Kwon Wookyung was sensitive. Like anyone with sensitive nerves tends to be, he had trouble sleeping at night. He would show up on the way to school with tired eyes, or from accumulated exhaustion, he would nod off in the middle of hanging out on a weekend afternoon and curl up on the sofa for a short nap.
“Do you have insomnia too?”
— ……
I read the answer from the silence. He had mentioned some kind of hormone syndrome before — he really was something else.
“Why do you seem more like a patient than me?”
— Do you not sleep?
Wookyung only ever said what he wanted to say.
“I was trying to, but you called me.”
— ……Should I hang up?
He asked it in a tone that made it clear he would hate nothing more than hanging up. What kind of expression would he make if I said I was sleepy and wanted to end the call? I briefly entertained the idea of tormenting him like that — but I decided to cut this pitiful insomniac, who had no one else to call in the dead of night, a break.
“It’s fine. I’m already awake.”
Having slept enough for a lifetime all at once, sleep wasn’t exactly something I welcomed anyway.
I got up from bed and looked out the window. From my bedroom window, the house next door was visible. It wasn’t that close, what with the garden and the wall between us, but I could tell whether the lights were on. Even now, a faint glow was seeping out from the second floor.
“Are you at the house next door right now? The light’s on.”
— Yeah. It’s my room.
“I thought you moved away?”
— I’m going to live here. I used to come by occasionally to clean, but I felt like I’d left it neglected for too long.
He gave an unexpected answer in a flat voice.
Honestly, when I heard he had moved away, I had assumed Wookyung wouldn’t come back to this house. He had lived here with his parents and then been left alone, so if he was leaving the house where he had grown up without any particularly good memories, there would be no reason to return.
Still, I couldn’t stop the corners of my lips from quietly curving up. If he lived next door, we would see each other’s faces often — and in time, that inexplicable wariness of his would surely fade.
I kept my eyes on the faint light and asked.
“Is that so? So you spent all day cleaning alone? Without calling anyone?”
— Yeah. I don’t like people touching my things. It was just dust to shake off, so it was manageable.
“Ah.”
Wookyung had never been particularly fond of his surroundings changing. Once something came into the house, he wasn’t the type to throw it away easily either. He hated people touching what was his. The new curtains I had seen last time were the same shade of blue as the ones before. The way he formed deep attachments to familiar things was similar to me.
I opened the window and cool night air flooded in.
It was an unusually quiet residential neighborhood, and the fresh, green scent of the garden that I hadn’t caught during the day drifted in faintly.
Among it was the scent of the almond tree near my bedroom window.
It was a tree that bloomed with white flowers first of all — right when winter passed and spring began to push through — and bore fruit, but it was difficult to find in Korea. The climate wasn’t quite right, making it hard for the tree to bear fruit. On top of that, cherry trees and apricot trees, which looked similar but grew far more readily, existed in abundance here.
The reason an almond tree like that had taken root in our garden was entirely for me.
The house we had lived in in California had several almond trees. In spring the flowers would bloom brightly, and I would wait for the fruit to form, then harvest and roast them and crunch them between my teeth. Because of that, the memories of my early childhood in America carried the scent of almond blossoms.
My parents had chosen an almond tree as a garden tree for me, to comfort me in my longing for those days. Planted in a spot I could see just by opening my window. When the time came for it to bloom, the fragrance would drift in through the window, and if I stretched out my hand I could grab a branch and look at it up close.
Because of the mismatched climate, I had never been able to harvest fruit from it — but in any year when the cold snap didn’t drag its feet into early spring, seeing the white blossoms in spring wasn’t difficult.
Will it bloom this year?
They say spring came unusually early this year. I hope it blooms in full abundance.
I gripped a branch and checked whether the flower buds had come up well — when Wookyung, who had been quiet, suddenly asked.
— What are you doing?
“Looking at the tree.”
Even with just that much, Wookyung understood what I was doing.
From the other end of the line came the sound of a window sliding open — and in the second-floor window of the house next door, now lit up, a shadow flickered.
— You like that tree that much?
Ever since the tree was planted, I had muttered “I hope it bears fruit” every spring for years — there was no way Wookyung wouldn’t know. And on warm days, we would lie together on a sun lounger beneath the tree, look up at the sky, and drift off for afternoon naps.
“I do. My dad got it thinking of me. It’s a memory.”
Just looking at it made me feel good. Maybe because my parents took the most care with it, calling it my tree — it had grown considerably taller while I wasn’t watching, and its branches had grown sturdy. I rested my chin on the windowsill and stroked the tree that never bore fruit.
— ……Do you want to go back to America?
“Hm? What’s this all of a sudden. My family, my friends, everything’s here — what would I do over there?”
I wondered if the friends I had been close to in America even remembered me.
“Oh right, I ran into Choi Seonho this afternoon.”
— Choi Seonho……? Where?
“At the department store, by chance. You remember him too, right?”
