‘Yeong’ was the earliest friend remaining in Yumyeong’s memories.
He liked being together so much that they had secretly promised adults several times that they would definitely get married when they grew up.
As Yumyeong reminisced about that child, his lips unconsciously colored with a faint smile. What is that kid doing now? What do they look like all grown up…
***
‘Yumyeong, how old is our Yumyeong?’
Yumyeong, who hadn’t been shy around strangers since he was young, stared right back at the adult staring at him.
She was a woman he was seeing for the first time. A beautiful and elegant woman with long jet-black hair lowered her eyes and spoke to Yumyeong.
Yumyeong slowly extended his fingers starting from his thumb. One, two, three.
‘Shree years old…’
‘Oh my, Yumyeong speaks so well too. Then what does Yumyeong like the most?’
‘Dino-saurs… the ones that fly.’
‘You like flying dinosaurs?’
Yumyeong nodded his head.
The elegant woman quietly gazed at Yumyeong, who was expressing himself clearly, with somehow affectionate eyes, then pulled forward a child who had been hiding behind her.
‘Yumyeong, will you play with our Yeong?’
That’s how Yeong appeared from behind the woman. The black pupils were so clear they reflected the room’s scenery as is, and the soft-looking chubby cheeks were so white that blood vessels showed through.
Even at that young age, he could clearly distinguish between beauty and ugliness, so the moment Yumyeong saw Yeong’s face, his breath caught. The instant he saw them, he immediately believed they were a ‘princess.’
Yumyeong grabbed both his cheeks with his hands as if covering them. Then he shook his body left and right.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m shy.’
‘Why are you shy?’
‘Pretty…’
At those words, the woman smiled brightly.
‘Our Yeong isn’t crying for once, Yeong must like Yumyeong too. Right?’
The child called Yeong had tears welling up in their jet-black, moist eyes as if they would cry at any moment. Even though it was obvious they disliked and were scared of the unfamiliar environment, they didn’t take their eyes off Yumyeong.
Under Yeong’s gaze boring into him, Yumyeong’s face grew redder and redder.
Eventually, three-year-old Shin Yumyeong, not knowing what to do with the intense emotion penetrating his entire body, let out a shriek like a boiling kettle.
That was their first meeting.
Like all old memories, the film of recollections was cut off with unclear context before and after.
Lying together in a room napping, doodling together on large paper spread on the floor, memories of being obsessed with cats and crawling on all fours on the floor imitating cats were scattered here and there. In any case, what he clearly remembered was that Yeong came to play every Wednesday and he counted down the time waiting for it.
On the other hand, there were also stories he learned about without remembering them. According to his mother, whenever Yeong went home, the two of them would hug each other and wail because they didn’t want to part. Even while leaving through the door they’d look back, and when their eyes met like that, they’d hug again. They’d calm down and wave, then run back to hug again, repeating this several times, making it difficult to separate them.
They were three-year-old Romeo and Juliet who hated parting more than dying.
Yeong didn’t speak.
The reason for expressing it as ‘didn’t speak’ is because it wasn’t that they couldn’t. After being able to write Hangul, Yeong would write what they wanted to say in crooked handwriting in a sketchbook. Sometimes the writing was slow so he’d have to watch for a while. Still, he remembered liking to watch the hand gripping the pencil tightly move, so he waited silently.
After Yeong left like that, Yumyeong would spend time reading those things until Yeong came next.
Naturally, exchanging letters became established between the two. Like writing a diary, sometimes leaving very trivial feelings, or writing things they couldn’t finish saying on days they played together because time ran out. Besides that, skull doodles Yumyeong regularly drew, treasured insect stickers, photos cut out and pasted from somewhere, things they couldn’t say to others, etc…. Everything from meaningless to meaningful.
When was it, probably around five or six years old. Through the reactions of people around him, Yumyeong realized that Yeong not speaking was a big problem to someone.
Sometimes his mother would ask like this.
‘What do you two do when you’re together?’
‘We have fun playing. We play rock-paper-scissors too. And hide-and-seek.’
‘I see. But can you communicate with Yeong?’
That question felt very strange to Yumyeong.
Since Yeong hadn’t spoken from the first time they met, it wasn’t strange at all to Yumyeong. Moreover, until then, Yumyeong hadn’t realized at all why that was a problem. Because in all the moments they were together, he had never once felt he couldn’t communicate with Yeong. Looking into those big eyes, you come to believe that some eyes express more than language. Anyone would.
