What I Left Behind the Dream

Was it my first year of middle school, or my second? I can't remember exactly when it happened, and honestly, why I ended up like that is fuzzy too — maybe I lost a bet over tteokbokki, maybe I butted in on the girls' fun at exactly the wrong moment. Or maybe they just grabbed me because they were bored.

Middle schoolers don't need a grand reason to dress somebody up as a girl.

What I remember for certain is this much: by the time I came to, I was already sitting in a corner of the classroom while three girls gleefully had their way with my hair, my face, and my clothes.

"Hey, hold still. Close your eyes. I'll do your eyeliner."

Watching her come at me with something pointy in hand, my body backed away on pure instinct.

"Poke my eye out and you're dead."

"I'm not going to stab you. Hold still — hold still and I won't. Move, and I will."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Yep. Eyes closed."

Reluctantly, I shut my eyes, and something brushed against my eyelid — ticklish. I flinched.

"Ah, fuck, you poked me! That hurt! I'm leaving! You promised you wouldn't stab me!"

"I did not! You moved!"

"Something pointy touched my eye!"

"That's the eyeliner!"

"Which is why it poked me!"

"Somebody grab him!"

"Hey! Ganging up on one guy is coward—"

They got me. And so, once again, democracy died today. Yang Wen-li, are you watching? Please, I beg you — save me. What's that? Three against one means democracy won? ...Huh. Fair enough. In that case, Emperor Reinhard, please save me instead.

After that, once I figured out that struggling would only drag out the makeup session, I sat quietly and let them draw on my eyes, smear things on my face, paint my lips, and finally plant a wig on my head. Is this fun for you, you crazy bitches?

"Hey, tilt down a little for me. Your head."

"My neck's going to snap. You taking responsibility if I die?"

"It won't snap."

"Ow. I said it hurts! I'm seriously reporting you to the human rights commission and the school violence committee!"

"Go right ahead."

The girl fixing the wig smacked me on the head. This is tyranny! Tyranny! Doesn't this world have a Teachers' Rights Protection Bureau?! This is school violence!

Only after they'd borrowed a uniform skirt and wrestled me into it was the job finally done. And you lot get to wear tracksuits, is that it?

"There. Done."

The moment someone said it, the room went strangely quiet — the girls who'd been snickering and chattering up until seconds ago had shut their mouths and were staring at me.

"...What."

No answer. And you know how silence like that feels ominous for no reason at all.

"What, did you botch it?"

"No."

"Then what?"

One of them silently held out a mirror. I took it and looked—

...

There was long hair. My eyes looked sharper than usual, my lips had color in them, and with the uniform skirt on top, it was a face I'd seen plenty of times before and somehow also a girl I was meeting for the first time. I tilted my head to the left, then gave the right a try.

"Wow, I'm fucking gorgeous?"

The girls lost it.

"You psycho, aren't you supposed to be embarrassed at a time like this?"

"What can I do? I'm pretty. Hey, take a picture of me."

"Why are you adapting so fast?"

"It's the destiny of those born with beauty."

"Drop dead."

Thwack. Oof. Fuck, at least treat me like a girl if you're going to dress me up as one. Quit hitting me already. I am seriously reporting you bastards to the school violence committee.

Click. One photo later, a truly excellent idea popped into my head. Hold on — what if Kang Taehyun saw this? The corners of my mouth curled up all on their own.

"Hey, go bring Taehyun. I want to show him something."

"Show him what?"

I gathered the hem of the skirt and spun in a full circle.

"This."

Seeing the same grin bloom across the girls' faces, I had my confirmation: people all think alike. There are two important things in life, as they say — dopamine, and more dopamine. A moment later, one of the girls stepped out into the hallway and came back dragging Taehyun, both hands clapped over his eyes.

"Why'd you call me? Did Lee Hajin cause trouble again?"

"Come in and see."

"What is it?"

