4. A Distant Past
“ W hen I first saw you entering the campus, I thought I was hallucinating,” Miss Principal says, feigning a gasp. “I was like, ‘ Wow, is Edward Elric casually walking into my school ?’ and that is why I asked you to see me.”
It’s happening again. Miss Principal’s eyes narrow as she glances at Yunho’s blond hair, her lips forming a thin line as she fights to conceal her disappointment.
If Yunho remembers it correctly, Miss Principal will ask him to go back to the salon and fix his damn hair color. Then, if the past repeats, he will ask Miss Principal who in the world Edward Elric is before he dyes his hair back to black during lunch. But now, he knows the guy is that blond hero from the anime show called Fullmetal Alchemist .
“Now get out, go to the salon, and do not come back here looking like an anime cosplayer,” Miss Principal snaps, the wrinkles on her forehead visible. “You know we do not tolerate that here, Yunho.”
“Of course not.” Yunho bobs his head from side to side. He has to start changing the past.
It’s now or never.
As he musters the courage, Yunho asserts, “But I’m not going back to the salon. I know this feels too sudden, but I would like to keep my new hairstyle, Miss Principal. It looks good on me.” He folds his arms, defiant. He can’t just cut his hair and dye it back to black. Not when his former self had wanted to try this so badly after watching the box office hit, Miss Granny. He had found the young actor who had portrayed the blond grandson kind of cool and attractive.
Besides, if Yunho manages to sway the principal with his manly tenacity, it means he can pull anything off. He can mend his future with a little U-turn. After all, he’s a twenty-eight-year-old man, even if it doesn’t seem like it. It’s time to be a little bold.
“What did you say?” Miss Principal’s eyes widen in disbelief. The pen in her grip looks like it’s about to break in half.
“But I’m sure you’re aware I’m not the only one disregarding the school’s unbelievable hair regulations, Miss Principal.” Yunho raises a finger. “Take Han Taehwan, for instance. He dyed his hair a bright red. So, why don’t you tell him to visit the salon, too?”
“That’s not the same. He’s?.?.?.” Miss Principal hesitates, pausing to take a deep breath. “He’s?—”
“The chaebol’s son,” Yunho finishes for her. “Or your secret boyfriend’s son?” Is being disrespectful going to help him change his future? Maybe, maybe not.
It’s worth a try, isn’t it?
Miss Principal freezes. “What?”
“Should we expose your favoritism because of your relationship with one of Korea’s prominent chaebols?” Yunho’s tone is resolute as he meets Miss Principal’s exposed gaze. “Do you really want everyone to know you’re a mistress?” He’s smart, but also harsh. If he doesn’t stumble and become sentimental now, there is no doubt he can mend his future. One step at a time.
Moments later, Yunho steps out of the principal’s office with a wide grin on his face and his new hairstyle intact.
What was Wooju like before? Yunho finds himself reminiscing during lunch. Despite managing to avoid Wooju, a crucial initial step to mending his future, he can’t keep the boy out of his mind.
Wooju had always hated being under the sun for too long. Perhaps it was because the heat constantly burned his sensitive skin or because he tanned so easily.
Or maybe it was something else.
In the past, the eighteen-year-old Wooju seized every opportunity to stand beside Yunho. He would take cover behind Yunho’s tall, broad figure to shield himself from the scorching heat. Even in the warmth of summer and fall, he would wear a jacket. Yunho never questioned him.
Today, Wooju still wears a jacket over his uniform, but he’s not avoiding the sun anymore.
That’s?.?.?. unusual.
From his favorite spot in the cafeteria—next to the clear glass walls overlooking the field—Yunho spots a seemingly lonely Wooju sitting on a metal bleacher and basking under the sun’s blazing embrace.
Perhaps Wooju had never been avoiding the sun in the first place. Perhaps he had another reason.
What was your reason, Wooju?
“Dude, what are you looking at so sadly?” A boy named Min Sangheon perches on the opposite side of Yunho’s seat, chugging a glass of water as he gawks at the unconsumed food on Yunho’s lunch tray. “Do you not like your food, top student?”
Yunho shouldn’t be here. He should be at the salon, skipping lunch to tend to his hair—accompanied by Wooju, who should be the one trailing behind him and eating lunch with him, not this hungry giant before him. Luckily though, Yunho got away from the principal with a random threat he’d only heard from long, long ago. And now he’s here.
With Min Sangheon, of all people.
As soon as the bell rang for lunch a few moments earlier, a merry Sangheon had swung an arm around his shoulders as if they were already friends. Apparently, no salon means Sangheon finds him profoundly interesting for convincing the principal to let him keep his hairdo.
