Accidents are not accidental

Dorm life was good in its own way. Away from your parents, left to your own devices, you could rely on your own experience, knowledge, and determination, which little freshmen often lacked. Thankfully, Han Jisung was no longer a freshman, even though he was living in a dorm for the first time. - Hey, you forgot to take out the trash again. We said it was your turn to clean up this week! Here's the first contestant for the title of snootiest roommate of the 21th century. There will be many more contenders for the arrogant position, but not the neighbors. This guy, Kim Seungmin, was an enigma. On the one hand, he was a diligent student, and out of all of Jison's friends in the dorm, he was the only one who was tearfully disappointed by a grade lower than his grade. Whether he had not yet grown out of the excellent student syndrome, though so many years had passed, or whether his future really did depend on those damn grades. He wore glasses only at home and never put them on when he went out, even though he complained that he couldn't see the billboards and colored signs of his favorite stores, covered his smile with his forearm every time he laughed louder than usual, always changed his clothes only in the bathroom, afraid to appear naked even a third of his body... and there was a carload and a carload of such little things. Han laughed every time he noticed another oddity in his neighbor's behavior, but he never laughed openly, no matter what thoughts this man had in his head when he couldn't even feel at home. Seungmin was a year older and also lived in this room all the time, so he had to accept that he made the rules. - Recording number 223, today is another day that Seungmin reprimands me for not throwing out the trash," — the guy spoke into a small portable Samsung recorder. It's a strange habit, you know, it's like keeping a personal diary, only on record. Jisung loved it. In the evenings he could record full-length narratives into this little machine, but he rarely listened to them, and even more often deleted them, especially the many angry conversations with selective profanity. Still, it was not a treat for all ears, and certainly not for his. All this he downloaded to his laptop and stored by date in separate folders. You say it's a weird hobby? No weirder than cross-stitching, do you even know how long it takes?! - Wait, don't tell me you also forgot to take your hair out of the sink. Trash is fine, but I told you not to comb your hair in the bathroom. - It seemed like a few more seconds and his newfound roommate would be gone. - It's not my fault that the only free mirror in this block is in the bathroom, and I don't always want to stand over your soul by the bedside mirror in the morning," he justified, quickly throwing all his things into his backpack and pulling on his black jeans. - You don't have to talk to me, you know I can and.. Before he could even finish his sentence, the younger man jumped out into the hallway with his jacket in his hands and a white smile with all thirty-two teeth. Throwing something like, "I brought the trash," he ran out into the stairwell, leaving his neighbor in a state of utter confusion. Jisung liked to get away with cleaning like this, since he was a slob by nature. He knew that Seungmin would grumble and calm down, and while he was calming down, he would wipe the entire block clean and forget about the incident again the next morning... until next week. Several students were walking up to their floor, out of breath and not paying attention to anyone, after all, a 5th floor without an elevator is not a close light. However, Jisung always paid attention to everyone, his memory for faces wasn't the best, but there were a few students he singled out from the crowd. That's what happens when you see a strange avatar in a chat room, look at it, and it's as if you've remembered that person forever, because the appearance seems so striking. I think everyone has one and it's up to each person to choose what kind of appearance they want to remember. This guy was one of those. He lived on the same floor as Jisung, but he didn't know if he was far away or close — he'd seen him a couple times in the kitchen by the microwave and at the dormitory entrance — sometimes their glances crossed, but no more than that, because you're surrounded by people all the time when you're in a place like this. The guy was always quiet in the dorm chat room, mostly just cursing at the siren that often went off in the middle of the night because of careless kids who decided to smoke in the room, unlike Jisung, who asked for potatoes, onions, or a grater and rolling pin, which happened to be the few household items he had: just eating utensils and a slightly burned frying pan. And here he is again. He climbs the stairs leisurely, and manages to scribble down messages as he goes. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he disappeared out the door into the hallway as if he'd never been here. Jisung returned to his thoughts and habitually rummaged around for his voice recorder: - Recording 224, I've escaped from the old grump again, how could it not be?

