crosswalk crash part 1

in spite of all my dreams, seoul is as lonely as home once was. the friend who's hosted me as i study abroad for the past two years, deokhye, is gone with classmates for a month, and her father fills the first floor of the house with angry, pointless questions and the smell of soju when she's gone. more and more often nowadays, my life seems to be sliding off an uneven table.

deokhye’s oldest cousin is namjoon, and he drops by often with his dorm mates, speaking with me in english with me even though korean is becoming the language i think in. he’s kind but busy, and i almost wish i had not met them. it reminds me of the cliques in high school formed purely of genuine friendships. they were always kind, there just wasn't any space for you at the table. sometimes that makes it worse―the almost-ness of it.

he drops by again today, bringing with him the others, but not for the fun of muddling through a conversation with me. sometimes they simply come to deokhye's house to cook in our house's kitchen, superior to whatever's in their dorm, but today they all look so tired. he says they have today free, although by the way they look, maybe they dumped practice for the day. jimin is pale, and yoongi falls asleep on the floor within minutes. hoseok sprawls in a wide chair and stretches for answers to ahjussi’s irritable questions, and i slide away into the kitchen to take out the trash. jungkook is there, sitting on the counter and eating fruit with namjoon; i want to stay and have someone talk to me, but they don't know me well enough to see me as more than an acquaintance, so i try not to bother them as i wrestle with the over-full trashbag.

it’s raining outside. again. it’s warm and the pavement is cool so i stand barefoot in the driveway for a long time before i go anywhere. the trash bins are down the street, tucked into a steep alley, and i should wear my shoes because sometimes there’s bits of broken glass or soju caps or metal, but i don’t. back home the rain was colder, but i was happier, and there was no bubble around me. here i’m stronger from walking and biking and locking myself away.

when i come back, taehyung is sitting on the pavement. the rain slopes off the roof of the shallow porch and he’s soaked through, with wet hair and grey t-shirt clinging to his skin. he sees me and i stop, like i’ve hit a wall. his eyes are flat, like the dead, pupil-less eyes in anime i used to watch with my friends back in middle school. he looks at my feet and i’m ashamed of my sadness here and of all the locked gates between us. of the fact that i don't care enough to put on shoes.

instead of going past him to get inside, i walk away, down into the street. rain hits harder and splashes up on my legs and melts my shoulders. the cars in the street hishhh through puddles and i’m too heavy to look at them. at the crosswalk i stop and look out, beyond the road, to the water and skyline beyond. it is pale and hazy and welcoming in the way that sleep pulls me towards tired sheets and loneliness.

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