(no subject)
Title: Obscuration (or, The Fine Art Of Seeing) 2/3
Part 1/3
“Why did you leave?” Myungsoo asked on the following day, out of breath from jogging to catch up with Sungjong after the junior’s lessons had ended. “I was looking all over for you - I bought you a backstage pass, didn’t you notice? You could’ve come hang out with us. I waited for you.”
Sungjong’s messenger bag banged against his hip as he whirled around to face the older. “Ah, Myungsoo - I. You… Said the ticket was a freebie, though?”
Myungsoo bent over at the waist, hands on his knees and things scattered around him so Sungjong couldn’t see the panic flicker on his features. He breathed heavily for a moment, and then looked up through his bangs.
“Caught me, huh? Well, actually, I just... Really wanted you to be there.”
The look on Sungjong’s face could be described as perfect blankness as he considered the situation. He could count the times they had spoken to each other on one hand and while he knew Myungsoo preferred boys over girls, it simply didn’t make sense for him to be this overwhelmingly friendly.
If people help you, even if you haven’t asked them to, you thank them - was one of the things his therapist had reminded him only a few days ago after Sungjong told her of Hoya and favours and parties, leaving out the ‘payment’ part, naturally.
“Thank you?” Sungjong said with bewilderment.
Myungsoo breathed out with relief, straightening up and unzipping his jacket. “Can I walk you home? I have some time before practice and nothing to do,” he offered then, eyes crinkling into a handsome smile.
Brows still knitted with confusion, Sungjong found no reason to pass up on the opportunity to get to know the guy that interested him so he nodded and Myungsoo moved to match his steps.
“Do you live far away?” the senior wanted to know after a couple of minutes, hoping to spark up a light conversation but Sungjong simply shook his head.
“So your place is close?”
A nod later, Myungsoo gave up.
They took a right turn after the park and crossed a busy street without exchanging a word. Sungjong was sweating bullets and not only because of the late-summer sun. Though he had never cared much about his poor-ish living conditions, he felt slightly ashamed as they approached the complex of apartment buildings he lived in.
“Hey! Sungjong, wait up!”
He’d been hurrying to get this over with, but Myungsoo was carrying his guitar case and duffel bag along with his backpack so he fell behind. Sungjong apologized quickly, even attempted to relieve Myungsoo from one of his bags but the senior refused.
“How else am I going to impress you?”
Sungjong had learned to flirt back with Hoya, but Myungsoo was a whole other case, mostly because Sungjong could never see the lines coming, nor did he expect to get hit on. But Myungsoo was proving him wrong in more ways the one, he wasn’t as simple as Sungjong thought he would be.
“Did you like our music, by the way?” Myungsoo asked, just as Sungjong belatedly replied to his earlier question - “I’m not easy to impress.”
A quiet staring match ensued, ending with Myungsoo breaking out into a grin. “I bet.”
Kicking a pebble to the curb, Sungjong smoothed out his jacket, painfully aware of what a bad conversational partner he was being. For the life of it, he couldn’t figure out what prompted Myungsoo to keep showering him with attention.
“It was a rhetorical question, though, you didn’t need to answer that,” the older pointed out, noticing how miffled Sungjong was. “But really, what did you think of us?”
“You were... Okay?”
Myungsoo laughed at his careful tone, shaking his head with mirth. “I knew it. I’m guessing I should take that as a compliment, coming from you. I really wish you would’ve stayed for a while longer, though, I wanted to introduce you to the guys.”
By then, Sungjong was pretty much in a state of permanent perturbation. “Guys? What guys? Why?”
Placing his duffle bag on the pavement as they waited for a traffic light to turn green, Myungsoo hummed to himself, processing the question. He hadn’t really thought of the reason.
“I... Well, I thought you guys could be friends? They’d like a kid like you.”
The cars came to a halt and Sungjong stepped on the crosswalk, Myungsoo hoisting his bag back up on his left shoulder and following.
“Like me?”
Seeing the chance, Myungsoo decided to use it and since Sungjong was staring up ahead, counting the floors and then noticing he’d left his bedroom window open, he didn’t see Myungsoo’s mouth forming several different words at once.
“Yeah, like you,” Myungsoo affirmed warmly. “Different, you know. I like you.”
A pregnant pause lodged itself between them. Sungjong wondered if he was supposed to answer with the same but then Myungsoo started laughing again, genuinely, as if he just witnessed something extraordinarily hilarious.
They reached Sungjong’s block of flats, a building that stretched high into the sky and had rows of cars lined up in front of it with Myungsoo beaming in a way that must’ve pained his cheeks. Sungjong didn’t comment on this, though, preferring the silence, as loaded as it was.
“I live here,” he said, stopping in front of the steps leading up to the main door. “So. Bye.”
“See you later!” Myungsoo shouted after him cheerily and on his way up, Sungjong glanced over his shoulder to find the man studying the building, as if engraving it to his memory. Huffing, Sungjong opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, shaking off what had been the most awkward walk home he’d ever had.
-
Two days later, Sungjong met Myungsoo at the library, by the manga aisle. He had half a mind to walk right past the senior in his rush to pick out another book and his shadow did the opposite, boldly approaching the older. It wasn’t that Myungsoo no longer interested him, but talking to the older was somehow stressful and bothersome at times and Myungsoo was always too observant for Sungjong to feel at ease around him.
But then Sungjong noticed the book Myungsoo was currently immersed in - a shojo manga with a pink flowery cover - and snorted. He wasn’t even surprised.
“Sungjong?”
Myungsoo looked a little pale, perhaps from embarrassment - Sungjong concluded, as Myungsoo quickly hid the manga behind his back. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, reading?”
A shadow of Myungsoo’s facepalmed while Myungsoo himself simply blinked, taking in the small pile of books Sungjong was carrying. “Oh. Right. Of course.”
“And you?” Sungjong inquired out of politeness, as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough.
“Same.”
Just like that, Sungjong ran out of things to say, so with a simple “Okay, bye,” he made his way over to the foreign literature section. Myungsoo wasn’t satisfied, though, and after shoving the manga back to its original place - it was the fourth volume, he kept in mind, planning to finish it later - he stalked after the younger.
“So what are you going to read today?”
If Sungjong was startled by Myungsoo’s sudden materialization next to him, he didn’t show it, fingers slipping down the spines of various novels before picking one.
“This one,” responded Sungjong, holding out Albert Camus’ “The stranger”.
It was no lie that Myungsoo felt slightly ashamed for enjoying silly romance mangas in comparison of Sungjong’s interest in the classics. Thus, he changed the topic.
“Are you always hanging out here by yourself, Sungjong?” the guitarist asked, a teasing edge in his voice to conceal his wounded pride. He tagged along with Sungjong as the junior walked to his usual table. “Don’t you have, like… Friends?”
Sungjong was still a bit lost in the world of Fahrenheit 451, the previous book he had read, so he replied dazedly, thoughts far away, “I have. People. They’re useful to me, I’m useful to them. People.”
Had Sungjong looked up, he would have seen a fading clone fistpumping, but his attention was on the sturdy bookshelves around them and Myungsoo schooled his expression into one of mild approval.
“Well, I want to be your friend.”
Taking a deep breath - not because he was shocked or flattered but in preparation of diving into yet another fictional realm, Sungjong opened the book. “Okay.”
Amused by Sungjong’s nonchalant acceptance, Myungsoo sat with him for a while, playing games on his phone. Besides the sound of pages being carefully turned, nothing disrupted the peace and Myungsoo soon grew bored with the silence.
His attempts of capturing Sungjong’s fancy failed every time he tried to talk to the teen and he wound up surrendering, flipping through the last pages of Seifuku no Kataomoi in the darkest corner of the manga section before leaving.
So immersed in his reading, Sungjong was, that he paid no mind to a see-through Myungsoo standing by the table minutes after the real one had left.
-
A whole week later, after the second period and moments before the third, Myungsoo leaned closer to Sungjong conspiratorially, eyes darting left and right as if he was about to share something particularly scandalous. “Sungjong. Listen - have you ever been to the Hill?”
The Hill meaning a district in the city generally known to be inhabited by the lowest of people, swarming with criminals and prostitution. The nickname had nothing to do with topography and was actually derived from the Hilston Detention Facility, a notorious prison located on the eastern edge of the city.
It was generally a sketchy place, which law-abiding citizens avoided even in daylight.
Minjung’s love hotel was near the very centre of the Hill, wedged between a gay bar and a club in which a guy was shot on the previous month and the Sphyre wasn’t actually far from there, in a gray area, no-man’s land separating the Hill from the city’s urban core.
Nodding absentmindedly, Sungjong slammed his locker shut. A moment later it occurred to him that it was a strange thing to ask someone you hardly knew. Especially out of the blue the way Myungsoo had spewed it on him.
“Why?”
“No reason, I was just wondering,” Myungsoo said too quickly, a shadow of his leaving, nearly skipping with elation. “I noticed that you live close to that place and a friend of mine said that some people from our school hang out there.”
Sungjong tilted his head to the side, an idea blooming in his head. “Is still about the rumours? Juvie and drugs or whatever?”
“Nah, nah,” Myungsoo laughed, clutching the strap of his bag and walking backwards in the empty hall. The bell rang shrilly and the last teenagers loitering in the corridors made a mad dash for their classrooms. Myungsoo was oddly calm, taking his time to wink at Sungjong. “I’m just trying to figure you out, bit by bit.”
And even though Sungjong would have liked to believe that, would have liked to be figured out, even, something about the encounter left him uneasy. He sighed, picking up his backpack and heading towards the main exit.
Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling like studying.
-
It didn’t take long for Sungjong to get used to Myungsoo’s constant presence, although he never really relaxed around the older, still growing anxious whenever Myungsoo’s eyes became sullen and it seemed like he was pushing himself to talk to Sungjong.
He was willing to ignore it, much like he ignored most of the world, but it became considerably more difficult after he happened to overhear a rather strange conversation.
Sungjong had a hunch that Myungsoo’s behaviour was, at times, calculated. He didn’t bother trying to guess what this could mean, remembering the kiss in the library. And while he was curious, Sungjong was never one to get mixed up in other people’s business, plus the lack of shadows Myungsoo produced was refreshing.
It was okay, Sungjong was sure, even if Myungsoo’s demeanour was practiced and that was the cause for the absence of hesitation and spontaneity-induced clones.
But then he stumbled upon the most unlikely confrontation - Hoya, who had been avoiding Sungjong for weeks, looming over that friend of Myungsoo’s, the one he uselessly pined after. Despite the senior being taller than Hoya, the dancer managed to look positively menacing and Sungyeol hunched his shoulders defensively.
“-none of your business,” Sungyeol grumbled, torn between bafflement, irritation and mild fear.
Hoya snorted.
“He is. He is my business, though.”
“What are-”
“Not Myungsoo. Not him. I don’t give half a fuck about that shitty friend of yours,” Hoya spat threateningly. Sungjong was used to the dancer acting like a puppy, moping when he was rejected but perking up when receiving a smile. He had never seen Hoya’s muscles tense intimidatingly under his sleeveless top, witnessed his thick brows furrowing with a piercing glare.
“But Sungjong. He is my fucking business and you better stop whatever this is.”
Sungyeol gulped but squared his jaw. “Dude, you’re overreacting. It’s not like we’re planning to rape the kid or something.”
That was definitely not the right thing to say and Hoya made sure Sungyeol was aware of that by resting a hand centimeters away from Sungyeol’s neck.
“Shut up. You don’t know him. Just leave him out of your little games.”
The younger’s already owlish eyes rounded with wonder. Sungyeol was never too good at keeping his mouth shut.
“What are you, jealous? Jealous that little Sungjongie is spending all this time with Myungsoo? That he might like Myungsoo better than you?” Sungyeol taunted with a bite in his words and Hoya responded appropriately - by grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him into the cold stone wall of the grocery store behind the library Sungjong frequented.
Sungjong had been on his way home, a rattled copy of the ”Decameron” tucked under his arm but now, he was cautiously taking a seat on the paved ground, all thoughts of calling his mom and making something for dinner abandoned.
Grunting in pain, Sungyeol lost some of the fight in him, but his stare was as accusing as ever. “Hit a sore spot, did I?”
