"Ah, ah. Mic test. One, two."
There are days when my voice echoing through the speaker sounds strangely unfamiliar.
Monday, the first week of April, exactly one month after the new semester began. As soon as the lunch bell rang, the third-floor hallway erupted with the footsteps of kids rushing off to empty their trays early and sprint to the convenience store.
Leaving that noise behind, I was standing at the end of the third-floor hall, in front of the glass door marked 'Broadcast Room.'
Normally, by now, I should’ve been running out to the field with my classmates and a soccer ball.
But this morning, the club teacher called me to the office.
'Seongchan. Until this year's broadcast club announcer leader is decided, you'll have to take care of the lunch broadcast.
'I'll pair you up with one of the engineering members.'
Before I knew it, I’d been pushed into the broadcast room.
When I opened the door and went in, the first thing I saw beyond the window was the back of an unfamiliar kid, lit by spring sunlight slanting in diagonally.
The kid had a big pair of headphones hanging around his neck and was slumped over the console machine.
"Um... hi?"
At my cautious greeting, the kid slowly lifted his head.
His eyes, visible through slightly tousled hair, were sharper than I’d expected, but his pupils looked blank with sleepiness.
Park Wonbin. Second-year engineer.
I could tell who he was without even looking at the name tag. The kid who always wore his school uniform with a guitar bag slung over his shoulder, or listened to music alone in some corner of the school except during PE.
The guy I’d had basically no contact with was the very partner I’d be doing lunch broadcasts with starting today.
"Oh. Seongchan senior?"
"Yeah. I’m Seongchan, the one who’s supposed to read the lunch radio script starting today. Nice to meet you, Wonbin."
I scratched my shoulder awkwardly and flashed a bright smile to ease the tension. But Wonbin just gave a slight nod and turned his gaze back to the control panel. He wasn’t cold, but I could tell right away that he had a thick wall up.
"The script’s on top of the audio box over there. It runs exactly twenty minutes, from 12:20 to 12:40. We haven’t received any stories yet, so today you just read the lines the senior prepared, and I’ll play two songs in between, and that’s it."
"Oh, really? Got it."
A cleaner, drier explanation than I expected.
Wonbin put his headphones back on and fiddled with the sliders again. The announcer booth and the engineer’s control room were separated by a single glass wall. Once I sat at the mic and put on the headset, I could see Wonbin’s fingers operating the console through the glass. His long, pale fingers were rhythmically pressing the mixer buttons.
'He gets really serious when he’s doing music.'
12:19:50. The digital clock in the control room flashed red.
Wonbin held up three fingers through the glass. Three. Two. One. Then he gave a thumbs-up. At the same time, the red 'ON AIR' light above the microphone in front of me came on.
"Hello, students of Hye-seong High School. I’m announcer Jeong Seongchan, hosting the first Monday lunch radio of April. Did everyone enjoy their lunch?"
Inside the silent booth, my voice rang out through the microphone and spread across the whole school. As I read the standard opening lines I’d prepared, I glanced out the window. Kids kicking a ball on the field, kids lined up in front of the convenience store eating bread.
And my gaze naturally settled on Wonbin beyond the glass, resting his chin in his hand and watching me with headphones on.
Wonbin had been staring blankly at me the whole time I was delivering the lines. When our eyes met, he seemed a little flustered and shifted his gaze just slightly to the side. Somehow that looked a little ticklish and cute, and before I knew it, a small laugh slipped out at the end of my opening line.
"The first song is one I picked because it suits the cool spring breeze. Let’s listen together."
When the line ended and the ON AIR light went out, Wonbin started playing the song. The music flowing through the speakers wasn’t an idol dance track, but indie music with a quiet, refreshing band sound.
"Wonbin, what song is that?"
When I pressed the intercom mic in the booth and asked, Wonbin lowered one side of his headphones slightly and answered.
"Oh, this? It’s just... a song that sounds good in this weather. Don’t you like it?"
"No, I really like it. It feels just like the April wind."
At my words, Wonbin’s eyes widened a little. He looked at me for a moment with eyes suddenly clear, like he’d taken off sunglasses, then lifted the corners of his mouth just slightly.
"Then I’m glad."
That was the first private conversation we ever had.
During the cleanup after the broadcast ended, Wonbin was still quiet, but the awkward, sharp atmosphere from earlier had eased off.
On the way home after leaving school, the indie band song I’d heard in the broadcast room today kept playing in my earbuds. More than the lyrics, though, I kept thinking about that boy’s indifferent gaze watching me from behind the console.
For some reason, I had a feeling I might actually look forward to tomorrow’s lunch break a little.
