Bygone
Go Nam Soon was 25 years old. He was 25 years old and he had never made it to college, hell, he barely graduated at all. He had spent the first quarter of his life, tidying instant noodles packages on dusty shelves that would, inevitably, get messed up the very next day.
Nam Soon was never meant to do great things. He was never meant to be remembered, let alone be someone, at all. He always took the wrong decisions, the wrong turns, so he could regret it better afterwards. Some could think he was doing it on purpose, and even he could agree to it, if he still cared about anything.
He was 25 years old, but he already felt too old for his body. Everything was dull and gray and Nam Soon could not even remember the last time he genuinely smiled. He had grown tired easily and did not take interest in anything that was going on around him. He did not have friends nor a significant other,
He also lost himself, along the way.
Sometimes Nam Soon would sit back, in the empty appartment he lived his whole life in, the one his father left him after he died, after he finally reunited with Nam Soon’s mother. He wasn’t sure if his dad ever loved him, he probably did at some point because he was his son and he had to. When he thought about it, Nam Soon’s mother was the only thing his father ever loved, so when he found out he was going to be a dad he probably was happy because his mother was and he was grateful she would have the chance to be a mom. Because it’s all that ever mattered to Nam Soon’s father, his wife’s happiness. And Nam Soon couldn’t even blame him for it.
So when Nam Soon came back from the hospital after an umpteenth chemotherapy session, he lied down on his one sized bed, the same bed he overslept on during his highschool years, and looked at the room, his empty room devoided of any pictures or trinkets that could indicate he wasn’t utterly, irrevocably alone.
Truth is, he didn’t lost contact right away after highschool ended, he met up for lunch quite often with Kang Joo who was harder to shake off than a leech, he surprisingly hung out with Ji Hoon and Yi Kyung and crossed path with Jung Ho a few times. Even teacher Jung kept up with her texting, asking Nam Soon how things were and if he had planned to go to college after all. So Nam Soon changed his phone number and eventually the texting stopped, along with the meetings and running into old classmates. It’s not like people didn’t know where he lived anyway, but nobody tried to keep in touch with him and he didn’t do anything to prevent that either.
‘‘ Everybody leaves ‘’, Nam Soon had always thought it was a cliché thing to say or even think, but he was no exception to the rule. They all became absorbed in their own lives, graduating from college, getting their first jobs and achieving their dreams, or the ones their parents built for them. Nam Soon wasn’t made for this kind of life, no matter how many times teacher Jung tried to convince him otherwise. Nam Soon very well knew it, and he didn’t mind that much.
Go Nam Soon was 25 years old, and he was dying. His bone cancer kicked out at age 23, a period of life when a kid like Kim Min Ki would already be shining in a huge enterprise for his skills and his hard work. But Nam Soon wasn’t like that. Nam Soon was sentenced to live a quiet, meaningless life and die an even more meaningless death. He knew he wasn’t going to be remembered and truthfully even if he did, he couldn’t think of anyone he was worthy to be remembered by. Ever since he sat in this cold, naked hospital room, watching the doctor’s lips moving, forming words that barely sounded korean to him, swallowed in a mess of ticking clocks, relentless bipping and neon lights, his life had became a blur.
He couldn’t remember his life back before his cancer and he barely remembered his life two weeks ago. Nam Soon wasn’t living, he was existing, but again it was something he had been doing ever since Nam Soon destroyed a life that wasn’t his in the first place. He turned it off the very moment he thrown away a dream, a future and the only thing that ever had importance to him. He may have a cancer, but he knew the guilt and self-hatred building up for nine years was truly going to be the death of him.
Nam Soon didn’t care about his body, he had seen it all in his young days, from broken ribs to split lips, bloody knuckles and worn knees. But he wished he could put his mind to sleep. He knew he deserved to suffer and if life stopped coming right back at him for all the wrong choices he made then he would make sure to punish himself so he would hurt like he was supposed to.
He owned it, to Heung Soo, to whom he hurt, in the worst way possible and left him with a shattered knee, and an even more shattered dream. But what breaks Nam Soon the most is that Heung Soo would not want to hurt him back. He would ask him to stop saying sorry, with a harsh look on his stoic face, and Nam Soon would look even more apologetic, dropping his gaze on his best friend broad chest because he wouldn’t be able to meet those eyes, that once burnt bright for him. Because every time Nam Soon thinks about Heung Soo, which he hadn’t stop thinking about for 9 years, he can’t bring himself to imagine how his friend must have felt when he abandoned him. Instead he pictures them together and happy, living recklessely just like kids like them are supposed to, running away from trouble, laughing until their lungs ached from thirst and dust. If he closes his eyes he could swear it really had happened, and maybe it did, a lifetime ago.
Walking around the flat, Nam Soon realizes he doesn’t have that much to sort out. He isn’t one to accumulate possessions, he believes memories are to be kept in his head, raw and alive, rather than in useless objects that would end up sleeping on a shelf, long forgotten.
