STRANGER; 낯선 사람 - taekook; vmin

11. can i someday find my time?

I am twenty years old and offshore, South of the Yellow Sea, my frail wrists knock three times on a door I came to know very well. The Sea beneath us felt comfortable, an infinite flowing bed that allowed us to do what we wanted even though we didn't comprehend it completely. My legs are as weak as glass noodles when Daewi [lieutenant] Min Yoon-gi opens the door, with the imposing stare that intimidated the entire fleet. I struggle to remember his face, but I'm sure it's him even though I can't quite see it. I enter the room without knowing what was about to happen, panicked because there was no acceptance within me ㅡ and that's exactly what my nightmares were about. I regressed in time and returned to a physical and mental place that offered me confusion, prejudice, and panic. I dread touching Daewi, much like the first time I touched him, for I had no idea what that simple act said about me.

I woke up that morning somewhat relieved to be where I am, knowing it's far from perfect, but it was somewhat better than ten years ago. What happened to me at Seokjin hyung's wedding continued to haunt me every time I sat behind the wheels that I bought with my own money, the car that meant so much to me as a man was now an object that reminded me of how fragile my mind can be.

Before going to work, I called Ye-ji to see if she wanted to have dinner with me and perhaps talk about what happened over the weekend with Min-joon. I would advise her to stay away from him no matter how insistent he becomes on seeing her again ㅡ because that's just how men are, they leave and then they come back. She was definitely fine without a bloke like that in her life. She didn't pick up my call, so I sent her a message: call me when you wake up.

I drove to Yonsei University wondering where Daewi Min Yoon-gi was now. If he ever came to terms with his sexuality, if he was happy, if he fulfilled his dreams or if he ever thought of me. Would he recognize me on the street, or would he pass by me as if I were a stranger?

I prepared myself for the morning classes, pretending that I was a teacher who had everything under control.

What if it happens during class?

My feet stomped into the U-shaped classroom already filled to the brim with students that were either bored or eager for the mid-semester class. The pleasant temperature made everybody agitated, talking amongst each other and wearing thin layers of clothes, making my view a lot more colorful than the one during wintertime. Once I reached the bottom of the arena, many books under my arm and many more in my bag, I started by saying good morning to those familiar faces that didn't go beyond simply faces in a crowd, names in an attending list.

"Has everyone read Baumgarten?" I projected my voice, rummaging through my things and searching for the book in question. I showed them the boring cover of that theoretical work to remind them of our assignment for the day. Some people looked around confused, others nodded in agreement, and another person sitting at the far back, looking oddly fascinated by my presence, looked like Jungkook in white long-sleeves at the beginning of spring.

I cleared my throat, looking at him for a few seconds just to make sure my glasses hadn't betrayed me, and by the way, he smirked with his long locks falling just where his natural sideburns ended, it made me certain that it was indeed Jungkook. I brought my attention elsewhere, rummaging through my books, pretending to be preoccupied with them as I gathered my thoughts and regained confidence through my restless stomach.

I cast away my thoughts of Jungkook, with arms crossed over my chest, I offered myself protection as I turned to the class, now focused on what I had to teach.

"So, what is aesthetica?"

It did not come to me as a surprise when they were silent, only the sound of light coughing and forty students breathing in the classroom. You get used to being ignored when you're a teacher. "I know it's hard since it's a western concept and way of thinking, but you can do better than this."