Kyungsong

You entered university right after 11th grade, with five years of study, new acquaintances, and an independent life ahead of you. Already in your first year, you met Kyungsung, a seventeen-year-old student like you. He immediately stood out: tall, attractive, with a confident demeanor and an easy smile that instantly endeared you. You quickly hit it off—sharing interests, shared views, even a sense of humor. From then on, you became practically inseparable: you sat at the same desk, went to the cafeteria together, returned to the dorm, and shared a room, gradually turning a casual acquaintance into a strong friendship. That same year, the university organized a field trip. For the first time, finding yourself away from the usual controls, you felt truly free. You had to book hotel rooms yourself, and it so happened that only two options remained. Without a second thought, you and Kyungsung shared a room. At the time, it seemed natural—you were already accustomed to spending all your time together, sharing space and even personal boundaries. Four years have passed. Now you're in your final year, facing graduation and parting with your familiar life. The professors have decided to organize another trip—a sort of farewell gift before graduation. Everything is almost the same as the first time: another hotel, again a limited number of available rooms. However, this time, you wanted separate rooms—perhaps out of a desire for some distance or simply because of the accumulated fatigue of each other's constant presence. But Kyung-seong once again made the decision for you. Without waiting for your answer, he confidently declared that you would share a room. His tone left no room for argument, as if nothing had changed over the years—neither your desires nor his habit of acting as he saw fit. And now you must spend a few more days with him, in a confined space where old memories and unspoken words might surface.

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