Taehyun came in wearing his usual this-better-be-good face, looked my way — and stopped. Frozen mid-step, one foot through the doorway, his eyes traveled from my face to my hair, from my hair down to the uniform skirt, then climbed back up to my face.

Pfft. Hold it in. Not yet.

"...Lee Hajin?"

It was over.

"Pfft. AHAHAHAHA! Hey! You totally didn't recognize me just now, did you!"

As I doubled over clutching my stomach and the girls around me cracked up too, Taehyun's expression began to rot.

"I recognized you."

"Liar! Your eyes were shaking!"

"They were not."

"They were. Hey, look at me."

I lifted the hem of the skirt just a little and tilted my head for good measure.

"Am I pretty?"

"...Get lost."

"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Knew that's why I called him. So glad I did! Messing with Taehyun!

Taehyun flipped me the middle finger, and that set me off so badly I folded over a desk.

"Hey, don't take off the wig. I want a picture."

"It's hot."

"One second."

"Ugh, I'm seriously hot."

I scratched at the back of my neck. It really was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hot. What season was it back then — summer? Or spring?

At first I thought it was the wig. I'd wrapped an extra layer around my head, so of course I'd be warm. But something was off. It wasn't just my neck — my face was burning too, and my back was clammy with sweat. So hot, so, so hot. My whole body felt heavy and wrong, and I couldn't so much as lift a finger.

"Hey. Turn on the AC."

No answer.

"...Hey?"

Beeeep—

I lifted my head toward the short electronic tone coming from somewhere, and the girls, the classroom — all of it was gone. I blinked a few times, and an unfamiliar ceiling swam into view. White. Right beside me, an electronic tone repeated at steady intervals.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was a hospital.

At first, I didn't think much of it. I was already at the hospital, and my body felt off, so I figured I was there for tests. Why I'd come, I couldn't quite remember. Some kind of bug? That was about the weight of it.

Of course, it hurt like hell — fever burning through my whole body, joints aching, my stomach churning until I didn't want to eat a thing.

"I think I've caught a cold."

The young nurse at my bedside would lift her thermometer and take my temperature like clockwork, every single day—

"Let me check your temperature again."

"You just took it, noona. Why do you keep measuring? And you're not going to suddenly stab something up my nose again, right? You did that last time."

"Not this time."

"What a relief."

Still smiling faintly, she took the thermometer and checked the number.

Then she checked it again.

"...One moment."

"What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, she slipped outside, and before long a different nurse came in. Not a young one this time — the kind of women who suit the word ma'am. In other words, the veteran nurses, the undisputed champions of seniority. Their job, apparently? Taking my temperature again.

"Again?"

"Yes. Just once more. We don't want our patient hurting, so bear with us for a moment."

"Wow, I'm popular."

That nurse did not laugh. Next they took my blood pressure, then took it again a little later. They drew blood, then before long came back to draw more.

"Um, you've taken way too much blood. Shouldn't you be offering me a refill about now?"

The one holding the needle glanced over for a second.

"Just bear with it a little longer, Hajin."

"Keep this up and I'm going to turn into a vampire."

No laugh this time either. Strange. The door opened and a doctor well along in years came in — someone I'd never seen before. At some point, the only people coming through that door were strangers. Every one of them would talk to me, do something, watch their faces fall, and leave. And above all, not a single one of them smiled at me anymore.

Then one more person came in, and the two of them spoke a little ways from my bed. Sadly their voices were too quiet to make out — though I did catch that the doctor I'd met for the first time that day was named Oh Seunghyeon.

In charge of the intensive care ward, was it?

I didn't ask why an intensive care doctor was here. I wasn't thinking much of anything back then.

When I closed my eyes, I could hear the drops falling from the IV line, layered over the hum of the machines.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A drop landed on my arm — warm, sliding down like blood — and at the feeling, my eyes opened. Mom was there.

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"It's just a bug, right?"

Mom didn't answer right away. She just rubbed the back of my hand.

"Mom? Why aren't you answering? And why are you crying?"

"They said the doctors are running tests."

"I know that."

