Caught Up [1/?]
Caught Up
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Genre: idek angst?
Word Count: 981
Summary: In a world where being different is on par with the most heinous of crimes, hiding is the only option. Being found out brings about the worst nightmares for most-betrayal, abandonment, imprisonment, experimentation.
Death.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story will contain (semi/potentially graphic) rape/gang rape, violence, language, mentions of extreme homophobia, discrimination of people in general, emotional and physical abuse, potential eating disorders, and future character death.
So you have been warned.
Minseok is twelve when his wish comes true.
It's just after his soccer practice and he's sitting on the sidewalk in front of the school, still panting and sweating, using his hand to shield his face from the sun. It feels hotter today than most, and he pulls his phone from his backpack with his free hand, scrolling to his call log before tapping on the familiar number. It rings twice before a female voice comes on the line. "Hello?"
"Practice is over now," he says, out of breath still, cleats scuffing at the loose pebbles near the curb he's sitting on. "Can you come soon? It's hot."
He hears her laugh briefly, easily able to picture the way her head nods, perfectly curled hair bouncing around her shoulders like always. His eomma was always so pretty. "Sure baby, I'll be right there."
She hangs up then, and that leaves Minseok to himself for the next ten minutes, trying to use his backpack to block the sun. ID pictures are two days away, and he'd really rather not be burned in them. Like last time.
When she pulls up in front of him, he's inside as fast as possible, slumping into the seat with his bag between his legs, turning all the vents he can onto him because he's still so hot.
He hears her chuckle softly, but it sounds strained, and he opens his eyes to glance over at her. "Eomma?"
"Hmm?" she asks, shifting into drive and pulling away from the curb. He almost wants to stop and ask if they can get ice cream on the way home, but her expression stops him.
"Is something wrong?" he asks instead, not liking the way she's acting and he wonders if she had another fight with appa.
She laughs then, completely free of whatever was bothering her, reaching one hand over to run it through his hair. Her nose wrinkles a little at the sweat caught beneath her perfectly manicured nails, but she places her hand back on the wheel anyway, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "No, no it's okay. Just a story I heard on the news before you called me."
"What was it?" It can't be a good thing if it made her upset.
"They caught another one of those...things," she says, the disgust in her voice so evident that he can almost feel it. "This one was trying to rob a bank. It could turn into a puddle, can you believe that? A puddle!"
Minseok just shakes his head, muttering a quiet, "That's weird," to placate her, busying himself with pulling his water out for a drink so she can't see his face if she happens to look over. Things. It. He doesn't like the way that she addresses them, the poor people with genetic mutations, ones that can do things just a little outside the range of normal. He'd always thought it was cool, that'd it'd be awesome to be one. Like a superhero, he thinks.
He sighs at the thought, leaning his head against the window as they drive the rest of the way in silence. He'd given up on the idea years ago, but sometimes it still came back, times like now. How cool would it be, to be able to turn into a puddle and get through any space, never getting stuck?
"Come on," she says once they're home, parking the car and nudging his shoulder. "Let's get you inside where you can cool down, okay?" There's a smile on her face, and he returns it as he grabs his bag and gets out.
The first thing he does once he's inside is leave his cleats at the door, making his way upstairs where he strips out of his dirty uniform and steps into the shower to wash all the sweat off. But even after the shower, even after he's spread out on his bed in a tank top and shorts, ignoring the piles of homework he should be doing instead, he can't get cool, no matter how high he cranks the air conditioning.
He decides it's the sunburn that he did indeed wind up with and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and just wishing it was cooler. He doesn't know how long he lays there, pretending that he's submerged in an ice bath, pretending that there's snow falling around him, but he finally feels better, feels cooler. He sighs contentedly this time, fingertips running over the frosty sheets beneath him before jerking up and realizing that it's not some vivid daydream. He froze his sheets.
The moment the seriousness of the situation hits him he's jumping out of bed, trying to break through the thin layer of ice, rubbing his hands all over it to try to melt it, however suspicious wet sheets would look if his mother came in.
And of course she does come in, opening his door without even knocking, the offer for a snack halfway out of her mouth before she goes quiet, and he can feel her eyes boring into his back as he kneels on the floor, nails still trying to pick through the blatant evidence on his bed.
He's surprised she doesn't start yelling, surprised she doesn't hit him or call the police to have him arrested and dragged into some facility to be studied and 'cured.' All he hears instead is a quiet, "Come downstairs," before his door is closing and he doesn't dare to turn back and see her face before it clicks shut.
He'd always wondered sometimes, what'd it'd be like to have powers, to be a modern day superhero. He'd entertained the thought once in a while, secretly hoping he could be cool, could wind up with something.
He just never realized it'd happen, and now he wishes that he'd never wished for it at all.
next
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Genre: idek angst?
