The first time Seokjun saw Doeun was in his second year of middle school.
It was the first day of class assignments. Seokjun was sitting in the back. He was tall, so he always sat in the back. Doeun sat by the window, three rows from the front. Seokjun saw her from behind. Her hair was long. That was it.
The first time Doeun spoke to Seokjun was during gym class. Dodgeball. Seokjun threw the ball too hard and made a girl on the opposing team cry. He stood there, flustered, when Doeun walked over.
“Hey, try to control your strength.”
“…Sorry.”
“If you’re sorry, go apologize.”
Seokjun went over and apologized. When he came back, Doeun was smiling.
“You’re a good guy.”
That was how it started.
They went to the same high school, too. Seokjun was in the kendo club, and Doeun was in the art club. They didn’t have many opportunities to cross paths, but they often ran into each other at lunch. Doeun always brought her own lunch. Seokjun ate the cafeteria food.
“Seokjun, try this. My mom made it.”
Doeun opened her lunchbox and picked out a piece of rolled omelet for him. Seokjun took it and ate it. It was good. After that, Doeun would often share her side dishes with him.
Doeun was there when Seokjun went to college, grew disillusioned with kendo, dropped out, and went into the military. She was far away, but she was there. She would check in on him occasionally through KakaoTalk. Even when Seokjun didn’t reply, Doeun would ask again.
When Seokjun failed the police exam while he was in the military, he didn’t tell anyone. Not even Doeun. But Doeun asked first.
“Seokjun, how did the exam go?”
Seokjun replied after a long while.
“I failed.”
Doeun’s reply came right away.
“It’s okay. You’re the kind of person who’ll do well no matter what you do.”
Seokjun took a screenshot of the message and saved it. He didn’t tell anyone.
Now. Six months since going independent. Seokjun saw Doeun often. They met for dinner on evenings when he didn’t have work. Doeun was teaching art at an academy. Teaching children how to draw. It suited her.
One Sunday, Seokjun went to pick Doeun up. In the Porter truck.
“We’re taking this?”
Doeun smiled as she looked at the truck.
“Sorry. It’s all I have.”
“No, it’s nice. It’s so high up—we’ll get a great view.”
Doeun climbed into the passenger seat. The smell of film came from the truck bed. The smell of adhesive. Seokjun rolled down the window.
“It smells, right? Sorry.”
“It’s fine. It smells like you.”
Seokjun looked at Doeun with his hands on the wheel. She was smiling. Her hair fluttered in the breeze. He remembered the back of her head from the first time he saw her in middle school.
They went to Han River Park. They spread out a picnic mat and sat down. Doeun had packed kimbap. Seokjun bought drinks at a convenience store.
“Seokjun.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something I want to tell you.”
Seokjun’s heart began to race.
“What is it?”
“I liked you when you practiced kendo. I waited for you when you went into the military, and I was okay even when you failed the exam. And I like what you’re doing now, installing interiors.”
Doeun looked at Seokjun.
“I don’t care what you do. I like you. The person you are, Seokjun.”
Seokjun couldn’t say anything. His throat tightened. The wind blew across the Han River. Doeun’s hair fluttered.
Seokjun took her hand. It was the second time.
“Doeun.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m still lacking. I don’t make much money, my car’s a truck, and I live in a studio apartment.”
“I know.”
“But—”
Seokjun stopped. Doeun waited.
“I’ll work hard. Really hard. So—”
Doeun cut him off.
“Seokjun, I already gave you my answer. I have, since middle school.”
Seokjun looked at Doeun. She was smiling. Her eyes were wet.
The sun was setting over the Han River. The smell of film drifted over from the truck bed on the wind. The smell of adhesive. The smell of Seokjun.
Seokjun didn’t let go of Doeun’s hand.
Not until the sun had set.