“As if I’d care about something like that,” Hoya muttered, fisting the fabric of Sungyeol’s jacket. “Just call that Myungsoo guy off. Quit it.”
“Oh, but you do care.”
“Shut up.”
“But you do,” Sungyeol pressed on with surprising persistence. He seemed to gain courage from the way Hoya faltered whenever Sungjong was mentioned. “Or do you always make shit up to beat up random guys?”
“I’m not making anything up.”
Sungyeol swatted Hoya’s hands off him. “What the fuck is your problem, then?”
“You,” the older said, holding on to the remnants of his anger but taking a step back. “You and your little fucking wannabe emo lapdog.”
Feeling in control, Sungyeol fished out a crushed packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the depths of his pockets. He faked a look of exasperation, lighting a cancer stick. “Can’t the kid pick his own friends? They seem to be getting along just well.”
“Not if the friends are lying shits.”
“Ooh, ooh, such dirty words. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth of yours?” the younger mocked after taking a long drag. The temptation to poke fun at Hoya was too great to resist. “No, no, more importantly - do you kiss Sungjong with that mouth?”
Hoya winced visibly and Sungyeol held back a laugh. For a moment, it seemed like Hoya was going to attack him once more, but the dancer decided against it - only Sungjong witnessing the sickening crunch of Sungyeol’s head against the wall.
But instead of inflicting a possibly lethal injury on Sungyeol, Hoya sucked in a deep breath, changing the topic.
“What do you want from him?”
“None of-”
“Don’t try that bullshit on me, I wasn’t born yesterday,” Hoya half-growled, “if you want to walk away from here unharmed, you better start fucking ‘fessing up.”
Exhaling clouds of smoke, Sungyeol chuckled glumly. “Well, technically, you already hurt me.”
“Wuss.”
“And I bet you already know what we want. After all, I heard you’re the one that benefits the most from your... Connection. With Sungjong. I heard he gives generous discounts to the people he likes.”
Freezing for a second, Hoya kept his face conscientiously vacant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you, now?” Sungyeol asked with a smirk, tapping the butt of his cigarette against the window ledge half a meter to his right. “Well, in that case, I probably shouldn’t say anything. Have a nice day, Howon-sshi.”
Intending to brush past Hoya, Sungyeol expected the older to stop him somehow and he wasn’t disappointed. Hoya squeezed his upper arm tight enough to bruise, efficiently cutting Sungyeol off.
Sungjong averted his eyes, sick of seeing their shadows brawl.
“Who told you?”
Allowing himself a victorious “Aha!” Sungyeol escaped from Hoya’s grasp before replying. “Woohyun shared the secret with Key, who told a few, myself included.”
“And what-”
“Well, now that you know the purpose, I’m sure you can guess the plan?”
Hoya seemed to shrink a little as it dawned to him. “Wow, fuck.”
“Yeah. We’re just a couple of guys looking for some fun, you know. And precious Sungjongie... Just happens to have a few grams he can probably spare.”
Done processing this new and alarming information, the fury in Hoya sparked to a flame once again. But this time, when shot a burning glare at Sungyeol, the younger didn’t cower away. “Stop it. Tell Myungsoo to back the fuck off. He’s just a fucking teenager, for crying out loud.”
To this, Sungyeol sighed, his expression molding into one of fake distress. “Yes, I agree, that this is too troublesome and I’d really rather-”
“Leave him alone.”
“Yeah, do that, but...” Sungyeol paused sullenly.
“What?”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit too late?” he questioned Hoya, rushing to reply before that dancer had a chance to. “He’s probably attached already. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to end like this. Neither did Myungsoo. But do you really think it’d be better to have Myung stop abruptly than to... Wait it out? Like, they could be friends until we graduate, you know? With some tiny, uh, benefits. And then they‘d just grow apart. Happens to everyone.”
“I still don’t approve of this.”
“Mm, neither do I.” Sungyeol checked his phone before snickering. “But damn, wouldn’t it be a waste to quit it now? Like, do you realize how much effort Myungsoo has put in to get close to him? The kid hardly responds!”
The cruel mask Hoya had been wearing throughout the conversation cracked at that, allowing a small smile through. But that was before the dancer remembered the situation he was in, that Myungsoo was using Sungjong.
“Fuck. You morons. Just… Don’t hurt him.”
Awfully pleased at having gotten out of the encounter with Hoya unscathed, Sungyeol snorted a laugh. “So worried for the little one, aren’t we? Don’t worry, Myungsoo can be very... Gentle.”
Hoya rolled his eyes, choosing not to think of what Sungyeol hinted at.
“Just go before I change my mind.”
Sungyeol left with a bounce in his steps and Hoya buried his face in his hands, muttering curses under his breath. Sungjong saw a transparent clone hit the wall and another one paced back and forth, seemingly shouting unintelligible words into his phone.
Figuring Hoya could use some privacy, Sungjong dusted off his pants and walked off, thoughts swirling around the human nature and what strange creatures they all were.
He didn’t even feel betrayed, Sungjong simply supposed he ought to start paying more attention.
-
There was an unsaid “I told you so” in the stale air of Minjung’s office that evening as Sungjong retold the woman what had happened. He still had his school bag and the book he lent with him, having taken a detour on his way home.
She was smoking again, only half-listening to Sungjong while shuffling through some contracts she needed to sign.
“So what are you going to do about him?” Minjung asked patiently once Sungjong was done talking, peering up at him through thick curls.
“Nothing.”
That made her pause, a stack of documents she needed to sort in her hand. Shaking her head lightly, she gave up on working for the time being. “I’m in no position to judge, but... Doll.That doesn’t sound right,” Minjung said through pursed lips, holding the cigarette between her teeth.
Sungjong fiddled with his thumbs, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair with his back pin straight. Despite claiming not to care about Myungsoo’s deception, he looked wretchedly uneasy.
“You can let it out, you know,” the woman said with a compassionate smile, observing Sungjong through a haze. The teen didn’t comprehend, pouting unconsciously until she elaborated. “If you’re upset, you can just say so. I’m not going to judge even if you burst out in tears or something,” it was more probable that she’d be immensely aghast, but Sungjong didn’t need to know that.
“It’s okay.”
But Sungjong cracked his knuckles and studied the stains on the floor instead of opening up.
“You don’t have to be friends with him, you know? It’s okay to be mistaken in someone, you couldn’t have known.”
And finally, Sungjong’s shell broke a little more. He looked helplessly perplexed, shifting in his seat restlessly. “Well, yeah, but. I just don’t get it. I was wrong about him. I- He really seemed like such a simple person. I didn’t see this coming at all.”
Minjung made herself comfortable as it seemed Sungjong had lots to say, now that he’d started.
“Myungsoo... He’s kind of vain, you know? I thought he wanted to be liked, made me a personal challenge or something. I didn’t mind. Even if it was just so he’d feel good about himself. Eh. I didn’t mind being a charity project, if that was how he took it, and he seemed to need the company more than I did.”
Fighting back a grin, because it was such a Sungjong-like way of seeing things, Minjung took a sip of the cold coffee she’d forgotten all about when the ‘tax collectors’ came to have a chat. The paper cup had been pushed to the edge of the desk as she’d scrambled to find the keys to her safe. Now, hours later, the cheap americano tasted like cat piss with a tang. She drank it anyway.
She wondered if Sungjong had been eating properly, his wrist bones looking much too prominent to be healthy.
“Now... I just don’t know anymore. It’s not like I mind being used - I mean, I kind of signed up for it, didn’t I? But it’s weird.” Sungjong sighed, head hanging low. “... I thought he was pure. I thought I would become purer, too, if I got to know him.”
Wheezing at Sungjong’s choice of words, Minjung dropped both the now empty cup and her half-finished cigarette. “And yet he was the dirtiest of them all, huh?”
To her surprise, the teen didn’t agree.
“No, I don’t think so. I just don’t get it. Why go so far for something like... Weed? I feel like I’m missing something.”
As much as Minjung wanted to comment about Sungjong’s uncharacteristic drive to make an effort to see things through, she thought it would be wiser not to. “What if he’s just a rotten character?”
Sungjong frowned. “I think I would’ve gathered that much by now. And... Even if he is. If Myungsoo’s rotten, as you said. Well- aren’t we all?”
There were bluish marks on Minjung’s arms from the members of the syndicate she worked with had held her in place while cleaning out most of her vault. She laughed bitterly.
“So you’re going to keep meeting him?”
“I think so, yeah,” the teen confirmed, sounding more sure of himself after voicing out his thoughts on the matter.
“And... If he does actually start making demands? Doll? What will you do then?”
Slouching as a brand new wave of confusion hit him, Sungjong tried to imagine Myungsoo asking him - he wouldn’t force him, Sungjong was sure -but the scene seemed ridiculous, Myungsoo had never shown any interest in illegal substances or even parties, alcohol.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, meeting Minjung’s eyes. “I’ll see when the time comes?”
The woman didn’t say she wouldn’t provide him if the need came, it would have been a lie anyway.
“Be careful, doll.”
A nod was all Sungjong gave in response, the exchange becoming too deep for his liking. Minjung seemed to be itching to get back to her business and realizing that he’d been complaining for the past ten minutes, he guessed it was time for a change of topic.
“Are you busy?”
Minjung cleared her throat, her gaze straying from the letter on top, an unsigned notice of dismissal. “Yeah, kinda,” she shot Sungjong an apologetic look. “I had to let some people go, so now I’m kind of empty-handed.”
“Who?”
“Nora and Seungjun. Nora got pregnant. I can’t blame them for wanting to start a family somewhere far away from here. God, I would do the same.”
“Oh, really?” Sungjong exclaimed with the minimum amount of passion required to make an exclamation, knowing all the workers of the hotel by name from his various and almost habitual visits.
“Yeah, it’s going to be strange not having Nora around... Not to mention, I’ll need to find some new people to keep the place going.”
She scrunched up her nose in distaste, having grown accustomed to the personnel she’d had for the past months. Sungjong was worried for a whole different reason - Nora had been kind to him in the past and he felt it was time to return the favor.
“Keep an eye on them, though, if you can,” he said in a small voice, barely audible.
Not understanding Sungjong’s intentions, Minjung shook her head. “No, doll. I can’t. They probably want nothing to do with this place after they leave. As much as I’d like to keep in touch with Nora...”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
Sungjong was caught up in an inner debate, the pros and cons of making accusations that could be false swirling in his head. Then he remembered the flowery smell of Nora’s sweater after she’d lent it to him that one morning when he showed up drenched to the bone.
He took a deep breath. “Seungjun, he. Might lean towards aggressiveness.”
The clock ticked fifteen times with Minjung staring at him quizzically before realization came to her. “Oh, you. You’ve... Seen, uh, something?”
After all the abnormal things he’d told Minjung about, it didn’t make sense for Sungjong to be afraid of her reaction. Still, he was, because this was serious. This time it wasn’t a random scandalous act he’d witnessed on his way to school. He could only manage a nod, palms sweating.
Minjung blinked slowly, a flicker of disbelief mixing with pride on her pleasant features.
“Thank you.”
-
Sungjong was in the middle of re-reading George Orwell’s “1984” during his lunch break, headphones on and the rest of the world muted when Myungsoo approached him. It had been two days since the truth had shown its ugly head and Sungjong wasn’t sure if he wanted to face the senior yet.
“Hey - I’ve been looking for you.”
Myungsoo sat down, taking the risk of getting into people’s way. There was a gross-looking brownish puddle on the plastic table, undoubtedly having dripped from the rack of trash-filled trays right next to them.
“Hey? Sungjong?” he waved his hand in front of Sungjong’s face but the younger hesitated, eyes following his own shadow out of the lunch hall before reluctantly turning to Myungsoo. “Earth to Sungjongie. You seem kinda out if it, everything okay?”
Sungjong removed his headphones, leaving them dangling around his neck. “Excuse me?”
“Ah-” someone bumped against Myungsoo’s chair and the man’s smile faltered, “-um, I was just wondering if you were planning to go to Kibum’s this Saturday?”
He looked anxious and sincere and some of the sharp-edged chunk that had been stuck in Sungjong’s chest ever since the incident with Sungyeol and Hoya evaporated. Nothing had changed and if Sungjong feigned ignorance, nothing had to change.
