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Seojun had lost his happiness a long time ago.
From the moment he opened his eyes he knew what kind of day it would be. His entire body felt shaky and there was a sinking feeling in his stomach, it would be a day where he felt smaller than everything else and where it felt like everything around him would crumble. Even though these days happened less as he got older, he was still oddly used to them.
He sipped the water that had been placed on his nightstand and blinked slowly, surroundings still blurry from the small hours of sleep he had gotten. There was a dull throb in his head when he opened the curtains. The sun was still rising over the buildings of Seoul, for once he’d woken up before usual. At least he could guarantee he wouldn't be late.
The knocking of a door echoed throughout the room, “Are you awake yet? Mama made food for us today!” Gowoon. Despite being a high school student she insisted on calling their mother Mama, Seojun thought it was adorable, it being one of few times he could see that shy little four year old girl in her.
He cursed under his breath. Why had she gotten up so early for that? She still hadn't fully recovered, and too much movement could make her sicker (he didn’t know if that was true but in his head it made perfect sense). He threw his school uniform on, his earrings were still in, and he would sort out makeup and shit after he’d checked up on his mother.
He stumbled into the bathroom and began to brush his teeth, but his mind drifted elsewhere. The boy in the mirror didn’t really look like him today, his eyes were too sunken and his skin looked hollow. It wasn’t a lie that he looked dead most days but today he really looked dead. There was another knock at the door again which pulled him out of his daydream-- “Han Seojun! How long will you be? You’re not the only person in this apartment!” Gowoon, once again.
He slipped his toothbrush out of mouth and spat out the toothpaste, noticing the metallic taste in his mouth from brushing in one place for too long. Oh well, it wouldn’t matter much, he didn’t tend to speak much in school so not many people would notice anyway. He shifted his hands through his hair a little before realizing that no matter what he did, it would still look messy if he didn’t wash it. “Yeah, I’m coming out now!” He rinsed his mouth out and readjusted his shirt before sliding out of the bathroom, brushing past his sister as he did so.
As predicted, his mother was in the kitchen. There was food on the tables and Seojun wouldn't lie with you, it looked good. He held back the sigh forming on his lips-- she looked joyful today, and he wouldn't ruin that with his own miserableness.
He simply nodded and sat at the table. It was finally one of the days where he had the time to sit at a table and eat, instead of skipping his meals in favour of not being late. Actually most of the time he skipped them purposefully but he wouldn’t tell that to anyone, he didn’t want to worry people anymore.
She thrusted a pair of chopsticks into his frail fingers, “Eat well, Seojun-ah! Don’t worry about Gowoon, she already ate.” It was impossible for him to not worry about Gowoon, she was his little baby sister, and he was the closest thing she had to a father figure in her life.
“Oh… and don’t ride your bike anymore.” Her voice, this time, was like a whisper, like she was afraid of someone else hearing. It was a tone Seojun recognized all too well. “It’s for your own safety.”
He pushed whatever food was in his chopsticks into his mouth so he didn’t have to give a response. He didn’t want to disappoint her but he didn’t want to get her hopes up. He chewed like his father had taught him, slow and steady, if you eat too fast you’ll get sick .
Don’t be sick. Seojun hated being sick, more than anything else really, it cost money they didn’t have anymore, it caused people to worry, and it made people focus on him. Even if his father said it to the point it made his head hurt, he still listened. In recent years his fear of illness had amplified even more.
Telling his mother that he wouldn’t do it and her finding out he still rode his motorbike would break her heart, but telling her he did still ride it would make her anxious, and that could worsen her health even more. He didn’t want either, he just wanted her to stop worrying about him.
After finishing the majority of the food given to him, he looked at her again. “I’ll be safe.”
Then he picked up his jacket off the arm of the couch and walked out, finger tracing over the key in his pocket.
Once he got down to the bottom floor of his apartment building he stopped. He thought about it for a little while. Even Jugyeong and Suho had stopped telling him to stop riding his motorbike now. Had they given up or had they thought he would listen more if they stopped? Jugyeong only did it because his mother told her to rat him out if she saw him, and he didn’t really know why Suho did it. Was it so he didn’t have to pay his medical bills if he got injured? Was it so he didn’t have to see his mother anxious?
He ran his thumb over the key again when the cold winter air hit his face.
He took the bus that day.
By the time he had gotten to school it had easily been over half an hour since he left home, and the icy air had really started to take a toll on him. He aimlessly kicked stray cans around since there was no one there worth talking to, or anyone really at all. The caretaker was there with his brush and there were a few girls smoking behind the sports shed (Seojun didn’t mind smoking, he just didn’t want to smell the smoke).
