Chapter 11: The Unbearable Weight of “Fine”

It felt as though half a day had already passed since I’d swapped the cigarette pack in my pocket for the ointment.

Fourth period. In less than twenty minutes, it would be lunchtime. I still wasn’t sure when to hand this over, or if handing it over was even the right thing to do.

It was too weak to be called a resolution, yet too long-ruminated to be a mere impulse.

All through the dawn, I had tossed and turned in bed, haunted by the eyes of the young Cha Hyun Uk and the blank, hollow gaze of Song Yun Jae. When the stiff ache in my neck and the stagnant air of the room became unbearable, I opened the window. In that moment, as the faint heat trapped in the room was cooled by the fresh breeze, Song Yun Jae’s bruises suddenly flashed through my mind.

Once surfaced, the afterimages did not fade easily.

Until the very last moment, when my eyelids finally gave way to exhaustion against my will, I was forced to see the bruises that stained his body.

And then, I fell into a fitful sleep. It was just that, right before drifting off, the image of his nearly empty tube of ointment happened to surface, and I suddenly remembered the pharmacy on the way to school.

Perhaps if I had slept soundly and my head were clear—if the headache wasn’t throbbing at my temples—I would have completely forgotten the thoughts I had just before sleeping.

So, this was simply… something done in a state of sleep deprivation. Just one of those things.

Until yesterday, he had met my eyes like someone waiting for me, but today he was quiet. Just like when I first spoke to him, he sat at his desk, staring only at his book.

When Song Yun Jae entered the classroom early this morning, he passed by me—sitting in the same spot as yesterday—hardly even glancing my way. Then, without any particular noise, he sat down quietly and began solving problems.

It bothered me.

I felt like it would have bothered me less if he had gotten angry or acted hypersensitive, like when I first stripped off his cardigan. Seeing him sitting there like a hollow shell, devoid of any emotional highs or lows, kept drawing my gaze.

Watching his back as I sat still, I felt like I might call out to him at any moment. I did nothing but obsessively fiddle with the edge of the ointment box in my pocket.

After third period ended, I stood up pointlessly and headed to the front of the class to get milk I didn’t even want. Picking up a carton that was already bulging after just an hour, I impulsively grabbed one for him too, driven by the lingering discomfort I’d been suppressing.

But I immediately put it back down.

I couldn’t gauge what his eyes would look like if I handed it to him.

And so, fourth period began awkwardly and stretched until this very moment.

“You lot, make sure you finish copying everything on the board after lunch. It’ll be on next week’s exam. That’s all.”

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, the kids slammed their books shut as if they’d been waiting for it. The teacher, who had been writing on the board, hurriedly cleared the lectern. I checked Song Yun Jae’s seat first.

“…….”

Should I call it a relief? He was slumped over his desk. He was so still I wondered if he was even breathing. He hadn’t even pushed his chair back; he was just hunched over, arms circled on the desk.

I watched him quietly, waiting a long time.

I waited until the sound of footsteps from the upper floors heading to the cafeteria faded into silence, until the entire campus grew still. Until I felt like I could hear the ticking of the clock’s second hand.

I didn’t know what to do if I went over first and called him.

Leaning my back against the chair felt uncomfortable, so I followed his lead and slumped down for a moment, resting my head on my right arm to watch him.

A gust of wind blew through the gap in the open window.

For a moment, the curtains billowed loudly, obscuring his figure before settling again. The white fabric brushed against his back along with the sharp sunlight.

Several times, I watched his form flicker in time with the wind. His familiar scent reached the tip of my nose.

It was around the time I felt the heaviness in my head lighten slightly.

Startled, I opened my eyes to find that half of lunchtime had already passed. Kids who ate quickly were already wandering the hallways one or two at a time.

Looking at his seat, I saw Song Yun Jae still asleep in the same position. Just as the thought of how long he’d been sleeping in that uncomfortable pose crossed my mind, I suddenly remembered him on the day of the mock exam.

I stood up quietly and approached him, making as little noise as possible. Sure enough, I could see beads of sweat forming on the nape of his neck.

It was a disaster.

