Chapter Text
If there were a poll in town for the naughtiest child, Martin would undoubtedly take the top spot. But if there were a poll for the brightest child? Martin would surely have a place on the leaderboard; he believed that if he claimed to be second, no one would dare claim to be first.
Stubborn and talented as he was, there were still two things that made Martin turn pale: the darkness and Juhoon, the "silly" boy next door. In truth, Juhoon had neither great strength nor a sharp mind because he was a simpleton. His greatest talent was just sitting still and smiling. It was because of that sun-like smile that Martin had sworn to protect his foolish friend forever.
As usual, Martin went next door and knocked. Mrs. Julia had finished breakfast a few minutes earlier. Hearing the bell, she opened the door for Martin. Banana, the dog the two boys had rescued months ago, also ran out, wagging his tail joyfully.
"Mom, I'm going up to call Juhoon," Martin said.
Receiving a nod from Mrs. Julia, he hurried upstairs. However, the closer he got to that small room, the more his footsteps instinctively slowed, trying not to make even the slightest sound. Martin cracked the door open and saw the person on the bed still deep in sleep. He gently closed the door. Walking over to the blue car-shaped bed, Martin saw that Juhoon had opened his eyes. His gaze was hazy, staring blankly at the wall above without any expression. Martin covered his "silly" friend's eyes with his hand, pinched Juhoon’s cheek, and said in a mischievous tone:
"Juhoon, it’s time for school. Wake up!"
Hearing no response, Martin uncovered the boy's eyes. They were closed again. Not surprised that Juhoon had fallen back asleep, Martin threw his backpack on the floor, climbed onto the bed, and took a deep nap himself. When they woke up for the second time, the hour hand on the wall clock was pointing to eight, and the minute hand was nestled between ten and eleven. Martin shook his friend awake. Ignoring that sleepy face, he dragged Juhoon downstairs to eat the breakfast that Mrs. Julia had reheated.
"You two are finally up. We have sandwiches and orange juice today. Eat up, and then we’re going to Ms. Jitero’s house. Little Martin, please help Juhoon finish his breakfast. I have to go out for a moment; I’ll be back in ten minutes."
He mumbled an agreement. Martin’s attention was already captured by the sandwich stuffed with beef and eggs. This breakfast is amazing, he thought, eating heartily (even though he had already eaten at home, he still finished two large sandwiches). Glancing sideways, he saw Juhoon hadn't touched a single bite. Martin sighed and pouted, secretly scolding his friend for being like a baby who didn't even know how to eat.
He picked up Juhoon’s sandwich, tilted his head into the boy's line of sight, and mimicked putting the food in his mouth and chewing. Of course, it was just a demonstration; Martin was so full he wasn't sure he could swallow anything else without spitting out what he'd already eaten. Noticing Juhoon still staring at him with a dazed expression, Martin climbed down from his wooden chair, grabbed a set of green children’s cutlery, and cut the sandwich into small pieces. He then used a fork to feed Juhoon bit by bit. At this, the boy began to smile brightly and obediently ate everything offered, even the green vegetables he usually hated.
Just as Juhoon finished the last bites, Mrs. Julia returned with a black umbrella. She placed the snow-covered umbrella in the basket by the door, took off her coat, and asked, "Martin, Juhoon, have you finished breakfast? We need to head to Ms. Jitero’s class now."
Martin waited for Juhoon to finish his orange juice, then immediately helped him down from the chair. He slung both backpacks over his shoulders and led Juhoon hand-in-hand toward the door. After putting on his own thick coat, he turned to lead Juhoon—who had been bundled up like a cotton ball by his mother—outside. He made sure Juhoon was settled in his car seat before climbing in beside him. Mrs. Julia saw the two leaning their heads against each other; Martin was watching the falling snow while Juhoon watched Martin, their small gloved hands tightly clasped. She shook her head with a smile, turned on the radio to a cheerful English tune, and started driving.
Soon, the car stopped in front of a small two-story house. Ms. Jitero had been waiting there for a long time. The snow on her hat was as thick as the frost that gathered on windowsills overnight, Martin thought. He tilted his head to look at Juhoon, who had fallen asleep again. At first, Martin thought Juhoon had some kind of illness because he slept so much and always seemed lifeless—so much so that Martin feared it was serious. A cold breeze blew into the car. Mrs. Julia stood outside, reaching out to help each child down, worried about the slippery ground. Martin tapped Juhoon’s shoulder and spoke in a mature tone:
"Juhoon, wake up. We’re at Ms. Jitero’s. I’m getting out first."
