BEFORE THE SUN | kim jiwoong

05 | something else

SOMETHING ELSE,

SPRING.

Bae Yeojin writes to Kim Jiwoong sometimes, despite having his number saved to her phone. Perhaps it was the appreciation she'd grown for them after studying literature, but there was something about writing a letter that made her words deeper, much more intimate, than they would've been through a text message.

She'd been lying if she'd said she didn't miss him sleeping over, his presence beside her as he laid in her bed, sometimes talking about everything and nothing as they tried to fall asleep. It was strange, the way he'd left, his goodbye hurried and indirect as he stood on her doorstep after walking her home from class, refusing her invitation to come inside.

"Leaving?" Yeojin asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "To Osaka? I thought that was in the summer." There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, as if she wished he wouldn't leave at all.

"It's just something I need to do," Jiwoong spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets as a cold breeze blew past them, Yeojin's hair moving with the wind and she reached her hand up to her face to move the strands away. "Maybe I'll find what I'm looking for there."

"What are you looking for?"

"A future."

Yeojin stared at him, the disappointment in her eyes shifting to a sort of sadness as she remembered their conversation last December. Her eyes glossed over, but she couldn't tell if it was from the gnawing cold or Jiwoong's words. "I didn't mean for you to take that seriously," she said, turning to fully face him and shutting the slightly ajar front door. "You said it yourself. We don't have to have everything figured out now."

Jiwoong let out a breath, shivering. "I know," he said. "But I've gotten to the point where I no longer want to be doing nothing with my life, Yeojin." He paused, sniffling. "I'm scared that I'll still be doing nothing by the time I'm thirty, just wasting time like I'm doing now."

"You think hanging out with me is a waste of time?" Yeojin's voice was quiet, almost as if she didn't mean for those words to get out. She kept looked at him, waiting for an answer, watching his gaze soften as he thought about how to respond — something that wouldn't hurt her feelings, something to let her down slowly.

"Of course not," he said. "That's not what I meant. You of all people know how much you mean to me. You're my best friend."

"Then what did you mean?"

He sighed. It was obvious to Yeojin that he didn't really want to tell her the truth, just an excuse that she'd accept. But despite that, Jiwoong could never find it in himself to lie to Yeojin, even when he wanted to the most. "There's meaning in everything you do, Yeojin," he said. "I envy that about you."

"There's nothing to envy," she said with a chuckle, half in disbelief. "I'm a train wreck. You know that."

"Yeah," Jiwoong said. "But I just think that the longer I stay here, following after you as you search for your own future and figure it out, the more I wish I had a clearer view of mine."

Kim Jiwoong left for Osaka in February, almost a month ago. Yeojin hadn't heard much from him, just a couple postcards sent to her address here and there. He was never much of a writer, so she never expected to receive an answer to any of the four letters she'd sent so far. And though she tries not to think about it, she can't help but feel that he'd forgotten about her while searching for something else, something more — something that wasn't where she was.

Yeojin sighed as she set her pen down, leaning back in her seat. She was seated in a coffee shop, waiting for Xiaoting to finish her shift so they could walk home together. She'd been writing her next letter to pass the time, but words seemed to fail her. All she could think about was how terribly she missed Kim Jiwoong's voice, how he'd probably be making fun of her in that moment for thinking too hard about what to say to him. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, then exhaling as she tried to remember her friend's voice, haunting her. He's doing it on purpose, she thought. He wants me to miss him.