D Minus Chapter 7

Author: nicotine

After that day when they sat by the salty sea, feeling the cool breeze and sharing their worries, Hajin and Jonghwa grew much closer. Perhaps, deep down, they had been looking for someone to lean on. Otherwise, Hajin wouldn’t have poured out all the emotions he had been hiding.

“You’re quite unique.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

Jonghwa, his face a mix of concentration and frustration, sat at the table, reading a fairy tale book word by word. It was a book they had picked out together at the bookstore yesterday, and Hajin hadn’t expected Jonghwa to choose “The Little Mermaid.” Sitting across from him, Hajin twirled a pen between his fingers and chuckled. Unperturbed, Jonghwa leaned forward, engrossed in the fairy tale.

“This is really hard.”

“You’ve learned it all. You can read it.”

“But I need to understand what it means.”

“It’s more fun if you read it yourself.”

“Goddamn it…”

Hajin had thought Jonghwa would tear the book in frustration, but he studied diligently. Although uneducated, he wasn’t unintelligent, picking up things fairly quickly. Teaching Jonghwa reminded Hajin once again that teaching was his true calling, bringing a wry smile to his face.

“At least you don’t get your name wrong now.”

“Of course not.”

Hajin admired the crooked letters of Jonghwa’s name on the back of the fairy tale book. Resting his chin on his hand, he watched Jonghwa’s furrowed face.

“I’ll make you tteokbokki if you finish a page.”

“What the hell, I’m not a kid.”

“Then forget it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it.”

Jonghwa was simple. He liked good food and blushed at compliments. Sometimes he seemed more innocent than the students Hajin had taught. Hajin laughed heartily and checked on the rice cakes soaking in water. Hungry, Jonghwa read as fast as he could, occasionally glancing behind him, and wrinkled his nose when he got stuck on the last line.

“Hey, I haven’t seen this one before.”

“What?”

“How do you read it?”

“Try reading it one letter at a time.”

“Juh-reum.”

The troublesome word was ‘젊’ (jeolm). His voice full of frustration made Hajin want to laugh, but he held back to avoid hurting Jonghwa’s pride. Hajin uncapped his pen and circled the word.

“젊 (jeolm).”

“Jeom?”

“It’s ‘jeolm’ as in ‘young person.’”

“Ah.”

“Got it now?”

“Juhl-m.”

“That’s right. Good job.”

Once past the tricky part, Jonghwa quickly finished the page. Closing the book with a satisfied look, Hajin scrunched his nose in praise. It was time to make the tteokbokki.

“Wash your hands before eating.”

“I already did.”

“With soap.”

“Fine…”

Grumbling, Jonghwa headed to the bathroom, having been stopped from grabbing the soaked rice cakes. Hajin had gotten used to Jonghwa’s straightforward and sometimes clumsy actions. He pulled out a large frying pan and started cooking. With a clatter, Jonghwa was back, hovering behind him but unable to help with the cooking.

“Look at this.”

“What are you doing? You’re not a kid.”

“It’s fun.”

After devouring two portions of tteokbokki, Jonghwa sprawled out on the living room floor, lifting his shirt. His stomach, still firm but covered in scars, bulged out when he flexed. Hajin, sitting on the sofa and watching TV, scolded him, playfully swatting his belly. Jonghwa rolled away, puffing and deflating his stomach while laughing mischievously.

“Do you know that actor?”

“No.”

“He’s really handsome.”

While flipping through channels, they found a movie from the early 2000s. Initially intending to watch for a bit, Hajin ended up watching the whole thing, captivated by the male lead’s face. Jonghwa, uninterested, patted his full belly and did his own thing, while Hajin, hugging his knees, focused on the movie and occasionally talked to him. Their time together had become familiar.

“Ugh…”

As the ending credits rolled on the black screen, Hajin suddenly felt nauseous and leaned forward. Jonghwa, who Hajin thought was asleep, noticed something was wrong and quickly got up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah…”

It felt like dozens of fish were flopping around in his stomach. He stood up, but immediately staggered and fell. As Jonghwa grabbed his arm and helped him up, Hajin clamped his hand over his mouth and ran to the bathroom.