“Oh? No?”
But there it was, that stiffness Sungjong had noticed earlier and which apparently indicated deception. “It’s the Social Event of the Year, though, according to Kibum himself. Everyone’s going to be there. Weren’t you friends with that Hoya guy?”
Having Hoya’s name thrown into it such a short while after the man had confronted Myungsoo’s best friend made irritation boil in Sungjong. Maybe it was simply that he was more aware of it now, but it felt as if Myungsoo was unwaveringly pushing him towards something. He didn’t have to guess twice to know what it was.
“Possibly?” it wasn’t the best answer Sungjong could’ve given to such a question but only now was he actually putting some thought into his and Hoya’s relationship.
Snorting, Myungsoo sank into his seat, closer to Sungjong. “Well said. I’d like you to be there, though, Hoya or not.”
“Hm.”
Myungsoo’s grin was blindingly attractive, with dimples and rows of pearly teeth. “I half-expected you to say that it isn’t your scene. But I’m gonna go out a limb here and say that I’d be surprised?”
Sungjong didn’t laugh and the memory of their first actual conversation wasn’t as delightful as he would’ve liked. The people and their silly superficial affairs were something distant to him and Sungjong was a man of clarity, services and payments. Myungsoo had seemed to fit into his world.
“Sure,” he muttered distractedly, mind working on overdrive, the book - as usual with Myungsoo around - forgotten.
“So do you think you could come? I’d really like to see you… Somewhere else. The library can get kind of stuffy, don’t you agree? And it’s weird to talk at school. And I - I couldn’t catch you at the clubs? So why don’t we arrange to meet? Kibum’s, this Friday?”
It sounded convincing enough, except there was no reason for them to spend time together exclusively.
“No, I’m not really a party person,” he excused himself monotonously.
Without Sungjong’s permission, Myungsoo stole one of his lemon candies, unwrapping it clumsily and then wincing at the sour taste. “I’ve seen you at some parties, though? With Hoya?”
That was all Sungjong needed to confirm what he’d overheard. Wondering whether it’d be too straightforward of him to blurt out if Myungsoo wanted some marijuana or not, he nodded slowly. Myungsoo kept rolling the piece of candy he stole from one cheek to another.
“That was one of his conditions. For me to attend.”
The lemony sweet halted in Myungsoo’s mouth, then the man’s lips curled into a smirk. Perhaps the senior thought Sungjong had revealed that unthinkingly. He hadn’t.
“Well, if you went for him, you should come for me this time.”
Or maybe he had caught Sungjong staring at his mouth and misunderstood. As unlikely as that sounded, the tone Myungsoo used was definitely suggestive and his lips didn’t look dry enough to cause him to lick them quite as excessively.
“I’m- uh, really not-”
“Just think about it, okay? Promise to think about it,” Myungsoo pleaded, catching Sungyeol’s eyes from across the room and giving the guy a smile. “I need to go now. Catch you later?”
He left before Sungjong could promise him anything and the junior was grateful for that, even giving a little wave when Myungsoo looked back.
All in all, Sungjong was glad that lunch breaks were short and the seniors had their next period at the other building.
-
“You need to socialize. Give the kids your age a chance, I’m quite sure they don’t have those malicious intentions you keep imagining. Make an effort to find common interests and think about your conversational partner a little more. You’re too focused on your delusions, Sungjong. I understand it’s difficult to let go of the… Shadows. But they’re keeping you from seeing real life.”
Sungjong left the therapists’ office feeling even more troubled than before.
He couldn’t blame her for the unhelpful advice, he knew what was written in his file - although tests have not fully confirmed it, there is a high probability that the child is a pathological liar. And there was nothing Sungjong could do about it, because medical examinations had ruled out the possibility of him seeing hallucinations and his story was simply not scientifically believable.
I’m happy for you! You should go to that party. I’m proud of you for making friends - soon enough you won’t need me.
Cringing at what she’d said, indubitably aiming to sound encouraging, Sungjong headed home, passing the library on his way. On better days, he wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation of sitting down and chewing his way through a good piece of fiction but the prospect of meeting Myungsoo repelled him.
His apartment was cold and a lone fly buzzed about in the tiny kitchen. The neighbors were arguing about something loudly as Sungjong stepped out of his drenched sneakers.
The only chair he owned creaked as he sat down, backpack full of school books falling on the floor with a thump. His computer took a while to turn on and Sungjong looked through the various framed pictures on his desk. There were photos of his mother with her new family, his little brother, his baby half-sister, the wedding Sungjong wasn’t invited to; all artfully scattered around by Sungjong’s mother when she visited him a few years ago.
A strange feeling arose in him at the sight of the people he called his family, smiling up at him from behind a film of dust, call it premonition or unreasonable longing.
Once his aged computer had finished whirring, Sungjong checked his e-mail, not expecting anything but spam. He was shocked to discover a letter from his mother, dated three days back, mainly because he didn’t think his mother even knew his e-mail address.
Sungjong pouted, speculating over the likeliness of her getting tired of his monosyllabic answers and choosing not to talk to him at all. Then he clicked to read.
A few paragraphs later, Sungjong thought he might be going to the party after all.
-
Kibum didn’t seem surprised to see Sungjong on his doorstep, giving the younger a cat-like smile, thickly lined eyes curving cleverly. The man was dressed in neons and leather, heavy chains around his neck and Sungjong felt self conscious of his graphic tee and simple jeans that clung to his legs like second skin. He hadn’t worn them in years, he’d only bought them because a shop assistant insisted he looked magnificent, but they weren’t too comfortable.
“How wonderful. You made it,” was all Kibum said, gesturing for him to enter and guiding him to the living room.
The people he passed stared at him wide-eyed, having difficulties believing that the weird quiet kid was led around by Kim Kibum personally.
Sungjong kept his gaze on the floor, aware of the looks he was receiving. This was the first time he’d arrived to a party while it was starting, not when everyone was in various states of intoxication, hardly noticing his slim figure sneaking through the crowds to find Hoya or some other “client”. He also wasn’t used to making a fuss about his appearance but on that night, he could say that he at least tried.
“What’s he doing here?” someone whispered on his right and a transparent clone blocked his way, but Sungjong didn’t lift his eyes and walked straight through it.
“Key, man, it’s been ages!”
Seeing the emergence of a short man with a bright smile and silver hair from the mass of people gathered in Kibum’s living room as an opportunity to shy away from the flamboyant man, Sungjong tried to move away. Kibum reacted quickly, flinging an arm around his shoulders before giving the man he called Jonghyun an awkward half-hug - awkward because he still kept Sungjong attached to his side.
They patted each other on the back and Kibum spazzed over the man’s new piercings, squeezing Sungjong’s upper arm unintentionally while Jonghyun grinned broadly. Sungjong had never seen Kibum as un-intimidating as he was then, with Jonghyun’s shadow wrapping itself around him rather intimately.
“-thinkin’ ‘bout getting an industrial soon, but i’m kinda broke for now, spent my last bucks on the ride here,” the man said and Sungjong was close enough to see the adoration etched on Kibum’s fine features, “who’s the lil’ kitten, tho’?”
Kibum gave the junior a nudge. “Sungjongie. For a face as pretty as his, he can be quite scary. You should be careful, Jjong.”
“Just like you, huh?”
The people around them seemed to gravitate towards the shining duo and even Sungjong had to admit that they looked cool, standing together like that. Kibum considered hitting Jonghyun, Sungjong witnessed, but under a layer of concealer, his cheeks were tinted pink.
“Still a charmer, aren’t you?”
Jonghyun tilted his head, ignoring the overlookers, and muttered softly, “Only for you.”
Then someone new came along, a teen about Sungjong’s age with rounded cheeks and thick lips that sent Kibum squealing with joy. To Sungjong’s relief, Kibum forgot about him for a moment and tackled the newest arrival in a hug, telling Jonghyun how this was the best present ever.
By the time Kibum let the poor guy go, Sungjong was two rooms away, standing by the kitchen counter and watching a group of college-aged girls empty a selection of bottles into a large bowl. Some of them were already unsteady on their feet, giggling dumbly.
“Woohyun shared his secret with Key, who told a few, myself included,” was what Sungyeol had said and Sungjong wondered if it was also why Kibum suddenly knew his name. If so, Sungjong would make sure to stay clear of the older.
“Boy, are you looking for a drink?” a girl in a teeny tiny dress and impressive cleavage addressed him with a sleazy smile. “Or are you just keeping us ladies company?”
Sungjong exited quickly
A large flat-screen TV was on in the cinema room - Sungjong was reminded of how wealthy Kibum was - and having nothing to do at his first and last party with these people, Sungjong settled down on the floor in front of it. The couches were packed with bodies, some people making out, others taking naps, few exceptions actually watching the movie.
It was a stupid one, called the American Pie, something Sungjong would have never wasted his time on but with its sexual jokes, it apparently set the right mood for various couples.
The music from the main hall was too loud for him to hear the dialogue and his English wasn’t good enough for him to read the subtitles as fast as they appeared and vanished so it definitely wasn’t the best experience.
Not to mention, he missed the ending completely, because Myungsoo came plopping down next to him, passing him a red plastic cup that Sungjong promptly rejected.
“Punch? It’s pretty much whiskey with some juice.”
His breath stank and he leaned into Sungjong heavily, eyes squinted at the screen.
“What is this shit?” he slurred loudly, placing the cup down in front of them with a shaky hand. “It’s too boring, I’m sleepy.”
Then he twisted his upper body to look up at Sungjong, the teen staring back. Myungsoo was a mess - gelled hair flat against one side of his head, kohl smudged around bloodshot eyes, skin glistening from perspiration, a wet stain on the leg of his black jeans. His fingers was sticky when they came up to brush Sungjong’s fringe out of his eyes but the teen didn’t have the heart to swat it away with Myungsoo looking so broken.
“Sungjong,” the senior breathed dreamily, pressing his palm to Sungjong’s cheek. “I’m so happy you came, Sungjong. I wanted to see you.”
Sungjong’s blood ran cold- Myungsoo looked like he was about to cry.
The man blinked thrice and averted his gaze, just like Sungjong did when the shadows became too much, and perhaps he was fighting some shadows of his own. Soon, Myungsoo sighed, letting his arm drop on his lap and turning away, swallowing around a lump stuck in his throat.
“Let’s go somewhere, Sungjong. Come with me.”
And while Sungjong didn’t mind leaving, it was easier said than done with Myungsoo’s legs rebelling against him and refusing to bear his weight. Sungjong offered him a hand but Myungsoo took him whole, resting heavily against the younger.
“Where do you want to go?” Sungjong asked once Myungsoo was more or less stable, half-dragging him to the hall. “Out?”
Burping quietly, Myungsoo let his unfocused eyes study the surroundings and the people they passed, missing Sungjong’s question but not protesting against the direction they took. There was someone on the living room table, peeling off his shirt to the hollers of the crowd and beat of the dance track playing in the background. Sungjong recognized him as the one that Kibum had glomped earlier.
“Let’s go,” Myungsoo pleaded, with a slight whine in his voice, glaring at something in the corner. “C’mon.”
He tried to take charge and pull Sungjong to the front door but tripped on the edge of a carpet and nearly crashed into a cupboard, giving Sungjong plenty of time to see Sungyeol straddled by his girlfriend, their lips locked.
There was a half-sob mixed in all of Myungsoo’s cursing while he got back to his feet. “’m really drunk,” he said as an explanation and Sungjong placed a hand on his back gingerly. “And fuckin’ stupid.”
“Are you?”
“I just… You wouldn’t even believe it right now. Sungjongie.”
They managed to stumble out of the house without any problems, the chilly air bringing goosebumps to Sungjong’s bare arms. He figured he would go home soon, finding the party uninteresting, so he helped Myungsoo sit on the steps with the other drunks and smokers.
“Is this okay?” he asked, wondering if he could just leave the man there.
Myungsoo cringed, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I feel so fucking gross. I don’t think I… Haven’t been drunk like this before.”
Sungjong heaved a sigh, realizing that Myungsoo didn’t understand much at that moment about who he was with or what was said. Squashing the quilt, he decided to leave.