***

It was early spring now, the season of love, dreams, hopes, and something else that Jisung could never understand. No matter how many novels he read, almost all of them took place either in spring or summer. What was wrong with those seasons, the heat of the day. It was good that it was evening now, so that he didn't feel the inevitable warmth approaching. He wandered to the nearest cafe, putting headphones in his ears, and turned on the first song that fell to him at random. Again, the "hits" that were popular when he was still in school. But the guy didn't switch them on: that time didn't bring him any painful memories, on the contrary, his chest whimpered faintly at the pile of past, long-forgotten things. Han bought himself a caramel latte and sat down on the nearest bench, staring at the landscape of the playground, covered in gloom and faintly illuminated by the yellowish light of the street lamp. Millions of thoughts swarmed in his head, and to get them all together, he turned off the music and closed his eyes. There were birds screaming somewhere, children somewhere, cars, streetcars, trains passing by, and it seemed there couldn't be better company than you and silence. - Recording 225, a caramel latte for all the unhealed wounds of your soul! - the guy said with some gusto, and grinned, fixing his disheveled hair the color of light beer.

***

It was Saturday, but Jisung had promised to help his friend decorate the food stall in the morning; another festival was coming up, and all the vendors were getting ready to fill their pockets, if not their bellies. These stalls were located in large parks, which gave plenty of room for customers who hadn't yet had time to get stuck in the streets with shows and fireworks. The boy arrived almost at the appointed time, and his friend was already coming out of the improvised door in the form of some purple curtain, which obviously would be more suitable for some fortune-teller with her magic ball than for the candy counter, holding some rather weighty boxes. Jisung quickly grabbed a few of them and headed for the entrance with a Cheshire cat grin. - I thought you weren't coming today. - The boy with the long blond hair tied back in a dutiful ponytail blotted his forehead with the sleeve of his longsleeve. - I'm only a few minutes late, and you're already causing drama! - Jisung yelled, looking curiously at the contents of some of the boxes and peering into some that hadn't been opened yet. - That's a new one. - You're the one who likes to make a scene out of nothing. Ah, don't touch it. It's a secret even for you, - the blond winked and closed the box back up, laughing as he watched Jisung panting in frustration. Without a moment's thought, Han reached into his pocket again for his small portable tech and took a few steps back, pointing his finger at the culprit: - Recording 226, my friend is a total jerk sometimes and even his modeling looks can't make up for tha-.. There was a thud, and Jisung, clearly dazed from the sudden collision, flew downward before he could grab onto anything. There was a slight pain in his arms and lower back, and the tape recorder flew a few meters away, and the only thing he prayed for was that his one-most-important-in-this-world thing would be safe and sound. Still surprised, all he could do was raise his head up and squint one eye. The sun was shining directly in his face, and all he could make out was a massive figure towering over him with no head or body, just the square shape of a... box. After a moment the figure began to look more like a man, first the head showed and then the shoulders of the new culprit. The one turned toward the sun so successfully, it seemed to Jisung, that he covered it with that unpretentious cardboard and the lad could finally make out a face. His lips froze in a mute "oh," as if that expression could mean anything. There he was again. - How badly are you hurt? - The guy set the boxes on the ground and held out a hand to help Jisung up. He watched him shake off his hands, and he was obviously somewhere else, as if he hadn't heard the question, so he let himself repeat the question. - What? Oh, no, no, no, no, it's fine. - Are you sure you're okay? - It seemed strange to the stranger that the guy as if through every word he said, he went back to flying in the clouds. - Anyway, I'm sorry I bumped into you, I didn't see you, so take this as an apology. In Jisung's hand rested a clear-wrapped strawberry mochi. The guy just took the boxes and walked off in the opposite direction without saying anything else. Though Jisung, too, was somehow not eager to continue this uncomplicated dialog. - Are you still messing around with that toy? Don't you get tired of it? - The blond man grinned, looking at the small button device in his hand. That was the only thing that brought Han Jisung out of his stupor. He went back to scrolling through his own thoughts. Why was he here too? Why him again? Don't they cross paths too often? The boy shook his head. No way, he was just making it all up again. Stupid coincidences, they happened every day. Maybe he's helping someone here, too. It's just a coincidence. - I'm just messing around, no, I'm not bored, - the younger one almost snatched the recorder out of his hand and quickly inspected it for any damage, the case was a little scratched, but the buttons and everything else seemed to be working properly. - Listen, Hyunjin, do you happen to know that guy? Han pointed his thumb behind his back, and the older man had to turn his head sideways to see who he was pointing at. - I've seen that one a couple times, he comes here to help a lot too. But I don't know his name, why? - Hyunjin's eyes expressed a look of undisguised curiosity. - It's nothing. Let's get back to work, or we won't be done before we start. It wasn't that Jisung was a frequent helper, but he often came here in his spare time, and the strange thing was that he'd never seen this guy here, but his friend had said that he came here quite often. So Jisung just hadn't noticed him before? Still, he managed to make another brief entry during the break: - Recording 227, why am I so hung up on him?

