Teacher, Is This Your First Time?

2

Even though it was still far from 7:05, I couldn’t stand still. Like a honeybee, I kept circling around an invisible round path, repeatedly pacing around the same area. I had gone around so many times I couldn’t even count anymore.

Suddenly my attention went to the main entrance that reflected my appearance. I brought my face close to the transparent glass door. Looking disapprovingly at my faintly reflected face, I tugged at my bangs. Hmm. Maybe I cut them too short.

After work, heading straight to the hair salon was a somewhat impulsive decision.

“Remember that time? Your hair was so cute then.”

With that one comment, my hair was cut off without hesitation.

My reason for acting was simple. I just wanted to hear that brief compliment again—that it suited me well. Maybe he would even pat my head, saying I got a nice haircut. Imagining his gentle touch, I lightly tousled my still-unfamiliar short hair with my palm.

It was after circling a few more rounds with increasingly anxious steps. A short honking sound echoed through the alley.

“Jae-yun!”

As the black window attached to the white car body slowly rolled down, a brightly smiling face gradually appeared through the gap.

I could feel my stiff lips, tense with anticipation and nervousness, instantly soften. I smiled broadly, lifting not only the corners of my mouth sliding to both sides but also my cheeks that were beginning to warm up.

“How can you call me that, Teacher Lee Jin-woo!”

Quickly lowering my hand that had reflexively shot up upon seeing my senior, I headed toward the empty seat beside him.

“I’ve been working at Seongjin High for a month now, you know?”

“I see. Song Jae-yun, the teacher who has been working for a whole month already, have you fastened your seatbelt? Of course, as you know very well, we have our weekly meeting today, so we need to get there quickly.”

As I gave my senior a playful sidelong glance while reaching for the seatbelt, he naturally shifted the gear lever from park to drive.

Being natural meant being familiar. Of course, if I asked my senior about it, he would probably ask “Did I do that?” as if it were ordinary and meaningless. But even this was enough to make me happy. I liked the fact that I could be familiar to my senior.

The seatbelt wrapped around my left chest, which was starting to feel tight. With a click sound, I firmly secured the seatbelt clip in the lock, and the wide strap tightened around me as if telling me to calm down now.

“Yes, I’m buckled in. Let’s go quickly, senior.”

My senior was the most amazing thing I had ever encountered in my life.

“Did something good happen? Why are you smiling like that?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

What I meant by my senior being amazing was this: just meeting someone, just thinking about them, made me smile automatically. That alone could make me happy.

This amazing phenomenon wasn’t temporary but had continued for six years. In other words, I had been secretly liking my senior for six years now.

“You’re silly. Shall we go then?”

My senior’s gentle palm lightly tousled my hair before quickly moving to the steering wheel. I wished it could have stayed a little longer. That small regret lingered.

Just as they say a driver’s true personality comes out when driving, my senior maintained his characteristically smooth driving style. Thanks to that, whenever I rode in his car, I traveled comfortably.

But today, I couldn’t relax in my seat, though it wasn’t because his driving was rough or the seat was uncomfortable.

I kept sneaking glances at my senior, who was concentrated on driving. The thrilling expectation that his palm might come to rest on my hair again, the happy imagination that I might hear a compliment this time, urged me on, making it impossible to calm down.

But throughout our approach to school, the situation I was waiting for never came, and my shoulders, which had been puffed up with expectation, had to gradually deflate.

Should have cut it shorter. It seems like my haircut isn’t noticeable. I leaned my head weakly against the car window and met eyes with the gloomy face reflected in the side mirror. It looks plenty noticeable to me…

At that moment, it occurred to me that perhaps it wasn’t that the change was too subtle to notice, but simply that he had no interest in me. Even to me, that seemed like the most plausible answer. It was depressing. It felt like I had just confirmed how little interest my senior had in me.

Small regrets began to interfere more and more. It must have been strange to get a haircut the very next day after receiving a casual compliment. I should have waited at least a few days. That would have been more natural. Stupid Song Jae-yun. What had seemed perfect yesterday now felt completely unsatisfactory.

As is always the case with things done in the heat of the moment, I couldn’t understand my yesterday self at all. What was I thinking, trusting my choice and pushing forward with such a hasty impulse? Even though I always made choices that left me with regrets.

What followed me was, predictably, only regret.

But the hair that had already been cut off wouldn’t come back. I pushed aside my regrets, reminding myself that all I could do was wait, not change the outcome. That it would be the same whether I worried or not.

