“I’ve barely been to the natural-sciences cafeteria — what’s good here? There’s Korean and Western, two options.”
“…They’re all fine.”
“What are you getting, TA?”
“I’ll just have whatever….”
“There’s no menu item called ‘whatever,’ though.”
Eunseo silently counted the people in the Western and Korean lines, then moved toward the Korean side.
“…Then Korean.”
No matter how quietly Eunseo murmured, every word from Jaeheon drew eyes back to them. Eunseo stood in line holding his tray with his face covered, moved quickly, and got his food. After bowing “thank you” to the servers, he tried to head for a corner of the cafeteria — but because Jaeheon sat down dead center, unpacking his bag like it was nothing, Eunseo had no choice but to sit where everyone’s gaze landed.
“…It’s too crowded here.”
“Cafeterias are always crowded.”
I should’ve brought a mask. I’d have to take it off to eat, but I needed something — anything — to cover my face.
“I got your message this morning and couldn’t focus in class.”
“…What?”
The moment they sat down and he lifted his spoon, Jaeheon got to the point. Wait — didn’t he say he understood about me being too busy to help? Wasn’t that topic already over?
“Yes…. I’m sorry, but I have my thesis to write, and it eats up more time than I thought.”
“Hm… it’s not something you should be sorry for.”
“And once we get past the quantum mechanics part, I think I can keep up fine….”
“There’s no other reason, is there?”
Jaeheon asked in a perfectly everyday tone, scooping the dry-looking rice into his soup. It didn’t seem like a question he’d put much meaning into, but to Eunseo it was no different from a nuclear bomb. So he wanted to avoid Jaeheon. He’d tried to avoid him. He’d done nothing but avoid him.
“…Yes, I’m busy.”
“Thanks to you I’m finally getting my assignments done.”
“You should do them yourself. If you do even a little, I won’t mark them unsubmitted….”
“Hm, yes. I see.”
Eunseo bowed his head nearly into his tray, looking away from Jaeheon. He was afraid his lying would show. Afraid Jaeheon would figure out the “other reason.” Afraid his stupid head and his heart — not even talking to each other — would let the hormones and feelings each produced mix together however they pleased.
“That’s a little disappointing. I’d finally felt like studying for the first time in a while.”
“………”
“Are you really just going to eat?”
Even eating in silence, it was hard to keep up with how fast the other person ate. And right now, opening his mouth felt like every strange sound he’d been holding back would burst out, so Eunseo couldn’t even lift his head.
“I still thought you liked me a little, TA.”
“Wh… what?”
“Ah, not in that sense.”
“…”
“Since you stare at my face so much sometimes.”
“That’s… because my eyes are bad….”
“They do seem pretty bad. Your lenses are really thick.”
“…”
“Haha, no need to make that serious face. I like your face, TA.”
He couldn’t eat anymore.
“Your voice too.”
Jaeheon was clearly teasing him. Son of a bitch. If he’s doing it without realizing, he’s an even worse bastard — beyond redemption. Eunseo set his spoon down with a clack and shot up from his seat.
“…I’ll be going first.”
“Huh? TA, you barely ate half.”
“I told you I’m busy.”
“Too busy to even eat lunch?”
“Yes. Didn’t I tell you I bought a sandwich?”
The sharp curse tore through the quiet. Eunseo couldn’t feel a single pair of eyes on him; his vision was burning red. His mind went blank, and the tide of emotion surged until his tear ducts ached. Before he knew it he’d let out a loud curse, and unlike usual, he didn’t even cover his mouth. He felt like going somewhere — anywhere — and screaming; if he didn’t let it out like this, his chest felt like it would choke shut.
Eunseo knew, bone-chillingly well, exactly what this feeling was. This feeling, whose chance of ever being fulfilled converged to zero; this one-sided feeling that desperately wanted two-way traffic every time yet couldn’t even be spoken aloud — because he knew it, he wanted to avoid it, to escape it. He’d forced it down, trying not to think of it at all, not even to let it surface. At least if it were now — if it were now… maybe it would hurt a little less.
Falling into that feeling had taken truly a single moment. The warmth transmitted from a shoulder that had only brushed his; that consideration with a line drawn through it — bitter, hardly consideration at all; the way he’d shake his head side to side saying he didn’t know, then look at him quietly — he’d fallen for even such things.
Eunseo thought he was still hanging on, gripping the edge of the cliff. No — he wanted to believe it. Because otherwise, he felt he’d never truly get out.
“I’ve taken up too much of your time.”
“………”
“You go in first, TA.”
Han Jaeheon spoke in a voice utterly calm, quiet as water, not heated in the slightest. Eunseo didn’t answer. He stood, crossed the quiet restaurant, cleared his tray, and got out of there. Only then could he breathe.
