S w e e t H o n e y L e m o n

11:01 PM

The first time I came acquainted to Yoo Youngjae was in the second year of high school. His mask was different from the most of us – it covered his whole face. It was white with two large circles as eyes (where I assume holes were poked but unseen for his eyesight) and a wide yellow smile. It suited his actions – rather humourous and carefree. I’ve always thought it was a pity that people couldn’t see his face. I bet it was a handsome one.

As all the citizens of Mato were required to do, I myself had a mask that covered my mouth. It’s pattern was a zip, and the thickness of the cloth muffled my voice, training me to speak less – as if the government made the zip pattern on purpose. The citizens of Mato are told to wear masks when they reach the age of thirteen. Most children were trained to wear them from little – either for their eyes or their mouth – but some parents want their children to taste freedom before being locked under the government’s law which was made for the sake of equality and just among the citizens. Voices are shushed, eyesight is disturbed and pure faces non-existent. This was the rule of Mato.

I never spoke to Yoo Youngjae – or to anyone in particular, since breathing exhaled air isn’t very comfortable – until the day he became my lab partner in Chemistry. He was the new kid and I was the outcast. We weren’t really given a choice. He asked me a few questions and at first nodding and shaking my head seemed to answer them, but when that didn’t do the job I stopped responding. Eventually when he managed to pull us an A+ for our assignment, I wrote him a note of gratitude. He looked at me and I assume he was smiling but I couldn’t really tell – on the surface he was always smiling.

Ever since then we kept talking at every Chemistry class. He was in my English class too so when there was group work it would be an unspoken rule that we’d be in the same group. He would talk, and I’d have a lot to say but I’d simplify it into short notes. He seems to get it, answering my silent questions.

After what seems like a long time, we became close friends. When you hear the name Jung Daehyun you’d think of Yoo Youngjae and vice versa. He’d come over to my house where I’d take off my mask and breathe fresh air. We’d talk about the norm - school, girls - but mostly about how we can easily escape this flawed system. School is a wreck, life was the same every single day and our future was bleak. But I’d tell him that we can’t do that. We have to stay and change things. He would stop talking about it, but I knew his mind won’t shut up.

I never thought he was serious about it. But I guess I wasn’t the most important thing in his life – not like how he was to me.

One day in the middle of our senior year, Youngjae told me to come to his house. He rarely invited me over since his house was quite far away. But I guess there’s a first for everything. He told me to bring a few things, saying that he has a surprise for me. I just went along with it – I was used to Youngjae’s pranks and this didn’t seem any different from the others. When I arrived, he still had his mask on, not giving me the slightest clue on what his face looks like. He didn’t mention anything about the surprise until around midnight when he shushed me in the middle of a conversation. We listened as his parents’ bedroom door creaked and snapped lock. He placed his index finger on where I suppose was his lips and told me to bring my stuff and follow him. He slung a backpack retrieved from under his bed over his shoulders, opening the window of his bedroom. I gasped a little when he jumped out. I walked slowly towards the window, expecting to see a bleeding boy on the ground below but he was perfectly fine, dusting dirt off his sweater.

“Come on, Daehyun!” he whispered.

I hesitated a little and squinted my eyes as my feet left the double-storey building. I landed on my side, pushing Youngjae down with me. We chuckled a little and got on our feet. On the roadside of Youngjae’s house was a pick-up truck, its headlights dim and its engine humming low. I can see shadows inside the car – three full facial features glowing, light reflecting on them without a mask to cover it.

Youngjae took off his mask and left it by a mailbox. He swung his backpack into the back of the car, about to climb in. He turned to see if I was following. I still couldn’t grasp on what was going on – either my head was still dizzy from the drop or Yoo Youngjae had a very attractive face. Round eyes with a straight nose and puffed lips. His expressions were mischievous – telling me to hurry the fuck up. I moved my feet towards the car, following suit. My thighs hurt from climbing onto the tall vehicle, but I couldn’t stop staring at Youngjae’s facial features.

He caught my eyes and startled me for a bit, but he only aimed for my mask.

“Take this off,” he told me.

“What? In public?” I touched the rich fabric.

“You’re about to taste freedom.” He took it off for me, hurting my ears a little from the force and threw it next to his mask. As the car drove off, I watched it land perfectly under the mailbox, as if a goodbye to our past life. I looked at the road in front of us – the road to out next destination. Our escapade.

