Kwon Wookyung, Sixteen
I watched a documentary about abandoned dogs.
Two black eyes with all the light drained out of them.
I knew those eyes well. Because the eyes staring back at me in the mirror looked exactly the same.
The eyes of those who had known human hands, who had learned what love was — and then been thrown away.
Pathetic creatures who, even after being abandoned, still longed for their owners. Still starved for affection.
Uncomfortably similar to me.
I wanted to turn off the screen, but I couldn’t — because Shin Haehyeon, sitting beside me, was completely absorbed in it. He was sunk deep into the sofa, hugging a cushion, lips slightly parted, utterly lost in the image of the dog whimpering on screen.
The corners of his eyes had gone faintly red, and it wouldn’t have been strange if tears had welled up at any moment — yet somehow, no moisture gathered there.
I don’t know if he was aware of it himself, but Shin Haehyeon had a habit of squeezing his eyes tight and refusing to blink whenever he felt tears coming on.
What an idiot — thinking that as long as he didn’t let the tears fall, no one would know he was crying. He didn’t realize that the grief sat heavy in the drooping corners of his eyes, that his whole face was broadcasting his sorrow.
〈Even though he was badly hurt by people, he still loves people so much. That’s what makes it all the more heartbreaking.〉
He used to cry so easily when we first met. Back then, I could quite often catch him with his face flushed red, tears streaming freely down both cheeks.
His eyes already sparkled with life as it was, but when tears pooled in them, they seemed to scatter light in every color — I couldn’t look away. No. To be honest, I could never look away from his eyes.
But as time passed and Haehyeon’s Korean improved considerably, some asshole in our class mocked him for “crying like a girl” over something that had made him cry, which led to a fight — and after that, he never shed tears again.
Still, the sensitivity he was born with remained unchanged. Shin Haehyeon had simply learned to cry without tears.
Part of how things ended up that way was a misunderstanding.
A kid with doll-like looks had transferred in, so there were classmates who approached him trying to show interest. But perhaps embarrassed to show their true feelings directly, they came across as prickly or teasing — and Haehyeon, reading it as provocation, responded defensively.
‘They’re acting that way because they want to be friends with you.’
I could have told him that.
But I didn’t.
At first, it was because it wasn’t my business, so I had no reason to get involved. Later, it was because… I liked that Shin Haehyeon only followed me around.
〈There are serious problems with temporary shelter facilities. According to investigations into their operating conditions……〉
Not noticing at all that I was watching him from the side, Haehyeon murmured.
“If I ever get to raise a dog, I’m seriously going to love it sooo much.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you would.”
“Why would anyone abandon them? They’re so lovable.”
I wonder if it would’ve been better to be born a dog.
I think I’d be happy if Haehyeon picked me up.
He’d hug me every day and kiss me, feeling sorry for me.
When had I started thinking things like this? He used to just be an annoying, bothersome kid.
I don’t know exactly — it just happened naturally at some point.
I remember clearly the moment Shin Haehyeon first appeared in my life.
I was staring out the window then, thinking about my mom, who had gone silent a few days before. She used to pick up the phone every now and then, even if reluctantly — but at some point she started turning it off entirely, and when I called this morning, the line finally played the automated message: “The number you have dialed does not exist.”
Mom abandoned me.
Even though I’d known she’d abandoned me long ago, it felt like I’d finally received an official confirmation.
Beep. Beep. Beep. I listened to the mechanical tone for a while, then hung up.
From now on, I should think of myself as someone without a mother.
That’s what I decided, in that moment.
No tears came. Thanks to my parents, who had fought by screaming at each other and smashing things around the house, I had already cried every tear there was to cry. Begging them to stop fighting, crying, clinging to them. I had done everything a kindergartener could possibly do.
When my parents separated, I actually felt relieved.
At least I won’t have to hear that screaming anymore.
But what came to the house wasn’t peace — it was silence. Mom left to find a new life, and not long after, Dad started coming home less and less too.
Adults Dad had hired would come by occasionally to clean and prepare meals, but that was all.
I learned early how to take care of myself, figured out how to endure the silence alone, and came to understand that human relationships were the one thing effort couldn’t fix.
Even by my own assessment, I was a truly strange eight-year-old.
The kids in my class, instinctively sensing I was different from them, never approached me.
I had no interest in them either. Even if someone did talk to me — what would we have had to talk about?
“Oh, hi. I’m Shin Haehyeon. I just transferred.”
A hand, gently tapping my shoulder.
Clear, deliberate pronunciation, with intention behind every syllable.
A slightly open-mouthed, almost dumb-looking expression.
Ah. Transfer student.
He was clearly a boy, but his lashes were thick and long, and his eyes were so large they gave off a pretty impression.
His cheeks were rosy and full — the kind of face that would look incredibly endearing when he smiled.
He’s going to be popular.
