beyOnd

I sat at the back of my classroom during attendance, just wondering what would have happened if I’d just decided to stab my eye with the pen in my hands. Would the accident be brutal? Or would I just end up needing an eye patch? I was tempted to try it, however I wouldn’t want to cause a whole ruckus on the first day back after the winter holidays. Well, rather, the second day back. Maybe what I could have said instead was, “the first week back.” Yeah, maybe that would have sounded better. I watched how the wooden clock in my classroom had tucked within every second that passed. How did time even work? How did someone just come up with the idea that, “oh, there’s such thing called minutes, seconds, and hours that help make up the 23.95 hours of our day.” ? It really didn’t make much sense. Or maybe because I was just not quite knowledgeable at that moment. Even with the loud, indistinct chatter of the class, I could still sense the ghostly figure behind my back. “Hey, Yongsoo,” Pil-do said as he nudged me forward in my desk. “What now?” I asked, my voice sounding annoyed, yet still hushed. He then slowly strode around my desk so he could stand right in front of me. “You don’t happen to have ₩20,000 laying around anywhere?” he asked in a pleading tone. He gazed at me with pitiful eyes, as if expecting me to give him a ₩20,000 note. The sweet smile on his face then switches to an aggrieved frown and he slams his hand against my desk. “Hey!” he screeched. “You yourself promised to give me ₩20,000. Where is it?” Yet I don’t answer. I hang my head low as I fiddle with a well worn-out pencil, twirling them between my fingers. I was avoiding his eye contact. I couldn’t bare looking at his face. I bit the gum inside my mouth until I tasted blood; that strong taste of salt and metal that’d linger in your tongue. “Are you ignoring me now?” he asked, his voice strong and intimidating. “I already gave you a day to get me just ₩20,000. How the f**k do you not have ₩20,000 on you?” His eyes were piercing right through my soul, and I could tell he was getting mad. He then nudged me on my shoulder. “huh? How do you not have ₩20,000 on you?” he asked again. Finally, I look back up at him. “Well, why do you expect me to have ₩20,000?” I ask. He then scoffs and cuts our eye contact for a while, shaking his head in a slow, disappointed manner. He then looks back at me. “Because you promised that you would get me ₩20,000. Remember?” he asked. I gaze into his eyes with an expressionless look, almost unreadable. “Okay, but who said I was some bank manager who always provides you with money like you’re just this broke-ass person who barely has any cash in their wallet?” I ask, my voice dull and cold. Again, he looked me straight in the eyes as though he were trying to be intimidating. “I like your sense of humor. But you just give me money. That’s it. When did I ever state such bullshit?” “Well why do you need me to give you money?” I asked in disbelief. “You’re clearly richer than me! Can’t you bring your own?” I then stand up out of anger and slam my hands against the hard wood of my table. “I am not gonna stay here having some stupid argument with you.” I was about to go for the front door of our classroom, until I feel Pil-do’s hand against my shoulder. He grasped it so hard that it felt as though there would be a bruise from it. He yanks me forward and turns me around, hands still clasping my shoulders with a horrible amount of pressure. “I already told you this twice, and I don’t want to say it again,” he said in a much calmer tone than how he used to speak. “but give me that ₩20,000. I know you have it somewhere.” Yet I still refuse. My expression was empty and unreadable. I didn’t even think about talking. He then grabs me by my collar out of anger and pulls me close to him. “C’mon, I know you have it,” he said with an irritated smile on his face. Yet I still don’t say anything while I stare blankly at his face. The pressure my collar made against my neck hurt so much, yet I had to act strong. I didn’t want people thinking that I would be some weakling. He then looks over to the hallway window and watched as the teacher walked closer and closer to the room. “Step…step…step.” The teacher’s pace then got faster, “step, step, step.” Immediately, Pil-do released me from his grip and stares right into my eyes as though he would’ve killed me straight away. “You were lucky, Yongsoo,” he muttered as he walked back to his seat. Which also meant that I had to go to my seat. Immediately, I ran back to my desk and sat myself down, just as though absolutely nothing had happened. I then drop my head onto the table and hide my face with my arms. The homeroom teacher, Mr. Shin, had walked in, the soles of his shoes tapping gently onto the wooden floor. “Alright guys, settle down,” he said to the class as he arranged some papers into a neat pile. “We have a new student with us today. So please be nice to him, and don’t bully him.” “Hello, my name is Jung Wook-jin,” he said as he bowed deeply. Just right when he reached the first syllable, I finally raised my head back up to see what he looked like. My eyes rested on a tall, slight, pretty figure. A quantity of midnight black hair that’d draped over coal grey eyes that met mine, his look inquiring and innocent. For so, I wish my eyes had never left that inquisitive gaze. The reason had remained unknown, but the thrill thumping before my chest had spoken otherwise, resemblance like a chilled gust of wind against my blemished skin that felt so beautifully refreshing and sweet. “Alright, thank you for that, Wook-jin,” Mr. Shin spoke, pointing to the empty seat upon my left with his palm. “You may go to the seat right over there, right beside…Lee Yongsoo, was it?” “Ah, yes…” I muttered. “Right, sorry Yongsoo,” the teacher apologized. “It’s been a while since I’ve taught you guys, since the winter break and everything. Anyways, Wook-jin, you may go sit right next to Yongsoo over there.” Upon every step that pretty figure made towards myself, the thump in my chest would seem to skip a beat. Such a beauty of a masculine figure couldn’t barely be possible to ever be believed. Untrue, almost. Everything felt untrue in my eyes. Every breath; every beat of my heart. Nothing seemed to represent my reality. This must be a dream, I thought.