JKA 64

He had no idea why he was doing it. Far from teaching him anything, whenever Jiwoon tried to do something, Zeo would appear out of nowhere and interfere. It didn’t seem like he was doing it because he found Jiwoon following him annoying. Because when he stuck right next to him, Zeo didn’t push him away.

Zeo just looked displeased. What he was displeased about was unclear. Was it because it would take two or three times more work if he ineptly did something? But the problem was that Jiwoon hadn’t touched a single thing.

He didn’t give a reason either. When had he thrown a fit, to put it crudely, telling Jiwoon to fix his habit of clamming up when he thought he was at a disadvantage? Now he himself was clamming up, and it was frustrating for the one who was with him.

Was this why he had made such a fuss, telling him to just talk? Jiwoon, experiencing walking in another’s shoes in this absurd situation, found himself unexpectedly reflecting on his own behavior. He didn’t think Zeo was doing this with such an intention, but in the end, Jiwoon couldn’t do anything and ended up just fiddling with his phone while sitting on his lap, held in his arms.

The club president’s call wasn’t particularly sudden. He had sent messages before, asking if he had read the script and what he thought of it. It wasn’t a pushy tone, urging him to act in the club’s movie. Jiwoon had replied that he had read it well, though it wasn’t long, and sent his thoughts that it was interesting.

They didn’t contact each other often, but it wasn’t their first time contacting each other. So when the president called, Jiwoon was a little flustered, but he answered and had a conversation. The president, in a cheerful voice, asked what he was doing and if he had time to come out for a bit.

He said the club members were having an unofficial get-together, and asked if he’d like to join them. He said it was okay to refuse if he felt uncomfortable, but since he had enjoyed reading the script, he wanted to talk with him. As if playing a trump card, he added that he had also called Hanbyeol, wanting Jiwoon to come.

He was saying that it wouldn’t be all strangers, and with Hanbyeol there, it might be a little less uncomfortable. Jiwoon hesitated, unable to answer right away. He was still half-held in Zeo’s arms, so he too was listening to the phone call.

Jiwoon faltered and unknowingly turned his head to meet Zeo’s eyes. Then Zeo mouthed, in a barely audible voice, “Want me to go with you?” At this, Jiwoon’s lips closed as if in thought.

If Zeo went with him, it would certainly be a help, but for some reason, he felt it would be better not to go at all than to do that. Zeo was an angel who had come to help him. So it was natural for him to help.

Even with Hanbyeol there, the thought of being in a space swarming with strangers was difficult to even imagine. There was no way Zeo didn’t know that, so it was a natural course of events for him to ask if he wanted him to go with him. He himself knew that, which was why he had instinctively turned his head to face him.

But when it came down to it, Jiwoon couldn’t bring himself to ask him to do so. What had just happened was weighing on his mind. That is, the image of Zeo constantly stopping him whenever he tried to do something on his own.

He wouldn’t have done it with bad intentions. Jiwoon knew that. But Jiwoon was, without realizing it, coming to understand that he couldn’t keep going on like this. He couldn’t live like this for the rest of his life. Remaining a person who couldn’t do a single thing properly was not what he wanted.

More than anything, Jiwoon now wanted to be with Zeo. Not just having Zeo always by his side, but he also wanted to be by his side. It was because he felt a great sense of helplessness when Zeo collapsed on the rooftop and he couldn’t do anything.

Moreover, as he followed Zeo today, that thought deepened. The conversation Hanbyeol and Zeo had also kept coming to mind. In this state, he couldn’t help Hanbyeol even if he wanted to. He had worried about him even in a situation where he was confronting Zeo. That was because he was nothing more than a person who needed to be helped.

With difficulty, Jiwoon asked the president for the location. Then, leaving behind Zeo who had offered to go with him, he left the house alone and headed for the meeting place. He also added that Zeo should absolutely not follow him. His heart pounded and anxiety welled up, but there was no hesitation in his steps.

He wasn’t going to meet the club members with the firm decision to act in the movie. Even if he were to refuse, he wanted to do it politely, face to face. He wanted to become a person who could at least do that much. Even if others thought it was nothing.

And so he arrived in front of a chicken restaurant from which the boisterous sounds of people talking flowed out. It was a place near the school. His hands kept getting sweaty, so he wiped them repeatedly on his thighs as he entered.

Then, he saw a group of people talking loudly at tables that had been pushed together. He had managed to step inside, but found it difficult to approach, and as he stood there stiffly, someone suddenly came up and put a hand on his shoulder.

Startled, he turned his head to see a smiling Hanbyeol. He must have just arrived as well, as the people gathered inside waved their hands in greeting.

“Are you okay?”

Instead of heading straight to the table, Hanbyeol asked Jiwoon. He couldn’t tell if the question was about him or about Zeo, but Jiwoon gave a rough nod. Only then did Hanbyeol greet the president who was coming out to meet them, as if to say “sit here,” and led Jiwoon.

Coincidentally, their seats were in the center of the joined tables. After squeezing through the people and finally taking a seat, the gazes of the club members poured onto Jiwoon. It was too late for regrets.