The shoe box under his bed tells him otherwise.
He tidies all his belongings, and his father’s that he didn’t know what to do with, in boxes. And it hits him that they will never be opened again, never looked at, never remembered by anyone, because Nam Soon doesn’t have anyone. If it didn’t bother him before, he can’t help but feel lonely, looking back on a life he wasn’t worthy of living in the first place. Nam Soon is okay. He doesn’t pray, he doesn’t ask for more time, he knows he has made his time on Earth, he lived doing what he wanted to do even if it was wrong. And even if he did ask for more time, to what would he dedicate it ?
Nam Soon goes to bed, a little bit earlier every day, and when he’s on the verge of falling asleep he swears he can feel Heung Soo’s arm hovering over his weak form, covering his bare shoulders with a blanket. When Nam Soon reaches out he’s greeted by his own hand, cold and empty, and the warmth is gone. So instead he dreams about Heung Soo, sometimes he remembers some other he doesn’t but he can tell by the mere presence temporarily longing in Nam Soon’s sheets that he dreamt about him again.
He doesn’t know if it crushes or mend his broken heart.
Nam Soon’s limbs are sore and heavy. His legs can’t hold him anymore and it hurts when he walks. Whenever he feels the burn spreading in his bones, Nam Soon can’t help but wonder if it’s how Heung Soo felt like when Nam Soon broke his leg. In times like this, he wants nothing more than to make Heung Soo’s pain go away, soothe him and tell him everything will be okay.
When Nam Soon looks up from his lap, his collar shirt is wet with tears.
He sits in the bathtub, too tired to stand on his thin legs, pearl white from the lack of natural light. The water running down his body sends him back to that day when Heung Soo and him ran away from school, chased by their physical education teacher, heavy rain pouring on their backs. They had hidden in the garbage room, hands on their wet knees trying to breathe properly through their laughters. Nam Soon looked up to a dripping wet Heung Soo, laughing with his head rolled back, hair slide back and Nam Soon felt like the air got cut off his lungs. He had always been aware Park Heung Soo was handsome, but he had never looked so utterly beautiful to him, with wet clothes and mud on his sneakers. And Nam Soon had wanted, oh so bad, to reach out to his face and trace Heung Soo’s features with his fingertips.
But he always snapped out of it, his body red from the hot water, one hand reaching out in the emptiness, silence falling in the fogged room.
Nam Soon kind of knew about his feelings, about his heart clenching when Heung Soo would smile, pounding at the sight of his split lip and bloody cheeks. He never felt like it was an issue anyway. Instead he lived with it, unbothered, as he knew those feelings would come out sooner or later, maybe when they’d both be older and could understand things better. Nam Soon was saving his feelings for another time.
Except he grew older alone, had never been able to sort things out and let his feelings linger like ivy growing onto his heart.
Nam Soon promised himself he would live his life without any regrets. From the start he had never planned to lead a crazy and rich existence, he just wanted to make his time just like he wanted to.
As he was hurried in the emergency room, his body already feeling lifeless, bounced on a stretcher, Nam Soon came to the conclusion he did not fulfilled his wish.
He did not think about all those hours wasted in a classroom, dozing off to teacher Kang’s words, head pillowed on his arm. He did not think about the endless trouble he got in because of Oh Jung Ho and the awkward habit Song Ha Kyung took in interfering in his own business. He did not think about a mother he barely got to know but who’s warmth had nested in his heart. He did not think about a father who was never home, who died as a stranger, but still worked hard so his son could live a proper life far away from him.
The only thing he can think about is raw, bright and oddly alive when he can feel his own body giving up on him. It’s filled with laughters and colors dancing before his eyes. It’s everything he had and lost. It’s everything he could have known if it wasn’t for him destroying his best friend life and dream, like the Tsunami he was. It’s comforting and safe, warm like an hand nonchalantly set on his shoulder. It’s a shadow hovering over his tired body, tucking him in blankets to make sure he’s comfortable. It’s blood, sweat and bruises but oh so gorgeous painted on a face he should have caressed, kissed, taken care of like he was supposed to, like he wanted to. It was Park Heung Soo, utterly beautiful and so far away from him.
Nam Soon felt a tear run down his neck and he couldn’t dissociate the pain of his body from his aching heart anymore. He felt a presence shuffle past his bed, strange smells floating around him, whispers he couldn’t tell if they were coming from him or other patients as he tirelessly repeated like a prayer, a prayer he should have pronounced nine years ago but was too afraid to say back then. Three words that could have changed everything if he hadn’t been afraid to lose it all but ended doing so anyway.
‘’ Heung Soo-ah i’m sorry. ‘’.
Go Nam Soon was 25 years old when he died. He couldn’t remember what was the last thing he thought about, if he was afraid or in pain, but he would like to think his life ended like it started nine years ago, with the tought of Park Heung-Soo by his side.