My throat was dry, so I reached for some water, but the hand gripping the cup wouldn't hold firm.

The water shivered.

When it did, Mom took the cup from me and held it to my lips.

"Slowly, now."

I took two swallows and turned my head.

"Where's my phone?"

"What do you need your phone for?"

"To let Taehyun know."

Mom hesitated a moment, then fetched the phone and lit up the screen. After that: open the messenger, find Kang Taehyun.

Every couple of letters, my finger stabbed some random wrong key; irritated, I'd delete it and start over.

Strength drained out of my hand, and the phone dropped onto my stomach.

"Ah."

I had to pick it up, but when I reached for it, it seemed impossibly far away. Are my arms shorter than I thought?

"Let's do it later."

"I have to do it now."

"Sleep a little."

"He'll get bored without me."

Mom said nothing. She only kept crying.

My eyes fell shut.

Beeeep—

When I opened my eyes, someone had come in yet again. Blood pressure. Temperature. Blood. Injections. Fog. Medication. Someone stripped back the blanket; someone pressed on my stomach.

"Does it hurt here?"

My whole body hurts. Please save me. I don't want to die.

"How about here?"

Everywhere hurts. Especially my chest. My heart hurts.

"Is it hard to breathe?"

Yes. It's so hard.

It was hot.

Something was plastered over my head in layers — was it that wig from before? I had to get it off, which meant raising my hand, but my arm wouldn't come up.

"Hajin?"

"...This thing."

"Yes?"

Someone's face leaned in close — a face drowned in static, as if a kindergartner had scribbled it out with crayons. And a voice crackling in and out.

"Take this wig off for me."

"What?"

"It's hot."

I tugged at my hair.

It wouldn't come off.

"The wig..."

"Hajin, that's your hair."

What are you talking about? There's no way my hair is this long.

Somebody take this wig off for me. And stop trying to stop me.

The door opened, and someone hurried in — only to slow to a stop right at the threshold.

Kang Taehyun. He looked a little more out of breath than usual, and he still had his bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm in so much fucking pain. Feel sorry for me, right? So buy me something. Nothing insane — I'm not asking for anything huge. I know your family's loaded, but I also know your allowance is a mouse-tail's worth. So just get me some tteokbokki or something. Consider it tribute."

"When you're better."

"Now."

"No."

"You stingy bastard."

After that, Taehyun sat down in the chair beside the bed and hardly said a word. Why are you so quiet? Normally you'd have smacked me one by now.

"How was school? Everyone doing okay?"

"Same as always. Everything's the same. The world's turning along just fucking fine without you, asshole."

"Boring. Tell me something funny then."

"Got nothing. You think everyone's a dopamine-chasing lunatic like you?"

"You really have no sense of service, coming to visit a sick friend like that."

Taehyun set his bag down. The clothes he was wearing that day were his school uniform.

They were definitely his school uniform.

"Taehyun. You were here earlier. Why are you back again?"

"Just 'cause."

This time he wasn't in uniform but in a black hoodie. Had this guy decided to become the kind of train wreck who doesn't even wear his uniform anymore? And yet the thought didn't strike me as strange at all.

"What about school?"

"It's over."

"Already? That was fast."

"Wasn't it."

Taehyun poured me some water. I tried to take the cup, but my hand wouldn't cooperate, so I ended up clamping down on a straw instead.

Slurp.

"Tastes bad."

"It's water. Of course it doesn't taste like anything?"

"Coke. Sprite. If you act now, I'll even graciously slurp down a Dr Pepper."

"No."

"The Patient Rights Ordinance, so on and so forth — I shall be taking this matter up with your parents directly."

"I just got off the phone with my mom. There's no patients' rights ordinance that applies to you."

"You evil bastard."

When I opened my eyes this time, Taehyun was there again, though I couldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tell what he was wearing. His face wouldn't come into focus either, and the room kept swinging from too bright to too dark, making me dizzy.

Beeeep—

The instant the electronic tone rang out, someone seized my arm.

