Chapter Text
There was little for newborns to do apart from being doted on by their parents, by strangers and by everyone else in between. Sometimes they cried when the burden of not being able to express themselves had become too overwhelming, and at times they ate but only when their mouths allowed. They goo’d and they ga’d and they look at everything around them with more fascination than an astronomer would had they been there to watch Mireuk, one of the world’s creators, take one of the two original suns and create the stars from it. They were showered with kisses they didn’t yet know the significance of and gifts they would never remember using. People loved their babies as much as they loved their Gods, and their affectionate hearts shook in fear that the intensity of their love would go punished in its extremity.
Yet people still risked being scolded because to look upon the innocence and purity of a baby was to learn how to be okay with risking your life. It was harder not to love them than it was to face death, so people went an extra mile and then some for their own child while their cheeks were still plump and their hands snug around a single finger.
But not for Hoseok. Nobody ever risked death for Hoseok nor did they put him above the punishment of any God or Goddess. He was born half a moon cycle too early, and had come out frail and weak because of it. His cheeks weren’t plump and his hands felt as if they would snap in two had someone’s finger proved too wide for him to hold onto.
“He will have to stay here for a few days, but can go home with you and your wife very soon,” the doctor told Hoseok’s father. His face twisted in disgust at the idea of his son needing extra assistance, but didn’t protest against the information he was being given. Though the kingdom he lived in was very small, it was filled with people whose brains were worth more than that of the millions of commoners that occupied other lands. He was prideful of his brothers, of the people he stood alongside, and he felt shame in that he had taken part in the future diminishing of its reputation.
With the disgust and shame, grew a loathing for Hoseok that failed to fade away even as his cheeks grew bigger and his fingers stronger, holding onto every task that his father had given him with the strength of men twice his age. He was a son to be proud of had he been anyone else’s, and it was more Hoseok’s misfortune that he ended up with the father he did, than the other way around. His father scowled where others would find relief, and turned away where others would give him a hug. He would often tell his peers that Hoseok was a shame to bring to the market let alone the castle he worked in, all because of his slim frame and big empty eyes that he felt should have been filled with knowledge instead of curiosity.
Hoseok’s father was an advisor to the ruler of their kingdom. He sometimes called himself the King’s right hand and wouldn’t be wrong in doing so as he was the first to be sought after by the King, who would send for him even when the moon was hung in the sky and he was meant to be asleep. And no matter the time, he would never fail to get up and attend to his duty. He had made himself so indispensable that, naturally, he was invited to the paramount dinner meant to symbolically keep peace between the kingdoms.
His family was invited as well, but it was hard for him to want to bring them along. His wife seemed to have lost her mind after giving birth to Hoseok; she spent her days and nights weaving tapestries that no one used and only she looked at. And there wasn’t much more to his son, who used his brain just as much as his mother did, and daydreamt the rest of the time. There was hardly anything for him to brag about, nothing worthy to be in the presence of kings and queens. His wife sung nursery songs under her breath and his son was slight and quiet, he didn’t stir a mumble through the crowd when he stepped into a room and cowered when he should have been confident in who he was. He let his father push him around and cared more for his father’s love than for the strength he could grow to have; he wasn’t a son to bring with pride, nor one meant for dinners such as this.
Nevertheless, he was (begrudgingly) brought along for the King asked to see the son the man announced for but never followed up on. It had been two decades already and there was yet to be any boasting of his son learning to walk, start training with the other boys or even graduate from his school. The silence, like that of all things, had birthed a curiosity hard to satiate except with something for one to look at directly.
“Jung Hoseok?” The King had said when he was finally given a name, and an affectionate look for the boy he had not yet met had bloomed in his eyes when his courtier nodded. “That’s the boy that I heard had come out as the very top student in his age range. Indeed, it will be a name that will spread throughout the lands.”
Perhaps with laughter, his father had thought then, and thought now as he saw the thinness of his grown child compared to the already widened shoulders and thickened arms of the heirs that had accompanied the kings. Hoseok had remained slim and weak as he grew up, and at the physical state he was at now, he was sure even his wife would defeat him in battle. But he’d also come to accept the fact that to look forward to a different outcome would only prove pointless, and he had given up trying to make Hoseok work harder to be stronger than he was. There were many he would rather have as his own, ones that would listen to him when he asked for them to become strong, but there was no use. He had taught himself early that to wish for a different son would only make his hatred for the one he had grow beyond reason, but it was hard to keep the fire to a minimum when the kindling was endless in supply.
“If this dinner is meant for peace, does that mean that if something goes awry that, from it, will stem chaos?” Hoseok asked with his voice full of genuine wonder and his eyes looking towards the one he used to be convinced held every answer in the world. His father glowered at his constantly running imagination, filling again with hate for the fact that Hoseok couldn’t accept anything as it was.
“No,” he answered, wondering if any of the boys in this room had a mind like his son’s and questioned what was so wrong with him that he thought this way. “Because nothing will go awry, and the peace will remain. If you continue to talk like that the King may suspect you of unlawful speech, then you will be punished. Is that what you want?”
Hoseok’s eyes grew bigger at the potential of being penalized, and he shook his head in answer even though no real response was expected from him. There were many things he wanted to accomplish in the world, and none could be done underground.
Contrary to what his father thought of him, Hoseok was smart. He was a lot smarter than the boys that he used to train with, and a lot smarter than boys that had been older than him when he was a child. Although he didn’t know that he was special in this way as his father didn’t praise him for it or, possibly, his father didn’t know it either (it wouldn’t have come as a surprise if he hadn’t). But it was something he had begun to suspect for himself when he knew answers to questions his first training instructor asked his group with condescending happiness in his tone. Hoseok would answer in a small but certain voice and the trainer would say ‘Good, Hoseok! Very good!’ while the other kids looked at him in awe, as if he was gifted with knowledge instead of just someone that happened to read more than they did.
Hoseok was different from the other kids from the beginning, not just in how much he knew in class, but in how he looked at the world. He looked at it like it was something that worked the way it did for a reason. There were those that believed that the Gods created the world as it was out of spontaneity rather than careful planning, but not him. He liked to think that there were at least some parts of the world in which the way they operated had been thought out, especially since some of those things worked in such beautiful harmony that the only reason they could be so perfect for one another, was because the Gods willed it so.