“You’ll be okay, yeah?” he prodded, just to placate his conscience. Myungsoo gawked at him blankly and Sungjong took that as an answer, rolling his eyes. He turned towards the parking lot, but only got to take a single step, stopped by Myungsoo holding onto the tail of his shirt.
“Sungjong. No. Wait.”
The man opened and closed his mouth several times, forgetting what he wanted to say and having troubles putting it into words after remembering. Sungjong watched his own clone hurry through the rows of cars, one posher than the next, struggling to shove his freezing hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans.
“Can I come with you?” Myungsoo asked, stretching out the fabric of Sungjong’s shirt, not that either of them noticed. He frowned, looking down at his feet and back up at Sungjong. “Can I… Come to your place? I don’t want to, uh, go home. I… My mom. I don’t want her to see me like this. Are your parents home?”
“No.”
Myungsoo shot him the most confident smile he could muster up, “So I can?”
It was pathetic.
Unable to imagine Myungsoo in the nearly vacant space of his apartment, Sungjong almost refused. Then he recalled a lecture his therapist had once given him about sympathy and pity, being a good samaritan and doing at least one good deed per day.
“Okay. ”
-
From: Kim Hyejoon
Date: 18/09/2013 17:32
To: Lee Sungjong
Subject:
My dearest son. May I still call you that? There are many things I need to tell you so I hope you will find the patience to read this letter thoroughly.
Firstly, I would like to apologize for not having contacted you recently. We were very busy making arrangements that I will tell you about later. That doesn’t excuse me, of course.
I haven’t been a good mother to you. Some would say that I haven’t been a mother at all - but more than anything, I would like to try. Sungjongie, my dearest, if you’d be willing to give me a chance, I would love to be your mother again.
Many things have happened in the past, things that I regret wholeheartedly. I have been incredibly selfish and I have ostracized you from your own family, I know. At that time, I thought that would be the best for you. We all thought some time away from the people - us - that seemed to hurt you so bad would help you… Heal. I was wrong.
But now, albeit belatedly, I’ve acknowledged what a horrible person I have been, that calling you twice a week doesn’t make me a mother. Neither does sending e-mails, but forgive me, I was afraid I wouldn’t find the words, if I was speaking to you directly.
I don’t deserve you, I never have, but after all these years of blaming myself for what happened, I would like to try to fix our relationship.
What I wanted to tell you about - we’ve been planning this for a while - is that we’re going to move to Busan. Sunghwa got a very well paying job there and your brother agreed that it would be best as we went as a family. We already picked out a lovely apartment and we’re moving in two weeks. I didn’t tell you earlier, because I wanted to surprise you. See, Sungjong, you have a room there. It has a large window with a beautiful view over a park, on the 7th floor.
You can pick all the colors and we can redesign everything - or you can have a different room if you want, but what I want to say is that we would really love to have you living with us. It breaks my heart not to know if you’re eating properly and sleeping enough.
There’s a really nice school not far away from our new home, it has many clubs and activities to choose from (you could even continue your piano studies!). It’s known for its students having a very high average grade. Would it be a big problem for you to change schools in the middle of the period? If you agree to live with us, of course.
I already talked to your therapist, and she thinks that such a change would be wonderful for you and promised to find you someone to rely on there, if needed. And we all, we’re fully prepared to support you, whatever happens.
We love you, Sungjong. I love you. Your little sister can’t wait to meet you.
Please reply soon so we can work out the details.
All my love,
Mom.
-
From: Lee Sungjong
Date: 23/09/2013 19:47
To: Kim Hyejoon
Subject: Re:
Okay.
-
“I need to pee.”
Letting go of Myungsoo’s elbow, Sungjong huffed. This was the third time they had to stop on their way to Sungjong’s apartment to have Myungsoo relieve his bladder. Sungjong was thankful that the crisp air had sobered him up enough to stand up by himself, even though in this semi-drunk state, Myungsoo was almost intolerably chatty.
Myungsoo shuffled into a narrow alleyway between a little fast food restaurant and a bookshop, whistling a cheerful tune and keeping a hand on the wall before him. Just out of politeness, Sungjong turned his back to him, even though in the low streetlights he really couldn’t see anything.
“Imagine if there was a corpse here somewhere,” Myungsoo drawled out, laughing as if he’d made the best joke in the world. He could practically hear Sungjong rolling his eyes but he peed on the bags of trash lined up by backdoor of the restaurant anyway, mumbling “you can never be careful enough. Wouldn’t want any of them zombies.”
“I saved you,” he declared once he was done tidying himself up, walking back to the street and attempting to smirk.
Sungjong gave him an entirely unimpressed look, opting not to ask. “Let’s just go.”
But Myungsoo stopped on his tracks, sloppy smile falling off his face at the sight of Sungjong standing by a lamp post, bathed in it’s golden glow. The teen was shivering and hugging himself and it was somehow adorable.
“Come on,” Sungjong whined.
“Do you want my jacket?” Myungsoo suggested with remarkable coherence after arriving at Sungjong’s side. The younger pursed his lips, torn. They weren’t far from his place so technically he could manage but his teeth were starting to clatter. A transparent hand reached out for it.
To make the decision easier, Sungjong asked, “Don’t you need it yourself? You’ll be cold, then.”
Again, Myungsoo chortled as if Sungjong had said something hilarious, open-mouthed and all. Still laughing, he shrugged off his jacket without a moment of doubt and handed it to Sungjong.
“Drunk people don’t get cold.”
Cracking a small smile, Sungjong accepted the garment but took a step back when Myungsoo moved to help him - it hadn’t been a minute since Myungsoo had his hands in his pants. The lining was soft and silky, smelling of aftershave and Sungjong wrapped the jacket around himself as tight as he could. Myungsoo was obviously broader than he was so it didn’t fit too well, but at least it was warm.
The rest of the walk to Sungjong’s two-room apartment was uneventful with Myungsoo making random childish comments and occasionally tripping over his own feet. Luckily, Sungjong’s apartment building had an elevator so it didn’t take them long to get to Sungjong’s floor - Myungsoo almost fell asleep only twice.
Sungjong had some troubles digging out his keys from the back pocket of his pants, but soon they were in and the junior turned up the heating before locking the door.
He helped Myungsoo out of his shoes and into his bedroom without any complaints from the older, whose eyes were half-shut by the time his head hit the pillow. Myungsoo didn’t doze off immediately, though.
“Sungjong?” he asked quietly once the teen returned to the room with a large bowl - simple precautions can sometimes save your bedsheets from vomit. He set it down on the floor before pulling out some extra blankets from the closet, ones he’d never needed before.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry about everything, you know?”
“Why?”
Sungjong worked on making the bed comfortable enough for the both of them since he didn’t own a couch and wasn’t planning to sleep on the floor. Meanwhile Myungsoo started pouring out sentences after sentences, as if a dam had broke and let it all loose. His usually attractive face was scrunched up in pain and he dirtied Sungjong’s pillow case with eyeliner and snot.
“It’s so dumb, you know?” Myungsoo murmured, a heap of a miserable man on Sungjong’s bed. “I don’t even know anymore. Everything’s fucked up. I’m just… Such a fucking moron.”
Standing on his tiptoes in search for spare sheets, Sungjong gave no reaction.
“I’m gay.”
Now that, Sungjong couldn’t ignore, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Myungsoo curled up into a ball, shirt riding up to show a sliver of skin. “I like men. Seriously. Cock and ass. That’s all that gets me going. I’m already fucked up. And that’s not even the worst part - I’m in love with my fucking best friend who’s as straight as an arrow. I can’t even tell him about it.”
Some of the words he said were slightly garbled past the point of deciphering but Sungjong grasped the gist of it.
“It’s really fucking pathetic, Sungjong. I am. So pathetic. You wouldn’t even believe it,” Myungsoo chanted, every word cutting a little bit deeper into him. “And I’ve been so awful. To everyone. To you.”
All his linens other than the ones on his bed, the only ones he used, were still in the box they had been brought there with. Sungjong didn’t feel an ounce of sadness upon noticing - it only meant a few things less to pack.
“Especially to you, oh god. You have no idea what I’ve done. I wouldn’t blame you for hating me for what I did. I hate me for it.”
Myungsoo held Sungjong’s pillow in a vice grip, eyes trained on Sungjong’s back. “It was all for him, you know. That ungrateful asshole. We made a promise. Only a few years ago. After high school, I would become a pro. My band would be famous and everything. He wanted to go to the local acting school. We promised, goddamnit.”
Angry tears pooled up in the corners of his eyes.
“And then she comes along and I hate her. No, don’t tell Sungyeollie, but I hate her so bad. Because I can’t. Even. Fucking. Hate her properly. She tries so hard to be nice, it’s fucking idiotic.”
Trying to suppress the sobs, Myungsoo gave Sungjong’s mattress a good pounding. “But he loves her. He fucking loves her. Enough to break a promise to me. And then I’m nothing. I’m nothing to him now. I’ve done everything for him. But he doesn’t even see me.”
Sungjong dropped the bundle of quilts and extra pillows on the bed behind Myungsoo’s back, sitting down on the edge and tugging his socks off. Watery eyes focused on his nape and Myungsoo gurgled for a moment.
“And then you came along.”
A transparent Sungjong headed across the room to brush his teeth while the real one felt too worn out to care about personal hygiene, sliding a hand under the pillow Myungsoo was still molesting to retrieve his pajamas.
“And I’d heard about you - at first it was just the rumours and they seemed stupid but at the same time you were mysterious, so-... But then Key told Yeollie, that you actually sell people drugs and that’s. That’s ridiculous. Because you’re you. But Yeol wanted them. He, uh. Yeah. And I talked to you. So he thought I could… Use you like that.”
Pulling his shirt over his head and replacing it with one even more oversized, Sungjong appeared not to be listening. He was, though, and every slurred syllable, a sense of gratification magnified in him.
It seemed that in the end, he was right about Myungsoo - the guy really was simple.
“I thought it would be good if i had him. You know, like, just. Had. With me. For once. Before he ran off to that university they picked out together. Without me, of course. And I really - I don’t even care about drugs, I just thought. Maybe I could get him to look at me, if only for a while.”
Getting out of his jeans was a struggle, because the stiff material refused to yield. He succeeded after long minutes of embarrassing wiggling, slipping into a pair of sweats and climbing under the covers.
Myungsoo seemed shocked by his actions, cutting his rant short and rolling over to stare at him.
“I’m gay,” the senior repeated himself, “shouldn’t you-”
But Sungjong was done caring about the insignificant things so he shut Myungsoo up with a “the bathroom’s on the right, wake me up if something happens.”
Looking considerably less smashed but awful with his swollen face, Myungsoo settled on his side, gazing at Sungjong with enough intensity to make the younger feel awkward.
“What?”
The stench that hit Sungjong’s sensitive nostrils when Myungsoo smiled made him regret asking.
“I don’t want to use you. You’re pretty.”
Disbelief written all over his features, Sungjong’s mind whirled to process this absurdity. He inched closer to the wall, putting more space between them. “Did you just… Seriously call me pretty?”
“Yeah, you are. Strange but nice. I’m sorry.”
Suddenly Sungjong experienced deja vu as Myungsoo’s shadow leaned in to place a kiss on his mouth. It didn’t feel wrong like the incident with Hoya had been and Sungjong wondered why Myungsoo had decided against it.
It didn’t make him feel abnormal at all. In fact, a moment later Sungjong discovered that he didn’t feel much anything, except for the soft press of lips against lips.
“My head is pounding,” Myungsoo whispered when Sungjong drew back but then the older dove in for another kiss, breathing deeply through his nose and catching the inexperienced junior off guard.
There was no heat in it, even as Myungsoo cradled Sungjong’s face in his hands and shifted closer. But there was plenty of confusion and a lot of fear for what might happen once they stopped.
A reality-check was the last thing Myungsoo desired at that moment.
So they did not speak about it at all, Myungsoo giving Sungjong a fragile smile that spoke of tiny little hopes and unfulfilled wishes before resting his head back against the pillow and drifting off to sleep.
Sungjong stayed awake for a while longer, counting the cracks in the ceiling and the nights he had left to spend in that room, an odd taste lingering on his lips.