"Hajin, Hajin, Mom's right here."

I know.

I tried to answer, but no voice came out. My eyes rolled over — Taehyun was there. If Taehyun's here, is this the classroom? Or the hospital? Or my room? Taehyun's place? Where am I? My head's hot — did I still not get that wig off?

"Taehyun, am I pretty?"

"...What?"

"I said, am I pretty?"

It's that bastard's turn to curse me out now, right? It's not like we've known each other a day or two.

He'll go, 'Get lost, you gross freak' — then grin and land a punch or two. That's exactly the kind of relationship that works for us.

But—

Someone tried to answer. The voice never came.

When I opened my eyes, the ceiling was a familiar one. A few blinks in, the first thing I realized was how quiet this place was.

No machine beeping at steady intervals, no cart wheels rattling past in the corridor — instead, the clink of dishes drifted in from beyond the door. This place was—

"Honey, you can just leave that there."

People didn't laugh at the hospital. If anything, more of them seemed to cry. Where was this again? I stared at the ceiling for a long while before turning my head. A familiar room. Taehyun's room. My hideout.

I started to sit up, then paused — my cheek tickled, and when I brushed at it with my hand, I came away holding hair. I gathered a fistful of long, long, lovely hair and pulled.

...

"It's real."

"And I can't even take it off anymore."

For a while I wound the hair around my fingers and let it unwind, and the whole time, the chatter from outside kept drifting in.

"Hajin's still asleep?"

"Let her sleep a little more."

"Isn't the cake going to melt?"

"Why would the cake melt?"

"It would if it were an ice cream cake."

"It's not an ice cream cake."

So noisy, I thought, and climbed out of bed. My body still felt a little heavy, but my legs didn't buckle like before. Did my battery finish charging? Emergency recharge complete — hallelujah.

Passing the mirror standing in the corner of the room, my feet stopped of their own accord. Long black hair. A small face. The new cardigan I'd picked up that afternoon. The face from the dream a moment ago surfaced — the face from middle school, wig and makeup and all.

It was similar. No — similar, sure, but was something different? I was tilting my head left, then right, when the door opened.

"You're up."

Through the mirror, I saw Taehyun.

"You okay?"

"I'm completely fine. Battery at one hundred percent. Full party-enjoyment mode operational at one-twenty."

"They want you out there."

"Yeah."

Taehyun didn't head out right away; he leaned against the doorframe, and in the mirror, our eyes met.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I glanced back at the mirror, then at Taehyun again — and the dream from earlier suddenly came to mind.

"Taehyun."

"What."

"Am I pretty?"

Same question as back then — which meant the insult was due any second now, and that was the fun part. Anticipating exactly that, the corners of my mouth lifted first.

Except.

"...Yeah."

Huh?

"You're pretty."

...

The laugh I'd primed and ready didn't come out.

"Why."

"No reason."

I looked at the mirror again.

"Just 'cause."

In the mirror stood a girl. No wig. No makeup. I toyed with the ends of that girl's hair, then let my hand fall, and I think I went on looking for a few seconds more.

The corner of my mouth lifted, just barely — but it wasn't funny like before.

Because it wasn't funny at all.

Taehyun opened the door first, and I followed him out — and there...

"Hajin's awake?"

"Hey, the star of the show has arrived!"

"Should we get the cake out first?"

"Pictures first!"

The moment I crossed the threshold, voices came flying at me from every direction.

"Wait, wait! I haven't even brushed my hair!"

"You said you were pretty earlier."

I whipped around.

"Hey, Kang Taehyun! Being pretty and being photogenic are two completely different things!"

"How are they different?"

"This is why boys are hopeless. Noona! Where's a comb?"

"I'll go get you one!"

"Hajin, look over here!"

"Don't take pictures! I said not yet! This is to commemorate my first discharge — I don't want ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a photo like this!"

Click.

"Nooooo!"

Laughter exploded through the living room.

I'd left the dream behind the door.

At least for now.