In virtue of this, he began to read anything about everything. While his father was working, he was reading the books that lay around their house, and when he ran out of books around their house, he found his way through their small kingdom and to the library which accommodated more books than he thought was possible to fit in a single building, and more stories than he thought could come from a single world.
He read of Changsega and the evil things that arose from Mireuk’s anger, of the betrayal and pride that he saw floating around the streets he walked through on his way to and from the library. He read of the Cheonjiwa Bonpuli, the creation of the world that stemmed from the nothingness that came before it and, in his childish loneliness, speculated if the same could happen for him; if the same kind of things could come from the nothingness inside of him. He read of Hwanung, of the permission Hwanung had sought for from his father to live on Earth, and Hoseok wondered if his father would grant him permission to do as he wished just as Hwanung’s father did for him.
Not that he knew what he’d wish for or where he’d go, he simply just wanted to know if his father would give him the same trust, the same amount of love. Though no matter how much he wondered, he had to face the fact that he already knew the answer to his own pondering. The answer came every time his father walked into their home and glared at Hoseok for doing nothing but existing. He wasn’t sure if he’d done something as a child, or if it was his fault that his mother never left her room, but he learned quickly that his father’s hatred for him would never cease to exist and to try and change it would be a futile task.
Well after he had learned how to talk properly, he’d asked his mother why his father didn’t like him. It wasn’t as if anyone told him, but it wasn’t hard to figure out for himself when his father did nothing but ignore his words and keep him locked in his room when his nobleman friends paid them a visit. Shame was more difficult to hide than love, and his father didn’t try to conceal one while possessing none of the other.
His mother never answered him, she always told him she was busy and would see to him once she was finished with her tapestry. But she never did see to him, instead she always started a new one as if she’d forgotten there were things in life to do aside from weaving tapestries. He’d become desperate seeking for his father’s approval, looking for just a hint of a smile explicitly meant for him, that he began to give everything he was asked for, began to do everything he was spat at to do.
But years passed as years did: quickly and with no warning, and soon he grew up from it. He was now older than his mother was when she birthed him, and the more he had read, the clearer it had become that the world was bigger than their kingdom, bigger than a smile from a man that wanted nothing to do with him. Though he hasn’t yet told his father this, as he doesn’t tell his father anything anymore. He doesn’t tell his father how he wants to leave the small kingdom he was born in or how he sneaks out at night and watches the night sky, praying to Byunsoon, goddess of the stars, to give him a way out.
He hadn’t told his father that he didn’t want to go to the royal dinner, either. He looked at the royal family and all its workers as people who lived for themselves instead of the Gods or the people they ruled. He saw the people on the streets who survived on less than a single loaf of bread a week, saw the way his mother deteriorated overtime and grew spiteful for the men and women who lived in the castle, turning a blind eye to it all. They lived as if they were Gods themselves and Hoseok wondered how they slept so soundly at night, how his father came home and found anger because of Hoseok rather than of himself.
But still he went because, as he was with all things, he was curious. Curious of how royalty ate and how they conversed among themselves. He’d only had the opportunity to talk to guards that wouldn’t let him pass and ate scraps his father brought home from time to time. He hated the way they lived but was curious of how it felt to be among the bliss of ignorance.
There are many things to say about Hoseok and the kind of person he had grown up to be, but above every trait he has, his interest in the world and how all of its parts worked, trumped them all.
“Sit down before you garner too many eyes,” his father hissed at him, effectively snapping Hoseok out of his mind’s inevitable wandering, and he did as he was told as he always did just so his father wouldn’t suspect subversion where he’d rather have peace. He smiled at his father who only frowned at him back, causing his smile to grow further as he looked around at the table he shared with handfuls of others.
He didn’t know what he was expecting when his father told him that he was to attend a dinner of kings from around the surrounding kingdoms, but what he saw wouldn’t have been far from it. A group of aged men with round bellies and rounder cheeks that looked as if there were nothing in the world to worry about other than when their food would arrive, had seated themselves all around the large table in the middle of the room. Their heads were adorned with headgear used to cover the hair that Hoseok suspected had already fallen out, wearing smiles as if nothing in the world could go wrong.
They all looked so similar that Hoseok wondered if anyone would notice had he decided to switch out one of the king’s seating arrangements with another’s, or maybe their wives who sat next to them with smiles too similar to be real. They were all younger than their counterpart, possibly his age, and all trained to be careful and petite and as quiet as possible. If Hoseok switched them out would their husbands notice? Would they care?
The only family distinct from the rest were seated directly across from Hoseok and his father. There was no woman sitting near them, and the boy seemed to be around his age as well, but wearing a smile that surpassed any of the guests thrice their age. He wasn’t as muscular as the other heirs but he was stronger in his confidence, in his self-worth that radiated off of him in a way that Hoseok couldn’t help but feel attracted towards, intrigued by what caused it. His hair looked as if it had been dipped in honey, and was brighter than the stars that accompanied Hoseok at night. He sat up straight like he was the king instead of his father, who looked as if his nerves were about to physically leave his body, and he eyed Hoseok as if he was reading his mind. And if he was, would he help him switch the other kings’ wives?
The sound of doors opening took his attention away from the golden haired stranger and towards the end of the dining room they were seated in. He didn’t notice it until then, but the room was so much higher class than he that he suddenly felt out of place in what he was dressed in. Not that he usually minded, but the contrast between him and the high walls painted red and decorated with gold furniture he would never be able to otherwise see, was so large that even he couldn't set it aside. He could already hear the silent murmurings of embarrassment from his father as they would walk home later that night.
There were mirrors where mirrors would never be used, and chandeliers where there was already a pollution of light. Hoseok’s breath was taken away. He couldn’t find anything to say let alone criticize; the beauty had rendered him speechless and he immediately felt guilty for the sake of the mother they had left at home.
In attempts to re-humble himself, his thoughts quickly shifted from the decorated walls of the room to the line of people making their way around the table. Hoseok didn’t recognize any of them, and wondered if they lived in the castle or had come from overseas, wondered how many others were living in the small kingdom that wasn’t as small as he imagined. To no surprise, they were all women, and all taking a bite of the main dishes they were serving before giving a portion to the paranoid king they were next to. Poison? Hoseok thought, a smile in his mind as he did so. That would really cause chaos among us, wouldn’t it?
