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When Kim Dokja told his son to stay put in the school until he could come running from the office, he had expected to maybe find Gilyoung in the garden, communicating with the bugs like always; or in the playground, with the other children; or in the library, because of the air-conditioning. Those are all natural assumptions to make about kids, right? Kim Dokja had read a few articles on parenting and had decided none of this was going to process in his head, so maybe it was on him for not studying further and focusing on work instead.
In any case. He had not been expecting to find Gilyoung not in the garden, or the playground, or the library, but sitting on a bench near the school gates, playing on a game console that he most certainly does not own.
“Gilyoung?” Kim Dokja calls, unable to keep the surprise—and trepidation—out of his voice. Gilyoung couldn’t have stolen that, right? His first guess is that a friend had lent it to him, but there’s no one else around, and honestly the amount of times he’s had a teacher report to him that Gilyoung has a habit of taking things without asking for permission first has begun to worry him.
Gilyoung lights up when he sees him, and to Kim Dokja’s further alarm, tucks the game console into his uniform pocket before grabbing his school bag and hurrying out of the gates. “Hyung!” he exclaims. He’s at that age where saying ‘dad’ is too lame, Kim Dokja supposes.
“Sorry I took a while again, but. Uh. Just where did you get that from?” Kim Dokja asks, pointing at the corner of the console sticking out of Gilyoung’s pocket. “That’s not yours, is it?”
“Oh, this?” Gilyoung holds it up. Upon closer inspection Kim Dokja almost blacks out—isn’t this the newest handheld console just recently released by that huge corporation? Kim Dokja could go without eating for an entire year and still not have enough money saved to afford that. What exactly is Gilyoung doing with one? “Yeah, he said it’s mine now!”
Kim Dokja’s first emotion is relief that, at the very least, Gilyoung hadn’t stolen it. Then the rest of his son’s voice catch up to his head. “…‘He?’”
Despite Gilyoung’s tantrums, arguing, pleading, and eventual sulky silence, Kim Dokja takes the console away. (He pretends not to notice when Gilyoung sneaks into his room at night to play for a few hours before hurriedly stowing it back in the drawer in the morning before they both usually get up.) Then, on the first parent-teacher conference of the year, Kim Dokja brings the console along—making absolutely sure not to mishandle it in any way—and drags his tired feet to the school.
“If you were being genuine about it, then I appreciate it, I really do,” Kim Dokja immediately says, the instant the parent in front of him in the line leaves and he can speak to Gilyoung’s PE teacher, “but if you didn’t mean it and he took this without your permission then I am very sorry, and please have this back for your own… use.”
He slides the gaming console across the narrow table, hoping to whatever gods are listening out there that this PE teacher, all crossed arms and furrowed brows and stern frown, isn’t going to say something like, “Oh, so your kid was the one who stole my stuff,” and then give him the Heimlich or something.
To both his relief and confusion, the teacher—Yoo Joonghyuk, his ID reads—just raises an eyebrow. “You’re… Kim Gilyoung’s parent?”
“I’m very sorry,” Kim Dokja repeats, trying to sound as sincere as possible about it. Some days he stares at the thing sitting in his drawer and tries not to think about how much he could sell this for even if he priced it at half the usual cost. He and Gilyoung could go out and have a steak dinner… or at least something that isn’t just instant noodles…
Yoo Joonghyuk pushes the console back to Kim Dokja’s end of the table. “I meant it,” he says; and then, without giving Kim Dokja any time to recover from that, he adds, tartly, “It is not yours, by the way. What gives you the right to return this to me? It should be the boy himself instead.”
“…What?” Kim Dokja chokes out.
“What?” Yoo Joonghyuk returns.
“Er. Listen, this is very… kind of you and all,” Kim Dokja manages, now just fumbling for words because he hadn’t rehearsed anything if the conversation had turned like this, “but this is really too expensive to be a… gift.” He frowns and tries to wrack his head for any reason as to why some PE teacher would give Gilyoung the console. It can’t be him bribing Gilyoung to stay quiet about something—Kim Dokja had, at least, taught Gilyoung early on to tell his dad (sorry, hyung) if anything was wrong or if anyone was bullying him, including teachers—but this Yoo Joonghyuk… just doesn’t particularly strike Kim Dokja as someone who would, well. Give a child an expensive gaming console for free.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him like he’s wondering how someone so perfectly devoid of intelligence can exist in this world. “Once again. I will only consider it if your child is the one speaking, not you. Did he want to return this to me?”
“I—Of course not, but—”
“Then your opinion does not matter.”