Part 3/3
Part 1/3
“Why did you leave?” Myungsoo asked on the following day, out of breath from jogging to catch up with Sungjong after the junior’s lessons had ended. “I was looking all over for you - I bought you a backstage pass, didn’t you notice? You could’ve come hang out with us. I waited for you.”
Sungjong’s messenger bag banged against his hip as he whirled around to face the older. “Ah, Myungsoo - I. You… Said the ticket was a freebie, though?”
Myungsoo bent over at the waist, hands on his knees and things scattered around him so Sungjong couldn’t see the panic flicker on his features. He breathed heavily for a moment, and then looked up through his bangs.
“Caught me, huh? Well, actually, I just... Really wanted you to be there.”
The look on Sungjong’s face could be described as perfect blankness as he considered the situation. He could count the times they had spoken to each other on one hand and while he knew Myungsoo preferred boys over girls, it simply didn’t make sense for him to be this overwhelmingly friendly.
If people help you, even if you haven’t asked them to, you thank them - was one of the things his therapist had reminded him only a few days ago after Sungjong told her of Hoya and favours and parties, leaving out the ‘payment’ part, naturally.
“Thank you?” Sungjong said with bewilderment.
Myungsoo breathed out with relief, straightening up and unzipping his jacket. “Can I walk you home? I have some time before practice and nothing to do,” he offered then, eyes crinkling into a handsome smile.
Brows still knitted with confusion, Sungjong found no reason to pass up on the opportunity to get to know the guy that interested him so he nodded and Myungsoo moved to match his steps.
“Do you live far away?” the senior wanted to know after a couple of minutes, hoping to spark up a light conversation but Sungjong simply shook his head.
“So your place is close?”
A nod later, Myungsoo gave up.
They took a right turn after the park and crossed a busy street without exchanging a word. Sungjong was sweating bullets and not only because of the late-summer sun. Though he had never cared much about his poor-ish living conditions, he felt slightly ashamed as they approached the complex of apartment buildings he lived in.
“Hey! Sungjong, wait up!”
He’d been hurrying to get this over with, but Myungsoo was carrying his guitar case and duffel bag along with his backpack so he fell behind. Sungjong apologized quickly, even attempted to relieve Myungsoo from one of his bags but the senior refused.
“How else am I going to impress you?”
Sungjong had learned to flirt back with Hoya, but Myungsoo was a whole other case, mostly because Sungjong could never see the lines coming, nor did he expect to get hit on. But Myungsoo was proving him wrong in more ways the one, he wasn’t as simple as Sungjong thought he would be.
“Did you like our music, by the way?” Myungsoo asked, just as Sungjong belatedly replied to his earlier question - “I’m not easy to impress.”
A quiet staring match ensued, ending with Myungsoo breaking out into a grin. “I bet.”
Kicking a pebble to the curb, Sungjong smoothed out his jacket, painfully aware of what a bad conversational partner he was being. For the life of it, he couldn’t figure out what prompted Myungsoo to keep showering him with attention.
“It was a rhetorical question, though, you didn’t need to answer that,” the older pointed out, noticing how miffled Sungjong was. “But really, what did you think of us?”
“You were... Okay?”
Myungsoo laughed at his careful tone, shaking his head with mirth. “I knew it. I’m guessing I should take that as a compliment, coming from you. I really wish you would’ve stayed for a while longer, though, I wanted to introduce you to the guys.”
By then, Sungjong was pretty much in a state of permanent perturbation. “Guys? What guys? Why?”
Placing his duffle bag on the pavement as they waited for a traffic light to turn green, Myungsoo hummed to himself, processing the question. He hadn’t really thought of the reason.
“I... Well, I thought you guys could be friends? They’d like a kid like you.”
The cars came to a halt and Sungjong stepped on the crosswalk, Myungsoo hoisting his bag back up on his left shoulder and following.
“Like me?”
Seeing the chance, Myungsoo decided to use it and since Sungjong was staring up ahead, counting the floors and then noticing he’d left his bedroom window open, he didn’t see Myungsoo’s mouth forming several different words at once.
“Yeah, like you,” Myungsoo affirmed warmly. “Different, you know. I like you.”
A pregnant pause lodged itself between them. Sungjong wondered if he was supposed to answer with the same but then Myungsoo started laughing again, genuinely, as if he just witnessed something extraordinarily hilarious.
They reached Sungjong’s block of flats, a building that stretched high into the sky and had rows of cars lined up in front of it with Myungsoo beaming in a way that must’ve pained his cheeks. Sungjong didn’t comment on this, though, preferring the silence, as loaded as it was.
“I live here,” he said, stopping in front of the steps leading up to the main door. “So. Bye.”
“See you later!” Myungsoo shouted after him cheerily and on his way up, Sungjong glanced over his shoulder to find the man studying the building, as if engraving it to his memory. Huffing, Sungjong opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, shaking off what had been the most awkward walk home he’d ever had.
-
Two days later, Sungjong met Myungsoo at the library, by the manga aisle. He had half a mind to walk right past the senior in his rush to pick out another book and his shadow did the opposite, boldly approaching the older. It wasn’t that Myungsoo no longer interested him, but talking to the older was somehow stressful and bothersome at times and Myungsoo was always too observant for Sungjong to feel at ease around him.
But then Sungjong noticed the book Myungsoo was currently immersed in - a shojo manga with a pink flowery cover - and snorted. He wasn’t even surprised.
“Sungjong?”
Myungsoo looked a little pale, perhaps from embarrassment - Sungjong concluded, as Myungsoo quickly hid the manga behind his back. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, reading?”
A shadow of Myungsoo’s facepalmed while Myungsoo himself simply blinked, taking in the small pile of books Sungjong was carrying. “Oh. Right. Of course.”
“And you?” Sungjong inquired out of politeness, as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough.
“Same.”
Just like that, Sungjong ran out of things to say, so with a simple “Okay, bye,” he made his way over to the foreign literature section. Myungsoo wasn’t satisfied, though, and after shoving the manga back to its original place - it was the fourth volume, he kept in mind, planning to finish it later - he stalked after the younger.
“So what are you going to read today?”
If Sungjong was startled by Myungsoo’s sudden materialization next to him, he didn’t show it, fingers slipping down the spines of various novels before picking one.
“This one,” responded Sungjong, holding out Albert Camus’ “The stranger”.
It was no lie that Myungsoo felt slightly ashamed for enjoying silly romance mangas in comparison of Sungjong’s interest in the classics. Thus, he changed the topic.
“Are you always hanging out here by yourself, Sungjong?” the guitarist asked, a teasing edge in his voice to conceal his wounded pride. He tagged along with Sungjong as the junior walked to his usual table. “Don’t you have, like… Friends?”
Sungjong was still a bit lost in the world of Fahrenheit 451, the previous book he had read, so he replied dazedly, thoughts far away, “I have. People. They’re useful to me, I’m useful to them. People.”
Had Sungjong looked up, he would have seen a fading clone fistpumping, but his attention was on the sturdy bookshelves around them and Myungsoo schooled his expression into one of mild approval.
“Well, I want to be your friend.”
Taking a deep breath - not because he was shocked or flattered but in preparation of diving into yet another fictional realm, Sungjong opened the book. “Okay.”
Amused by Sungjong’s nonchalant acceptance, Myungsoo sat with him for a while, playing games on his phone. Besides the sound of pages being carefully turned, nothing disrupted the peace and Myungsoo soon grew bored with the silence.
His attempts of capturing Sungjong’s fancy failed every time he tried to talk to the teen and he wound up surrendering, flipping through the last pages of Seifuku no Kataomoi in the darkest corner of the manga section before leaving.
So immersed in his reading, Sungjong was, that he paid no mind to a see-through Myungsoo standing by the table minutes after the real one had left.
-
A whole week later, after the second period and moments before the third, Myungsoo leaned closer to Sungjong conspiratorially, eyes darting left and right as if he was about to share something particularly scandalous. “Sungjong. Listen - have you ever been to the Hill?”
The Hill meaning a district in the city generally known to be inhabited by the lowest of people, swarming with criminals and prostitution. The nickname had nothing to do with topography and was actually derived from the Hilston Detention Facility, a notorious prison located on the eastern edge of the city.
It was generally a sketchy place, which law-abiding citizens avoided even in daylight.
Minjung’s love hotel was near the very centre of the Hill, wedged between a gay bar and a club in which a guy was shot on the previous month and the Sphyre wasn’t actually far from there, in a gray area, no-man’s land separating the Hill from the city’s urban core.
Nodding absentmindedly, Sungjong slammed his locker shut. A moment later it occurred to him that it was a strange thing to ask someone you hardly knew. Especially out of the blue the way Myungsoo had spewed it on him.
“Why?”
“No reason, I was just wondering,” Myungsoo said too quickly, a shadow of his leaving, nearly skipping with elation. “I noticed that you live close to that place and a friend of mine said that some people from our school hang out there.”
Sungjong tilted his head to the side, an idea blooming in his head. “Is still about the rumours? Juvie and drugs or whatever?”
“Nah, nah,” Myungsoo laughed, clutching the strap of his bag and walking backwards in the empty hall. The bell rang shrilly and the last teenagers loitering in the corridors made a mad dash for their classrooms. Myungsoo was oddly calm, taking his time to wink at Sungjong. “I’m just trying to figure you out, bit by bit.”
And even though Sungjong would have liked to believe that, would have liked to be figured out, even, something about the encounter left him uneasy. He sighed, picking up his backpack and heading towards the main exit.
Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling like studying.
-
It didn’t take long for Sungjong to get used to Myungsoo’s constant presence, although he never really relaxed around the older, still growing anxious whenever Myungsoo’s eyes became sullen and it seemed like he was pushing himself to talk to Sungjong.
He was willing to ignore it, much like he ignored most of the world, but it became considerably more difficult after he happened to overhear a rather strange conversation.
Sungjong had a hunch that Myungsoo’s behaviour was, at times, calculated. He didn’t bother trying to guess what this could mean, remembering the kiss in the library. And while he was curious, Sungjong was never one to get mixed up in other people’s business, plus the lack of shadows Myungsoo produced was refreshing.
It was okay, Sungjong was sure, even if Myungsoo’s demeanour was practiced and that was the cause for the absence of hesitation and spontaneity-induced clones.
But then he stumbled upon the most unlikely confrontation - Hoya, who had been avoiding Sungjong for weeks, looming over that friend of Myungsoo’s, the one he uselessly pined after. Despite the senior being taller than Hoya, the dancer managed to look positively menacing and Sungyeol hunched his shoulders defensively.
“-none of your business,” Sungyeol grumbled, torn between bafflement, irritation and mild fear.
Hoya snorted.
“He is. He is my business, though.”
“What are-”
“Not Myungsoo. Not him. I don’t give half a fuck about that shitty friend of yours,” Hoya spat threateningly. Sungjong was used to the dancer acting like a puppy, moping when he was rejected but perking up when receiving a smile. He had never seen Hoya’s muscles tense intimidatingly under his sleeveless top, witnessed his thick brows furrowing with a piercing glare.
“But Sungjong. He is my fucking business and you better stop whatever this is.”
Sungyeol gulped but squared his jaw. “Dude, you’re overreacting. It’s not like we’re planning to rape the kid or something.”
That was definitely not the right thing to say and Hoya made sure Sungyeol was aware of that by resting a hand centimeters away from Sungyeol’s neck.
“Shut up. You don’t know him. Just leave him out of your little games.”
The younger’s already owlish eyes rounded with wonder. Sungyeol was never too good at keeping his mouth shut.
“What are you, jealous? Jealous that little Sungjongie is spending all this time with Myungsoo? That he might like Myungsoo better than you?” Sungyeol taunted with a bite in his words and Hoya responded appropriately - by grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him into the cold stone wall of the grocery store behind the library Sungjong frequented.
Sungjong had been on his way home, a rattled copy of the ”Decameron” tucked under his arm but now, he was cautiously taking a seat on the paved ground, all thoughts of calling his mom and making something for dinner abandoned.
Grunting in pain, Sungyeol lost some of the fight in him, but his stare was as accusing as ever. “Hit a sore spot, did I?”
