As soon as he got home, Yeonjun was met with a loud ringing of the phone. His throat was sore from the screaming he'd been having. "Hello." The familiar voice behind that cliched phrase almost made Yeonjun drop the receiver.
“Why is your neck so sore? You’re really demonstrating.”
“Why did my father…”
"all "I know how. You took a break from school, right? How on earth are you going to make a living, you know?"
Junhyun clicked his tongue. Yeonjun tightened his grip on the receiver cord. He felt Soobin looking at him strangely, but in this situation, there was nothing to support his trembling body. Had he let go of too much power in the drive? Yeonjun groped, desperately searching for something to lean on.
“We don’t consider each other family, so let’s get to the point.”
“…”
“If you don’t want to die, just come up to Seoul.”
Junhyun spoke as if spitting out a word. The sound of someone throwing a fountain pen over the receiver was heard. Yeonjun clenched his fist.
“If you call me and say my name, I can get out.”
“Why… why all of a sudden…”
“Don’t stutter. You little punk, you’re so weak.”
Yeonjun chuckled. He picked up the receiver and spoke. Even his own child would think he was a bastard. A son of a bitch. The world's most unfilial son. Yeonjun didn't want to be a family member with such a rascal. Yeonjun hung up without answering. He'd thought he'd feel a little better, but he only felt worse. He couldn't ignore Soobin's persistent gaze. Instead of answering, Yeonjun pulled out his cassette tape player. He'd been so busy lately that he hadn't been able to listen to much music, so it was a relief to have some free time.
“Do you like Lee Moon-se, hyung?”
“Oh. Of course.”
Click. Yeonjun inserted the tape into the player. The player, which had been rattling as if it was about to die, soon spat out Lee Moon-se's voice.
“Come to think of it, I always hear this.”
“My grandmother gave it to me, so how come I never listen to it?”
“Oh, somehow the tape started to shine.”
Yeonjun chuckled. His mouth felt like it had a motor. Soobin smiled awkwardly. "Stay by my side, don't leave," Yeonjun hummed quietly. Soobin could guess his intentions from there. A sigh escaped her lips. She felt sad. The years that had passed, the bright youth—yes, that blue, that youthful youth—had been filled with such a name, suddenly felt like a waste. Meanwhile, the cassette tape finished a song. Soobin lay down on the floor.
“…What is youth all about?”
Yeonjun turned around and lay down next to Soobin.
"I know."
"There's a battle tomorrow," Soobin said. "Don't get involved and stay home safely. We'll consider both sides enemies." Yeonjun nodded. "I was going to tell you to quit now, but you're driving the nail in." He chuckled. Soobin shook her head and chuckled.
“I’m scared.”
Soobin said.
"me too."
The Fed said.
“I hate having to carry a gun.”
Soobin said.
"me too."
Yeonjun spoke. Soobin wept quietly. "What's youth all about?" Soobin's voice trembled. It was palpable that she was choking back tears.
“Why does youth wear blue…? I… I… just placing my palm on the fake clouds painted on the low, blue wall… takes my breath away… I know the dire straits of what will soon collapse… Why… who… keeps trapping me behind the splendid wall of spring, when everything is green…?”
“…like a poet.”
Were you a poet in your past life? When the sun comes up, don't be a slacker and go work for a newspaper. Who knows? You might make money there, right? Yeonjun whined. Instead of her usual smile, Soobin sniffed.
“…Don’t get hurt. Don’t die.”
Good night, said the Fed.
Brother, I killed someone. Why did I kill him? I didn't even know how to properly load a gun, but I shot and killed him. The soldier screamed and was pelted with machine gun fire, and when I saw his body later, I found a family photo in his arms. As you know, we were shooting continuously for almost two hours. We attacked from cover, and the martial law troops were all beaten. Seeing those people I hated scream and fall like any other person still weighs heavily on my heart. Brother, we're going to fight again tomorrow. I don't think I can go home for a few days. It's a good thing I got some food in advance. How much longer will we have to fight before this hell ends? Thinking about Dad makes me so sad, and I want to kill them all, but I'm already so sick of it. Oh, right. I told him not to get hurt, but he did. He was shot in the right shoulder. Luckily, it missed a vital spot, so the hospital treated it easily. But the scar will remain (it's just an unsightly scab now). I will remember this spring in Gwangju with that scar, right?
P.S. I'm still listening to the Lee Moon-se cassette tape my brother gave me. I played it for my fellow citizen army members, and it's become quite popular. It's not exactly pleasant, though...