The key in his pocket felt even heavier now, and even when more students started strolling in and the shrill of the bell sounded throughout the grounds, he still couldn’t get it off his mind. He sighed. The classroom was noisy, Mr Han hadn’t shown up yet. Even with music blasting through his earphones he couldn’t sleep, there was something ticking in the back of his mind. He looked up at the board, and he lost control.
“Han Gowoon!”
His voice went unheard in the crowds, people running in all directions yelling in Japanese-- Seojun didn’t understand what they were saying. His legs felt useless as everything shook beneath him, hot, wet tears streaming down his face as he tried to fucking grasp the situation. A hand gripped at his wrist and a man said something to him, also in Japanese, trying to drag him away. He screamed, “let me go!” but the man just tightened his grip and pulled him away. It went unnoticed. He felt like throwing up, he wanted to scream more and kick this man away, but he couldn’t.
The next thing he remembered was in a tent. The chilly air nipped at his bare skin, head throbbing as he opened his eyes fully and blinked a few times. His eyes scanned the small area, recalling everything that had happened. His sister wasn’t here, his father wasn’t here, his mother wasn’t here.
He looked to the ground and saw something taped down-- it looked government-y (and in Korean!).
Name: Han Seojun
Age: Unknown
Place of Origin: The Republic of Korea
Location Found: Sendai
Shit, so he really was alone now?
He pushed his hands against the floor, wincing at the pain in his legs when he stood up. Seojun unzipped the tent flap and poked his head out. There were other tents, all looking the same as his. People were milling around. Some of them looked professional, like disaster aid or something, whilst some looked like he did-- alone and distraught. He stood there for a few minutes until a lady stood in front of him, Korean words flowing from her mouth.
He didn’t listen well, he couldn’t concentrate, all he could understand was that she was a rescue worker and that his family weren’t there. He knew all of that already. Then she left, and it clicked to Seojun.
He was alone in a foreign country, and he didn’t know where his family was.
A hand gripped his shoulder and a voice echoed in his ears, “Han Seojun! Why aren’t you paying attention? You need to focus on the test.” Seojun didn’t look up at the teacher or whoever the fuck it was, he nodded and muttered some sort of apology.
He felt alone, the exact same loneliness he’d felt all those years ago.
Lunch came faster than he would’ve hoped. His friends’ voices felt like bullets that pierced through his skin. He didn’t want to hear about the new game that had come out and if he wanted to go to the PC Bang with them after school to check it out, he wanted to be at home, in his bed, somewhere safe and warm and quiet.
A hand gripped at his wrist and tugged, causing all of Seojun’s senses to go on alert mode. The body behind him was too close, he could feel the fabric of their shirt against his neck, he could smell their minty breath, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want it. “Han Seojun, we need to leave.” What the fuck was up with people saying his full name today?
The hand pulled him up and dragged him out of the lunch hall. Seojun couldn’t say a word, cause if he opened his mouth only sobs would come out. Suho, it had to be fucking Lee Suho. Everything was collapsing, and he couldn’t breathe.
Once they reached the sports shed, Suho yanked at his wrist and before Seojun could yelp he was pulled into Suho’s arms. The smell of smoke was overpowered with the smell of him . Like apple and cinnamon, like somewhere where no pain existed, like home .
“You’re okay, you’re okay, breathe. You’re in Korea, you’re in Seoul at Saebom High School, you’re safe here.” Suho murmured into his ear, breath hot against the coldness of Seojun’s skin. It used to be Seojun shoving Suho’s hands into his coat pockets cause they were so cold but now it was Seojun who needed warming up, as if the water from the tsunami had been thrown on him and hadn’t dried off.
They stood there like that for a few moments, Seojun basking in the heat radiating from Suho’s skin as he shook and shook like the buildings that fell, tears pouring out onto Suho’s neck like the water filling people’s lungs and choking them to death. “Why… why did I have to live and they didn’t?”
Suho felt a wave of protectiveness wash over his heart. This boy who had been perceived by everyone as violent and disruptive was hurting, he had been hurting so badly and nobody but him knew. In his arms, Seojun was small, he was vulnerable. His collarbones were prominent, sticking through his skin and then dipping.
“Because… you are destined to survive.” Suho’s voice rumbled through him, taking hold of his heartstrings and playing a melody twisted in desire and regret, it came out in another sob. They knew-- they both knew. “Because you will get through whatever life puts against you, Seojun-ah.”
The endearment felt nice, from Suho. The words, though, shot straight over his head. His heartbeat thumped in his head, chest rising and falling with all of his faltering, shallow breaths. Seojun had never been good with his emotions and neither had Suho.
“You,” Suho’s hand came to run through Seojun’s messy hair (he thought it was cute, really, but he’d never say it out loud), “you, Han Seojun, will be okay.”
Han Seojun would be okay. One day, he would be okay.