I deliberately ignored the presence of the transfer student who had taken the empty seat beside me and fixed my gaze on the sky outside.
Thinking there probably wouldn’t be much reason to speak to him again.
But that turned out to be wrong.
I don’t know what it was about me — the fact that I barely responded — that appealed to him, or whether it was simply because we were seatmates, but Haehyeon kept talking to me. More precisely, he rambled about whatever he wanted to say, regardless of whether I answered. He’d go on in Korean, then, when he couldn’t find the words or grew frustrated, switch to rapid-fire English to whine.
When we happened to discover we lived next door to each other, we started walking to and from school together. On the way to school, Haehyeon, who always left earlier, would be waiting in front of my house. On the way home, he’d be chattering beside me as I packed my bag, and then we’d walk out together.
It was a hassle — but making him stop and pushing him away felt like more of a hassle, so I left things as they were. He’ll get tired of it eventually.
That was the same on nights when I’d carefully lock up the empty house all by myself and settle into bed.
I was about to close the window and draw the curtains when I caught a glimpse of his room.
He’s probably getting ready for bed by now.
He must be exhausted after talking that much all day.
He said last night his older brother snuck into his room under a blanket pretending to be a ghost and scared him — I wonder if he’ll be okay tonight.
Or will he wake up in the morning again with a ribbon in his hair and lipstick on his lips?
Haehyeon would grumble and complain in detail about the pranks his older brother pulled on him.
Carrot juice is seriously the worst, but I have to drink it every morning.
I just want to eat bread with maple syrup jam……
Haehyeon’s parents, his brothers, the little decorations he treasured in his room, his current favorite jam, the flowers blooming in the garden… Haehyeon talked about everything, so it was never difficult to picture his daily life.
What story will he tell me tomorrow?
Lying with the blanket pulled up to my chin, gazing quietly up at the dark ceiling, the image of Haehyeon furious with a ribbon in his hair floated into my mind.
I laughed — just a small sound — and fell asleep.
…And before long, I came to realize: Haehyeon becoming my seatmate, moving in next door, me catching him at a time when no one was around him, him being the first to show curiosity toward me… all of these coincidences had shaken my entire life to its roots.
“Hey, Kwon Wookyung. Do you have any food at home?”
Haehyeon asked without taking his eyes off the TV.
“Don’t know.”
I had been stealing glances at his profile and answered a beat too late.
It was just past noon on a weekend.
“You didn’t eat again, did you? I brought you side dishes, didn’t I?”
Only then did he turn to look at me, with that exasperated expression. His clear, straight gaze had worry tucked in it too. It was obvious what he was thinking. ‘If I don’t look after this guy, he’s going to starve to death.’ That was roughly what his eyes were saying.
“Can you at least eat? How are you even growing when you eat nothing……”
His voice trailed off as he trudged toward the kitchen.
I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. But whenever Haehyeon made that face and fussed over me, I would skillfully play the part of someone helpless and weak.
I wonder if you know what it feels like — watching someone who’s always been taken care of by others, someone who can barely do anything on their own, try so hard with clumsy hands.
〈He’d only been fed a few times by the volunteers, but after that he followed them around like they were his owners. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so I made up my mind to bring him home as soon as possible.〉
The TV said it too.
Feed something, keep showing up, and it’ll think you’re its owner.
You think it’s love when someone gives you affection, right?
“Hey, stop just sitting there and come set the table.”
“Okay.”
I obediently set out the chopsticks and spoon and poured water into the glasses. Haehyeon scooped rice from the rice cooker and portioned out side dishes onto the table, then jutted his chin with a self-satisfied air, as if he’d cooked everything himself.
“Eat, and help me with the math homework later. Or… just let me copy yours.”
“Is this rice a bribe? I made that yesterday evening.”
“…I brought side dishes.”
“Your mom made those.”
“Ahem, enough chatter.”
I let out a quiet laugh and ate.
The only guest who ever sat at this table and shared a meal with me.
On weekends, Haehyeon would hang around here for all sorts of reasons — avoiding his older brother, doing homework, sneaking in gaming time behind his mom’s back. Nobody else came here, so it was just the two of us. I liked that.
Haehyeon was eating with those little hamster-like chewing motions when his phone rang on the table beside him. He gulped down what was in his mouth and stood up.
“Hold on, I’ll take this.”
I had a feeling I knew who it was.
Haehyeon turned away.
“Yeah, Hyunju.”
…Right.
She was Haehyeon’s first girlfriend.
The meal I’d just been happily swallowing lodged itself in my chest.
“Me? I was eating. What about you?”
A soft, gentle tone.
The kind of person everyone takes a liking to.
His voice drifted away toward the living room.
My appetite vanished completely. I wasn’t sure I could swallow another bite.
Haehyeon. Do you know?
You’re really cruel.
Ha……