“As if I’d care about something like that,” Hoya muttered, fisting the fabric of Sungyeol’s jacket. “Just call that Myungsoo guy off. Quit it.”
“Oh, but you do care.”
“Shut up.”
“But you do,” Sungyeol pressed on with surprising persistence. He seemed to gain courage from the way Hoya faltered whenever Sungjong was mentioned. “Or do you always make shit up to beat up random guys?”
“I’m not making anything up.”
Sungyeol swatted Hoya’s hands off him. “What the fuck is your problem, then?”
“You,” the older said, holding on to the remnants of his anger but taking a step back. “You and your little fucking wannabe emo lapdog.”
Feeling in control, Sungyeol fished out a crushed packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the depths of his pockets. He faked a look of exasperation, lighting a cancer stick. “Can’t the kid pick his own friends? They seem to be getting along just well.”
“Not if the friends are lying shits.”
“Ooh, ooh, such dirty words. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth of yours?” the younger mocked after taking a long drag. The temptation to poke fun at Hoya was too great to resist. “No, no, more importantly - do you kiss Sungjong with that mouth?”
Hoya winced visibly and Sungyeol held back a laugh. For a moment, it seemed like Hoya was going to attack him once more, but the dancer decided against it - only Sungjong witnessing the sickening crunch of Sungyeol’s head against the wall.
But instead of inflicting a possibly lethal injury on Sungyeol, Hoya sucked in a deep breath, changing the topic.
“What do you want from him?”
“None of-”
“Don’t try that bullshit on me, I wasn’t born yesterday,” Hoya half-growled, “if you want to walk away from here unharmed, you better start fucking ‘fessing up.”
Exhaling clouds of smoke, Sungyeol chuckled glumly. “Well, technically, you already hurt me.”
“Wuss.”
“And I bet you already know what we want. After all, I heard you’re the one that benefits the most from your... Connection. With Sungjong. I heard he gives generous discounts to the people he likes.”
Freezing for a second, Hoya kept his face conscientiously vacant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you, now?” Sungyeol asked with a smirk, tapping the butt of his cigarette against the window ledge half a meter to his right. “Well, in that case, I probably shouldn’t say anything. Have a nice day, Howon-sshi.”
Intending to brush past Hoya, Sungyeol expected the older to stop him somehow and he wasn’t disappointed. Hoya squeezed his upper arm tight enough to bruise, efficiently cutting Sungyeol off.
Sungjong averted his eyes, sick of seeing their shadows brawl.
“Who told you?”
Allowing himself a victorious “Aha!” Sungyeol escaped from Hoya’s grasp before replying. “Woohyun shared the secret with Key, who told a few, myself included.”
“And what-”
“Well, now that you know the purpose, I’m sure you can guess the plan?”
Hoya seemed to shrink a little as it dawned to him. “Wow, fuck.”
“Yeah. We’re just a couple of guys looking for some fun, you know. And precious Sungjongie... Just happens to have a few grams he can probably spare.”
Done processing this new and alarming information, the fury in Hoya sparked to a flame once again. But this time, when shot a burning glare at Sungyeol, the younger didn’t cower away. “Stop it. Tell Myungsoo to back the fuck off. He’s just a fucking teenager, for crying out loud.”
To this, Sungyeol sighed, his expression molding into one of fake distress. “Yes, I agree, that this is too troublesome and I’d really rather-”
“Leave him alone.”
“Yeah, do that, but...” Sungyeol paused sullenly.
“What?”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit too late?” he questioned Hoya, rushing to reply before that dancer had a chance to. “He’s probably attached already. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to end like this. Neither did Myungsoo. But do you really think it’d be better to have Myung stop abruptly than to... Wait it out? Like, they could be friends until we graduate, you know? With some tiny, uh, benefits. And then they‘d just grow apart. Happens to everyone.”
“I still don’t approve of this.”
“Mm, neither do I.” Sungyeol checked his phone before snickering. “But damn, wouldn’t it be a waste to quit it now? Like, do you realize how much effort Myungsoo has put in to get close to him? The kid hardly responds!”
The cruel mask Hoya had been wearing throughout the conversation cracked at that, allowing a small smile through. But that was before the dancer remembered the situation he was in, that Myungsoo was using Sungjong.
“Fuck. You morons. Just… Don’t hurt him.”
Awfully pleased at having gotten out of the encounter with Hoya unscathed, Sungyeol snorted a laugh. “So worried for the little one, aren’t we? Don’t worry, Myungsoo can be very... Gentle.”
Hoya rolled his eyes, choosing not to think of what Sungyeol hinted at.
“Just go before I change my mind.”
Sungyeol left with a bounce in his steps and Hoya buried his face in his hands, muttering curses under his breath. Sungjong saw a transparent clone hit the wall and another one paced back and forth, seemingly shouting unintelligible words into his phone.
Figuring Hoya could use some privacy, Sungjong dusted off his pants and walked off, thoughts swirling around the human nature and what strange creatures they all were.
He didn’t even feel betrayed, Sungjong simply supposed he ought to start paying more attention.
-
There was an unsaid “I told you so” in the stale air of Minjung’s office that evening as Sungjong retold the woman what had happened. He still had his school bag and the book he lent with him, having taken a detour on his way home.
She was smoking again, only half-listening to Sungjong while shuffling through some contracts she needed to sign.
“So what are you going to do about him?” Minjung asked patiently once Sungjong was done talking, peering up at him through thick curls.
“Nothing.”
That made her pause, a stack of documents she needed to sort in her hand. Shaking her head lightly, she gave up on working for the time being. “I’m in no position to judge, but... Doll.That doesn’t sound right,” Minjung said through pursed lips, holding the cigarette between her teeth.
Sungjong fiddled with his thumbs, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair with his back pin straight. Despite claiming not to care about Myungsoo’s deception, he looked wretchedly uneasy.
“You can let it out, you know,” the woman said with a compassionate smile, observing Sungjong through a haze. The teen didn’t comprehend, pouting unconsciously until she elaborated. “If you’re upset, you can just say so. I’m not going to judge even if you burst out in tears or something,” it was more probable that she’d be immensely aghast, but Sungjong didn’t need to know that.
“It’s okay.”
But Sungjong cracked his knuckles and studied the stains on the floor instead of opening up.
“You don’t have to be friends with him, you know? It’s okay to be mistaken in someone, you couldn’t have known.”
And finally, Sungjong’s shell broke a little more. He looked helplessly perplexed, shifting in his seat restlessly. “Well, yeah, but. I just don’t get it. I was wrong about him. I- He really seemed like such a simple person. I didn’t see this coming at all.”
Minjung made herself comfortable as it seemed Sungjong had lots to say, now that he’d started.
“Myungsoo... He’s kind of vain, you know? I thought he wanted to be liked, made me a personal challenge or something. I didn’t mind. Even if it was just so he’d feel good about himself. Eh. I didn’t mind being a charity project, if that was how he took it, and he seemed to need the company more than I did.”
Fighting back a grin, because it was such a Sungjong-like way of seeing things, Minjung took a sip of the cold coffee she’d forgotten all about when the ‘tax collectors’ came to have a chat. The paper cup had been pushed to the edge of the desk as she’d scrambled to find the keys to her safe. Now, hours later, the cheap americano tasted like cat piss with a tang. She drank it anyway.
She wondered if Sungjong had been eating properly, his wrist bones looking much too prominent to be healthy.
“Now... I just don’t know anymore. It’s not like I mind being used - I mean, I kind of signed up for it, didn’t I? But it’s weird.” Sungjong sighed, head hanging low. “... I thought he was pure. I thought I would become purer, too, if I got to know him.”
Wheezing at Sungjong’s choice of words, Minjung dropped both the now empty cup and her half-finished cigarette. “And yet he was the dirtiest of them all, huh?”
To her surprise, the teen didn’t agree.
“No, I don’t think so. I just don’t get it. Why go so far for something like... Weed? I feel like I’m missing something.”
As much as Minjung wanted to comment about Sungjong’s uncharacteristic drive to make an effort to see things through, she thought it would be wiser not to. “What if he’s just a rotten character?”
Sungjong frowned. “I think I would’ve gathered that much by now. And... Even if he is. If Myungsoo’s rotten, as you said. Well- aren’t we all?”
There were bluish marks on Minjung’s arms from the members of the syndicate she worked with had held her in place while cleaning out most of her vault. She laughed bitterly.
“So you’re going to keep meeting him?”
“I think so, yeah,” the teen confirmed, sounding more sure of himself after voicing out his thoughts on the matter.
“And... If he does actually start making demands? Doll? What will you do then?”
Slouching as a brand new wave of confusion hit him, Sungjong tried to imagine Myungsoo asking him - he wouldn’t force him, Sungjong was sure -but the scene seemed ridiculous, Myungsoo had never shown any interest in illegal substances or even parties, alcohol.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, meeting Minjung’s eyes. “I’ll see when the time comes?”
The woman didn’t say she wouldn’t provide him if the need came, it would have been a lie anyway.
“Be careful, doll.”
A nod was all Sungjong gave in response, the exchange becoming too deep for his liking. Minjung seemed to be itching to get back to her business and realizing that he’d been complaining for the past ten minutes, he guessed it was time for a change of topic.
“Are you busy?”
Minjung cleared her throat, her gaze straying from the letter on top, an unsigned notice of dismissal. “Yeah, kinda,” she shot Sungjong an apologetic look. “I had to let some people go, so now I’m kind of empty-handed.”
“Who?”
“Nora and Seungjun. Nora got pregnant. I can’t blame them for wanting to start a family somewhere far away from here. God, I would do the same.”
“Oh, really?” Sungjong exclaimed with the minimum amount of passion required to make an exclamation, knowing all the workers of the hotel by name from his various and almost habitual visits.
“Yeah, it’s going to be strange not having Nora around... Not to mention, I’ll need to find some new people to keep the place going.”
She scrunched up her nose in distaste, having grown accustomed to the personnel she’d had for the past months. Sungjong was worried for a whole different reason - Nora had been kind to him in the past and he felt it was time to return the favor.
“Keep an eye on them, though, if you can,” he said in a small voice, barely audible.
Not understanding Sungjong’s intentions, Minjung shook her head. “No, doll. I can’t. They probably want nothing to do with this place after they leave. As much as I’d like to keep in touch with Nora...”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
Sungjong was caught up in an inner debate, the pros and cons of making accusations that could be false swirling in his head. Then he remembered the flowery smell of Nora’s sweater after she’d lent it to him that one morning when he showed up drenched to the bone.
He took a deep breath. “Seungjun, he. Might lean towards aggressiveness.”
The clock ticked fifteen times with Minjung staring at him quizzically before realization came to her. “Oh, you. You’ve... Seen, uh, something?”
After all the abnormal things he’d told Minjung about, it didn’t make sense for Sungjong to be afraid of her reaction. Still, he was, because this was serious. This time it wasn’t a random scandalous act he’d witnessed on his way to school. He could only manage a nod, palms sweating.
Minjung blinked slowly, a flicker of disbelief mixing with pride on her pleasant features.
“Thank you.”
-
Sungjong was in the middle of re-reading George Orwell’s “1984” during his lunch break, headphones on and the rest of the world muted when Myungsoo approached him. It had been two days since the truth had shown its ugly head and Sungjong wasn’t sure if he wanted to face the senior yet.
“Hey - I’ve been looking for you.”
Myungsoo sat down, taking the risk of getting into people’s way. There was a gross-looking brownish puddle on the plastic table, undoubtedly having dripped from the rack of trash-filled trays right next to them.
“Hey? Sungjong?” he waved his hand in front of Sungjong’s face but the younger hesitated, eyes following his own shadow out of the lunch hall before reluctantly turning to Myungsoo. “Earth to Sungjongie. You seem kinda out if it, everything okay?”
Sungjong removed his headphones, leaving them dangling around his neck. “Excuse me?”
“Ah-” someone bumped against Myungsoo’s chair and the man’s smile faltered, “-um, I was just wondering if you were planning to go to Kibum’s this Saturday?”
He looked anxious and sincere and some of the sharp-edged chunk that had been stuck in Sungjong’s chest ever since the incident with Sungyeol and Hoya evaporated. Nothing had changed and if Sungjong feigned ignorance, nothing had to change.