— Yeah.
“He told me all about how everyone’s been doing these days. Seonho said he’s going to spread the word about me to everyone. But apparently you haven’t kept in touch with anyone.”
I brought up the subject of the dropout that Seonho had told me about indirectly, without raising it outright. Whatever the circumstances had been, if it was something serious enough to make him drop out, I had a feeling that even asking directly wouldn’t yield any satisfying answer. No matter how close we were, digging into someone’s personal circumstances wasn’t the right thing to do either. I didn’t want to carelessly poke at a topic he didn’t want to bring up.
— You know what I’m like.
Just as I expected, Wookyung answered briefly.
“Is that something to be proud of? Not even going to school because you have no friends.”
— I suppose……
“Hey.”
— Yeah?
“Tell me how you’ve been.”
Looking it up online would probably turn up a fairly detailed history — but I wanted to hear Wookyung’s story from Wookyung himself. Whether it was work, relationships, anything.
“I don’t have much to tell, but you must have plenty.”
— Not that much, actually.
“You said you can’t sleep anyway. Talk about yourself until you feel sleepy. Lie down first.”
The cool air had swept through the room thoroughly enough. I closed the window, lay down on the bed, and pulled the blanket up to just below my chin. Whether he was quietly doing as I said, the sound of rustling blankets came through from the other end of the line.
I pressed one cheek into the soft pillow carrying the night breeze, and laid the phone against the other.
Wookyung murmured.
— I don’t know where to start.
Just from his voice, I could picture exactly what expression he was making.
How on earth does he do interviews while hiding a personality like this?
“Hmm… did you go to university? Start from there.”
— Yeah. I took the college entrance exam and got in.
With that way of talking?
“Where?”
— Korea University. English literature department.
“Oh? Not an acting major?”
— I had no intention of becoming an actor. I just took the exam and went into a regular department.
Korea University, of all places…
The change in major was unexpected, but knowing Wookyung’s grades back in school, the admission result made sense. Unlike the stereotype that arts majors have no interest in academics, Wookyung had always had excellent grades. He was at a level that made people wonder why he was even attending an arts high school.
— While I was in school, I happened to get a casting offer and somehow ended up debuting. I couldn’t graduate because of the work.
I nodded to myself. Honestly, Wookyung had been an acting major but never had any particular burning passion for it. He had the looks and the voice, and his skills were decent — but he lacked that desperate “it has to be acting or nothing” quality. He knew that about himself, which was why he had always been curious about me, who thought and lived and breathed nothing but ballet every single day.
— I shot a snack commercial that got a modest amount of attention, and from there I shot more ads and landed roles… and that’s how it happened.
It was an excessively modest, thoroughly uninteresting explanation. There wasn’t even a trace of pride in his success as an actor.
“It seems like the movie’s doing really well right now?”
The state of the film industry had worsened considerably over the past few years, with barely any box office hits — yet Black City was continuing an exceptional sellout streak. Wookyung’s popularity as the lead had naturally risen just as much.
— Did you watch the film that day?
I thought I could tell what expression he was making right now. It would be the same look he had when he came down from the acting department showcase stage and turned to look at me. The expression of someone who wants to disappear.
“No, I couldn’t. You collapsed and I panicked and just left.”
— Don’t watch it. It’s not worth seeing.
It was the most resolute tone he had used all day. I let out a short laugh.
“Not that it matters, but it’s rated 18+, isn’t it? Would I get to see you with your shirt off? How much do you show?”
When I teased him outright, Wookyung let out a long sigh. He was probably covering his face with that big hand of his, head hanging low. Ears flushed red.
— Ah, seriously — don’t even think about watching it.
It was still just as satisfying as ever, the way teasing him made him flustered and embarrassed right on cue.
“Sounds like you’re telling me I absolutely have to. Well, I never expected the first 18+ film I’d watch as an adult to star a friend of mine. I’ll make sure to write up a review and bring it to you.”
— Ha…… you’re really something.
Of course, I had no actual confidence I could watch it. If Wookyung on the big screen went and acted all devastating and took his shirt off, I would probably send popcorn flying while letting out a scream. What a terrible audience member I would be. But I had absolutely no intention of telling Wookyung that. Teasing him was far too fun to give up.
“Are you still not sleepy?”
— My heart is beating fast because I’m annoyed.
“Oh, come on.”
I laughed quietly.
His face wasn’t visible, but his voice was close — and because of that, Wookyung’s mood was somehow even more clearly readable. He was absolutely not annoyed.
His pronunciation was crisp, yet his endings were soft, making it pleasant to listen to. He’d probably sell well if he recorded audiobooks. Put one on at bedtime and you’d sleep right through……
I let out a small yawn.
— And…… I feel like if I fall asleep, I’ll wake up from the dream.
That was the rambling of a sleep-deprived patient talking nonsense.
His logic had completely fallen apart — he must be getting drowsy at last.