***

Han rarely stayed for extra classes; there was a risk of not arriving at the dorm on time and drifting off to sleep on the nearest bench. Or he'd have to bribe the landlady with flattering words about her beautiful skin tone to get her to let him into his miserable room. But I'm afraid that won't work a third time. Jisung played guitar well and stayed at uni a few times to charm the devilish inscriptions on the desks with his truly angelic voice alone and in the huge auditorium. So one day he returned impermissibly late to his dormitory, to which he was thunderously shouted out the door. The prospect of spending the night on the street did not please him, and all he had to do was text his adoring roommate to figure out how to get back in. And he did. He opened a window on the first floor from the back door and held his hand as he jumped up the chimney almost to the window sill. Not that Jisung owed his friend his life, but he'd saved him from cold benches under the stars, so he'd had to agree to the terms and wash his socks for a week. It was an embarrassing torture, more like punishment, but Seungmin must have his own methods of teaching him how to be smart, because next time he promised to give him his dirty underwear... It was exactly the same that night. Jisung also sat up with his guitar in his hand and also flew out of the university building. Only this time the last road transportation closed almost in front of the panting guy's nose. There is always the subway, not all the trains, of course, were running at such an hour, but at least something had to take him to the unfortunate dormitory. Tiredly walking into the train, Jisung plopped down on the seat and closed his eyes. All his days were spent in constant study, he was tired of it, and at times he felt sickeningly bad, and wanted to leave, but it was just a passing thought, and Han got rid of it with a twist of his head. He'd always wanted a change, but he had a couple of friends who could be counted on his fingers, and his classmates weren't one of them, and they were the same... studying, working, and thinking about what to eat for breakfast. Jisung opened his eyes and looked out the window. Soon the first flowers would begin to bloom on the trees, but all that bloomed in his life was an endless stream of routine. It was like a long thread that was wrapping around him, wrapping itself around his arms and legs as tightly as if it were a thread... He didn't seem to notice that he had dozed off. His head fell back and rested against something soft and pleasant to the touch. It felt so good that he just gave himself over to it, forgetting how long he had to drive and when he had to get off. - Wake up. We've got to get off at the end of the line. The end of the line? Get off? According to Jisung's calculations, the terminus should be twenty minutes after his stop. This voice is telling him something crazy. How could it be? And then something shot into his head and the boy opened his eyes sharply. Consciousness slowly returned to its place, as if flowed over by a sea wave. He was literally lying on someone's shoulder, which was why it felt so warm and soft. The shoulder seemed to fit his head perfectly, was supple enough, not sharp at all, so nice that Jisung didn't immediately catch his own thoughts that he would have stayed lying on it until the second terminus, and the third... wait. The ultimate?! The guy quickly recoiled from the stranger's body part and sank his gaze into his pillow man for this flight. What a bummer... there he was again. - What the hell are you doing here again?! - Jisung blurted out, and immediately felt the blood rush to his cheeks as the unhappiness reflected on the face of the guy sitting across from him and his eyebrow slowly crept upward in mute surprise. - I'm... sitting here? Look, kid, you're the one who fell asleep on my shoulder, why the weird question anyway? - He turned his head slightly to the side. The vehicle stopped abruptly, announcing the end of the route. Jisung was still not fully awake, and was still trying to say something when the sudden stop made him sway and pitch forward. He put his hands on the other man's legs and fell almost nose first into them. He couldn't blush any further, for if a heavy hand hadn't been placed on his shoulder to keep him from falling, he would have landed right on top of his... The thought made his head spin again, and he jumped up and bounced