“Oh? No?”
But there it was, that stiffness Sungjong had noticed earlier and which apparently indicated deception. “It’s the Social Event of the Year, though, according to Kibum himself. Everyone’s going to be there. Weren’t you friends with that Hoya guy?”
Having Hoya’s name thrown into it such a short while after the man had confronted Myungsoo’s best friend made irritation boil in Sungjong. Maybe it was simply that he was more aware of it now, but it felt as if Myungsoo was unwaveringly pushing him towards something. He didn’t have to guess twice to know what it was.
“Possibly?” it wasn’t the best answer Sungjong could’ve given to such a question but only now was he actually putting some thought into his and Hoya’s relationship.
Snorting, Myungsoo sank into his seat, closer to Sungjong. “Well said. I’d like you to be there, though, Hoya or not.”
“Hm.”
Myungsoo’s grin was blindingly attractive, with dimples and rows of pearly teeth. “I half-expected you to say that it isn’t your scene. But I’m gonna go out a limb here and say that I’d be surprised?”
Sungjong didn’t laugh and the memory of their first actual conversation wasn’t as delightful as he would’ve liked. The people and their silly superficial affairs were something distant to him and Sungjong was a man of clarity, services and payments. Myungsoo had seemed to fit into his world.
“Sure,” he muttered distractedly, mind working on overdrive, the book - as usual with Myungsoo around - forgotten.
“So do you think you could come? I’d really like to see you… Somewhere else. The library can get kind of stuffy, don’t you agree? And it’s weird to talk at school. And I - I couldn’t catch you at the clubs? So why don’t we arrange to meet? Kibum’s, this Friday?”
It sounded convincing enough, except there was no reason for them to spend time together exclusively.
“No, I’m not really a party person,” he excused himself monotonously.
Without Sungjong’s permission, Myungsoo stole one of his lemon candies, unwrapping it clumsily and then wincing at the sour taste. “I’ve seen you at some parties, though? With Hoya?”
That was all Sungjong needed to confirm what he’d overheard. Wondering whether it’d be too straightforward of him to blurt out if Myungsoo wanted some marijuana or not, he nodded slowly. Myungsoo kept rolling the piece of candy he stole from one cheek to another.
“That was one of his conditions. For me to attend.”
The lemony sweet halted in Myungsoo’s mouth, then the man’s lips curled into a smirk. Perhaps the senior thought Sungjong had revealed that unthinkingly. He hadn’t.
“Well, if you went for him, you should come for me this time.”
Or maybe he had caught Sungjong staring at his mouth and misunderstood. As unlikely as that sounded, the tone Myungsoo used was definitely suggestive and his lips didn’t look dry enough to cause him to lick them quite as excessively.
“I’m- uh, really not-”
“Just think about it, okay? Promise to think about it,” Myungsoo pleaded, catching Sungyeol’s eyes from across the room and giving the guy a smile. “I need to go now. Catch you later?”
He left before Sungjong could promise him anything and the junior was grateful for that, even giving a little wave when Myungsoo looked back.
All in all, Sungjong was glad that lunch breaks were short and the seniors had their next period at the other building.
-
“You need to socialize. Give the kids your age a chance, I’m quite sure they don’t have those malicious intentions you keep imagining. Make an effort to find common interests and think about your conversational partner a little more. You’re too focused on your delusions, Sungjong. I understand it’s difficult to let go of the… Shadows. But they’re keeping you from seeing real life.”
Sungjong left the therapists’ office feeling even more troubled than before.
He couldn’t blame her for the unhelpful advice, he knew what was written in his file - although tests have not fully confirmed it, there is a high probability that the child is a pathological liar. And there was nothing Sungjong could do about it, because medical examinations had ruled out the possibility of him seeing hallucinations and his story was simply not scientifically believable.
I’m happy for you! You should go to that party. I’m proud of you for making friends - soon enough you won’t need me.
Cringing at what she’d said, indubitably aiming to sound encouraging, Sungjong headed home, passing the library on his way. On better days, he wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation of sitting down and chewing his way through a good piece of fiction but the prospect of meeting Myungsoo repelled him.
His apartment was cold and a lone fly buzzed about in the tiny kitchen. The neighbors were arguing about something loudly as Sungjong stepped out of his drenched sneakers.
The only chair he owned creaked as he sat down, backpack full of school books falling on the floor with a thump. His computer took a while to turn on and Sungjong looked through the various framed pictures on his desk. There were photos of his mother with her new family, his little brother, his baby half-sister, the wedding Sungjong wasn’t invited to; all artfully scattered around by Sungjong’s mother when she visited him a few years ago.
A strange feeling arose in him at the sight of the people he called his family, smiling up at him from behind a film of dust, call it premonition or unreasonable longing.
Once his aged computer had finished whirring, Sungjong checked his e-mail, not expecting anything but spam. He was shocked to discover a letter from his mother, dated three days back, mainly because he didn’t think his mother even knew his e-mail address.
Sungjong pouted, speculating over the likeliness of her getting tired of his monosyllabic answers and choosing not to talk to him at all. Then he clicked to read.
A few paragraphs later, Sungjong thought he might be going to the party after all.
-
Kibum didn’t seem surprised to see Sungjong on his doorstep, giving the younger a cat-like smile, thickly lined eyes curving cleverly. The man was dressed in neons and leather, heavy chains around his neck and Sungjong felt self conscious of his graphic tee and simple jeans that clung to his legs like second skin. He hadn’t worn them in years, he’d only bought them because a shop assistant insisted he looked magnificent, but they weren’t too comfortable.
“How wonderful. You made it,” was all Kibum said, gesturing for him to enter and guiding him to the living room.
The people he passed stared at him wide-eyed, having difficulties believing that the weird quiet kid was led around by Kim Kibum personally.
Sungjong kept his gaze on the floor, aware of the looks he was receiving. This was the first time he’d arrived to a party while it was starting, not when everyone was in various states of intoxication, hardly noticing his slim figure sneaking through the crowds to find Hoya or some other “client”. He also wasn’t used to making a fuss about his appearance but on that night, he could say that he at least tried.
“What’s he doing here?” someone whispered on his right and a transparent clone blocked his way, but Sungjong didn’t lift his eyes and walked straight through it.
“Key, man, it’s been ages!”
Seeing the emergence of a short man with a bright smile and silver hair from the mass of people gathered in Kibum’s living room as an opportunity to shy away from the flamboyant man, Sungjong tried to move away. Kibum reacted quickly, flinging an arm around his shoulders before giving the man he called Jonghyun an awkward half-hug - awkward because he still kept Sungjong attached to his side.
They patted each other on the back and Kibum spazzed over the man’s new piercings, squeezing Sungjong’s upper arm unintentionally while Jonghyun grinned broadly. Sungjong had never seen Kibum as un-intimidating as he was then, with Jonghyun’s shadow wrapping itself around him rather intimately.
“-thinkin’ ‘bout getting an industrial soon, but i’m kinda broke for now, spent my last bucks on the ride here,” the man said and Sungjong was close enough to see the adoration etched on Kibum’s fine features, “who’s the lil’ kitten, tho’?”
Kibum gave the junior a nudge. “Sungjongie. For a face as pretty as his, he can be quite scary. You should be careful, Jjong.”
“Just like you, huh?”
The people around them seemed to gravitate towards the shining duo and even Sungjong had to admit that they looked cool, standing together like that. Kibum considered hitting Jonghyun, Sungjong witnessed, but under a layer of concealer, his cheeks were tinted pink.
“Still a charmer, aren’t you?”
Jonghyun tilted his head, ignoring the overlookers, and muttered softly, “Only for you.”
Then someone new came along, a teen about Sungjong’s age with rounded cheeks and thick lips that sent Kibum squealing with joy. To Sungjong’s relief, Kibum forgot about him for a moment and tackled the newest arrival in a hug, telling Jonghyun how this was the best present ever.
By the time Kibum let the poor guy go, Sungjong was two rooms away, standing by the kitchen counter and watching a group of college-aged girls empty a selection of bottles into a large bowl. Some of them were already unsteady on their feet, giggling dumbly.
“Woohyun shared his secret with Key, who told a few, myself included,” was what Sungyeol had said and Sungjong wondered if it was also why Kibum suddenly knew his name. If so, Sungjong would make sure to stay clear of the older.
“Boy, are you looking for a drink?” a girl in a teeny tiny dress and impressive cleavage addressed him with a sleazy smile. “Or are you just keeping us ladies company?”
Sungjong exited quickly
A large flat-screen TV was on in the cinema room - Sungjong was reminded of how wealthy Kibum was - and having nothing to do at his first and last party with these people, Sungjong settled down on the floor in front of it. The couches were packed with bodies, some people making out, others taking naps, few exceptions actually watching the movie.
It was a stupid one, called the American Pie, something Sungjong would have never wasted his time on but with its sexual jokes, it apparently set the right mood for various couples.
The music from the main hall was too loud for him to hear the dialogue and his English wasn’t good enough for him to read the subtitles as fast as they appeared and vanished so it definitely wasn’t the best experience.
Not to mention, he missed the ending completely, because Myungsoo came plopping down next to him, passing him a red plastic cup that Sungjong promptly rejected.
“Punch? It’s pretty much whiskey with some juice.”
His breath stank and he leaned into Sungjong heavily, eyes squinted at the screen.
“What is this shit?” he slurred loudly, placing the cup down in front of them with a shaky hand. “It’s too boring, I’m sleepy.”
Then he twisted his upper body to look up at Sungjong, the teen staring back. Myungsoo was a mess - gelled hair flat against one side of his head, kohl smudged around bloodshot eyes, skin glistening from perspiration, a wet stain on the leg of his black jeans. His fingers was sticky when they came up to brush Sungjong’s fringe out of his eyes but the teen didn’t have the heart to swat it away with Myungsoo looking so broken.
“Sungjong,” the senior breathed dreamily, pressing his palm to Sungjong’s cheek. “I’m so happy you came, Sungjong. I wanted to see you.”
Sungjong’s blood ran cold- Myungsoo looked like he was about to cry.
The man blinked thrice and averted his gaze, just like Sungjong did when the shadows became too much, and perhaps he was fighting some shadows of his own. Soon, Myungsoo sighed, letting his arm drop on his lap and turning away, swallowing around a lump stuck in his throat.
“Let’s go somewhere, Sungjong. Come with me.”
And while Sungjong didn’t mind leaving, it was easier said than done with Myungsoo’s legs rebelling against him and refusing to bear his weight. Sungjong offered him a hand but Myungsoo took him whole, resting heavily against the younger.
“Where do you want to go?” Sungjong asked once Myungsoo was more or less stable, half-dragging him to the hall. “Out?”
Burping quietly, Myungsoo let his unfocused eyes study the surroundings and the people they passed, missing Sungjong’s question but not protesting against the direction they took. There was someone on the living room table, peeling off his shirt to the hollers of the crowd and beat of the dance track playing in the background. Sungjong recognized him as the one that Kibum had glomped earlier.
“Let’s go,” Myungsoo pleaded, with a slight whine in his voice, glaring at something in the corner. “C’mon.”
He tried to take charge and pull Sungjong to the front door but tripped on the edge of a carpet and nearly crashed into a cupboard, giving Sungjong plenty of time to see Sungyeol straddled by his girlfriend, their lips locked.
There was a half-sob mixed in all of Myungsoo’s cursing while he got back to his feet. “’m really drunk,” he said as an explanation and Sungjong placed a hand on his back gingerly. “And fuckin’ stupid.”
“Are you?”
“I just… You wouldn’t even believe it right now. Sungjongie.”
They managed to stumble out of the house without any problems, the chilly air bringing goosebumps to Sungjong’s bare arms. He figured he would go home soon, finding the party uninteresting, so he helped Myungsoo sit on the steps with the other drunks and smokers.
“Is this okay?” he asked, wondering if he could just leave the man there.
Myungsoo cringed, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I feel so fucking gross. I don’t think I… Haven’t been drunk like this before.”
Sungjong heaved a sigh, realizing that Myungsoo didn’t understand much at that moment about who he was with or what was said. Squashing the quilt, he decided to leave.