“Blaaargh.”

As soon as he opened the toilet lid, everything he had eaten came up. It felt like his throat was on fire despite not eating spicy tteokbokki. His whole body vibrated as if a giant speaker had been placed inside him.

With trembling hands, Hajin clung to the toilet and kept retching. Jonghwa, who had followed him, clumsily patted his back.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

“Ugh…”

Even after throwing up everything he’d eaten, the nausea wouldn’t stop. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Unable to lift his head due to the relentless vomiting, he gripped the toilet with all his strength. His head spun as if he were drunk.

“Let’s go to the hospital.”

“Let me go.”

“We need to go to the hospital. You agreed to get treated.”

Jonghwa was just as shocked by Hajin’s sudden symptoms. While patting Hajin’s back in a panic, he abruptly lifted him up.

“Let me go…”

Hajin’s now hoarse voice echoed in the bathroom, but Jonghwa ignored him. Realizing that Jonghwa was trying to carry him on his back, Hajin pressed his palms against him to push him away, but Jonghwa’s large frame didn’t budge.

“I said, let me go!”

“We need to go to the hospital.”

“Let go first.”

“No, we need to go now.”

Usually compliant, Jonghwa was stubbornly insistent this time. Despair flickered in Hajin’s eyes. At that moment, the stomach contents he thought he’d emptied out poured onto Jonghwa’s neck. Jonghwa, now covered in the hot liquid, groped at the vomit with his hand.

“I said, let me go… ugh…”

This time, the vomit splattered on the floor. The liquid, mixed with green foam, smelled so foul it made his head pound. Hajin slumped to the floor, leaning against the toilet, staring blankly into space. Hot liquid ran down his exposed calves, as he was wearing shorts.

“Let’s wash up and then go.”

“……”

“Wash up with me.”

While Hajin was violently retching, he had unconsciously urinated. His lips, now pale, quivered. He had known about his terminal condition, yet had he been deluded into thinking he would leave gracefully and elegantly? Whatever the case, he had never imagined such a pitiful state and lacked the strength to overcome the ensuing despair.

“If it’s too hard, just sit there.”

Jonghwa quickly undressed. Soon naked, he nonchalantly undressed Hajin too. Hajin, drained of all strength, didn’t resist and stayed motionless, like a lifeless body, until he was completely naked.

“It can happen. Why the hell are you looking like you’ve lost your country?”

Warm water poured over his body. Jonghwa’s rough hands scrubbed Hajin all over. He felt no sensation, like a piece of wood. Jonghwa, with hands full of body wash, washed Hajin and motioned with his chin.

“Close your eyes. Let me wash your face.”

“……”

“Hurry.”

With his mind in a daze, Hajin obediently closed his eyes as Jonghwa instructed. Jonghwa roughly scrubbed Hajin’s face with body wash, not even facial cleanser, then rinsed it off again. As the relentless downpour of water made it hard to breathe, Jonghwa apologized, “Ah, sorry.”

“I’ll wash quickly, so use this to dry off.”

After washing Hajin, Jonghwa finally poured water over himself. The vomit that had poured over his neck flowed down his muscular body and disappeared down the drain.

Hajin, staring blankly at his naked body, let out a bitter laugh. Or so he thought; tears were streaming down his cheeks. He realized how arrogant he had been in thinking he wasn’t afraid of death. He had believed he would die without symptoms like the last time he collapsed. He hadn’t anticipated such pain. Foolishly.

“Ah…”

Leaning against the toilet, Hajin shed tears endlessly. Wrinkles formed on his chin, and his neck sagged. He was terrified. His heart pounded wildly from fear. It was the first day he truly felt “real death.” As sobs filled the steam-filled bathroom, Jonghwa quickened his pace in washing himself.

“Still in pain?”

“…No.”

“Treatment will help.”

“……”

“You haven’t tried it yet. Doctors these days are really skilled.”