Youngjae explained to me excitedly how he had planned this since junior year. He kept in touch with friends from his old neighbourhood and planned it quietly. They needed time to find a place to stay and money for food, plus the timing had to be perfect – right when people were of least interest in them. The rest was still unclear, but heck. Stupidity is part of youth. I wondered why he never talked about this plan to me – maybe he never thought of bringing me along. But he did in the end. This is what Youngjae wanted – freedom. And I’m part of it.

The large vehicle passed an uphill jungle and stopped when we reached a clearing near a cliff. Youngjae explained that their place wasn’t ready until morning, so we’re going to camp out here until sunrise. Amazingly, Youngjae’s friends were great outdoors. In fifteen minutes, two tents were up and a pile of wood was set to be put on fire.

As we struggled in finding warmth, Youngjae introduced the rest of the gang. The oldest was Kim Himchan. He had a bright future – went to college, musical abilities, a smart alec in general. I couldn’t understand why he would give up on all that until Youngjae introduced to the youngest among us, also Himchan’s adopted brother, Moon Jongup. He was as innocent as a puppy, coming from a religious orphanage and raised under Himchan’s arms. I don’t think that type of sibling relationship was separable. Apparently, Jongup’s mask filtered his eyesight, and I find it a pity because his eyes were small enough. But he had a passion – dancing – and his eyesight was an important part of it.

The third person was Im Jaebum. He was a childhood friend of Youngjae’s. They both had the same mischievous smile, their laughter in harmonization. I felt envious for awhile but I knew there was no reason to be. I was the stranger here, yet everyone made me feel like home.

We talked about what we’d do – rob grocery shops, peeks at the woman’s bath house and set a small fire at a school. We talked about what we can do now that we’re not handicapped by the masks. Himchan took out a box of cigarettes from his pocket somewhere in the middle of the conversation, taking one breath but fumbled with the cigarette as he spoke, smoke seeping out from the sides of his mouth. Jaebum constantly took puffs from his, but Youngjae and Jongup didn’t touch the box. Jaebum tried lighting his second stick with the bon fire in the middle of us and burnt his finger. All of us did stupid stuff and said stupid things, laughing it off. It felt good – if felt free, smiling in the warmth of a fire we made, under the moon we saw every night. But this time, it was different.

“Look,” Jongup said, one of the rarest times. “We can see the stars here.”

All of us looked up and blinked at the small glints of light in the sky. We didn’t say a word. The smoke from the fire tinted out sight, but it was still a beautiful, untouchable blanket.

We heard a knocking sound and saw Youngjae lying down on his back, arms stretched out, his legs unfolding from its crossed position. I followed suit and so did the others. We laughed to ourselves and soon fell asleep. When we woke up, the fire was a fifth its size from last night, the sky wasn’t as dark anymore and there were other voice around telling us to wake up.

“And where are your masks?!” a raspy voice scolded us.

I rubbed my eyes as I felt a hand grabbing my arm roughly. Beside me was Youngjae, being grabbed the same way in the same groggy state. I looked around and saw that Jongup was already up, his face full of guilt as a skinny policeman reaches for cuffs from his belt. The one holding me up – the oldest one – was fat and short, his grey moustache twitching annoyingly on his upper lip. Another policeman, this one rather fit and tall already got Himchan up, kicking at Jaebum to get on his feet. All three of them wore a similar mask – black, only covering the upper half of their faces. I glanced at Youngjae and saw a smirk that lasted two seconds. As usual, he had a plan.

He bent down a little, but the old policeman pulled him back. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m just taking my iPod!” Youngjae defended himself. The policeman grunted.

“Kids and their techno shit…” he mumbled.

Youngjae’s hands first reached for the iPod under him but its direction swiftly changed towards the stack of burnt wood in front of him, grabbing one and swinging it across the policeman’s face. Jaebum, who had miraculously woke up in time to see what had happened, grabbed another firewood and hit the tall policeman’s legs several times. The four of us stood up and went towards Jongup, whose mouth hung as he watched what seemed like a scene from a movie. The skinny policeman was scrambling for a gun, but Jaebum shouted at his face which made him shriek. He stuck out his tongue playfully at him as we ran towards the jungle.

I looked back to see all three of them running after us, panting from the unexpected exercise. The oldest huffed, wanting to take off his mask.

“If you do that I will report you to the chief!” shouted the tallest.

Himchan looked back and saw the three red faces, struggling to catch up. He laughed and we laughed along with him. Where we were going, we didn’t know. There is no future; only now. We were tasting freedom – the essence of youth.

Labels: fan-fiction, inspirations