“Wonbin, wasn’t the lunch broadcast opening song supposed to be chosen by the broadcasting club president?”
As I asked, having sat in the radio booth these past two days in a row checking the microphone terminals, Wonbini—who had been carrying the letter box out from the control room—stopped walking.
“That’s how it usually is.”
“But I mean the song you played when we were leaving yesterday. That indie band song wasn’t on the playlist, was it?”
Wonbini pretended not to hear me and thud, set the letter box down on the table in front of the booth.
On top of the dusty letter box was a neat sticker that read ‘Lunch Radio Letters and Request Songs.’
“Since it was the first day yesterday, I just played what I liked. You said you liked it too, sunbae.”
“Liked it? I loved it. Thanks to you, I listened to that song the whole way home.”
At my words, the tip of Wonbini’s fingers, which had been idly fiddling with the opening of the letter box, jerked to a stop.
He shook his head for no reason and walked over to the console, his own seat, then muttered as he hung the big headphones around his neck.
“From now on, requests are going to come in, so I won’t be able to play songs you like, sunbae.”
“Aw, come on. Play one of my requests too. Don’t you know about engineer’s discretion?”
“That’s abuse of power.”
Though it looked like he was cutting me off flat, I could clearly see from beyond the glass that the corners of Wonbini’s mouth were lifting slightly. He was saying it coldly, but he couldn’t hide all of his expression, which somehow made him awkwardly cute.
12:19:50. The control room’s digital clock began glowing red.
Three fingers, two, one. The instant Wonbini gave a sharp thumbs-up, the ‘ON AIR’ light above the microphone turned red.
“Hello, Hyesung High students. This is Park Seongchan, hosting the lunch radio.
The weather’s gotten a lot warmer than yesterday. Have you all had a delicious lunch?”
While I smoothly delivered the opening remarks, Wonbini was resting his chin in his hand like yesterday, quietly watching me from beyond the glass.
But near the end of the script, suddenly from the headset plugged into my ear kssssht-a nasty burst of static rang out along with a piercing high-pitched howl.
“Eek-!”
Without thinking, I grimaced and yanked the headset down as if tossing it off lightly. In that instant, Wonbini’s eyes in the control room beyond the glass widened, and the booth door flew open with a loud bang.
“Sunbae, are you okay? Does your ear hurt?”
Wonbini came rushing into the booth. His usual indifferent face was nowhere to be seen, and he looked genuinely shocked.
He snatched up my headset from where it was hanging on the microphone, quickly checked the connector cable, then leaned his upper body toward me, who was seated in the chair.
“I think the connector got a little loose and caused output noise.”
As if naturally, he reached near my ear to check whether it had taken any strain, and the tip of Wonbini’s finger brushed past my ear lightly. It was only a fleeting touch, but it felt as if the warmth of his long fingers from yesterday had been passed straight over, and my shoulders flinched before I knew it.
“Ah... yeah, I’m fine. I was just startled because the beeping sound was so loud for a second.”
At this close distance, Wonbini’s eyes were more transparent and clear than I’d expected. I’d always only seen him with sleepy eyes or hidden behind headphones, but he was close enough that I could even see his eyelashes trembling beneath his brows.
Without realizing it, I held my breath for a moment, and Wonbini, having finished the setup, seemed to suddenly notice that he had been standing way too close. He flinched and took a step back.
“...I’m glad. That your ear wasn’t hurt.”
“Thanks. You’re really fast, Engineer.”
When I grinned teasingly, Wonbini pulled the headphones hanging around his neck up to beneath his chin as if to hide the red tips of his ears.
“I’ll make sure to check the machine setup better in advance from now on. Let’s start the broadcast again.”
Wonbini hurried back to the control room and raised the slider gear. The song that then flowed through the speakers was one with a gentle acoustic guitar riff. Calm but warm, it was the perfect music to cover the pounding of my heart, which had just started racing.
After the broadcast ended, it was time to clean up. Wonbini neatly carried the letter box to the spot beneath the bulletin board in the third-floor hallway.
“Sunbae, starting tomorrow you’ll have to read the papers that come into the letter box, so prepare your script lines short.”
“Okay. But Wonbin, what was the title of the song you played at the end today?”
Wonbini, slinging his bag on, glanced back at me.
“I’m not telling you.”
“Tch... so petty. You expect me to sneak a look at what you secretly wrote down in your secret notes later?”
“Go ahead and try. I’ll scribble it so badly you won’t be able to read it.”
Wonbini gave a slight grin, waved lightly, and walked off down the hallway ahead of me.
My ear where his fingertip had brushed still felt a little itchy. I stood in front of the broadcasting room door for a long while until Wonbini’s back turned the corner and disappeared. Maybe this semester, joining the broadcasting club really had been the right choice.