It took a while for Hoseok’s mind to let go of the idea of poisoning the kings he was surrounded by for it gave him great pleasure to imagine the scenario. Though even when he did think otherwise, he didn’t eat much. He felt strange thinking about the fact that all his food was being served to him and pondered over whether or not the girls thought spitefully of him even if he wasn’t in royal clothing himself. Hoseok couldn’t help but be curious of the way their minds were wired after working under people so irrevocably repulsive; did they know their enemy? Or was their enemy everyone that wasn't each other?
Instead of eating, he watched as the others ate, and listened to the conversations had by the grown men yelling their responses from across the room. It was as if they were showing each other's kingdoms that there was nothing for them to hide. They asked one another about the sons sitting next to them and about their lands, their wives, their ships, their armies, and all with food in their mouths yet to be chewed. It was nothing particularly interesting, nothing he would have found use for elsewhere.
But that was the reality in being as eager to know everything as he was; some curiosities were satisfied with less-than-pleasing things. This was something Hoseok first learned when he wanted to discover how it was that he came to be.
The rest of the dinner passed by slower than the last few years of his life did, when he slowly came to accept that his prayers to Byunsoon landed on deaf ears. He wasn’t sure what the time was, but from the restlessness of his half-asleep legs, he figured it was another twenty-some years into the future and the world outside of the castle had moved beyond without them. There would be no need for any of them anymore, for the lands would have new kings that would also meet three times a year just to make sure they were all still friends. Hoseok thought enviously of his mother, who got to stay at home doing as she pleased, until the unusual voice of his father shoved him away from his longings.
“Hoseok, pay your respects,” his father said in a tone friendlier than normal and with a smile he had never seen before. Though there was no real kindness in the curve, just repressed annoyance where his real father lay behind the facade.
It seemed almost surreal that the dinner had finally ended, and Hoseok got up from the table, too eager to be nearly finished with the formalities, before bowing to the kings that passed by them, and their families whose auras matched his yearning to go back home. He was just grateful for the fact that he wouldn’t be spending his night on a ship, and accepted the coolness of the night when his father finally led them outside.
The night air greeted them with a gust to chill them back alive and said you made it, Hoseok, now you never have to do it again, and he couldn’t have been more pleased. At least, not until his father began to speak.
“You will be leaving for Jeju in two sunsets, Hoseok,” his father told him with a calmness in his tone that had come from ignoring his son for the last few hours. He said the news with a smile, his steps wide and his arms linked against his back while he admired the night scene of the kingdom he was birthed already in love with.
“Are you joking?” Hoseok asked, his brows furrowed and his skepticism palpable in both face and tone. The creeping feeling of the childish excitement he hadn’t felt since he first found the kingdom’s library underlay his words. “Jeju...why there? What’s there? Will you be coming, too?”
“Oh, so many questions! All the time, so many questions, you never accept the things I tell you, Hoseok, you take everything and you pick it apart as if you’re a scholar when you’re just — just a boy!” The outburst ended with a huff and Hoseok’s flinch, who hadn’t seen his father’s patience run so short with him in a while, almost months. He almost convinced himself that his father was starting to like him. “You will be going to Jeju to train with Min Yoongi, King Min’s son. They say he defeats men twice his size with no struggle, and if he can do that then imagine what you can do after training with his instructors. Maybe you’ll be able to defeat me once I’m aged and grey and very weak.”
The excitement from his father’s initial announcement was murdered brutally, executed in the face of reality and hope given away where it was not meant to be had. It was already becoming more and more difficult to skip the lessons he had in this kingdom just to go to the library, and how much more difficult would it be with people who knew he was there for the sole purpose of training? And how much wine did his father drink that he’d agree to such a thing? What was he getting back — a peace of mind that he’d done something for his son, a peace of mind that he’d never have to walk into his house and see Hoseok again?
He was only inches from letting a bitterness towards his father grow in him, a bush of distaste to lay with the others, until it dawned on him then that the peace of mind was not his father's alone. He wouldn’t have a scowling father coming through his door every night, making him feel as if he had done something wrong when he didn’t; he wouldn’t have to wander the streets he’d seen infinite times before and read the same books he had already read cover to cover, again and again. There’d be new books for him, a new world of people, a new setting of which he desperately needed. Suddenly, two nights weren’t short enough and the third morning couldn’t come faster.
This is what he had been praying towards for so many years, what the stars were finally giving him in the light of their kindness and grace. Thank you, he thought with happiness towards the goddess that had been hearing him all along, I cannot thank you enough.
“You will be packed in two days,” his father said, with a finality in his words that proved him ignorant of the happiness he had just bestowed on his son. It was as good for Hoseok as it was for him, though he wasn’t aware of it as his world was coloured in by selfish lenses and greedy frames.
“Yes, of course, father. Whatever you want,” he responded, and the light that radiated off of his smile was cast aside by his father as moonlight.
—
The two days before his awaited departure had come to pass like two summer solstices that arrived one after another. His father told him he was no longer expected to show up for his training (not that he would have anyway), so he spent his days in the library. Although he was happy for the new literature he would be facing in Jeju, he was nostalgic for the ones he hadn’t yet left behind. He discovered many things about the world in that single library, the stories in it gratified him for the years and years he had known how to read. They were his greatest friends and his most treasured instructors, with the most valuable lessons he could have learned.
He spent more time in the library than he did at his lessons, and learned more from the handwritten lines scrawled hastily on scrap paper, yet to be rewritten by another scholar, than the instructors themselves. His fingers passed over each spine of each book in remembrance of the words they contained, and he took with him a piece of it that he’d store in his heart and never forget. They were what kept him sane while he was caged in a kingdom too small for his mind, and he’d never be able to find another like it.
“You can take some, if you’d like,” gave the elderly scholar that always greeted Hoseok at the door. Hoseok often thought of him as his greatest friend aside from the books, as he always greeted him with well wishes and remembered when his birthday was while his parents did not. His smile came as a comfort and the only genuine thing in the city Hoseok had grown up to learn was built on nothing but taller tales than the ones he had read.
For a moment, Hoseok considered his offer. He thought of taking the story of the three sisters and the tiger, of Gumiho and her failures to find a man who could keep her secret long enough. His favourite stories were at the tip of his fingers, but he couldn’t reach further, couldn’t will himself to take them from their homes.
“It’s okay,” he answered, smiling with a softness meant for wives and babies not yet his. “They should remain here for another like me when I was younger, to pick up and read and to find comfort in and make a favourite of as well. But thank you, for everything. The stories will stay with me even if the books don’t.”