Yunho couldn’t just shove the taller guy’s arm away. Doing so would get him in trouble or, even worse, get him thrown in jail earlier than anticipated. Is he exaggerating because he doesn’t know how to make friends? Probably.
However, this new version of Sangheon is a product of Yunho’s choices, driven by his hatred against Wooju. In other words, Sangheon may as well be Wooju’s replacement.
The idea makes Yunho chuckle under his breath. He finds even the slightest adjustment like this uplifting.
To have someone other than Wooju to eat with—to have anybody besides Wooju at all—is a breakthrough his parents (from the future) wouldn’t want to miss.
Wait a minute. What am I thinking?
Yunho shakes his head and frowns.
Sangheon had his own set of friends back in the day. He hung around with the cool and popular kids—the school’s formidable varsity football players, also dubbed the troublemakers due to their frequent involvement in brawls. To the best of Yunho’s recollection, Sangheon was not an exception, then or now. Sangheon once had a major altercation with Taehwan, which nearly claimed a fellow student’s life. Had that student not survived, Sangheon would have faced additional consequences beyond a school expulsion. To sum it up, Sangheon is a bad influence, and Yunho would be wise if he keeps his distance from him.
But then, it’s a little too late for that.
Heaving a sigh, Yunho shifts his gaze back to his lunch tray. Today’s menu is chicken salad with a side of green beans and a few diced pears. Greens are boring, but he has gotten used to them ever since his overnight propulsion into stardom. Stars like him were forced to diet.
Yunho is not complaining about that, though.
What Yunho wants to whine about at this moment is why every single thing conjures up thoughts of Jo Wooju, even fruits—specifically that pear. Goddamn it.
“Aren’t you eating your lunch? If not, I’m here. I’m very open to eating more. It’ll not only keep my muscles strong but also maintain my younger-looking skin,” Sangheon offers with a smirk as he flicks his head slightly, causing his glossy, midnight hair to fall over his forehead like curtains. Yunho didn’t know troublemakers were vain, too.
“What do you really want from me, Min Sangheon?” Yunho finally asks, his prickly trust issues igniting. He sounds disappointed but isn’t sure why. Either because Sangheon’s unexpected crash in his life is already getting on his nerves or because Wooju’s not with him.
Hopefully, it’s the former.
“I guess I wanted to know how you persuaded Miss Principal to let you roam around with hair like that.”
“Liar. Do you need help with homework?”
“Dude!” Sangheon exclaims, his jaw dropping. “Are you a mind reader?” He shakes his head in awe. “But first, give me the diced pears.” He grins from ear to ear. “You’re not eating them anyway. It would be a waste, top student.”
This damn pear. Yunho stabs the pear with his fork.
A sudden wave of sadness overtakes him.
Yunho tries to shake the unwanted feeling off, but as he stares blankly at the diced pears on his tray, he remembers how much Wooju hated them.
For a moment, his mind drifts to a certain memory.
Yunho’s memories have blurred over time. Most of the best ones happened too long ago; he can barely even remember them. Except those he’d spent with his best friend. He remembers them vividly.
Is it because Wooju made him the happiest, or because he hurt him the most?
Every weekday after school, the two boys would race each other to the seashore to watch the shimmering blue water trapped under the fiery rays of the setting sun.
They would take their shoes off and soak their bare feet in the soothing salt water, dashing around as they admire the exotic colors of the sunset and the coming twilight—the indigo and orange and red—refracted on their beloved sea.
Once, while they were resting on the golden sand, Wooju asked Yunho a seemingly random question.
“Do you like pears?”
Yunho looked at the boy, wondering about it himself. Did he like pears? An easy answer would be: Yes, I eat them a lot at school . But for some odd reason, that day, Yunho felt like he’d be lying if he said yes. Did he really like pears, or was it something else he’d liked? Someone else, perhaps?
Wooju’s eyes were shut, his head slightly tilted back as the sun illuminated his skin. A small smile crept onto his face, and Yunho captured it with delight as if that smile were a rare photograph he wanted to keep.
“I mean, I was just wondering... Why do you always help me finish my diced pears at school? Do you like them? Or do you eat them because you hate wasting food?” Wooju gradually fluttered his eyes open, swung his head to the side, and leaned toward the befuddled Yunho. “I have more at home. Would you like to come over to my place and take them?”
Yunho froze, blinking.
That was the first time Wooju had asked him to visit. Whenever they hung out after school, they always avoided each other’s homes. Instead, they’d go to the beach, the mall, the internet cafe, their favorite grill restaurant, or the lantern bridge in the woods. It wasn’t something they voiced out loud, just an unspoken rule they both agreed on.