“You’ll be okay, yeah?” he prodded, just to placate his conscience. Myungsoo gawked at him blankly and Sungjong took that as an answer, rolling his eyes. He turned towards the parking lot, but only got to take a single step, stopped by Myungsoo holding onto the tail of his shirt.
“Sungjong. No. Wait.”
The man opened and closed his mouth several times, forgetting what he wanted to say and having troubles putting it into words after remembering. Sungjong watched his own clone hurry through the rows of cars, one posher than the next, struggling to shove his freezing hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans.
“Can I come with you?” Myungsoo asked, stretching out the fabric of Sungjong’s shirt, not that either of them noticed. He frowned, looking down at his feet and back up at Sungjong. “Can I… Come to your place? I don’t want to, uh, go home. I… My mom. I don’t want her to see me like this. Are your parents home?”
“No.”
Myungsoo shot him the most confident smile he could muster up, “So I can?”
It was pathetic.
Unable to imagine Myungsoo in the nearly vacant space of his apartment, Sungjong almost refused. Then he recalled a lecture his therapist had once given him about sympathy and pity, being a good samaritan and doing at least one good deed per day.
“Okay. ”
-
From: Kim Hyejoon
Date: 18/09/2013 17:32
To: Lee Sungjong
Subject:
My dearest son. May I still call you that? There are many things I need to tell you so I hope you will find the patience to read this letter thoroughly.
Firstly, I would like to apologize for not having contacted you recently. We were very busy making arrangements that I will tell you about later. That doesn’t excuse me, of course.
I haven’t been a good mother to you. Some would say that I haven’t been a mother at all - but more than anything, I would like to try. Sungjongie, my dearest, if you’d be willing to give me a chance, I would love to be your mother again.
Many things have happened in the past, things that I regret wholeheartedly. I have been incredibly selfish and I have ostracized you from your own family, I know. At that time, I thought that would be the best for you. We all thought some time away from the people - us - that seemed to hurt you so bad would help you… Heal. I was wrong.
But now, albeit belatedly, I’ve acknowledged what a horrible person I have been, that calling you twice a week doesn’t make me a mother. Neither does sending e-mails, but forgive me, I was afraid I wouldn’t find the words, if I was speaking to you directly.
I don’t deserve you, I never have, but after all these years of blaming myself for what happened, I would like to try to fix our relationship.
What I wanted to tell you about - we’ve been planning this for a while - is that we’re going to move to Busan. Sunghwa got a very well paying job there and your brother agreed that it would be best as we went as a family. We already picked out a lovely apartment and we’re moving in two weeks. I didn’t tell you earlier, because I wanted to surprise you. See, Sungjong, you have a room there. It has a large window with a beautiful view over a park, on the 7th floor.
You can pick all the colors and we can redesign everything - or you can have a different room if you want, but what I want to say is that we would really love to have you living with us. It breaks my heart not to know if you’re eating properly and sleeping enough.
There’s a really nice school not far away from our new home, it has many clubs and activities to choose from (you could even continue your piano studies!). It’s known for its students having a very high average grade. Would it be a big problem for you to change schools in the middle of the period? If you agree to live with us, of course.
I already talked to your therapist, and she thinks that such a change would be wonderful for you and promised to find you someone to rely on there, if needed. And we all, we’re fully prepared to support you, whatever happens.
We love you, Sungjong. I love you. Your little sister can’t wait to meet you.
Please reply soon so we can work out the details.
All my love,
Mom.
-
From: Lee Sungjong
Date: 23/09/2013 19:47
To: Kim Hyejoon
Subject: Re:
Okay.
-
“I need to pee.”
Letting go of Myungsoo’s elbow, Sungjong huffed. This was the third time they had to stop on their way to Sungjong’s apartment to have Myungsoo relieve his bladder. Sungjong was thankful that the crisp air had sobered him up enough to stand up by himself, even though in this semi-drunk state, Myungsoo was almost intolerably chatty.
Myungsoo shuffled into a narrow alleyway between a little fast food restaurant and a bookshop, whistling a cheerful tune and keeping a hand on the wall before him. Just out of politeness, Sungjong turned his back to him, even though in the low streetlights he really couldn’t see anything.
“Imagine if there was a corpse here somewhere,” Myungsoo drawled out, laughing as if he’d made the best joke in the world. He could practically hear Sungjong rolling his eyes but he peed on the bags of trash lined up by backdoor of the restaurant anyway, mumbling “you can never be careful enough. Wouldn’t want any of them zombies.”
“I saved you,” he declared once he was done tidying himself up, walking back to the street and attempting to smirk.
Sungjong gave him an entirely unimpressed look, opting not to ask. “Let’s just go.”
But Myungsoo stopped on his tracks, sloppy smile falling off his face at the sight of Sungjong standing by a lamp post, bathed in it’s golden glow. The teen was shivering and hugging himself and it was somehow adorable.
“Come on,” Sungjong whined.
“Do you want my jacket?” Myungsoo suggested with remarkable coherence after arriving at Sungjong’s side. The younger pursed his lips, torn. They weren’t far from his place so technically he could manage but his teeth were starting to clatter. A transparent hand reached out for it.
To make the decision easier, Sungjong asked, “Don’t you need it yourself? You’ll be cold, then.”
Again, Myungsoo chortled as if Sungjong had said something hilarious, open-mouthed and all. Still laughing, he shrugged off his jacket without a moment of doubt and handed it to Sungjong.
“Drunk people don’t get cold.”
Cracking a small smile, Sungjong accepted the garment but took a step back when Myungsoo moved to help him - it hadn’t been a minute since Myungsoo had his hands in his pants. The lining was soft and silky, smelling of aftershave and Sungjong wrapped the jacket around himself as tight as he could. Myungsoo was obviously broader than he was so it didn’t fit too well, but at least it was warm.
The rest of the walk to Sungjong’s two-room apartment was uneventful with Myungsoo making random childish comments and occasionally tripping over his own feet. Luckily, Sungjong’s apartment building had an elevator so it didn’t take them long to get to Sungjong’s floor - Myungsoo almost fell asleep only twice.
Sungjong had some troubles digging out his keys from the back pocket of his pants, but soon they were in and the junior turned up the heating before locking the door.
He helped Myungsoo out of his shoes and into his bedroom without any complaints from the older, whose eyes were half-shut by the time his head hit the pillow. Myungsoo didn’t doze off immediately, though.
“Sungjong?” he asked quietly once the teen returned to the room with a large bowl - simple precautions can sometimes save your bedsheets from vomit. He set it down on the floor before pulling out some extra blankets from the closet, ones he’d never needed before.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry about everything, you know?”
“Why?”
Sungjong worked on making the bed comfortable enough for the both of them since he didn’t own a couch and wasn’t planning to sleep on the floor. Meanwhile Myungsoo started pouring out sentences after sentences, as if a dam had broke and let it all loose. His usually attractive face was scrunched up in pain and he dirtied Sungjong’s pillow case with eyeliner and snot.
“It’s so dumb, you know?” Myungsoo murmured, a heap of a miserable man on Sungjong’s bed. “I don’t even know anymore. Everything’s fucked up. I’m just… Such a fucking moron.”
Standing on his tiptoes in search for spare sheets, Sungjong gave no reaction.
“I’m gay.”
Now that, Sungjong couldn’t ignore, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Myungsoo curled up into a ball, shirt riding up to show a sliver of skin. “I like men. Seriously. Cock and ass. That’s all that gets me going. I’m already fucked up. And that’s not even the worst part - I’m in love with my fucking best friend who’s as straight as an arrow. I can’t even tell him about it.”
Some of the words he said were slightly garbled past the point of deciphering but Sungjong grasped the gist of it.
“It’s really fucking pathetic, Sungjong. I am. So pathetic. You wouldn’t even believe it,” Myungsoo chanted, every word cutting a little bit deeper into him. “And I’ve been so awful. To everyone. To you.”
All his linens other than the ones on his bed, the only ones he used, were still in the box they had been brought there with. Sungjong didn’t feel an ounce of sadness upon noticing - it only meant a few things less to pack.
“Especially to you, oh god. You have no idea what I’ve done. I wouldn’t blame you for hating me for what I did. I hate me for it.”
Myungsoo held Sungjong’s pillow in a vice grip, eyes trained on Sungjong’s back. “It was all for him, you know. That ungrateful asshole. We made a promise. Only a few years ago. After high school, I would become a pro. My band would be famous and everything. He wanted to go to the local acting school. We promised, goddamnit.”
Angry tears pooled up in the corners of his eyes.
“And then she comes along and I hate her. No, don’t tell Sungyeollie, but I hate her so bad. Because I can’t. Even. Fucking. Hate her properly. She tries so hard to be nice, it’s fucking idiotic.”
Trying to suppress the sobs, Myungsoo gave Sungjong’s mattress a good pounding. “But he loves her. He fucking loves her. Enough to break a promise to me. And then I’m nothing. I’m nothing to him now. I’ve done everything for him. But he doesn’t even see me.”
Sungjong dropped the bundle of quilts and extra pillows on the bed behind Myungsoo’s back, sitting down on the edge and tugging his socks off. Watery eyes focused on his nape and Myungsoo gurgled for a moment.
“And then you came along.”
A transparent Sungjong headed across the room to brush his teeth while the real one felt too worn out to care about personal hygiene, sliding a hand under the pillow Myungsoo was still molesting to retrieve his pajamas.
“And I’d heard about you - at first it was just the rumours and they seemed stupid but at the same time you were mysterious, so-... But then Key told Yeollie, that you actually sell people drugs and that’s. That’s ridiculous. Because you’re you. But Yeol wanted them. He, uh. Yeah. And I talked to you. So he thought I could… Use you like that.”
Pulling his shirt over his head and replacing it with one even more oversized, Sungjong appeared not to be listening. He was, though, and every slurred syllable, a sense of gratification magnified in him.
It seemed that in the end, he was right about Myungsoo - the guy really was simple.
“I thought it would be good if i had him. You know, like, just. Had. With me. For once. Before he ran off to that university they picked out together. Without me, of course. And I really - I don’t even care about drugs, I just thought. Maybe I could get him to look at me, if only for a while.”
Getting out of his jeans was a struggle, because the stiff material refused to yield. He succeeded after long minutes of embarrassing wiggling, slipping into a pair of sweats and climbing under the covers.
Myungsoo seemed shocked by his actions, cutting his rant short and rolling over to stare at him.
“I’m gay,” the senior repeated himself, “shouldn’t you-”
But Sungjong was done caring about the insignificant things so he shut Myungsoo up with a “the bathroom’s on the right, wake me up if something happens.”
Looking considerably less smashed but awful with his swollen face, Myungsoo settled on his side, gazing at Sungjong with enough intensity to make the younger feel awkward.
“What?”
The stench that hit Sungjong’s sensitive nostrils when Myungsoo smiled made him regret asking.
“I don’t want to use you. You’re pretty.”
Disbelief written all over his features, Sungjong’s mind whirled to process this absurdity. He inched closer to the wall, putting more space between them. “Did you just… Seriously call me pretty?”
“Yeah, you are. Strange but nice. I’m sorry.”
Suddenly Sungjong experienced deja vu as Myungsoo’s shadow leaned in to place a kiss on his mouth. It didn’t feel wrong like the incident with Hoya had been and Sungjong wondered why Myungsoo had decided against it.
It didn’t make him feel abnormal at all. In fact, a moment later Sungjong discovered that he didn’t feel much anything, except for the soft press of lips against lips.
“My head is pounding,” Myungsoo whispered when Sungjong drew back but then the older dove in for another kiss, breathing deeply through his nose and catching the inexperienced junior off guard.
There was no heat in it, even as Myungsoo cradled Sungjong’s face in his hands and shifted closer. But there was plenty of confusion and a lot of fear for what might happen once they stopped.
A reality-check was the last thing Myungsoo desired at that moment.
So they did not speak about it at all, Myungsoo giving Sungjong a fragile smile that spoke of tiny little hopes and unfulfilled wishes before resting his head back against the pillow and drifting off to sleep.
Sungjong stayed awake for a while longer, counting the cracks in the ceiling and the nights he had left to spend in that room, an odd taste lingering on his lips.
Part 3/3