a few steps away, pressing himself against the cool railing. But not a muscle on the brunet's face twitched, as if he'd been amused by the situation before Han's question. The dark-haired boy, for it was only now, seemingly out of fright, that Jisung was able to see the face of his midnight stranger, was still sitting motionless, his arms crossed over his chest. Chestnut-colored hair with purple strands, expressive cat-like eyes, a smooth nose and lips that were stretching into a thin thread right now, as were the eyebrows that continued to frown. - Hmm... we just happened to run into each other the morning before the fair, didn't we? - When he was tired of waiting for an answer to his question, although, rather, realizing that it was as useless as the last time, he exhaled and just asked a new one, hoping that at least this one would get an answer. - Y-yes,- Jisung's ears continued to redden, he couldn't get rid of the thoughts that were circling his head. The doors began to open slowly, and when he felt the fresh breeze, he glanced at the clock in front of the door: it was past midnight. He wasn't going to get a warm bed tonight, and he should have been stuck here at this hour with him. The brunet got up from his seat and walked slowly toward the exit, watching that the guy still hadn't moved. - Enough with the clouds, you risk spending the night on the train, although we're late for the dorm anyway, so it doesn't sound so bad, does it? - he let out a chuckle and, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, walked off the train. Jisung, once again waking up from his sleep in those few moments, quickly followed the guy. He silently agreed with his statement, though he still didn't understand how he knew they were from the same dormitory. Was he following him? Otherwise, why else would they cross paths so unexpectedly for the umpteenth time. Why follow him? The guy's life is like a gray dream with no fun or color. Although, Jisung also knows that he's from the same dorm, so why does he think that the world revolves around him alone? - What are we going to do... now? - Jisung asked suddenly, realizing that he hadn't even been able to have a normal conversation before. - How about we start by introducing ourselves. The guy started searching his pockets, and it seemed eerily strange to him. When he's looking for a tape recorder, he makes the same monotonous movements. First the pockets of his jacket and pants, and only then the inner one, where his device lay, the location of which he constantly forgot. Han tensed slightly when his hand came out of his pocket, but immediately exhaled, saw the tip of a cigarette pack and a lighter. The fresh air should have put his thoughts in order, but it was as if Jisung was solving a universal riddle, endlessly drowning in a swamp of judgments about the guy standing next to him. - Uh, okay. Han Jison, 23, fourth year-... - There was no point in continuing, since they were from the same university, but this hesitation was still noticeable. - Lee Minho, 24, fifth year, - the guy grinned, clamped the cigarette in his teeth, and lit the other tip. Jisung's hand groped his pockets and pulled out a tape recorder: - Recording 265, I got his name, but so far I haven't learned what he's hiding. There was a sepulchral silence, and Minho still didn't seem to have taken a single puff. The tip of the cigarette slowly smoldered, leaving behind only ash. - What are you doing? Hey, I'm not hiding anything! What are you talking about? - he exhaled tiredly, combed back his hair with his hand and looked at the guy with another perplexed look, he was beginning to annoy him with his incomprehensible behavior, so he had no choice but to make a logical conclusion. - You're just... really weird, you know. Jisung watched as Minho took a single puff, extinguished the cigarette on the nearest trash can, and tossed it in there as well. He realized only now that he'd never once thought about how people reacted to the tape recorder in his hands. Think he was FBI? That would be funny, but if he continued to keep quiet and act so weird, he'd never know why this guy kept ending up around. - Sorry, it's a hobby of mine to record everything. Since we don't have a place to sleep anyway, let's go sit in the gazebo, - Han smiled affectionately for the first time that evening, and walked forward with an unknown energy. - That's right... crazy, - Lee grinned and followed slowly.