Homeboy

The air was heavy and humid, carrying the damp wind and the stifling scent of asphalt. I was eight years old. It was an early summer day.

“Hey, can you help me with something?”

A long shadow stretched across the ground in front of me as I crouched. Looking up, I saw the face of a man, backlit by the sun, his features shadowed. His expression carried a mix of nervous excitement and slight awkwardness.

“…”

“What’s your name?”

The man stepped closer and bent to meet my eye level when I didn’t answer, blinking silently. The question, now gentler, prompted me to murmur softly.

“…Yeo-il. Son Yeo-il. I’m eight years old and in first grade, class three.”

“That’s a pretty name. What are you doing here?”

“Playing in the sand.”

At that time, my family had just started a business importing raw coffee beans and distributing them ourselves. My father, who worked daily at the roasting factory in Paju, often left my mother to handle office duties. On days when her work wasn’t finished by the time I got out of school, I was often sent to Aunt In-seon’s house.

That particular day, Jung-in, who had come home early after finishing his final exams, was there too. Half-asleep, he had groggily woken up at my arrival, hastily thrown on a T-shirt and shorts, and carried me outside. With my arms wrapped around his neck, he carried me to a quiet playground on the outskirts of the neighborhood, showering my face with playful kisses along the way.

“Are you here alone?”

“Ice cream. Hyung said he’d be back in ten minutes, but hyung is fast, and it’s slow when I go with him.”

‘I’ll be back in no time, so just play in the sand here, okay? If anyone offers you something tasty or tries to give you money, don’t follow them. Just tell them you’ve already eaten. I’ll bring you a melon-flavored ice cream, alright?’

The small convenience store by the playground didn’t have melon-flavored ice cream that day. Unable to bear my disappointed face, Jung-in reassured me with repeated warnings before heading off to a more distant supermarket.

“Five minutes tops. I just need a little help. Won’t you give me a hand?”

The man didn’t offer me anything to eat or bribe me with money. He simply asked for help. If I helped him, maybe Jung-in would praise me for doing something good. Dusting the sand off my hands, I stood up. The man extended a spindly hand.

He took me to a small space that felt more like a room than a house. Though tidy, it carried the musty scent typical of semi-basements. The man turned on the TV, found a cartoon channel, and handed me an ice cream from the fridge. The ice cream melted while I focused on the cartoon, dripping down my hands and staining my clothes with sticky streaks.

The man led me to a tiny bathroom, carefully washing me and dressing me in clean clothes that seemed prepared in advance. His actions were so smooth and natural that I forgot I was there to help him. At some point, I drifted off to sleep.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when I woke. I quietly looked out the thick iron-barred window. The sky was pitch black, with faint rain pattering against the glass. The man, looking unbothered, was preparing dinner. That’s when I realized something was wrong. A near-instinctual feeling told me I wouldn’t leave this place again.

“My brother—hyung is waiting. Ten minutes—ten minutes already passed. Hyung is… waiting… at the playground…”

At that moment, the man brought a tray of food to the low table. Seeing my tearful face, he grinned, showing his teeth.

“Let’s eat.”

I finally let out the sobs I had been holding back.

The memories that followed came to me only in fragments, like shards of broken glass. They were incomplete. I must have alternated between exhaustion and unconsciousness. Every time I regained awareness, I would cry, scream, and beg. With my hands clasped together, I would plead, my face a mess of tears and snot. The man, however, only watched me with an impassive expression. My sobs were soon drowned out by the fierce sound of rain pounding against the ground. It was the beginning of the monsoon season.

Several days passed like that. The man—perhaps a pedophile, possibly a murderer, or maybe just someone lonelier than others—finally granted my wish. It wasn’t because my tears moved him. More likely, he realized that an eight-year-old child was far more troublesome than he’d anticipated. Or maybe it was because my condition had visibly deteriorated.

‘Shh, shh…’ he soothed me, even as he brought out a rope and used his twig-like hands to tie my wrists and ankles tightly. Barely able to keep my eyes open and gasping for breath, I shuddered violently at his touch.

Carried like a sack of luggage, I was loaded into his car. Even in that brief moment, the fierce raindrops soaked my feverish head and shoulders. After shoving me into the backseat, the man hesitated for a moment, then roughly started the car. It jolted and rattled, as if we were driving on an unpaved road. My limp body was tossed around with the car’s every movement.

When the car finally stopped, the man hurriedly dragged me out. With a grip on the back of my neck, he dragged me across the muddy ground. I struggled to stay conscious, forcing my eyes open. He took me to a small clearing at the entrance of a hiking trail that led to the hill behind the neighborhood. There, near a large trash bin in the corner of the clearing, he roughly dumped me onto the ground. Without another word, he turned and hurried back to his car.

The old vehicle sped out of the clearing, its headlights disappearing into the distance. Darkness engulfed the area.

Curled up on the ground, I exhaled weakly. My eyelids grew heavy, and my mind became hazy. The relentless rain pelted my face and body, splashing violently. Suddenly, I remembered the soft kisses that had rained down on me just days ago, pressing tenderly against my face.

“Hyung… hyung-ah…”

With a pang of longing, I called out his name softly.

‘Yeo-il-ah!’
‘Son Yeo-il!’

I thought I heard Jung-in’s voice in the distance, cutting through the rain. Overwhelmed by the illusion, tears welled up, and sorrow washed over me. Squeezing my eyes shut, hot tears mixed with the rain, streaming down my face.

“H-hyung… hyung, ugh… hic…”

“Son Yeo-il!”

Suddenly, the familiar voice rang out clearly, piercing through the sound of the rain. Straining to lift my head, I caught sight of a faint light swaying at the entrance of the clearing. The hurried steps crossing the clearing grew closer and then came to an abrupt halt. Blinking once, the pooled tears in my eyes spilled over, and my vision cleared.

There he was. Jung-in, barefoot and drenched, stood in the rain.

“Yeo-il-ah!”

Jung-in threw down his flashlight and dashed toward me with frightening speed. How did I feel at that moment? Relieved? Was that it? What was Jung-in’s face like back then?

“Yeo-il-ah.”

Still dazed, I slowly lifted my eyes. His worried face came into focus. Gently, he called my name, his hands stroking my back and cheeks without pause.

“It’s okay. It’s just a dream. I’m here.”

I must have been calling out for him, even in my dream. I must have been crying too because his hand, brushing against my cheek, was wet. Without hesitation, I threw myself into his warm embrace. Jung-in quickly wrapped his arms tightly around me. Pressing my face into his chest, I rubbed my cheek against him. He held me so firmly, leaving no space between us.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

His familiar scent, mixed with the faint smell of my body wash, enveloped me. I inhaled deeply, taking it all in. As I began to calm down, I closed my eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

I don’t know how much time passed. Within the safety of his broad arms, the terrible nightmare retreated, leaving me in peace. At last, I let out a heavy breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

***