HMN C15

Chapter 15

Even so, Daeyoung dismissed it as an absurd rumor. However neat his appearance, no one had taken the grandmother in for nearly ten years now. There were, rarely, mentions of a son and daughter-in-law who dropped by, but that was all. Sometimes at dawn, she sat at the bend in the road, or muttered to herself continuously. Those are not good signs for an elderly person, so if he—or his child—were truly well-off as people guessed, she would have gone to a hospital long ago.

Tap.

Back on the wooden porch, the grandmother set something on the low table.

“What’s this?”

A green stem with leaves was sprouting from a dark red pot. She had often given him flowers as gifts, but a potted plant like this was a first. And since it wasn’t flowering, he couldn’t tell what it was; he simply accepted the pot in both hands and hesitated.

“Evening primrose. Folks call it a weed, but I fancy it. For a man living alone, the place must feel dry. Put it where there’s plenty of light and water it plenty.”

“Thank you. Will it really bloom?”

It would be a bit of a hassle to bring it all the way up to Seoul, but placing a small pot like this in a small studio felt meaningful.

“Mm. In the wild, sun and water are what matter most. It’s a summer bloomer; give it a liiittle time and it’ll open.”

“Wow. What color are the flowers? No, don’t tell me. I’ll raise it and see for myself.”

He wasn’t sure he could care for it perfectly, but he wanted to try. He thanked her again and set the pot down carefully beside him.

“I’ll bring a gift for you next week.”

“Never mind. That little thing’s not worth fussing over.”

“I mean, I can’t do anything fancy….”

He said it, but nothing had come to mind yet. It was just that he couldn’t accept and pretend he hadn’t. Rolling his eyes, he pointed past the porch.

“Then next week when I come, should I tidy the storage for you?”

It was the only place in the house that wasn’t kept orderly despite its age and shabbiness. The iron door, beyond old, was so corroded it wouldn’t fully shut and gaped open. Inside, it was crammed with items from the previous owner and odds and ends the grandmother had put in later.

“Leave it. It’s too much even to start; what would you do alone?”

“No, I won’t clear it all—just toss the oldest boxes. Then there’ll be room, and it’d be good to store some flowerbed soil inside.”

At the mention of storing soil, the grandmother cast a glance at the shed. True to a house where gardening was a hobby, several sacks of soil were stacked by a bed in the yard. She might not care about the house, but she loved tending flowers; sacks sitting around like that would never be to her taste. Should he borrow his father’s truck. As he weighed it, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from his father, asking him to hurry to the restaurant since they needed to step out briefly.

“Ah, I need to go. Over the week, take your time with the flowerbeds and pull aside only what you need. Okay? I’ll come next week.”

Adding that he’d come collect the lunch boxes all at once later, he rose from the porch, fixed his shoes, and cradled the pot in his arms.

Creak.

Before passing through the gate, he glanced back; the flower-shop grandmother was waving him on, as if to say go on already. He gave a little wave in return, slipped on the helmet hanging from the scooter’s handle, and started the engine. The small pot sat carefully between his feet.

Vrrrrm.

The rattly sound unique to an old, small scooter was endearing. Shuttling between Seoul and the countryside every weekend was honestly a hassle, but there were things here that made it worthwhile. He could share a meal with his parents, and chat idly with the grandmothers and grandfathers. Also, Go Chiwoo never came to mind, so there was nothing to make him angry.

“I’m not interested in men. Drop it.”

“Ah, damn….”

Apparently he hadn’t forgotten entirely. Even a fleeting recall lit his fuse again. How was he supposed to explain that, really. Would Min-hye misunderstand? Surely not. She’d have taken it as a joke… right? Dammit. Stuck at a light at the three-way, he sighed and sighed again, then finally banged his helmet. Get it together. If thoughts of him follow even here, that’s on me. Grinding his teeth, he clenched and unclenched his grip, then rolled forward slowly. Only then did the image of Go Chiwoo start to drift out of his head.

“Have a good weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Coffee?”

“Thanks.”

As he entered the lecture hall for a major class, a coffee popped into his field of view. He accepted it naturally, took a swallow, and sat at a seat off to one side.

“Why are your eyes puffy?”

“No bus, so I got in late last night. Didn’t sleep much.”

