are insane."
"Those bastards... just filmed it on their phones and didn't even help."
"Hyung, how many weeks did they give you?"
"Ten weeks."
Beom-ju gave them the rough answers as he went, then spotted a familiar back of a head and naturally drifted in that direction. Going out of his way to pull out the chair beside him, he sat down and smacked the back of Seo Myeong-tae's bowed head.
Thwack. A skull-cracking sound rang crystal-clear through the wide lecture hall, drawing every eye — not that Kwon Beom-ju cared in the slightest. Neither, for that matter, did the one who'd been hit.
"Yah, you gonna get up or what?"
This bastard had no idea how much tuition cost. Nagging like his own grandfather well past seventy, Beom-ju yanked on the hood, and Seo Myeong-tae sat up with a hollow, wrecked face.
"Ah, shit, Kwon Beom-ju again... Keep hitting me and my brain cells are gonna die, you know that?"
"You told me to wake you up even if I had to hit you. Show some gratitude."
Beom-ju pulled out the new major textbook he'd gotten from his locker. He was about to write his name when he caught sight of the cast on his right hand and scowled. Definitely inconvenient.
"Is it because of the cast? Hand it over, I'll write it for you. Beom-ju oppa's."
"Cut the crap."
Face scrunched as far as it would go, Beom-ju opened the textbook. The moment the densely packed letters appeared before his eyes, a brief wave of dizziness hit him. He'd already suffered through this class before taking leave, and the thought of cranking that brain of his back into gear made the whole thing feel hopelessly distant.
He'd only come to Hankook University because of a promise to his grandma.
Getting in had been the goal. He had no further ambitions after that. Falling behind, however, was something he couldn't stand. He didn't need to be top of the department or chase scholarships — but sitting through a lecture without understanding a single word didn't sit right with him either.
The beginning was brutal, sure, but luckily Beom-ju was the type to catch up fast. He'd already been looking into buying a recorder anyway, so Ji-eum handing one over at the perfect moment was uncanny.
Do we have some kind of telepathy or what?
"Oh, what's that? New pen?"
"Nah. It's a recorder, apparently."
"'Apparently'? It's a recorder, not 'it's a recorder, apparently.' Who gave it to you?"
"Mm. Someone I know."
"A girl?"
"Is she a girl, I wonder..."
Beom-ju considered it for a moment, then snorted a laugh.
"So she's a girl who doesn't even seem like a girl? Guess you're not even in the talking stage, then?"
"Talking stage, my ass. Why would I bother with that."
If you're going to date, you date. All that talking-stage crap was just testing the waters.
Beom-ju clicked his tongue.