Word Count: 981
Summary: In a world where being different is on par with the most heinous of crimes, hiding is the only option. Being found out brings about the worst nightmares for most-betrayal, abandonment, imprisonment, experimentation.
Death.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story will contain (semi/potentially graphic) rape/gang rape, violence, language, mentions of extreme homophobia, discrimination of people in general, emotional and physical abuse, potential eating disorders, and future character death.
So you have been warned.
Minseok is twelve when his wish comes true.
It's just after his soccer practice and he's sitting on the sidewalk in front of the school, still panting and sweating, using his hand to shield his face from the sun. It feels hotter today than most, and he pulls his phone from his backpack with his free hand, scrolling to his call log before tapping on the familiar number. It rings twice before a female voice comes on the line. "Hello?"
"Practice is over now," he says, out of breath still, cleats scuffing at the loose pebbles near the curb he's sitting on. "Can you come soon? It's hot."
He hears her laugh briefly, easily able to picture the way her head nods, perfectly curled hair bouncing around her shoulders like always. His eomma was always so pretty. "Sure baby, I'll be right there."
She hangs up then, and that leaves Minseok to himself for the next ten minutes, trying to use his backpack to block the sun. ID pictures are two days away, and he'd really rather not be burned in them. Like last time.
When she pulls up in front of him, he's inside as fast as possible, slumping into the seat with his bag between his legs, turning all the vents he can onto him because he's still so hot.
He hears her chuckle softly, but it sounds strained, and he opens his eyes to glance over at her. "Eomma?"
"Hmm?" she asks, shifting into drive and pulling away from the curb. He almost wants to stop and ask if they can get ice cream on the way home, but her expression stops him.
"Is something wrong?" he asks instead, not liking the way she's acting and he wonders if she had another fight with appa.
She laughs then, completely free of whatever was bothering her, reaching one hand over to run it through his hair. Her nose wrinkles a little at the sweat caught beneath her perfectly manicured nails, but she places her hand back on the wheel anyway, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "No, no it's okay. Just a story I heard on the news before you called me."
"What was it?" It can't be a good thing if it made her upset.
"They caught another one of those...things," she says, the disgust in her voice so evident that he can almost feel it. "This one was trying to rob a bank. It could turn into a puddle, can you believe that? A puddle!"
Minseok just shakes his head, muttering a quiet, "That's weird," to placate her, busying himself with pulling his water out for a drink so she can't see his face if she happens to look over. Things. It. He doesn't like the way that she addresses them, the poor people with genetic mutations, ones that can do things just a little outside the range of normal. He'd always thought it was cool, that'd it'd be awesome to be one. Like a superhero, he thinks.
He sighs at the thought, leaning his head against the window as they drive the rest of the way in silence. He'd given up on the idea years ago, but sometimes it still came back, times like now. How cool would it be, to be able to turn into a puddle and get through any space, never getting stuck?
"Come on," she says once they're home, parking the car and nudging his shoulder. "Let's get you inside where you can cool down, okay?" There's a smile on her face, and he returns it as he grabs his bag and gets out.
The first thing he does once he's inside is leave his cleats at the door, making his way upstairs where he strips out of his dirty uniform and steps into the shower to wash all the sweat off. But even after the shower, even after he's spread out on his bed in a tank top and shorts, ignoring the piles of homework he should be doing instead, he can't get cool, no matter how high he cranks the air conditioning.
He decides it's the sunburn that he did indeed wind up with and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and just wishing it was cooler. He doesn't know how long he lays there, pretending that he's submerged in an ice bath, pretending that there's snow falling around him, but he finally feels better, feels cooler. He sighs contentedly this time, fingertips running over the frosty sheets beneath him before jerking up and realizing that it's not some vivid daydream. He froze his sheets.
The moment the seriousness of the situation hits him he's jumping out of bed, trying to break through the thin layer of ice, rubbing his hands all over it to try to melt it, however suspicious wet sheets would look if his mother came in.
And of course she does come in, opening his door without even knocking, the offer for a snack halfway out of her mouth before she goes quiet, and he can feel her eyes boring into his back as he kneels on the floor, nails still trying to pick through the blatant evidence on his bed.
He's surprised she doesn't start yelling, surprised she doesn't hit him or call the police to have him arrested and dragged into some facility to be studied and 'cured.' All he hears instead is a quiet, "Come downstairs," before his door is closing and he doesn't dare to turn back and see her face before it clicks shut.
He'd always wondered sometimes, what'd it'd be like to have powers, to be a modern day superhero. He'd entertained the thought once in a while, secretly hoping he could be cool, could wind up with something.
He just never realized it'd happen, and now he wishes that he'd never wished for it at all.
next