***
On the day of the General Chemistry midterm, Eunseo entered the lecture hall early, arranged the exam sheets on the desk atop the podium, and slowly scanned the seats from left to right. His gaze rested a moment on the seventh row, slightly left of center, then he sat down.
While waiting for the students to come in, he unfolded an exam sheet and looked it over. As expected, most of the problems were on quantum mechanics, focusing on the basic concepts Han Jaeheon had struggled with so badly — or so Eunseo assumed. For him — who in the end had given up on understanding orbital probability — it must have been a very difficult exam.
As the exam time approached, the lecture hall began to fill. Even the students with spotty attendance showed up today, so it felt bustling. But Han Jaeheon’s seat was still empty.
Eunseo, who had been quietly surveying the room, grabbed the mic and stepped up to the podium the moment his wristwatch struck ten. At the appearance of the TA who barely ever showed his face, the students murmured for a moment, and among them Eunseo caught something about Han Jaeheon. It seemed what had happened at the restaurant last week was still making waves.
“Hello, I’m Shin Eunseo, the TA for General Chemistry II. We’ll begin the exam now; it ends at 11:15. If you finish early, you may submit your sheet and leave.”
In the moment he paused to catch his breath, the back door of the lecture hall opened and a familiar figure stepped inside. Han Jaeheon gave Eunseo a slight bow of the head, then found his seat and sat down. His mouth was parched; Eunseo had to cough and clear his throat.
“If there’s anything wrong with the questions, or if you have any questions, just raise your hand from your seat.”
Eunseo set down the mic, handed out the exam sheets, and sat down; in the quiet, the only sounds were scribbling and pages turning.
Daily life without Han Jaeheon in it was very quiet, peaceful, stable. For about ten days Eunseo savored that quiet, and on the surface his life looked perfectly in order. His thesis experiments were going well, and with it being exam period — no assignments, no labs — there was hardly any TA work for the week, which helped.
…Was it really quiet? Eunseo asked himself. Except for that one time the feeling he’d forced down, refused to even think about, had exploded, he’d been perfectly calm. Or rather, he’d seemed to be. Inside, the active volcano had erupted who-knew-how-many times, but at least on the outside, that was how it looked.
Once you’ve looked a feeling in the face, you can’t look away from it again. If you’ve acknowledged it exists, you have no choice but to feel its reality at every moment. Shit — it wasn’t like he could turn into that kind of punk, so forcing himself to copy Jin Seunghu’s way of talking, he tried chewing over curses inwardly. But even that wasn’t easy.
Eunseo rubbed his stinging eyes for no reason, pressing down the welling emotion.
He heard footsteps clattering down the stairs. It’s only been ten minutes since the exam started? He turned his head to see Han Jaeheon fluttering down with his exam sheet, slapping it onto the desk with a thwack. Unable to tear his eyes from Han Jaeheon’s face filling his vision, Eunseo forced his head away with difficulty.
Han Jaeheon stood before Eunseo a moment, then spun around, climbed the stairs, and walked right out of the lecture hall. The audience, murmuring for an instant, fell quiet under Eunseo’s gaze, and Eunseo unfolded the exam sheet Han Jaeheon had left behind.
Exactly one problem — the one Eunseo had explained to him from start to finish more than three times — was answered perfectly. The rest was blank. Ugh. Eunseo ground his teeth once, stacked the exam sheet, and shoved it aside. He really didn’t even want to look at it.
***
“Eunseo.”
“………”
“Shin Eunseo.”
“…Yes?”
“Snap out of it, will you?”
Eunseo, who had been moving his hands mechanically, only looked up after Jin Seunghu had called his name several times. Grading 150 exam sheets was taking longer than he’d thought, today was the deadline, and with 40 still left he was getting anxious. And thanks to the professor, who’d resumed lectures without taking a single day off, there was assignment grading to do as well.
“Let’s see.”
Jin Seunghu picked up the topmost exam sheet, skimmed it, and set it down with a thwack, over and over.
“The kids studied hard, huh.”
“…Did they?”
“This one’s getting a C.”
“Senior.”
Eunseo, who’d been quietly watching, wondering what the man was up to, startled and tried to snatch Han Jaeheon’s exam sheet away — but it was already in Jin Seunghu’s grip.
“Look at this punk. He only wrote one?”
“…At least he wrote one.”
“This is straight from the practice problems.”
“Which is why he could write it.”
“Damn, he’s stupid.”
His head… didn’t seem that bad, though. He just hadn’t wanted to understand. Pointlessly defending Han Jaeheon in his head, Eunseo felt something claw at his
insides and froze over his desk.
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