Without waiting for a reply, Martin let go of Juhoon’s hand and stepped down with his mother’s help. Mrs. Julia didn't help the drowsy Juhoon, letting him be. Seemingly used to this, the boy climbed down from the white pickup truck by himself. She kissed them goodbye and left.
Ms. Jitero wasn't a preschool teacher; she taught first-grade math at the local school. On weekends, she took in children for extra income. She led the two boys inside. Once they were settled, she went to fetch the other children. Martin quickly grabbed some juicy apple slices from the table, cut them into small bits, and offered them to Juhoon. His friend ate obediently; no matter how much Martin gave, he finished it all as if he had no bottom to his stomach. Martin only cut one slice for himself and didn't touch the rest; both were now completely full. Juhoon found his usual spot—a small, sturdy hammock in the corner where he slept every day. Under the "authority" of the gang leader Martin, no other child dared to challenge Juhoon for that spot. Thus, besides his own home, Juhoon loved sleeping at Ms. Jitero’s.
After twenty minutes, almost all the children had arrived, except for a few who had played too hard at the Christmas Eve celebration and were now sick. Ms. Jitero took attendance, her soft voice mingling with the children’s lisps and clear chatter to create a noisy atmosphere. Once everyone was accounted for, she called them to the table. Today, she would teach them simple arithmetic. Even though Juhoon was lying down, Martin—who was sitting watch over him—was also called to the table to focus on the lesson.
"Martin, have you finished your exercise?" Ms. Jitero stopped by the desk of the boy known as the school's "boss." In her eyes, he was well-behaved and polite. He and Juhoon were the two smartest children she had ever met; Martin was quick with numbers, while Juhoon had a natural affinity for musical instruments. She believed that one day, these two would leave this small town to find where they belonged—a place where their talents could truly bloom.
"This is too easy. Can I skip it?" Martin looked up at her. He really didn't want to do these problems; two-digit addition was far too simple for him.
"You can't do that, dear. You should complete your work. If you're done, you can help Juhoon. I see he’s been struggling for a while." Ms. Jitero knew exactly how to soften Martin’s heart: by mentioning Juhoon.
Just as she expected, upon hearing Juhoon was having trouble, Martin lowered his head and filled in the answers rapidly. He double-checked to ensure everything was correct, then slid his chair to the right where Juhoon was sitting. He looked at Juhoon's work, which was finished and looked almost identical to his own. Immediately, Martin looked up to find the teacher’s slender figure. She had tricked him. Fine, he thought, I’ll just stay at Juhoon’s desk then. He leaned back to grab his papers and pens from his own desk and moved them to Juhoon's.
The "silly boy" tilted his head to look at Martin beside him, glanced at the messy handwriting on the newly relocated papers, and lowered his head to correct the answers that didn't match. Then, he put his face on the desk, intending to nap. Martin wasn't surprised; he was used to his friend sleeping everywhere, but some other kids were quite talkative.
"Teacher, Juhoon is sleeping!" Otis—the child Martin hated most in the world—shouted. Otis could talk for two hours straight without needing a drop of water. Now, he pointed his short finger at the resting Juhoon, raising his other hand to get the teacher's attention.
"Juhoon, sit up straight, please. You can sleep during the last thirty minutes of free play," Ms. Jitero said firmly, as she couldn't show favoritism. Both boys immediately sat up straight, but it didn't last long. Juhoon began to wobble and eventually chose to lean on Martin’s shoulder for a nap—just a little one.
Martin acted as Juhoon’s pillar for a long time. He did math with one hand and held Juhoon’s shoulder with the other. By the time he finished all the exercises and read half a first-grade math book, the person on his shoulder showed no signs of waking. Martin checked the time; it was almost time for the break. He gave Juhoon a firm shake, startling him awake. Seeing it was Martin, Juhoon sniffled, ignored him, and walked over to his beloved hammock.
"Juhoon is such a lazybones," Martin muttered under his breath.
Somehow, despite Martin’s quiet whisper, Juhoon spun around and stared at him intently. After a long moment, he finally looked away. Martin exhaled, leaning against the table, determined to finish his book today. Even though Juhoon had just glared at him (at least, that’s what Martin thought), his affection for his friend led him to creep over and sit near the hammock where Juhoon lay.