His condition from that day was vivid in my mind. I felt like I needed to check his back right this second. If he was suffering like this so often from being beaten, I wondered if his internal organs were damaged. But all he ever showed me was his back. I hadn’t seen any bruises near his solar plexus, ribs, or navel during the brief glimpses I caught. Nothing except the bruises spreading from his back to his sides…

I didn’t have time for long thoughts. I grabbed his shoulder and shook it a couple of times. His body felt weightlessly frail as it swayed—it didn’t feel real.

“…Hey, Song Yun Jae.” “…….” “Hey, wake up.” “…Mnn.”

Turning his head with a pale, clear face, he finally came to his senses and looked up at me. For a split second, I had the illusion that his eyes—meeting mine for the first time today—wavered slightly.

Without another word, I snatched his wrist.

Fortunately, I didn’t feel the heat I had felt back then. Still, the sweat on his neck remained.

His thin wrist was a mere handful in my grip. That made me feel strange again, causing my brow to furrow.

He followed me as I pulled him, offering no protest. He didn’t ask where we were going or why I was doing this; he just walked where I led. I disliked how weak his steps were, and then I felt a surge of irritation because I couldn’t decide where to go.

I should’ve just gone to his seat and given him the ointment instead of dozing off earlier. No, f*ck, what would I have done if I had?

My steady pace faltered at my wavering mind. Song Yun Jae, following me weakly, bumped his forehead against my shoulder.

“Ah.” “Wake up already.” “…Did you stop on purpose to wake me up?” “Where do you want to go? The infirmary? The bathroom? Both are crowded.”

His eyes went wide and round.

“I’m not sick.” “Then why were you like that?”

“Just…” Judging by his small, trailing voice, he definitely wasn’t in good condition. I gestured toward the bathroom to ask if he wanted to go there, and he seemed to ponder for a moment.

As silence seeped in, my senses became hyper-aware of the hand holding his wrist. It felt thin and pale, like a limp chicken’s neck—the weight of it was alien. It was impulsive of me to suddenly release his wrist, just as it had been to grab it.

Song Yun Jae winced slightly, perhaps because my sudden release was a bit rough.

“…Let’s go to the rooftop.” “It’s probably locked.” “It’s not.”

How do you know that? Before I could ask, Song Yun Jae took the lead.

There were two sturdy padlocks.

The locks, larger than average, boasted their presence before we even finished climbing the stairs. It looked like they had added a second one connected to the bars to prevent kids from picking them to get inside. The boy who had led the way so confidently looked a bit dejected the moment he saw the locks.

“I thought you said it wasn’t locked.”

At my words, he turned his head.

There was nothing at the top of the stairs except the door to the roof. Since it wasn’t a well-cleaned area, there was a smell of stale dust. I didn’t want to sit on the stairs and get dust on my uniform, so I decided to just lean against the railing.

He stood there awkwardly, neither leaning nor sitting, scanning the surroundings. Watching him, I felt I should finally take out the ointment that had been poking my thigh all through the walk. Even if it felt sudden and ridiculous, I felt like this uncomfortable feeling would only vanish if I handed it over.

I put my hand in my pocket and fiddled with the ointment a couple of times, when Song Yun Jae called my name.

“Hey.”

In the hand he held out to me was the exact same ointment that was in my pocket.

It was just as I felt the worn edges of the ointment box I’d been stroking with my fingertips.

“…What’s this?” “I ran out of ointment, so I bought a new one. Apply it for me.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being shameless or sly. I already knew he had a thick skin—I’d known that since he pegged me with a milk carton and then acted like we were close just a week later. He acted as if the distance I’d pushed him away with yesterday didn’t exist, closing the gap as if it were nothing—unlike ordinary kids.

In the process, Song Yun Jae looked unnecessarily casual, unnecessarily fine, and unnecessarily indifferent.

It all meant the same thing, in the end. He was pretending to be okay.

My chest felt tight. I barely managed to suppress a sigh.

“When did you buy it?”

I asked, picking up the ointment from his palm. He hesitated for a moment while pulling at his cardigan sleeve.

“I asked when you bought it.”

After blinking a few times, he answered casually again.

“Yesterday, during lunch.”

The silence Song Yun Jae swallowed became mine to bear. It felt like I was the one who fell for the “fine-ness” he manufactured every single time.