“…Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi,” Kim Dokja grinds out, through gritted teeth, “if you’re trying to extort money I don’t have out of me, then you’re better off finding another kid to trick. I can’t possibly pay you for this.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s right eye twitches. “I am not extorting you. If I must say it again—” and here he puts on a ridiculous amount of emphasis, speaking slowly as if trying to communicate with a toddler—“it was a gift.”
“You can’t be serious. This thing costs as much as my monthly rent.”
“I am serious. Bring this back home to the child.”
“But it’s ridiculous! Why would you—”
“He spends hours sitting alone waiting for you by the gates everyday after classes,” Yoo Joonghyuk bites out, eyes narrowing into a glare. Kim Dokja opens his mouth to respond on reflex, then realizes he has nothing to say to defend himself when faced with a fact. “Hardly any other children are still in the school by six o’clock. He gets bored enough to talk to me when I leave the building. At least with one of these,” he says, gesturing at the console, “the time he spends waiting for you does not go by as slowly. Are you not ashamed of yourself?”
At the back of Kim Dokja’s head, a little voice mutters about not having expected to be publicly called out about his shit parenting in the middle of a parent-teacher conference. The other, well, parents and teachers are already starting to sneak glances their way, and considering Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, there’s no way they hadn’t heard that. “I can’t afford to leave work any earlier than I already do,” Kim Dokja bites out. “Once again, I appreciate your efforts to… help him, but this is something I can’t repay. So take it back.”
“I gave it. To him. Not. To you.”
“If you’re so insistent, then give it back to him yourself,” Kim Dokja finally says, pleased at how he’d somehow managed to sound calm and cold rather than any of the emotions from the mess in his head right now. He holds his hands up in a mocking, defensive posture as he steps away from the table, making sure the console is closer to Yoo Joonghyuk. “And now I’ve been holding up the line, haven’t I? I’ll get going now. Let’s never talk again, shall we?”
Annoyingly enough, though, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t even blink. “Alright,” is all he offers. Kim Dokja had not previously known ‘alright’ could sound quite as poisonous.
Kim Dokja turns around and speed-walks away, trying to ignore the gazes of several dozen other people, and heaves a sigh of relief once he’s fully out of the vicinity. He doubts Yoo Joonghyuk is persistent enough to actually walk over and give the console back to Kim Dokja, and if he does return it to Gilyoung in school… well, then Gilyoung will have learned from last time and will make more of an effort to hide it from Kim Dokja, and Kim Dokja can feign ignorance about it then.
That’s probably not the best habit to instill in a child, but he’ll think of a way to make up for it in the future. For now, Kim Dokja’s just relieved this whole affair is finally over.
Is what he thinks, until he catches the train back to his apartment and finds, of all people, Yoo Joonghyuk standing by the building doorway, not just the console in one hand but also with a Happy Meal in his other.
Kim Dokja opens his mouth, and fails to say anything appropriate for the situation.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks terribly unimpressed. “Before you ask. We have students’ addresses recorded for information purposes. He’s mentioned liking this before too.” He lifts up the Happy Meal like Kim Dokja really needs to see it any more than he already has. “Now let me in.”
“I am not letting you in my apartment? Are you insane?”
“Let me in. This is a threat.”
Kim Dokja scoffs, but it’s significantly difficult to look unintimidated by a man whose muscles look like they make him capable of lifting a truck. “A threat? What are you going to do? Beat me over the head with a gaming console—”
The doors to the apartment building suddenly slide open, and Kim Dokja has a second of bewildered panic before remembering he’s made it a habit of texting Gilyoung whenever he’s on his way home. “Hyung! And—Teacher!” he shouts, clinging to Kim Dokja’s side but staring wide-eyed up at Yoo Joonghyuk. “What’s Teacher doing here? Did you come after the parent-teacher thing? Ah!” His eyes go even wider at the sight of the console. “I knew it! You’ll give it back after all, right, Teacher? See, hyung, I told you he wasn’t lying to me!”
Yoo Joonghyuk gives Kim Dokja a pointed look. Kim Dokja swallows, considers his choices, and starts. “Listen, Gilyoung-ah, when strangers give you things for free—”
“Teacher’s not a stranger,” Gilyoung says. Now it’s his turn to look at Kim Dokja like he’s stupid. This really isn’t doing wonders for Kim Dokja’s self-esteem. “Let’s just go in already. Is that food? Did you buy us food, Teacher?”
“I,” Kim Dokja says, but Gilyoung is already dragging Yoo Joonghyuk by the end of his coat into the building. Yoo Joonghyuk turns around, gives Kim Dokja a glare that somehow comes off as decidedly smug, and lets himself be pulled into the elevator. Gilyoung is already waving at Kim Dokja and asking why hyung won’t follow.
Maybe Kim Dokja really should have read more of those parenting articles after all.