Only Jonghwa seemed unaware that chemotherapy was useless for a terminal cancer patient with metastasized tumors. Though the doctor had said it wasn’t necessary, Hajin had insisted on it. It was a firm decision, despite having consistently refused before. Perhaps he wanted to naively believe, like Jonghwa, that he might survive. Maybe…

***

“Why isn’t there black bean sauce with the fried rice?”

“It doesn’t come with fried rice.”

“It does. What are you supposed to mix it with then?”

“I’ve never seen it come with fried rice.”

In a shabby Chinese restaurant, the two argued while waiting for their fried rice. The cook, who seemed well past seventy, had a self-service policy, remaining unseen by the customers.

Hajin, having given up scrubbing the barely clean table with wet wipes, clutched his spoon tightly and began eating. Jonghwa chided him to stop complaining and took a big spoonful of fried rice. Despite the poor hygiene, the food tasted quite good.

“Thanks for coming with me anyway.”

“It’s nothing. I had nothing else to do.”

Jonghwa would sometimes disappear without a word and not return home for several days. But for the past week, he had stayed home continuously. Hajin wanted to ask him if he wasn’t going to work, but the story about Jonghwa’s older brother that he had heard a while back made him hold his tongue.

“Let’s go.”

“…Yeah.”

In truth, Hajin didn’t know if he was eating the fried rice or just swallowing it. The next destination kept circling in his mind. Although he tried not to show it, it seemed Jonghwa noticed as he also put down his spoon after only a few bites. If they went a little further into the alley around the corner from the restaurant, they would find a barber shop. That was their final destination for today.

“Who’s getting a haircut?”

“I am.”

“Go wash your hair over there.”

Hajin didn’t expect much service in a rural village, but he didn’t expect he’d have to wash his own hair. Staring blankly at the rusty sink, a large figure stepped in front of him.

“Do I need to wash my hair if I’m shaving it all off?”

“Who’s shaving it all off?”

“He is.”

“Why, are you going to the army?”

“No. He’s sick.”

With his arms crossed, Jonghwa spoke bluntly and confidently in informal speech. The barber, who seemed to be in his sixties, ignored the rude young man and turned his attention to Hajin.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh… I’m just sick. I need to shave my head, but should I wash it first?”

“No, it’s fine. Just go sit over there.”

There was only one chair in the barber shop. Jonghwa grumbled about the lack of a waiting area, while the barber muttered under his breath, “These young people have no manners,” loud enough for only Hajin to hear. A white cloth, stained with hair dye, was wrapped around Hajin’s neck. His reflection in the large, unlit mirror looked back at him with a complicated expression.

Somehow, his face seemed unfamiliar. It was as if he were looking at a completely different person, someone he was having a staring contest with. He pulled his hand out from under the cloth and rubbed his gaunt cheeks a couple of times. A surge of emotion welled up from deep within his heart.

“Just shave it all off?”

“…Yes.”

The indifferent barber picked up the clippers. Before Hajin could prepare himself, the cold metal touched the nape of his neck. Taking a deep breath, he slowly closed his eyes. It was easier not to look.

Bzzzz― As the clippers buzzed, his hair fell past his earlobes. His eyes welled up despite his efforts to stay composed over something as trivial as hair. Hajin tried to distract himself. He tightly shut his eyes and thought about the fried rice he had just eaten, the stray cat loitering in front of his house, and the rocking chair in the living room.

“Ugh…”

It was a complete failure. He could already feel the coolness on the back of his head. He realized the haircut was almost over but didn’t have the courage to open his eyes. The clippers, which had seemed intent on consuming him, finally stopped. The haircut was finished.

“Hey. You’ve got such a small head that you even look good bald.”

As the tears fell from his tightly shut eyes, Jonghwa’s voice sounded very close by. Hajin clenched his teeth to hold back the tears. His lips, bitten by sharp teeth, turned white.

“Open your eyes. You look much better now than when it was all messy.”

Jonghwa didn’t give him much time to be sad. Hajin opened his trembling eyelids with difficulty. His head, with its gray scalp fully exposed, looked unusually round. Facing his tear-soaked reflection in the mirror, Hajin buried his face in his palms and sobbed. Recently, the emotions he had desperately tried to suppress had been surfacing one by one. He felt scared, sad, miserable, and resentful.

