more ramblings. this time on kindness, and how integral it is to both hye-jin’s and dusik’s characters
dusik uses his kindness like armor. he wraps himself in it, puts it on like a second skin, hides himself away behind a smile, an outstretched hand. how can i be in pain, when you’ve never seen me cry? let me fix your roof. let me watch your store. let me buy you milk. i don’t have baggage, so let me take yours. he uses it like hye-jin uses clothing, uses money. as a defense, a plea. don’t look at me, look at this. i beg you, don’t look at me.
hye-jin hides her kindness away. it’s a fragile, rough-hewn thing; an exposed underbelly; a flower starved of sunlight. i won’t talk to you on the elevator, but i’ll get fired protecting you and your pain. i won’t apologize immediately, but i’ll listen to your music and tell you my favorite song. i won’t let you touch my car, but i’ll throw my arm in front of you when we nearly crash. i’ll give you dental implants, i’ll give you braces, but don’t you dare thank me bc you’re still going to pay me something, anything, so i can pretend this is practical, an exchange between doctor and patient instead of friend to friend. during the ice cream scene, she nearly flinches when dusik mentions it, her kindness. it’s like he’s pressed on a bruise, an exposed nerve. she fumbles for words, telling him that it meant nothing, that she still wants money, that nothing’s changed. don’t look at me. don’t look at me. don’t look at me.
you know, i said this was about kindness, but i think it’s really about love.