The keeper of the library smiled at him in admiration, most of his teeth were gone but the smile shined brighter than the rays of light that shone into the building. Hoseok sometimes wondered if he was the only one in the entire kingdom that enjoyed the way Hoseok thought, and always concluded that he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. When he spoke he was often met with confused faces instead of smiles, and he had grown to be convinced that the more books one read, the more open their hearts became. He’d miss the man in the library as much as he would miss his mother, and more than he’d miss his father, whose mind was nothing in comparison.
But there was another land of people for him to grow to know and later miss when he moved on again, an island of stories he hadn’t yet read or heard and faces he hadn’t become tired of over the years. It was time for him to go, and he’d never been more ready in his life to do so.
On the night before the ship would be ready to take him and a bunch of trading goods, he imagined, to Jeju, he didn’t sleep. He left his house when the air was chilled and the moon shone through his window, making his way underneath the tree that grew only a few feet from his home. The ground was cold and the bark was rough against his skin, but its leaves and thick trunk sheltered him from having to look at everything around him.
It was hard to see all the stars when you were under a wall of leaves, but there were some stars that still managed to shine through the cracks, that fought to be seen regardless of what was in front of them. Those were the stars that Hoseok wanted to see, the kind that he needed for a night like this.
Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was nervous, and it had become more difficult to hide it from himself when the departure was inching closer. He was scared about how the island would welcome him, about who would hate him and who wouldn’t, about who would listen to him after years of being ignored. He’d grown up in this kingdom and he was leaving it with no friends but a room of books and their keeper. As much as he loved books, Hoseok didn’t want to spend another two decades of his life talking only to them because no one else would.
“Please let me shine as you do,” he asked of the stars that shone alongside the leaves, wanting to be as bright as them to at least one person, at least not to nobody. There were tears burning against the back of his eyes which he didn’t want to acknowledge, and so closed them instead, and let what faux peace he had built in his life of being confined in this kingdom, finally come down. He faced the sadness he had been keeping away, looked at it straight in the face and let the excitement for his new life come and wash it away, let it build from the nothingness of the empty void this kingdom had left inside him.
—
Mornings came as mornings did: after ten agonizing hours of trying to keep one’s self awake while simultaneously combating loud, negative thoughts. He discovered that there was no trading to be done, that this situation was a lot simpler than he had thought it to be. They sent a ship over from Jeju to take him and bring him there, nothing else. Hoseok wondered if he was worth a trip like that, wondered how much his father paid for for it to happen, for him to finally leave.
The breeze that washed over Hoseok’s face and through his hair cleansed him of any worry he had about everything. His heart was empty of the sadness that it had overflowed with the night before, and he looked towards the direction of his new home without looking back at the one he had just left. He knew that his father would already be gone from the dock they had departed only minutes ago, celebrating the quiet household he now had and the fact that he no longer had a son to look after. He knew that his mother would be weaving yet another tapestry, and Hoseok hoped that one day she’d do one of a ship and of the sea that he was on right now, hoped that the goodbye she gave him this morning did not already pass from her mind.
Regardless of anything, especially of the realness of the weight of his feelings, he told himself that it no longer mattered to him now. He wouldn’t get his answers and his curiosity would never be satisfied, so it was better to leave them, to toss them in the water they were riding through instead of keeping it in his heart to accumulate another sadness that would bear no fruit he would want to have.
“How do you feel?” Asked the man who had brought the ship over. He had shown more concern for Hoseok in the last five minutes since they left, than his father had his whole life, and he took it as a sign that the things ahead of him would be more than he could even imagine. Maybe he had Byunsoon’s favour since he kept her company every night, or maybe the pity she had for him had become so overwhelming that she was now giving him light in this way. He looked to the sky, and though he could see no stars, he sent his gratitude to the goddess he was confident would be watching him.
“Content,” Hoseok finally answered, and the smile he offered to the other man was small, but the one he wore in his heart was larger than any mouth could ever form.
The ride to Jeju wasn’t long, it was only an hour or two, but Hoseok wasn’t keeping count. The man that accompanied him on the ship had been talking the entirety of the ride, allowing gaps for Hoseok to speak a sentence or two before going on again about the kingdom of Jeju and the people that lived in it. Time passed quickly with him and Hoseok was grateful for the reminder that it could be illusioned to pass quickly at all.
The man was an advisor to the king as well, one that Hoseok’s father had come to know over the dinner. He was told that it wasn’t until the king of his previous home mentioned Hoseok graduating at the top of his age range that he had suggested for Hoseok to come to Jeju and train with the children.
“Your father seemed very proud of you,” he said to Hoseok, who tried his best not to laugh in the face of a half-stranger. “He was very eager for you to share your knowledge with us here. I think the students here can learn a lot from you. And you from them, I hope.”
What Hoseok would have responded with, had the helmsman not announced their arrival at Jeju, he didn’t know. He wasn’t used to being acknowledged for anything, let alone his virtues. So he took the opportunity to walk away from the conversation and to the edge of the ship, taking in the beauties of the island as they steered closer and it became larger and more real and like it was meant just for him.
He was told of how awe-striking Jeju was, of the greenness of its trees and the plethora of flowers that bloomed like a spring bank, welcoming those who looked upon it to stop for a moment and appreciate its enchanting beauty. But the reality of how gorgeous nature could be had never struck him until the moment he saw it for himself. Not when he lived with nothing but cobblestone pathways littered with garbage and people with nowhere else to go, not when the only trees he saw always stood alone, with no friends to make a thicket with.
“It’s stunning,” Hoseok said, with his voice so quiet and low that he might as well have been talking to the wisps of wind that now settled in his hair with the slowing of the ship.
“I assure you it only gets more so,” returned the man with a laugh so jovial that it made Hoseok’s heart lighten with the sound of it alone. How good the stars were to him, how merciful the universe had decided to become. This was his home now, filled with trees and flowers and beauty and men whose laughter was like medicine itself. “I will show you to the palace as well. The King asked to see you the moment you arrived.”
Hoseok followed the man off of the ship and down the path he was sure must have been more familiar to the man than even his own mother’s face, and looked forward to the moment that he would be able to have the same luxury of calling this place home. The large willow trees that were lined along the shores of the island accompanied them for the beginning of the pathway he was led on, hiding their views from anything other than their leaves and providing a secrecy to the newcomer who was so amazing and talented that they just had to bring him to their kingdom.
