Chapter Text
The thing about the gym is that Hyeok-U is not, like, forbidden to go in there.
Not at all. In fact, Mrs. Chu made sure to inform him he’s free to come and go as he pleases, just be careful if someone is using it. In fact, he could even use it if he wanted, she said.
The idea makes him vaguely nauseous, so he thinks he’s good, thanks.
The point, though. He’s not forbidden to go in there, but he’s also never seen anyone using it either. Oh, he’s heard them alright. Not a day goes by without a loud thud startling him on his way to his room. Is that normal? He doesn’t think that’s normal, working out shouldn’t sound like you’re demolishing a building. Right? He’s been to the gym, like, actual gyms, before!
And what’s with all the punching bags? Everyday Mo-Tak walks out with a destroyed punching bag, sand seeping out and leaving a trail behind that will either make Mun slip later in the day or Ha Na curse and drag Mo Tak to clean.
All of which is to say– either the gym is empty or the door is firmly shut.
His curiosity is burning to know what is going on, but Hyeok-U knows better than to stick his nose into other people’s business, especially when they’re keeping a roof over his head. Even if it’s a shitty roof.
“You weren’t at dinner,” it’s Ha Na, coming up from the gym, towel still slung over her shoulders. Privately, Hyeok-U thinks normal people don’t work out at half-past eleven, but what does he know anyway?
It’s Ha Na, so she makes an observation sound like an accusation, and Hyeok-U kind of wants to retreat back to his room, feels his hackles rising. “I wasn’t hungry,” he says, half-excuse, half-standing his ground.
“Mrs. Chu saved you a plate,” she tells him, sounding– something. He’s not sure. He thinks she’s not angry. “She worries when we don’t show up. And Mun looked like you kicked his puppy.”
Well, Mun should know better, he thinks but doesn’t say because if anything, at least his self-preservation instincts are still alive and kicking. So instead, he bows his head, “it won’t happen again.”
Ha Na makes a face. It’s a scowl, he thinks that’s a scowl. “Aiya, I’m just saying, what are you apologizing to me for?”
Hyeok-U blinks.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s on the microwave. Just heat it up if you get hungry.”
With that, she goes on her way, leaving him standing by the stairs, confused and with no idea what just happened. This is why he usually tries to avoid her– he can never quite figure out how Ha Na feels about his presence. Like Mun, she’s seen him at his worst. Unlike Mun, she isn’t too kind for her own good, so.
He’s leaning towards neutral, though. Neutral is fine, it’s more than he expected. More than he deserves, honestly.
Whatever. He is hungry, it turns out. Not showing up to dinner had been a pretty stupid decision, Hyeok-U knows, but at the time, the idea of leaving his bed and facing everyone had seemed like a monumental effort. See you at dinner, Mun had said, too. What the fuck, really.
Still, that means he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so Hyeok-U forces himself to make his way into the kitchen, not really holding any hopes for the food to still be there, but maybe finding something edible in the fridge.
To his surprise, he finds the lights still on, Mrs.Chu still at the table cutting up vegetables. “Sorry,” it comes out quickly when she looks up to find him hovering by the door, “I didn’t know you were still using the kitchen. I just– sorry.”
Mrs.Chu smiles, waving him in. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Are you hungry? We’ve missed you at dinner.”
She makes a move to get up, so he rushes to stop her, “no, no, it’s okay, I just wanted some water!”
“Nonsense,” she scowls, but her eyes remain kind– like she means little by it, like affection comes easier than scolding. “Are you saying I saved you a plate for nothing? No, no, you’re too skinny, go on, it’s on the microwave.”
“Thank you,” he says, looking away. What else could he say to that? It’s baffling and his chest goes tight, aching deep beneath his sternum. There is a bowl in the microwave. Earlier in the evening, Mrs.Chu must have prepared it and set it aside for Hyeok-U because he didn’t show up for dinner. What does he do with that now? How does he live with that information?
He heats up the noodles.
Taking it back to his bedroom would be rude, so Hyeok-U sits at the table in the farthest corner, careful not to take up too much of her space. Steam drifts up with a wonderful smell and he doesn’t know how she does it, but Mrs.Chu’s food is the best he’s ever eaten. How come a cheap place like this beats the restaurants downtown is beyond him, but he’s still selfishly glad for it.
For a long time, they sit in silence, only the steady sounds of her knife hitting the cutting board in a calming rhythm, but eventually, he finishes eating and he finishes cleaning up after himself and then it’s just him, awkwardly lingering by the sink, unsure.
“Thank you,” he offers again, and while he could take his leave now, the idea of going back to bed isn’t very comforting. Nightmares, lately, have been a faithful presence in his sleep, dependable in the worst ways, and besides, she saved him a bowl of noodles because she thought he might get hungry later– there’s no repaying that, really, not any of this if he’s honest, but he should at least try, right? “Do you need any help?”
Mrs.Chu looks up from her work, knife still halfway into the onion, to give him a startled look. “No need, really. I’m just making a headstart for tomorrow.”
He eyes the spinach piled by her elbow, the meat marinating by the sink. “I can– cut? I’d like to help.” It’s frankly embarrassing how much he actually means by it and Hyeok-U hopes none of it shows; these people already know so much about him, about his situation, there’s no need to be any more vulnerable.
Maybe, as much as he tried, something slipped on his expression because Mrs.Chu shakes her head, reaching for the drawers to pull out another knife. “Alright, you can take the spinach. Here, like this: thin and consistent, see?” He tries it once, slicing through the green slowly, careful to replicate her example, and risks looking up to check her reaction. Something loosens on his ribcage when he finds Mrs.Chu grinning at his work. “Good! Ya, you’re a natural!”
Ducking his head, he bites back a shrug, swallows the bullet-shaped dismissals he had ready to fire on his tongue, and kicks himself for having cocked the gun in the first place. It’s muscle memory, yes, but still. Let’s just start over. He’s aiming for better, this time around.
This time, he breathes through the anxiety and allows warmth to seep in from Mrs.Chu’s words, from her proud smile. This time, he listens to the unfaltering sound of the knife, focuses on keeping his hand steady, the blade slicing through the leaves.
Even slices, thin.
One after the other.
And so it goes.
His heart settles, slows, and his arm burns a little, but it’s– pleasant. It means he can look down and see all the chopped-up spinach leaves and know tomorrow that’s going into someone’s noodles and maybe it’ll even be as good as any of the others.
Mrs.Chu gives him a considering look. “Have you ever cooked? Aiya, instant lamen doesn’t count.”
He thinks of the empty kitchen in his house, pristine in its stainless steel, and tries to think if he ever used the stove. “Not really, no.”
“Would you like to?”
The question finds him blindsided. Would he? Not even a month ago, the answer would be a resounding no, without hesitation. But now– Hyeok-U supposes it’ll be good to know the basics if he ever manages to save up enough to move out.
“Yes,” he nods, and agrees when Mrs.Chu tells him to come down earlier tomorrow, stick around after breakfast.
It should feel daunting, he thinks. Scary. Another debt to his ever-growing tally with Mun’s friends.
Instead, it just feels new. Exciting. For the first time in a while, Hyeok-U goes to sleep looking forward to the dawning day.