Middle School 3rd Year, Winter: He Always Smelled Like Soap.
Explaining Oppa in the simplest way possible: he always smelled like soap. I couldn't quite remember where I'd heard that before. But there wasn't much else to say about him anyway.
Up until the end of middle school, Oppa wasn't anyone particularly significant in my life. He wasn't especially kind to me, we had hardly any shared memories from childhood or now, and if anything, he was so much bigger than me that he seemed intimidating—a blunt, standoffish guy always focused on his own thing. We weren't on bad enough terms to fight, but not close enough to bicker either. Just strangers two steps closer than total outsiders. Our conversations mostly boiled down to "I'm heading out" and "I'm back."
Still, he was mature and neat, so I didn't dislike him. That was pretty much my impression of Oppa.
So when did someone like that start taking up space in my life? Probably a few days ago, I think—second Thursday of November. The day Oppa came home with a twisted expression, his usual curt, flat voice cracking. Honestly, when I heard his self-scored mock exam results, I thought he was overreacting. I'd figured he'd bombed it completely. Wasn't that score pretty good? I'd be thrilled with results like that. It wasn't even far off from what I'd expected. Not his dream school maybe, but a solid university for sure.
But that night... For the first time, I heard Oppa's muffled sobs leaking through the wall, faint but unmistakable. And my chest started humming in response.
Oh, Oppa’s human too.
I'd thought he was the type who wouldn't bleed even if you pricked him with a needle, but he was just awkward around people. That first glimpse of his vulnerability made him look younger than I'd imagined. Well, sure—he was only three years older. I realized my vague picture of myself as a high school senior in three years was nothing like the real Oppa, fresh out of his own third year.
Maybe because Dad was such a non-entity in my memories, Oppa was the only family I had besides Mom. Without realizing it, I'd mistaken him for some full-grown adult.
After that day, things got weirdly awkward around Oppa. I had no idea what to say. Should I comfort him? But we're not that close. What if he thinks it's weird? If I hadn't noticed him crying, I probably wouldn't have thought twice.
Suddenly, everything about him started getting under my skin—eating meals together, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa watching TV, or him shaking out his wet hair after the bathroom. So I wanted to act normal, like nothing was off. Avoiding him just because it felt awkward would be... lame. I wasn't some girl with a crush on her first love or anything.
Sure, I liked twisted romances from novels, but I'd never feel that way about my own brother. Never.
So after racking my middle-school brain to break the ice, this was the best I could come up with.
"Um... Oppa."
"What?"
"...Wanna have some coffee?"
"...Me?"
"Yeah."
"You? ...For me?"
"Is it that weird for a little sister to make her brother coffee?"
"No, it's not. I'd drink it if you make it."
"What kind do you like, Oppa?"
"Black."
"Uh... okay. Got it. Wait a sec."
I stepped out of my room and called out to Oppa, who was sprawled on the sofa. His sharp eyes went wide and round, like he hadn't seen that coming, and he shot the question right back at me. ...Did he hate me that much? No, it wasn't hate—just surprise. I'd react the same if Oppa suddenly offered to make me coffee.
"Here, Oppa. Coffee."
"...Thanks."
"..."
I handed him the cup and sat at the far end of the sofa. ...Now what do I say? I'd at least gotten the conversation started, but...
Hm... something he'd be interested in...
"...Kim Gyeo-ul."
"Ah, yeah...? What?"
"Where you going for high school?"
"Me? Your school."
"I'm at an all-boys high school. What're you talking about?"
"Oh, there's a girls' high school right next to yours. Mom said that's the one."
"Really?"
"Yeah. How is it?"
"Dunno... I've never been in the girls' building."
"...I see."
"There are good eats nearby though. Ask me if you're curious. I'll tell you."
"...Okay."
We traded a few short lines, then both just sipped our coffee. He'd even started the real talk, but I couldn't keep it going. ...Yeah, some things just aren't for me. I had no clue what this guy even liked.
I'd never liked anyone. Not in the romantic sense, anyway—not Mom or Grandma, but actual love. No crushes, ever. The idols or celebrities my friends squealed over, or the occasional hot guy I'd spot? Nothing. Not even a flicker of attraction.