As the willow trees started to grow sparse in number, Hoseok’s eyes began to wander, looking around the new environment he would be a part of for — well, only the Gods could predict how long. He watched a group of kids that seemed to be half his age following an instructor as they practiced moves that Hoseok had never gotten the hang of, watched elderly men going on strolls down one of the many pathways he could see. The grass looked freshly cut, the trees were strong, the flowers plenty and the pathways lined with gold. Everything here was so beautiful, so fresh and so clean-cut that it felt as if he had just sailed to heaven in a matter of a few hours.
“I told you,” the man said to him with a laugh in his words. He had now positioned himself in front of the door, ready to open it but watching Hoseok as he admired the things around him instead. “It only got more so, did it not?” He fully laughed this time, the deepness in his voice a comfort to Hoseok who was glad that there was at least one person so far that he knew he could see if needed. Maybe he was assuming too much too quickly, but he didn’t want to think otherwise when the smile he was given was so full of kindness.
“We’re here already?” He asked, his attention shifting from the loneliness he would no longer have to the fact that the palace was not on top of a hill. Where he had come from, it would take miles of hiking up the biggest hill in the village to even get to the gates of the castle. The King liked to separate himself as much as he could from the people he ruled over, it was almost the only thing Hoseok knew about him.
But it wasn’t the case here, as they had only been walking for what felt like seconds, and they had already arrived. They didn’t walk up any hill and had arrived at no towering building that cast a shadow over the rest. The building they faced was as wide as it was tall, and Hoseok was certain it was long as well, completely white and pure save the edges trimmed with more gold than Hoseok had seen in the dining hall of the dinner he couldn’t believe was held only a few days ago.
“He’s kind, then? Someone that likes to talk to his people?” Hoseok asked, full of hope as well as the curiosity that failed to ever leave him. Though instead of being met with annoyance of the questions he continued to ask, he was given a nod and a smile that seemed to know the nervousness he tried to ignore himself.
“Very kind,” he was reassured. “I don’t know a better king, but I have known none other than him so I can’t be impartial in such an opinion.” There was a humbleness to this man that Hoseok wished would be more present in everyone else, even himself. “After you, Hoseok, when you are ready.” The door was finally pulled open and the nerves that began to resurface again had vanished with the gust of air that came from the act.
He was now facing a long hallway with a marbled floor and numerous doorless entrances lined on either wall, of which were placed directly under windows that allowed both breeze and light to stream in as they pleased. “I will be with you so don’t be afraid of getting lost. It’s quite big, isn’t it?”
Hoseok was grateful that the man was there with him now, and looked to the man with a smile, hoping that he could express his gratitude without the use of words. Just as much as he was a stranger to receiving kind words, he was a stranger to giving them as well.
It took a moment, maybe two, maybe five, but eventually he stepped into the hallway. The sandals he wore made of straw contrasted from the regal marbling of the floor he walked on, and a heat came to his cheeks that he hadn’t known before. Yet still he followed his escort to where the King was meant to be in the hopes that nobody would look at his shoes or his clothes or, frankly, him.
The man walked briskly, with so much comfort in his step that it made Hoseok feel more sheepish in how intimidated he had felt by everything. It seemed like he blinked only once before they stopped in front of a door almost as tall as the wall it was embedded in.
“Ah, and about the King. Meet his eyes when I open these doors, Hoseok. It shows you are a man worth respect, and he loves to make contact with his people no matter how small and seemingly trivial. He will appreciate it, I am certain.”
I am part of his people now, Hoseok thought with a happiness to the tone in his head. Finally a king that seemed to be for his people, instead of despite them. Finally a king that Hoseok wouldn’t be hateful towards or grow spiteful of. Even if the butterflies in his stomach had now turned into bonghwangs, he told himself he would meet the eyes of his new king. If it was what he wanted, and it was how Hoseok would win his respect, then it’s what he would do.
He repeated to himself that he would, he would, he would, until the doors had opened and revealed a room so open that it was as if Hoseok had just been brought on stage. The walls were now exchanged for pillars placed at intervals to allow for support of the ceiling as well as easy access to the field outside, which held a group of students sitting together and listening to a scholar speak. The walls were marbled just as the hallways were, and just as the stairs that led away from the room and to the field were as well. At the back of the room was another set of stairs, this time leading to what actually did look like a stage.
On the raised platform was the nervous king with no wife to accompany him to the dinner Hoseok first saw him at. He didn’t know which king he was expecting, but wasn’t sure if he would have accepted the reality of the king’s nature had it not been him. He got up from his seat at the sight of Hoseok and his courtier, and walked down the stairs to meet them instead of waiting for them to reach him.
“Ah, Jung Hoseok! I’ve been anticipating you for the last three days now! It seems surreal to see you in front of me again,” his tone was that of someone who was already familiar with Hoseok, who had known him for years instead of only just seconds. Hoseok found that holding his gaze was much easier than he thought it would be, his eyes were friendly and his aura even friendlier. He smiled at the news of the anticipation of his arrival, though now more embarrassed that he had only been who he was when the imaginations of him must have been much grander than the reality.
“I hope your travel here has been well. I know my courtier makes for good company, it’s why I keep him around,” he said, and the courtier smiled, looking at both Hoseok and the King like he was amongst people he wouldn’t ship off to another kingdom no matter what, and Hoseok was grateful for it.
“He told me many things about Jeju, and answered a lot of my questions. I’m really grateful and also excited for my stay here,” Hoseok admitted, wondering if it was okay to say bitter words about the land he just left, but decided that he didn’t want a shadow of negativity to come from him when the King and his people seemed to be nothing but light.
“Good, good,” the King assured, his voice warm and the hand that he placed on Hoseok’s back full of nothing but welcome and a gentleness Hoseok had never received before. “My courtier will show you to your living quarters. Boys of your age will be sleeping in the same area, so you will not have any trouble making friends. Teach them about your land, your people, the books you have read and they will do the same for you. I am trying to show the other kingdoms that peace between our lands can go further than just a lack of fighting among us all. Mutual growth in this way can come from it as well, don’t you think?”
It was something Hoseok hadn’t even thought of himself, and he was stricken in wonderment over the way the King had thought of the world, of the way he regarded things with a mind even more open than Hoseok’s. He looked at the King as if there were no other words worth listening to aside from his, nodding in answer before following the advisor once again through the marbled hallways.
“So, what do you say?” The courtier asked him once the doors behind them had closed and their steps echoed through the empty corridor. “A kind man, or is my prejudice clouding my judgement?”