“Sir, how much is it?”

“Nine thousand won.”

“Nine thousand won? Why is it so expensive just to shave a head?”

“That’s the going rate these days, man!”

“What, did I ask you to draw a picture on my head or color it? Why are you charging ten thousand won just for shaving it?”

“Look at this guy! Then why didn’t you do it yourself?”

Jonghwa, arguing about the price in informal speech, fell silent only when Hajin grabbed his arm. The barber, clicking his tongue, kept his eyes on the TV, muttering that young people these days had no manners.

“If you pay cash, it’s seven thousand won.”

Jonghwa’s eyes lit up at the seemingly generous offer. Hajin, still not having wiped away his tears, chuckled at the crumpled bills Jonghwa pulled out of his pocket. He had no wallet or card, and Hajin knew why. Without even a family registration, there was no way Jonghwa could have a card in his name.

Since there was no proper table, Jonghwa squatted and spread the bills on the floor. He grabbed a five-thousand-won bill and two one-thousand-won bills, then stuffed the remaining cash back into his pocket. As he put on the hat he had brought, Hajin thought to himself that he should buy Jonghwa a nice wallet.

***

“Does it hurt?”

“Not yet.”

Several needles were inserted into the back of his hand. He was told he could go home after about two days of injections. It was Hajin’s first chemotherapy session. He had expected to be admitted to the hospital immediately upon starting chemotherapy, but he was relieved it wasn’t the case.

“You can go. I have to stay here for two days.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“What are you going to do here? There’s nothing to do, so just go home.”

“Stop nagging. It’s annoying.”

Though Hajin appreciated Jonghwa coming with him, he didn’t want him to stay. He knew from experience that chemotherapy would reveal his weakest moments. Not wanting to show such vulnerability, he gently shook his head as Jonghwa settled into a chair next to him.

“I want to be alone, so go home.”

“Then who’s going to teach me this?”

Hajin’s eyes widened in surprise. He had never seen anyone pull a fairy tale book out of their pocket before. If Jonghwa was going to carry books around, he might as well get a bag. Jonghwa took the rolled-up fairy tale book from his pocket and flattened it out the other way, pressing it down with effort. The cover with the Little Mermaid on it was all wrinkled.

“I’m going to read, so tell me if you feel sick.”

Jonghwa didn’t seem to realize how ridiculous he looked. A huge man, nearly six foot three, sitting with his legs crossed on a tiny stool, reading “The Little Mermaid” with a twisted expression on his face. It was clear from the nurses’ puzzled and bewildered expressions whenever they came in to check on Hajin’s condition. But Jonghwa shamelessly held the book up to eye level, reading each word carefully.

Hajin gave up on sending Jonghwa home and let himself slide back onto the bed. It was fascinating that the droplets falling through the clear tube were meant to kill viruses. He blinked slowly, watching the IV drip, flinching as his hand swelled, and finally touched his newly shaved scalp. Jonghwa reacted to the last action.

“What? Does it hurt?”

“No, it just feels strange.”

“I told you, it looks good. Your head is small, so you suit a shaved head. If someone like me did it, I’d look like a North Korean potato.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There wasn’t much to laugh about, so it surprised Hajin when he laughed at Jonghwa’s absurd joke. He decided to take this chance to laugh as much as he wanted. To avoid crying, he needed to laugh.

“Seriously… Hey, just cry.”

“…”

“You’re only smiling with your mouth right now. Why hold it in? Who’s watching? Just cry. I’m going to read The Little Mermaid.”

Jonghwa nonchalantly shifted his gaze back to the book. Hajin knew that Jonghwa was deliberately not looking at him. It was hard to even change positions because of the IV lines, so Hajin lay there, staring at the ceiling and crying endlessly. The tears he had been holding back for so long were so salty, bitter, and painful.

“Is there anything you want to eat?”

“No. I don’t have an appetite.”

“You still need to eat something.”

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