And so they stayed—one awake, one asleep. Both looked like little angels, a pair of friends that anyone would admire.
Martin finished the book, but the clock hadn't reached six yet. There were still ten minutes before Mrs. Julia arrived. He put the book on a nearby shelf and returned to hold Juhoon’s hand. Martin sat quietly, fiddling with Juhoon’s fingers. So pretty, he thought.
How beautiful can a five-year-old’s fingers be? True, there isn't much to see when the bones aren't fully developed, but to little Martin, Juhoon’s hands were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. They were soft, without bumps or bruises. Martin cherished each short finger in his palm. He knew his own hands had some calluses, so he used the back of his hand to gently stroke Juhoon’s palm. Two layers of smooth skin touched.
He loved that feeling the most. Martin wanted Juhoon all to himself.
His train of thought was snapped by the bell signaling the end of class. Ms. Jitero clapped her hands, and everyone stood up as a conditioned reflex. They lined up for attendance again; even Juhoon scrambled down from the hammock. Once attendance was done, everyone went back to their own fun. Juhoon didn't lie down anymore; he sat with his back against the wall, holding a comic book.
Martin sat still, looking at the sky through the window. The snow was falling harder now. Surely the snow in his yard would be taller than his head. His mom wouldn't clear it; she’d be on a warm cushion watching dramas on TV. His dad wasn't home and probably wouldn't be until the snow melted. Should he ask Mr. Barrett (Juhoon’s dad) to help him clear the snow? It might be a bother, but he hoped he would agree; he wanted a path into the house without getting snow all over his clothes.
"Juhoon and Martin, Mrs. Julia is here to pick you up!"
Ms. Jitero called out. Juhoon’s mom was always the first to arrive. She adjusted Juhoon’s hat and coat, then handed the two boys over to their guardian.
"Goodbye, Teacher. We're going home now."
Martin and Juhoon bowed politely to their teacher. They waved and took their completed worksheets home. Mrs. Julia also bowed deeply to show her gratitude to Ms. Jitero. Then, she led both boys to the car parked in the driveway.
Mrs. Julia remained the same—letting Juhoon get in first while helping Martin from behind. It wasn't that she didn't love her own son; she wanted to discipline Juhoon. Ever since he became friends with Martin, her son had become increasingly lazy, wanting Martin to do everything for him. The boy often sat in one place smiling; as long as he smiled or stayed silent with a serious face, Martin would scramble to do everything for him. Julia had told the boy next door not to be like that, but things remained unchanged.
"What do you two want to eat tonight?" Julia asked after making sure they had buckled their seatbelts.
"I want fried chicken!" Martin shouted out first.
"I’ll have pasta," Juhoon said. He paused for a moment under the surprised gazes of his mother and Martin, then added, "And some fried chicken for Martin too."
Martin lunged forward and hugged Juhoon tightly. Today, Juhoon had spoken seven more words than yesterday and even thought of him. This was a wonderful sign. He threw his arms around his friend and shouted, "I love Juhoon most in the world!"
Juhoon had heard too many screams today, from the kids at Ms. Jitero’s to Martin’s. He reached out and gently rubbed Martin’s back. Out of habit, the laughing Martin suddenly went silent. He let go and sat back in his seat, his face turning an unusual shade of red. Julia observed everything through the rearview mirror. She said nothing, just smiled, and continued playing the music.
Martin felt regret for having shared his "weak spot" with Juhoon. His back was his most sensitive area. During one of their talks, Martin had traded two of his secrets for one of Juhoon’s.
He felt it was an unfair trade. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but it felt lopsided.
Everyone knew Juhoon didn't eat cucumbers, but no one knew that the "big boss" Martin was afraid of the dark and that his whole body would shiver if his back was touched.
"You're teasing me," he said, sounding aggrieved.
"No, I wanted to hug you," Juhoon said with an innocent look, waving an arm toward Martin and winking.
He was clearly doing it on purpose.
Speechless, Martin turned his head away, making it clear he was sulking and needed to be comforted.
But Juhoon didn't pay attention. He watched the snow falling outside the glass. They stayed that way until they reached home. As soon as Mrs. Julia stopped the car in the garage, Martin hurriedly opened the door, jumped out, and ran toward his own house as if being chased by a ghost. Before leaving, he didn't forget to say goodbye to Mrs. Julia. But yes, Martin intentionally left Juhoon behind.