I'd even wondered if I liked girls instead. But no heart-flutters for them either.
Right up to my last middle school birthday, I'd only known "love" as a plot device in books.
I'd hoped puberty would change that, but nope. Maybe it was the all-girls school, or maybe I was just too young.
Sometimes I imagined it anyway. What would my type be? First off, anyone who only looked at my outsides? Hard pass. I knew I looked mature and attractive for my age. A bit arrogant-sounding, maybe, but it was true—people stared. ...And my chest had grown way too fast.
I didn't mind the attention, but the person I liked should love my insides too. Yeah, yeah, total Anna vibes. But everyone has some romantic fantasy, right? I devoured books, dramas, movies like that. If I was gonna date, I wanted that kind of love.
And... if possible, marry my first boyfriend. Couldn't help it—that story just hit different. Not embarrassing enough to tell anyone, though.
"...Kim Gyeo-ul. Can I come in?"
"...Huh?"
"I'm coming in?"
On the last day of the year, I was buried in bed flipping through pages like always when Oppa knocked. What the heck at this hour? I'd been making him coffee more often lately, and we talked a bit more than before, but still.
Curiosity won; I opened the door. Oppa stood there in plain clothes, hands behind his back—like he'd just gotten back from part-time work.
"What, Oppa?"
"...It's your birthday today."
"...Huh?"
...How'd he know? He'd never remembered before. No one else did either. Mom only did lunar birthdays, and friends... too much hassle. I didn't hate making friends, but middle school had been stressful. Why did everyone love tearing people down? I'd play nice enough to get backup in drama, but skip the deep bonds. High school might change that.
"Here. ...A present."
"...A present? From you? For me?"
"Why so shocked?"
"I mean... it's just so out of nowhere."
"...Take it."
I spaced out for a second, and he grabbed my hand, shoving the box into it. ...What the hell, man. Touching my hand like that. Fine, it was a gift.
"Open it."
"Okay... uh. What is this?"
"...Figure it out from the box."
I'd never dreamed he'd get me anything. We're not that close. Keeping expectations low, I looked down: a brand-new, unopened phone, box and all, right in my hands.
"...What the—?"
"Birthday present."
"No, wait... Oppa. ...This is expensive, right? It's brand new."
"Like a hundred-something won."
"...Why? For me?"
"...Just 'cause?"
My hands shook holding the box. A hundred-something won? Whatever part-time gig he had after the exam, this was basically a month's pay. ...On me? Why?
"...Um, Oppa."
"Take it. I bought it with work money."
"Uh... I..."
...Seriously. This guy made no sense. All I'd done was make coffee for a month or so. What flipped in his head after all that exam angst?
I couldn't meet his eyes. That goofy grin didn't suit him—had to be some ulterior motive hiding back there. What was he gonna ask his little sister for after sticking her with this debt?
"Take it. Part graduation present, part for starting high school."
"I can really have it...?"
"You think I'd joke? Hand over your old phone before I change my mind. I'll swap the SIM."
"No, no—I'll take it. I got this..."
"...Happy birthday, Kim Gyeo-ul."
"...Yeah."
He handed it over and bolted to his room. When was the last time I got birthday wishes on New Year's Eve? I didn't even know my lunar birthday offhand—Mom had to remind me.
I tore open the packaging and fiddled with the new phone. Felt weird. For the first time, Oppa felt like a real big brother.
Not because it was expensive or anything. ...Just the first time I'd gotten something from him.
Of course, he was my real brother, past and future. ...Ugh, but it was a burden! All I'd done was coffee. And this guy, who barely talked usually, acting all buddy-buddy today. Grinning like an idiot—it didn't suit him. A phone? Dumping his whole paycheck. What did he even want from me? Guy had zero social skills.
This stuff needed buildup... like, get closer first? ...Fight over something dumb, make up, then give it as a peace offering? Dropping a birthday gift out of nowhere made my heart pound like crazy. If he weren't so tall, maybe it'd be less scary. ...He'd seemed kinda normal earlier, though.