I have had many dreams of Jeun these few months, the boy I fell in love with when I was 12.
What a rebel he was to my little mind! His grades were never good, definitely among one of the ignored students (by the teachers) in the class. He was a bully, or at least he tried to act like one. The only fist fight I’ve got myself involved in was against him. Nobody won. We both were furious and later on, felt sorry. He was however later punished for it by our lead teacher while I was spared because the teacher presumed that he threw the first punch. I was a student with good grades and therefore, to the teacher’s eyes, I couldn’t have started a fight. The teacher was wrong. But Jeun decided not to tell the teacher what actually happened – that it should have been me to receive the punishment, a fierce slap on the face.
One would imagine that a well-behaved student with good grades wouldn’t get along with someone like Jeun. That’s right. We did not get along in other classmates’ eyes. Somehow we managed, with a silent mutual understanding, to make believe our relationship to surface in that level, maybe because it was odd for two 13-year-old boys to show their tender fondness for each other.
I might have an idea or two why I had those feelings for Jeun. That rebellious character of his was something new and exciting to someone like me who grew up in a strict family. Under that tough personality that he projected to the world, there was a soft heart. Among many incidents that I can use as an example: a classmate that I wasn’t close to died of leukemia shortly after the diagnosis. Jeun cried when he heard the news during a class, with his guards completely off. Later on I learned that Jeun visited his tomb alone regularly for many years.
Of course he also had the look that I liked. He was dark and strong. He was good at sports. I thought he was very beautiful. And deep inside, I knew that he cared for me.
We went to the same after-school tutoring center and often he would offer me a ride on the backseat of his bicycle to save me from a long walk. On rainy days, we would share an umbrella if one of us didn’t bring one. Returning from a trip with his buddies to a national park by the sea in the south, he brought me a shell, the one that’s very delicate and easily broken. He must have found a way to protect the shell so it’s completely intact when he gave it to me. Few years after we graduated from junior high, I told Jeun that I was somehow harassed for money by this guy he also knew, who happened to attend the same senior high school as I did. It was nothing big as the guy gave up borrowing money from me after two attempts, which I emphasized when I told Jeun about it. Regardless, Jeun brought in a gang to my Catholic senior high school during an open celebration for Christmas to deliver a warning to the guy who tried to borrow money. I did not know about it until a mutual friend of ours told me later on. I wasn’t sure then if I should have thanked him. I was upset and worried by the fact that he was a part of a gang although, knowing him, it was not a surprise.
We got into different senior high schools. I was not particularly sad because I lived 10 minute bicycle ride away from where he lived – I thought I was still able to see him often. But it was not the case. My school was very demanding and I barely had time to see my old friends. Soon after graduation from senior high, I left for the US to attend university. We have not spoken since.
My dreams of Jeun are all alike. But yesterday’s dream was particularly vivid. It was the first dream in which we were both adults. He was driving a black motorcycle, something that suited him quite well. And like what we used to do when we were kids, I was offered a ride with him. It was beautiful and warm and I was content like all other dreams that he’s in. We rode along the seashore, seemingly. The surroundings were not clear but somehow it looked and smelled like sea. I felt the wind; the wind belonged only to seashore. As we were speeding on the completely empty seashore express under the sun, I smelled Jeun’s scent; the scent of his that I have long forgotten. Somehow I managed to sit in front of him, facing him, as the motorcycle raced so fast it blurred the scenery. And then I hugged him. I had my arms around his neck, my chest pressed against his chest, and thought, I’ve loved you so long.
What a rebel he was to my little mind! His grades were never good, definitely among one of the ignored students (by the teachers) in the class. He was a bully, or at least he tried to act like one. The only fist fight I’ve got myself involved in was against him. Nobody won. We both were furious and later on, felt sorry. He was however later punished for it by our lead teacher while I was spared because the teacher presumed that he threw the first punch. I was a student with good grades and therefore, to the teacher’s eyes, I couldn’t have started a fight. The teacher was wrong. But Jeun decided not to tell the teacher what actually happened – that it should have been me to receive the punishment, a fierce slap on the face.
One would imagine that a well-behaved student with good grades wouldn’t get along with someone like Jeun. That’s right. We did not get along in other classmates’ eyes. Somehow we managed, with a silent mutual understanding, to make believe our relationship to surface in that level, maybe because it was odd for two 13-year-old boys to show their tender fondness for each other.
I might have an idea or two why I had those feelings for Jeun. That rebellious character of his was something new and exciting to someone like me who grew up in a strict family. Under that tough personality that he projected to the world, there was a soft heart. Among many incidents that I can use as an example: a classmate that I wasn’t close to died of leukemia shortly after the diagnosis. Jeun cried when he heard the news during a class, with his guards completely off. Later on I learned that Jeun visited his tomb alone regularly for many years.
Of course he also had the look that I liked. He was dark and strong. He was good at sports. I thought he was very beautiful. And deep inside, I knew that he cared for me.
We went to the same after-school tutoring center and often he would offer me a ride on the backseat of his bicycle to save me from a long walk. On rainy days, we would share an umbrella if one of us didn’t bring one. Returning from a trip with his buddies to a national park by the sea in the south, he brought me a shell, the one that’s very delicate and easily broken. He must have found a way to protect the shell so it’s completely intact when he gave it to me. Few years after we graduated from junior high, I told Jeun that I was somehow harassed for money by this guy he also knew, who happened to attend the same senior high school as I did. It was nothing big as the guy gave up borrowing money from me after two attempts, which I emphasized when I told Jeun about it. Regardless, Jeun brought in a gang to my Catholic senior high school during an open celebration for Christmas to deliver a warning to the guy who tried to borrow money. I did not know about it until a mutual friend of ours told me later on. I wasn’t sure then if I should have thanked him. I was upset and worried by the fact that he was a part of a gang although, knowing him, it was not a surprise.
We got into different senior high schools. I was not particularly sad because I lived 10 minute bicycle ride away from where he lived – I thought I was still able to see him often. But it was not the case. My school was very demanding and I barely had time to see my old friends. Soon after graduation from senior high, I left for the US to attend university. We have not spoken since.
My dreams of Jeun are all alike. But yesterday’s dream was particularly vivid. It was the first dream in which we were both adults. He was driving a black motorcycle, something that suited him quite well. And like what we used to do when we were kids, I was offered a ride with him. It was beautiful and warm and I was content like all other dreams that he’s in. We rode along the seashore, seemingly. The surroundings were not clear but somehow it looked and smelled like sea. I felt the wind; the wind belonged only to seashore. As we were speeding on the completely empty seashore express under the sun, I smelled Jeun’s scent; the scent of his that I have long forgotten. Somehow I managed to sit in front of him, facing him, as the motorcycle raced so fast it blurred the scenery. And then I hugged him. I had my arms around his neck, my chest pressed against his chest, and thought, I’ve loved you so long.
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