He rotated his wrist as he spoke. The forearm and wrist throbbed as a whole. The new cafe job had been busy right before the weekend, and hauling piles of dishes and food at his parents’ place back-to-back added to the strain.

“Folks doing well?”

“Yeah. My mom asked after you.”

His parents, who knew the edges of his high school days, always asked after friends they’d never even met. It was obvious they worried their only son might still be having a rough time even in college. He hadn’t really done anything wrong, and yet for years it kept feeling like a nail in their hearts.

“I really should go soon.”

“What for—so they can have you work all day unpaid?”

“If they feed me three meals, I can even do next-day prep.”

“You’re insane.”

Grimacing at Wonjung’s banter, he took another sip. Since he’d come straight over after getting ready early, the room was only half full; he liked the quiet.

Glance.

Two students in front looked back, then drew close to whisper. Hearing the same class meant they were in the same major, but there were so many undergrads he didn’t recognize them. Did he have something on him? He ran a hand through his hair.

Glance.

Someone else looked back. Not unusual. This had happened off and on since the beginning of the term. Maybe because of Wonjung’s tall, model-ready look, this happened when they were together. Requests to join tables when out by campus or out drinking were common too.

Since he was perceived as part of the same pack, he was basking in stray good lighting. Before enlistment, he’d often been asked to be a student ambassador; even as he turned it down, he had to muscle his brain not to delude himself.

“Oh, I drank with a senior over the weekend and got this.”

“Oh.”

What Wonjung thrust out was a scanned copy of the textbook for their major. He sprang up and bowed; Wonjung smirked. Saved some money. Tagging along with a well-connected campus insider like Wonjung meant this kind of good fortune fell from the sky. The sideways looks around were bothersome, but perks like this outweighed everything. Good friend choice. He looked satisfied.

“Hi, hi.”

A bit later, Haegyeom arrived with his usual noisy greeting, and that meant the week would begin like any other.

“Oh? You two taking this?!”

Having made a show of greeting Chiwoo and Daeyoung, he went straight to say hello to the students in the front row—the ones who’d been glancing back.

If Wonjung was an insider, then Haegyeom was—

“What is he, the neighborhood dog?”

At Wonjung’s comment, Daeyoung snorted and nodded. That was his image. He liked sticking his nose in, liked attention, liked people. It could be tiring to tag along, and thanks to him gossip cropped up, but he was a good kid.

Having dropped in everywhere to say hello, he should have gone back to his seat to share some fun tidbits—yet for some reason, he didn’t leave the front row. He chattered on and then burst out “Wahaha!” wiping mock tears. Living the college life, huh. By the time he thought it, the hall was full.

“Hey, hey. Know what I just heard?”

With only a few seats left, Haegyeom returned and jabbed Daeyoung’s arm.

“What. What now.”

He was the one who’d even brought news of a freshman guy in their major who got leg-lengthening surgery. He’d asked, but with little interest he lobbed a lazy question—just as the professor arrived. Wonjung gestured.

“Later. After.”

Haegyeom kept sneaking glances at them, unable to suppress the glow on his face; he wiggled his cheekbones, and even when he finally nodded and faced front, he still did.

“By next week, check the web drive to make sure your assignment components aren’t missing…”

The major class dragged. Of all things, it was the lecture famed as the most boring; for sleep-deprived Daeyoung, it was torture. Rubbing his eyes and sipping coffee didn’t help; his lids kept sinking, and he ended up swiping the pen from Wonjung. Tapping a laptop keyboard was less rousing than writing by hand, he figured. Of course, it was useless. Worms squirmed across his notes.

The odd thing was, more faces than usual looked his way during class today. He wondered if Wonjung had come in looking especially striking; when he glanced over, Wonjung mouthed, Why. Same as always. He leaned toward him.

“What did you do today?”

“What would I do.”

“I mean, did you get more handsome?”

“…What?”

Out of the blue for the listener, but a pure question to him. Did he style his hair? Was his outfit sharp? As he scrutinized, Wonjung stiffly turned back to the front. Normally he’d joke, Yeah, I’m kinda handsome—but he clammed up; it made Daeyoung frown. Did he get work done over the weekend? A procedure? He strained every ounce of nonexistent fashion sense to suss it out, and just as his sleep began to lift, the lecture ended. The room burst noisy again. Still curious, he snapped his laptop shut.