Hoseok didn’t know if the man was being playful, or if he was really meant to give a negative opinion of the King had he felt that way, directly to the person he talked to the most. He wouldn’t know what he’d do had the King not proved to be one of the warmest hearts he had met.
“He is phenomenal,” Hoseok assured, earning a smile from the man who seemed to have more love for his king than men seemed to ever have for anything, even themselves. To live under a ruler that was as admirable as that, Hoseok didn’t blame him. “He may be the kindest man I have ever met.”
“Including your own father?” He was given, and though it was in playfulness the reminder that he had a father at all had made him feel even happier that he was here, instead of there. The thoughts of the life he had left behind, and how foreign it was to be amongst people filled with nothing but hate, had filled his mind until they arrived at one of the doorless entrances he had spotted earlier.
“Here are your living quarters, Hoseok. There are only a few men in your range, but I have watched all of them grow and they are all wonderful, I can assure you. Yoongi, the king’s son, is in your range as well. He will attend the same lessons as you. Seeing as the King has taken to you, it may be easy for you to befriend him as well.” The courtier spoke while he was still in the hallway, causing his words to echo throughout the walls and Hoseok’s cheeks to get redder and redder as the truth of the King’s liking to him had bounced back and forth.
He didn’t know he could flush so easily, didn’t know that the act of someone liking him for who he was had such an effect on him. There were a lot of things he already learned within the hours he had left home, even if only just about himself, and how much more to come with the hours that followed? He could no longer hold back the feeling of excitement he had been trying to nullify since he was given the news of him training in Jeju. He’d finally get to be happy and excited, he’d finally get to be the kid he was shamed for being in the past.
Hoseok was left at the entrance of the living quarters he was meant to sleep in as the courtier claimed to have more duties to fulfill. But send for me if you need me, he said before walking down the hallway, his footsteps echoing where his words were just a moment before.
There was a nervousness in Hoseok that filled him as he walked through the entrance, through the unlit and small hallway that led further into a room lined with beds. A nervousness that grew when he saw a group of boys sitting together on one bed and a few others scattered around, all staring at him as if expecting him. Though Hoseok didn’t know how they wouldn’t be expecting him when he and the courtier were talking outside only a few feet away.
“My father has taken to you?” One of the boys said before he could say a greeting, his hair golden and his face just as smug as it was at the dinner Hoseok first saw him at. “And what is there of you to take to?” He asked with obvious disapproval in his voice, the question followed by forced snickering from the boys that had surrounded him. Hoseok wondered if they were afraid of him, or if they just wanted to be close to the future king. The excitement for his new life that Hoseok felt earlier had disappeared and he burned in red, both shameful of what he had already been thinking himself, and anger at the personality he was being met with.
“What’s your name?” Asked one of the kids on a bed to himself. Yoongi looked over at the one who asked the question, a scowl on his face that Hoseok managed to catch, and was briefly reminded of his father.
“Jung Hoseok,” he answered, unsure if he should ignore the King’s son just as this man seemed to, but figured that it would be the easiest way to live. He was grateful that not everybody forced laughter at his words, grateful that there was fresh air at least somewhere.
Hoseok never met the royal family in his own kingdom. He knew of the three sons and two daughters that the king had come to have, but disliked them just as much as he disliked the King himself. He thought that to be raised in an environment as detached as the royal family was, that they would grow to be just as obnoxious as their parents, if not more. There was hope in Hoseok that because the King of Jeju was so different, so refreshing in his mindset, that he would have a son that thought in the same way. Maybe he should have known better, but Hoseok didn’t blame himself for having hope.
“Mine is Namjoon,” the boy responded, pointing to the bed that sat to the left of him, the one at the end of the row. “This bed’s free, you can take it.”
Hoseok glanced over at Yoongi, who rolled his eyes as if too beyond the act of human decency to give any other response, and felt the heat of hatred in his face burn even brighter. Hoseok walked to the bed he was shown and set the small cloth sack he had haphazardly shoved his clothes into onto the mattress. Namjoon watched him as he moved, and the anger that filled Hoseok had begun to die down. He was now more conscious of every move he made, unsure if Namjoon was offering to be his friend, or somebody that just wasn’t as obnoxious as the rest.
“You shouldn’t mind Yoongi,” Namjoon said with the same calmness to his voice that he had asked the question in. The other boys had already moved past Hoseok’s arrival, and went back to their own conversations. “He just likes being the top of — uh, everything. He doesn’t live here with us, so he won’t bother you for much longer.”
So where does he live? Hoseok wondered, intrigued by the gap between a common student’s living area and that of a prince. The living quarters they were meant to share had already been more spacious than his entire house back at home. More sunlight came in than any ever did in his room, and the bed he was meant to use wasn’t for a child, like the one he had in Gwangju. They were small changes, but ones that Hoseok couldn’t thank the stars enough for.
The little blessings felt like bigger ones when put next to what he used to have, and there was something inside him that filled with glee at the thought of his new kingdom, of the schoolmates he’d have, of the lessons he’d be able to attend, of the books he could read. Even if the king’s son didn’t like him, at least he had Namjoon, at least he had a bed he could stretch his legs in.
“I won’t mind him,” Hoseok responded, earning a smile from Namjoon which felt like a feat when his voice had come so tranquil. “I hardly mind anything, so it may even be a little fun.”
—
Training didn’t start for him and his age group until the middle of the afternoon, when those younger than them were finished with their training and instead were learning how the sun worked or why the stars only came out at night, things that Hoseok read about instead of actually listening to the instructors that had already given up on getting him to listen.
But things were different in Jeju, different in that he wanted to know what there was to be taught. He wanted to attend lessons with those half his age and those twice his age (did they still have lessons then, or did people assume you knew everything you could possibly know at that point?). He wanted to know the differences and the similarities, wanted to know if he was being taught only half of all the things in the world, a quarter, an eighth? Just how small was his kingdom, or the library he grew up in?
The lessons for Hoseok’s age had started when the sun had stopped rising and settled against the sky, giving Hoseok enough time to figure out that Namjoon usually spoke with, at most, two words at a time. He’d nod or shake his head when he could, shrug when he couldn’t do either. After a few minutes of conversation with him, it was surreal to think of how much he had spoken at first. But what Namjoon gave was more than what the worst of his imagination thought up, and better than having to get his answers from someone like Yoongi, who he didn’t doubt would refuse to give him answers anyway.
