That night, I came home and couldn't drink any water. My throat was so parched that I kept putting down the cup I was trying to drink from.
It was strange. It was because of what the child said.
“When I act, it’s not just practice.”
Even though it was the first time I'd heard it, it lingered in my mind as if I'd heard it for ages. It was a short sentence, but it resonated so quietly.
As if only someone who has watched me for a long time could say those words.
I didn't want to remember crying that day.
Under the lights behind the stage, in an empty space.
That time when I couldn't even breathe properly and collapsed.
The kid remembered that.
I was watching without saying anything.
But why didn't you say anything?
Why are you telling me this now?
Why does that keep bothering me?
-
The next day, I arrived at the practice room earlier than usual. When I opened the door, no one was there.
There was nothing on the desk either.
Oddly enough, that felt a little empty.
It was as if someone had already turned on the lights, warmed the heater, and prepared the script, and now it felt like a given.
I wonder if the quiet kindness that he left behind has become something I've become accustomed to.
I was sitting with my script spread out when Han Dong-min came in.
I greeted him quietly as usual.
"hello."
"uh."
I nodded absentmindedly, not wanting to be the first to speak.
No, actually I didn't know what to say.
The boy sat down next to me, opened his script, and scribbled something with his pen without saying a word. A quiet movement, without sound or movement.
Being next to him made me strangely nervous, and I was even aware of my breathing.
My hands, which were turning the pages for no reason, became tense.
"senior."
"…huh."
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday.”
I raised my head.
The boy was still with his head down, fiddling with his pen.
“It wasn’t uncomfortable.”
“…Is it true?”
“Yeah. I just… started thinking a lot.”
I realized it only after I said it. Yes, that's right. My thoughts kept growing. Whenever I encountered her, I'd think more, and whenever she wasn't around, I felt like something was missing.
What is this, over and over again?
“Dongmin-ah.”
For the first time, I called her name. I felt myself shaken by the name she carefully pulled from her lips.
The child raised his head, looking slightly surprised.
“Do you remember me crying back then?”
"yes."
"why?"
“…That wasn’t something that collapsed.”
“…”
“Senior… was on stage with emotion even at that moment.”
The words were cautiously worded. But what they contained was something a little different from caution.
assurance.
Dongmin spoke in a clear tone.
“That was… cool to me.”
I was momentarily breathless. It was strange that that moment, when I couldn't even tell what was acting and what was me, was somehow remembered by someone as "cool."
I was speechless for a while.
“So… you came to this team, by any chance…”
"yes."
The answer was quick and certain. The boy added, his head hanging low.
“That stage was the beginning. For me.”
“…”
“After that day, the kind of acting I wanted to do changed.”
I couldn't say anything. The script on my desk suddenly felt incredibly heavy.
I don't know if what I dropped that day was a line, an emotion, or a feeling—
The person who picked it up,
It was this little junior.