Yunho collected himself, shifting his focus to the horizon. “Why?” he asked, trying to be casual.
“You don’t want pears?” Wooju smiled as he stretched his arms and laid his back on the warm sand. “Actually, I had an argument with my manager, so he tried to make peace by sending me a basket of pears. I don’t want to waste them, but we both know I’m not a fan of them. How about this? If you don’t feel like coming over for the pears, I can drop by your place instead. What do you think?”
Yunho rattled his head, deciding against having Wooju walk all the way to his place with a basket full of pears.
The blue-eyed boy didn’t even know how to drive, and he lived a little farther away from the school, unlike Yunho, who was only a few blocks away.
“Manager? What do you have a manager for?”
At this time, Yunho only knew four basic things about Jo Wooju—that he was smart, he loved drawing, he disliked driving, and he’d been living by himself ever since his parents passed. Wooju didn’t talk about his parents’ death; Yunho only figured it out during Parents’ Day, when Wooju came to school alone, feigning a smile all day long. Whatever he had to do to survive independently, Wooju kept his struggles to himself. That was, until he met Yunho and they both learned how to open up with each other.
“I have one.” Wooju nodded as his gaze met Yunho’s. “He manages my acting career.”
“You’re an actor?” Yunho shifted his body on the sand, facing Wooju, who had the natural beauty of a star. “That’s so cool. No wonder you’re so charismatic and handsome.”
No wonder he looks like a star, especially from up close.
Just like this.
“It’s not a big deal, really!” Wooju waved his hands in front of Yunho, seemingly flattered as his cheeks reddened. “I’ve only gotten small roles in underrated dramas, so you probably won’t recognize me yet. Hopefully, I’ll debut in a bigger project with a more relevant role soon. But right now, I’m more of a day player.”
“So?” Yunho asked. “How is it? Acting, I mean?”
“Well?.?.?.” Wooju turned his face up toward the sky. “I guess?.?.?. it’s exciting and scary at the same time,” he continued softly, his passion surging with each word.
“How?”
“As an actor, I get to live so many different lives,” Wooju explained, delighted. “In other words, it’s like a window to all kinds of people, a dreamy escape. I love that it allows me to empathize with the unique characters I play and helps me learn to understand why some people are the way they are. When I’m acting, I get to be free—free to emote, be vulnerable, and to take a break from reality.” A touch of weariness crept into his voice. “Of course, it’s not all roses and lollipops. Established or not, you’ll always find yourself in the spotlight. Strangers will often criticize and judge you no matter what. Some actors even lose themselves in the process. But hey, at least we get a chance to express ourselves and inspire others, right?”
Wooju’s words felt raw and honest, and Yunho wanted something like that—a dream , not just some boring short-term goal like graduating high school or dating a beautiful girl. Yunho wanted something more.
An unexpected tear stung Yunho’s cheek, and his heart twisted as Wooju’s words opened his eyes to something special.
A dream .
“Hey, Wooju.”
“Hmm?”
“When I come visit you at your house, can you help me become an actor, too?”
Wooju turned his attention back to Yunho. “What?”
“I think I want to be an actor, too,” Yunho declared as his eyes strayed toward the waves gently crashing on the shore. “I want to dream the same dream as you.”
“You do?” Wooju pondered for a moment.
“Wouldn’t it be fun if you and I reach for the stars together?” Yunho could feel the thrill coursing in his veins as he gazed into Wooju’s eyes, the warmth of the sand beneath his bare feet seeping into him.
“Yes,” Wooju agreed, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Let’s do it. Let’s reach for the stars together, Yunho.”
Before long, the sky grew dim, but amidst the darkness, the stars glowed brighter. One particular star stood out, though, and Yunho liked to call it Wooju.
It was almost idyllic?.?.?. that one distant memory.
Yunho breathes in deeply before extending the tray toward Sangheon. “I lost my appetite,” he says, casting a brief look at Wooju through the full-sized window.
“So, I can have them?”
Yunho whips his head back. “You can have them.”
“Seriously?” Sangheon gasps, grabbing his own chopsticks and digging in. “Why, thank you, top student!”
Yunho stares at him judgingly.
Do his parents even feed him at home?
“Hey, Min Sangheon,” says Yunho a few moments later.
“Yes, top student?” Sangheon replies while chewing on a diced pear.
“Do you believe in parallel universes?”
“What in the world?” Sangheon almost chokes. He moistens his throat with some water before asking, “What kind of job interview is this? I believe in time travel more than that shit.”
Yunho’s eyes widen. “You mean you actually believe in time travel?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Sangheon waggles his eyebrows.