Fortunately the lessons came quickly and he no longer had to continue asking questions he wouldn’t get sufficient answers for. And as Hoseok hoped they would be, the lessons were held outside in the field by the room he had met the King in earlier that day. There were noblemen now gathered on the platform where he had first met the King, and Hoseok wanted to sit close enough to be able to hear what they were talking about. But the group was placed closer to the edge of the field, where he could see the ocean, and he quickly forgot about the conversation he wasn’t eavesdropping on.
All the other kids listened as the instructor read the poem that led to Poeun’s death and discussed the philosophies that he believed in, all of which Hoseok had read about when he was still a teenager. He let his eyes and his mind wander, taking in the green in a way that he hadn’t been able to back home. He had never been surrounded by nature in such a way, never felt like he was still in the midst of nature even with buildings surrounding him. Though with the beauty and simplicity of the buildings, it was easy to have them be as much a part of the foliage around them as the big leaves that looked too big to be real.
“Concentrating, please,” the instructor said with his voice directed towards Hoseok, causing everyone to look over at him as he became aware of the situation. He heard snickering from the same boys earlier that day, and Hoseok did his best not to look over at the impish faces he knew he would be met with. “You’re the man who arrived from Gwangju, correct?”
Hoseok nodded then, offering a smile despite the disapproval he saw in the instructor’s eyes. He was used to it, to scholars not liking him. They often didn’t as Hoseok didn’t praise their knowledge as they wanted everyone in the world to. He didn’t see the point in being a scholar other than to write books, didn’t see the point in gathering as groups of children and being taught the same material at the same pace. How would someone grow in that environment? The lessons in every kingdom seemed to have the same structure in the core, held outside or not. He couldn’t deny his disappointment, but no single place could be paradise.
“Are you bored, Hoseok? Why don’t you read the poem yourself?” The offer was made with no malice, so Hoseok did as he was asked. He was cooperative for the most part, and sometimes he wondered if it was hard for people to understand that cooperative and defiant could coexist in one being.
He looked at Namjoon, who looked at him in silence and expectancy, before making his way to where the instructor sat. Hoseok gave another smile to the man while he accepted the poem that was given to him, and finally received one back, though the authenticity behind the look was questionable.
It was a short poem but one that he’d read countless times before. Dansimga, the affirmation of Poeun’s commitment to the court he served after another’s attempt to persuade him to betray it. He wondered many times if his father would have had the same loyalty, if he would have acted the same way. He could have recited the poem in his sleep, he hardly even needed the words in front of him but still he read off of them with a smoothness that only came from continuous practice. He heard his own voice in his ears and allowed himself to be proud of the way he spoke.
When he lowered the paper holding the familiar words, he was greeted with a crowd of faces he hadn’t seen since his first days of training. The surprise, like they were expecting him to be illiterate and incompetent, the awe that came from his instructor as if he’d just found a new pupil. But unique, and most interesting of all, the hatred that came from Yoongi.
It wasn’t as if he’d done anything, not as if he interrupted Yoongi in class or said an answer before he could. He read a poem he was asked to read, and was still met with hate? He smiled at the thought of it, the hilarity in the situation was so exasperating that it started to become funny. How entitled must a boy be, to find something to loathe out of nothing?
The rest of the lesson was spent discussing and debating, whether they thought Poeun did the right thing by staying loyal or the wrong thing by putting his life at risk for another. People interjected with what they would have done instead, and questioned the philosophies behind Poeun’s actions. It was a lot more interesting than learning how sundials worked, that was certain, and he was complacent in the class, enjoying the standings that were being given.
It wasn’t until the class had come to an end and he caught Yoongi smiling at him that something felt wrong where he had only felt, a moment ago, that everything was in its proper place, including him. He looked at Namjoon again, who wasn’t looking at him, and asked with a voice more boyish than he wanted it to be, “What are we doing next? Do we have another class?”
Namjoon shook his head then, looking from the book in his hand to Hoseok. “No, training.”
And never before had two words filled him with an exhaustion so great that he could have fallen asleep right at that moment. He hadn’t even done any training yet, and he already wanted to be done with it. Namjoon got up from his spot so Hoseok followed, walking where the rest of the class did and hoping that Yoongi’s smile was just imagined when —
“Nice reading, is that what you did back at home? You read poems?” Yoongi asked, and the friendliness in his tone was hollow, void of sincerity.
“I just read to myself,” Hoseok responded, wanting Yoongi to leave his side as soon as possible with an urgency even beyond his own reasoning. There was an annoyance found in not only the curves of his face but also the tone of his voice, and Hoseok missed Namjoon’s silence, wishing that Yoongi could learn to do the same as he did and just answer with a word or two.
A thought passed through Hoseok’s mind to skip training and find wherever their library was, to get away from Yoongi and from the kids who hadn’t yet seen him fight and didn’t need to see him fight. But, as if Yoongi was reading his mind, he slung an arm around Hoseok’s neck in spite of the fact that Hoseok was taller than him, keeping him closer than was necessary.
“Let’s see if you train as much as you read, Hoseok,” his voice was too joyful to have any good ulterior motives, too happy for that happiness to be for the both of them instead of just one.
“Oh, I don’t I —”
“Hoseok’s new here,” Yoongi said, dropping the arm around his neck and now holding onto his wrist as if to keep him from running away. He was talking to another instructor now, one that was younger than the last and a lot more muscular than anyone Hoseok’s ever seen before. Hoseok was already planning the excuses he’d give in order to skip any class taught by this man. “I want to do his placement battle.”
“Are you sure?” The man asked, now looking directly at Hoseok instead of Yoongi. There was an overwhelming amount of concern in his eyes that Hoseok almost felt guilty for thinking about not attending his lessons. Almost.
He looked at Namjoon who was seated on one of the stairs the rest of the kids were also sitting on, and Namjoon gave him a shrug. He looked at Yoongi, who smiled at him, and he could practically see the disdain radiating off of his expression. Yoongi’s hand around Hoseok’s wrist tightened as if he was taunting him, and Hoseok’s anger began to rise at the superiority that he read in Yoongi’s eyes.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Hoseok answered, giving a smile to the instructor that seemed so concerned for him that Hoseok wondered why he wasn’t stopping the battle from happening himself.