Yeong, who didn’t speak, didn’t go to daycare or kindergarten, and instead received special treatment. Because of that, their only peer friend was always just Yumyeong.
Perhaps because of that, when Yumyeong first entered elementary school, Yeong, who chose homeschooling, was tremendously jealous. They sobbed that they didn’t like Yumyeong making lots of friends. They even sent a desperate letter in handwriting that had gotten a bit better than when they were younger—but still in a clumsy manner.
[Yumyeong, they say you make lots of friends when you go to school.
But you can’t be friendly with just anyone!
Be best friends with me.
Until we die, we’re best friends.
Promise♥
If you make friends… I’ll curse you for life.]
In the empty space of that letter was a drawing of a person crying sadly. It seemed to be a drawing of themselves.
When he first read it, the word ‘curse’ was so scary and brutal that his heart trembled. Yeong had a more passionate personality than their appearance suggested. But strangely, he remembered being very excited the more he read it.
So to reassure Yeong, he prepared a very special promise.
When they met the next Wednesday, Yumyeong took Yeong to his room.
Then he turned off the room light and invited them under the desk he’d prepared in advance. It was a secret base where he’d spread a blanket over the desk to make a curtain reaching down to the ground, and piled up books to keep the blanket from falling. Inside, he’d also put soft cushions brought from the living room sofa.
‘Come in this way.’
When they went inside, Yeong’s eyes widened. Seeming to like the secret base under the desk, they laughed so brightly it seemed like a giggling sound would come out.
Yumyeong took the hand of the smiling Yeong. Then he slowly approached.
When he stuck out his lips like a duck, Yeong, realizing what Yumyeong was trying to do, squeezed their eyes shut. The moment he gave a kiss, smack! on those lips, there was a very lovely, soft sensation.
‘You’re my best friend. You’re my only friend.’
Under the dark desk, only Yeong’s sparkling eyes looking at him while tightly holding both hands shone. Looking into those captivating eyes, Yumyeong brought out the words he’d prepared.
‘You know what? I want to marry you.’
‘…!’
‘This is sincere! Will you marry me?’
Then Yeong nodded vigorously and hugged Yumyeong tightly.
‘Yeong, let’s get married. When we become adults, let’s always be together.’
When he spoke in a happy voice, the moved Yeong hugged Yumyeong with more strength. He remembered being very happy even though he made choking sounds from the fierce embrace strangling his neck.
Like that, they turned nine years old, then ten years old, and even though the letters they exchanged exceeded hundreds, there were always overflowing stories to share each time. Also, as the handwriting got smaller and more mature, the content gradually became more diverse.
But the happiness of their childhood didn’t last long. Because the atmosphere at home changed dramatically when his younger sibling was born. Yumyeong, who had been bright since childhood, showed talent not only in academics but in various fields, and was very exhausted by the accompanying private education schedule. Still, wanting to receive his father’s praise, he always struggled desperately.
On the other hand, unconditional love was poured on his younger sibling.
Because the sibling was the youngest, because they were a baby, because he was the older brother and had to love his sibling… He tried to accept it with all sorts of reasons like that, but young Yumyeong, who likewise needed love, often felt severe loneliness.
Yumyeong wrote lots of things he liked, things he wanted to share, as well as lonely feelings he couldn’t confide in just anyone, in letters to Yeong. Then Yeong would give sincere replies without carelessly overlooking even a single line. There was a time when only Yeong’s letters were comforting.
The letters continued like that until right before they parted.
Also, some were written without knowing there would be no chance to deliver them again.
Around third grade of elementary school, Yeong suddenly left for a distant place without being able to properly say goodbye. From what he heard, they went to a far country to receive language therapy. Still, he thought they could meet at least one last time, but the end was futile.
What he couldn’t understand then and still can’t understand now is that Yeong disappeared without leaving a trace. For some reason, the phone number and address were secret, so he only heard that even his mother couldn’t find out.
After confirming again that there was no way to send letters, Yumyeong eventually gave up. Just as connections made in childhood are cleanly broken by moving or transferring schools, the connection with Yeong ended like that too.
Yumyeong grew up alone, leaving young Yeong behind. While passing through a lonely adolescence and becoming deeply buried in his own worries, childhood memories also became a very distant past. Memories of Yeong were also sleeping in a deep drawer along with letters that couldn’t be sent.
