I hated living. To be precise, I hated the things I had to do while being alive. To me, living wasn't life; it was more like an endless punishment.

I hardly went to school. There were days I'd just show my face for the attendance requirement, and the rest of the time I just wandered the streets. I didn't care what the teachers called me. Troublemaker, delinquent, hopeless. Fuck, they were all right. The names I called myself weren't any better, anyway.

I hated going home even more. I knew what sounds would be coming from inside just by standing at the door. Some days the smell of alcohol leaked out first, and other days I could tell if the night would be quiet or loud just by the sound of the door closing. So I always ran away. I walked in the opposite direction of my house every single time.

There was an abandoned building a good distance from the school. Wind blew through broken windows, and rainwater marks remained on the walls like old scars. People called it a hideous place, but I liked it. Because no one came looking for discarded people in discarded places.

That day, too, I was sitting inside the abandoned building, smoking. The smoke was slowly scattering in the dark interior. But in this sanctuary that only I knew, I started seeing you more and more frequently starting a few days prior.

At first, I just thought you were a weird kid. You were a face I'd seen a few times at school. Your uniform was always neat, and your grades were good. When teachers called your name, they spoke with a voice full of trust, and you seemed like a pretty upright kid among your friends. Someone like you didn't belong in a place like this.

Still, I didn't ask. I didn't want to explain to anyone why I was here either. It's not like my life was clean enough to go digging into someone else's business.

We ignored each other for several days. I leaned against one wall and smoked, and you sat on the opposite side and read a book. When our eyes met occasionally, we turned away as if nothing had happened.

But humans are funny. We give our hearts to things we've become familiar with, even without giving them a name. From some point on, I was remembering the time you arrived, and on days you were later than usual, I found myself looking toward the building entrance without realizing it. If you didn't come, I felt like shit in a different way. I didn't even know why back then.

That day, I was smoking as usual. You closed your book and stared at me. I raised an eyebrow with the cigarette still in my mouth.

What.

Instead of answering, you looked at the cigarette between my fingertips. I took a deep drag for no reason and blew the smoke toward your face. The hazy smoke lingered between us for a moment. You didn't flinch. You just looked at me as if waiting for the smoke to clear, then slowly stood up.

Then you walked right up to me and silently snatched the cigarette from my hand. You put the cigarette I was just smoking into your own mouth and took a drag. After slowly exhaling the smoke, you flicked the remaining ash onto the floor. Then you looked at me.

You're in a place like this because you smoke shit like this.

I couldn't say a word. You dropped the cigarette on the floor and slowly crushed it with your toe. The small burning ember flickered once and then vanished. You went back to your spot as if nothing had happened.

I stared at your back for a while. I should have been annoyed. But strangely, I felt like laughing.

Ah, this one is rotten too.

Someone who looks fine on the outside but has been festering somewhere deep inside for a long time. Maybe that's why you were sitting here. People stay strangely long in front of things that resemble themselves.

After that day, we started talking a little. It wasn't anything grand. Asking if I went to school today, saying the exam was hard, saying the new drink at the convenience store sucked. Trivial things like that. But I liked those things.

My life was mostly filled with sharp words like curses and shouts, but the words I shared with you were strangely ordinary. So I wanted to listen longer.

Then one day, you said something that would stay stuck in my ears forever.

I'm going abroad to study.

When.

Next month.

...That's good.

I meant it. At least for you. You could get out of here. You weren't someone who had to hide here to endure the night like me; you were someone who could go somewhere else. But after that day, the days strangely felt shorter.

On the last day, we were sitting inside the abandoned building as usual. Nothing was special. Then you stood up.

I'm leaving.

I strangely hated those words. When I hurriedly grabbed your wrist, you looked back. I couldn't say anything for a long time. I just put strength into the hand holding you. I felt like if I let go, it would really be over.

Fuck, I... I can survive even in a sewer like this as long as I have you.

I'm fine even in this cold, shitty bottom. I don't know where you're trying to go, but... take me with you.

Please.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly pried my hand off. That was your answer.

Next day, you were gone.

I went to the abandoned building even after that. When I dropped a cigarette on the floor, a small light flickered briefly in the darkness. Then it slowly went out. I stared at it for a long time.

Is that how people disappear too? Without making a sound, with only the remaining warmth slowly cooling down. And when the next day comes, do they just blend into the world as if nothing happened?

After you left, I became even more of a mess. At first, I thought it was no big deal. My life didn't suddenly break just because you disappeared. It was already as broken as it could get.

Days passed, months passed, and even after the seasons changed once, you didn't come. I eventually gave up on everything. I submitted a withdrawal form to the school and hardly ever went home. If I needed money, I did whatever work I could find. I did manual labor, and I did errands on the night streets. Tonight was more important to me than tomorrow.

Then one day, while wandering the night streets, someone saw my face and suggested I work at a host bar. It was funny at first. I never thought I'd end up working in a place like this.

But once I tried it, it wasn't hard. I smiled when told to smile, said the words they wanted to hear, called their names, and nodded appropriately in front of drunk people. People weren't interested in what kind of human I was. I just needed to be a pretty face sitting at the table for a few hours.

It was actually easier. Because I didn't have to show my inside.

Eight years later, living like that, today was a night no different from usual. The door opened and a new customer walked in. I raised my head out of habit. My smile faltered for a moment, but I raised the corners of my mouth again as if nothing was wrong.

It was you.

It had been years. At first, I thought I'd seen wrong. But the way you walked was so unfamiliar. You had changed a lot. You were wearing good clothes, looking like a successful person by anyone's standards.

That fact strangely hurt. While I had been sinking slowly while enduring nights without you for years, you seemed to have lived perfectly fine in a world I didn't know.

You found me. Our eyes met. Your expression slowly stiffened.

...Baek Yeowun?

I smiled. It was the smile I had practiced countless times over the years.

Long time no see.

Neither of us said anything for a while. I silently looked at your face and thought. It's so funny. I never knew how you lived after you left, but now you're staring right at my pathetic self here.

You've done well for yourself. I'm ruined.

Your expression wavered. I smiled even seeing that. If it had been years ago, I would have hated even the fact that you looked at me with pity.

But now it was different. I liked that you were uncomfortable seeing me. Because at least in that moment, it felt like I had thrown a small stone into your peaceful life.

Only then did I realize.

I had been hating you. Not because you abandoned me, but because of the fact that you could live on even without me.