He waved the pair off after giving a quiet you know the rules to Yoongi, though it wasn’t quiet enough for Hoseok not to hear, and especially not quiet enough for him to disregard the, “DON’T KILL ANYONE!” that Yoongi had replied with. A horror of the uncertainty behind whether or not Yoongi was joking had surged through Hoseok while the boy with fair hair dragged him to a round building he hadn’t seen before.
“They make me train in here, away from everyone else. They don’t want anyone to see how I fight,” Yoongi informed Hoseok while they walked. There was a pride in his voice, a self-congratulatory tone that seemed to be a motif throughout his entire character. Hoseok felt irritation in his boasting, as well as an unrealistic need to be better than him even though he couldn’t defeat anybody, no matter who it was.
They walked in silence until they finally reached the domed building, and Hoseok began wondering the use for it while they walked through the dimly lit hallway. The windows were small as Hoseok saw once he looked up, and although they went around the perimeter of the building, something blocked most of the light from coming in completely. It was only enough for Hoseok to see where he was going, and who he was following.
“We hold games here sometimes. Your kingdom never joined, but others come to compete in sports and fights. I always end up winning the running competitions,” he explained without Hoseok having to ask, and the small irritation he felt in Yoongi’s boasting continued to grow the more he spoke. Something inside him was glad that they’d be fighting alone. Maybe he’d get the chance to punch Yoongi in the face, and all his frustrations would go with it.
When they finally came out to the opening in the middle of the building, Yoongi let go of his wrist to reveal red patches of skin where he latched onto him as a leech would have. I wouldn’t have run away, he thought to himself angrily as he tried to rub the red spots back to their proper colour. Would I have? he questioned as he watched Yoongi grab what looked like long wooden sticks. There was a strength in Yoongi that radiated without a need for words, and Hoseok wasn’t certain about anything regarding Yoongi except for the fact that he didn’t want to be an enemy to that strength. Though it seemed to be too late for him to have a say in that regard.
“I need you to know something,” Yoongi said, his voice loud so it could be heard from their distance. His words echoed throughout the building and Hoseok couldn’t help but feel as if he was in a scenario that wouldn’t end well. His only comfort at that moment was that Yoongi was forbidden to kill him.
“What?” Hoseok asked, his strong voice immediately countered by the way he shielded himself from the wooden stick Yoongi tossed at him. His cowering elicited a laugh from Yoongi and Hoseok noticed, as he threw his head back in his state of hysterics, that his golden hair shone brighter with less sunlight on him, as if he was really a star.
“Pick it up and I’ll tell you,” he said calmly, the smile on his face one that Hoseok wanted to rid him of. He found that the stick was hollowed out when he took it in his hands, although thick enough for it to be heavy in Hoseok’s untrained arms. He watched as Yoongi twirled it in his hand like it was a baton instead of something that was over half his size, and felt like running away now that no hand was holding him back.
“I need you to know—” Yoongi started, but didn’t continue before he started charging at Hoseok, the smile on his face as he did so glimmering under the shadows of the building.
A wave of energy flooded Hoseok’s body, as if he was facing a bear and his fight-or-flight response had been activated. He ran to the side, along the wall that stood as a barrier between the grounds and the seated audience and only ran faster at the sound of Yoongi’s laughter.
The footsteps chasing after him had disappeared from behind and he looked to check if Yoongi had really disappeared or just stopped to watch him make a fool of himself. There was no one behind him given what he could see from the light, but a chill ran through him when he heard the footsteps appear next to him instead.
Yoongi was running on the top of the wall Hoseok was running alongside, the look on his face so menacing that it was almost a relief all he had done was jump towards Hoseok with the stick in his hand, positioned as if he was ready to slice his head off.
Miraculously and with no way of knowing how, Hoseok managed to block the hit from landing anywhere on him with the stick he held. He ran away again, though this time with little success as the way Yoongi moved had made it seem like chasing after someone, hunting them down and fighting them, was all he was raised to do. Yoongi caught up before Hoseok could even exhale, seeming to have moved faster than before. Hoseok couldn’t deny neither his fascination nor his curiosity as to how Yoongi could move so swiftly, but he was in no position to ask when Yoongi was trying to get past the wooden stick he was swinging erratically in defense with so much precision that Hoseok didn’t want to give up just so he could continue watching him.
“WHAT I NEED YOU TO KNOW,” Yoongi yelled, the exasperation and anger in his voice so raw and so clear that it caused Hoseok to freeze in his spot from shock. Yoongi took the chance then to shove him to the ground, kicking Hoseok's wooden stick away before pinning him to the floor with his staff pressed across Hoseok's shoulders.
There was little space for Hoseok to breathe, and almost none at all between their noses. Yoongi’s eyes were raving in a way he’d never seen before, as if the fighting had gotten him so excited that he couldn’t help but thirst for more. Hoseok was afraid, could see that Yoongi could kill him if he wanted to and he wouldn’t have been able to do anything to keep himself alive.
“What I need you to know,” he repeated again, his voice quiet and his words wrapped with laughter he no longer bothered to give fully. “Is that you’re nothing if you can’t fight with a stick, let alone a sword. You read as many books as you want, and you look at me with those eyes that say my strength is nothing, but when the time comes that war reigns over us, tell me which you’ll defend yourself with. A book or a sword?”
Hoseok’s fear subsided, giving way for an anger so great in its extent that it surprised even him to feel it in a situation like this. He didn’t know he could feel so much loathing at once for a single person. He hadn’t even felt this much hatred for his father, and his father spent his life doing nothing but spitting on him just for being alive.
The arrogance in Yoongi’s face, the conceit in his eyes as he told Hoseok old words as if they were new, were aggravating. He wanted to wash them away, to grab it in his hands and rip it out of him so that he could be a greater man with a wider sense of perspective, a more aged sense of living. He was caught up in his head, in the world he was raised in, and Hoseok saw in Yoongi everything he hated about royalty.
“If there comes a time that war reigns over us,” Hoseok answered with laboured grunts between his words as he shoved Yoongi off of his chest and onto the floor, pushing himself back to his feet. “I will not fight with a book, or a sword, or you.” His words were spat, his voice vile and venomous in a way he didn’t know they could be.
Hoseok walked towards the exit without hesitation, and without looking back at Yoongi, not even curious for what expression Yoongi now wore in response the outburst. He didn’t want to be called a coward by eyes that meant nothing to him. And he refused to be told how to prioritize the things in his life by someone who didn’t know how to fight for anything but himself.