*

Jiwoon swallowed dryly and squeezed his eyes shut then opened them. Unlike him, Hanbyeol naturally exchanged greetings with people. While a beer glass was placed in front of him and beer was poured, splash splash, filling the glass, Jiwoon didn’t say a single word, as if his mouth had been glued shut.

He had come out boldly, but now that he was sitting, he didn’t know what to do. Even though he was sitting still, his heart pounded as if he were climbing a low hill. He had to consciously pay attention to his blinking and breathing, which were normally natural. It was because his presence here felt so very unnatural.

Still, Jiwoon managed an awkward smile. He ran his fingertips over the cold beer glass and watched as people awkwardly averted their gazes from him. He thought that perhaps the president had given them a heads-up. It must have been his own way of being considerate.

The smell of oil from the constantly fried chicken was thick in the air. The boisterous chatter was the same at other tables filled with customers, not just the club members. Flushed red faces, heated by alcohol, were scattered here and there.

Maybe it was because midterms were over that everyone looked more flushed. Hanbyeol, while talking with others, would occasionally lean over and whisper to Jiwoon, who wasn’t eating or drinking anything. It wasn’t anything important. A series of trivial questions followed, as if to ease his tension. It was a kind gesture.

But despite Hanbyeol’s efforts, Jiwoon’s tense face showed no signs of relaxing. Even though there were faces he must have seen once or twice in passing, everything just felt awkward. That was probably why he had chugged drink after drink at the end-of-semester party in the past. Of course, there were other reasons too.

After that, he had never drunk that much in the presence of others. Of course, part of it was that there were no drinking parties. But more than that, seeing alcohol kept reminding him of that scene, which was embarrassing. Even when he had beer with Hanbyeol before, he had only had a couple of cans.

Still, it seemed better to down a drink than to just sit there sober. As shouts of “Cheers!” and the clinking of glasses filled the air, Jiwoon raised his glass and, as if drinking out of frustration, gulped down the small glass of beer.

Just as the awkward gazes that had been focused on Jiwoon were withdrawn and people broke into groups of three or four to chat, the president and another sunbae switched seats and sat down in front of Jiwoon and Hanbyeol.

The president refilled Jiwoon’s empty glass and began to speak naturally.

“Thanks for coming out. There are more people than you thought, right?”

Jiwoon nodded at the president’s question. For a department club, there were quite a few people present. It looked like well over twenty people in total. Of course, compared to a university-wide club, it wasn’t a huge number, but considering the number of students in the department, it wasn’t a small scale.

“It’s not always this crowded, but today we had to set a schedule, so I announced that everyone should attend if possible.”

He said that every Thursday was the meeting time for Film, the movie club. Sometimes it was just a screening where they watched a movie in a borrowed classroom, and sometimes they filmed short videos and held their own presentation sessions, the president eagerly introduced the club.

“Once at the end of the semester, and once again after the end of the second semester at the Video Night. We present our produced videos twice like this. What we present is different each time. Sometimes it’s a movie like this time, and sometimes it’s a documentary.”

“…Yes.”

Jiwoon fidgeted with his glass. It was because he knew how this story would conclude. However, he himself had not yet reached any conclusion. So he couldn’t relax his tension and could only keep rubbing the beer glass, on which beads of water had formed, with his fingertips.

“Before we start production, we have a project proposal presentation session among ourselves. We vote and choose the best proposal. The script she wrote was chosen that way. I wanted to use it for the Video Night rather than the semester presentation, but everyone said this was good…”

Just as the president trailed off as if he couldn’t help it, the sunbae sitting with them chimed in with an excited voice.

“There were a lot of aspiring filmmakers among the new freshmen this time. The freshmen are the most enthusiastic, you know. To think my script got the most votes… honestly, this has rarely happened before. For film, people usually go to the film departments of other universities rather than our department.”

“……”

“Oh, my name is Choi Yeongeun. Class of ‘21.”

Yeongeun introduced herself belatedly and smiled. She was one of the club members who had come to see Jiwoon, the one who had asked Zeo what department he was in. Jiwoon cautiously met her eyes and opened his mouth.

“I-I’m, M-Myeong Jiwoon. I’m a ‘23.”

He tried to speak slowly to avoid stuttering as much as possible, but because he was nervous, it was impossible not to stutter at all.

“I’m Im Hanbyeol. Class of ‘23.”

“I know you!”

Yeongeun laughed heartily. Indeed, it was hard not to know Hanbyeol. He was the second-year class representative, and he had a personality that got along well with many people.

“I’m the president of Film, Kang Heechan. Class of ‘19.”

Although he had already heard his name, Heechan introduced himself once more for the sake of formality. After their respective introductions were over, Yeongeun’s eyes sparkled as she began to pour out questions to Jiwoon. It seemed she had been holding back a lot, in her own way.

“So how was the script? My sunbae said you found it interesting.”

“…Uh, well. I-It was interesting. There were… some moving parts too.”

Jiwoon spoke his thoughts slowly, but no one rushed him and listened attentively. He clutched his beer glass with both hands as if it were a lifeline and haltingly recounted his feelings from when he read the script. Yeongeun nodded repeatedly and occasionally smiled brightly.

Seeing that smile, his tension eased a little. The surrounding noise gradually subsided and gazes began to gather on Jiwoon, but he remained unaware of it.