My senior’s car, which always parked in the same spot, quickly quieted down along with my thoroughly deflated mood. Once the engine was turned off, even the smallest noises instantly disappeared from inside the car.

I first heard the sound of the driver’s side door opening, and I too slowly unfastened my seatbelt and opened the door. Until then, I had been looking only at the ground, but the casual remark my senior made as he got out of the car made me snap my head up.

“Your hair looks pretty, Jae-yun.”

The reason I applied for the contract position at Seongjin High was solely because of my senior.

My senior was good at everything, always cool, always kind, and friendly to everyone. I could be certain that there wouldn’t be anyone in the world who didn’t like him. The only difference would be the magnitude of the feeling; my senior was a man who deserved to be loved.

It would be a lie to say that a long one-sided love wasn’t painful. Especially a one-sided love with no possibility of being realized.

But occasionally, luck like cool water quenching a parched throat would find me, so it was okay. At those times, I would even delude myself that perhaps heaven had finally taken my side. Of course, I would soon realize it was indeed a delusion.

A sip of water to comfort me was like this: getting out of the same car as my senior, walking down the same corridor, heading to the same staff room. And sitting at adjacent desks.

On my first day at Seongjin High a month ago, the desk I was assigned was next to my senior’s. Thanks to that, I could always be close to him both inside and outside of school.

“Teacher Song, do you want some of this?”

Just before the first period began, my senior, who was quickly surveying the slightly noisy staff room and reading the atmosphere, whispered in a small voice.

He slightly shook a chubby glass jar he had taken out of his desk drawer. I nodded, and he took out one of the square dark chocolates filling the jar and held it out to me.

When I extended my palm, my senior’s hand slightly retreated. As I tilted my head and withdrew my hand, this time he urgently shook the chocolate at me as if telling me to hurry and take it. His mouth, opening and closing impatiently, was clearly demanding what he wanted. Even when I shook my head with a troubled expression, his intention was firm, and in the end, I, inevitably the weaker party, had to open my mouth.

…Of course, I opened it just a little. Only then could the dark chocolate in my senior’s hand slip into my mouth.

“How is it? Delicious, right?”

My senior leaned towards me, slightly pushing his chair’s wheels, and whispered.

I wanted to melt the sweetness he had personally placed in my mouth as slowly as possible. I nodded quickly while rolling the chocolate around in my mouth without biting into it. My senior grinned and pulled himself back to his seat.

Although he had moved away from me, in truth, our seats were so close that if one of us reached out, we could at least touch the other’s shoulder.

“Take this and eat it all, Jae-yun.”

Saying it was specially for me only, my senior held out the glass jar full of bite-sized pieces of dark chocolate. Only then did I notice the small hearts drawn all over the outside of the jar. My smile gradually faded. The sweetness rolling around in my mouth instantly turned bitter.

My senior’s lips curved slightly and parted. I felt like I knew what words would come from there.

“Hee-eun gave it to me.”

Sometimes, being too close could be poisonous. I chewed up the square thing that had deceived my eyes and tongue, making an unwelcome person’s feelings seem sweet, wrapped in my senior’s gentle kindness.

* * *

There was a small printed paper with the class schedule attached to the front of the desk. Wednesday, the fourth column from the left, and then down to the fourth row, third period. Reading “3-5” written in that cell, I found my shoulders tensing unnecessarily as I prepared for the next class.

“Teacher Song, already preparing?”

I gathered the textbook and progress notes, and opened the chalk case to carefully check the extras. My senior, who had been glancing at me, turned his eyes to the clock.

“The kids won’t like it if you go early.”

“I’m just preparing in advance. Just in case.”

“Where’s your next class? If it’s in the west building, shall we go together?”

“I’m in the east building, third floor.”

“My class?”

I nodded. Class 3-5 was the class my senior was in charge of.

My senior, who said he was taking charge of a class of exam-preparing seniors for the first time, was particularly attentive to the children in his class. So whenever I went to teach class 5, I felt nervous and concerned.

It’s a secret, but I actually put more effort into teaching that class than others.

“How are the kids? Do they understand a bit? Looking at their grades, it seems like they hardly know anything, so I’m incredibly worried.”

“The kids are doing well. Don’t worry, teacher.”

“Really? Then why are their grades like that? I’m really worried, worried indeed.”

My senior, who had been sighing heavily, finally started looking through the bookshelf to find the textbook.