Chapter Text
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1.1
This street is completely crazy
Strangers in between people
Every moment that we're together like
boom
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Shouts heard. Bodies mingled. Sweat shared. Music blared. Lights dimmed.
The mixed scent of alcohol, smoke and sweat rose in the air as people jumped to the beat. The DJs were on and the dance floor was lit with fire. Bodies grinded against each other to their own rhythm. Cups and glasses were raised as shouts of glee surrounded the club. Cigars were lit, beer pong was played. Some made out in the open while others went out for a room.
I witnessed these with a sickening feeling in my gut. It was exhausting, dancing for hours so I sat near the bar counter. I gulped down a glass of whatever alcohol this was. The fiery taste was cool on my tongue yet it burned my throat. I ignored the painful throbbing of my head as I gulped down another glass.
Something in my jean's pocket vibrated. I ignored it until it stopped. Another glass. A few minutes, my phone vibrated again, a call waiting for me. I ignored it still as I poured myself another glass and gulped it down. This cycle went on for what I think was almost an hour, before someone tapped on my shoulder. I looked around to see a friend from school.
No . Its only an acquaintance . I have no friends.
"Hey Suho, my man! What are you doing there all alone? Let's dance with the chicas," a guy, which I recalled to be my classmate, Chanyeol, said to me with a cheeky grin.
Suho. A false name which I introduced myself to everyone.
I showed him a smirk as I replied, "Those freshmen girls? Tch, no thanks. You can go fuck them yourself."
He shrugged and said, "What's the use of throwing this party yourself when you're not even enjoying it?"
My tongue clicked with annoyance. Sometimes, they don't know when to stop. I gulped another glass then I replied, "I am enjoying." With that I turned around. It was rude but I wanted him to know that I was done talking.
He tapped my shoulder and said something incoherent. Then he's gone and I was left on my own again. I sighed as my phone vibrated again. My brows furrowed as I got it out of my pocket. As I turned it on, I saw that it was already one in the morning of September. My head throbbed with too much alcohol but I ignored it as I unlocked my phone. 23 missed calls. 18 unread messages. All from one person that I loathed for as long as I could remember. Kang Hee, our former housemaid. But no calls, no messages, none from the person that I hated the most.
My father.
The word itself had a bitter aftertaste when spoken. What did I expect? For him to fret and worry where was I? Tch, when hell freezes over. I shouldn't think of that. Damn, I would fuck myself if I do.
It would always be the fucking "housemaid" who would look for me. I didn't need to open each text to know what's inside so I stuffed my phone back in my pocket. I felt a full ache at the back of my head but I ignored it once more and closed my eyes. Then suddenly, I was drowning in memories.
"Appa(dad), appa! Look what I've got!" A seven-year old kid exclaimed giddily holding a miniature aircraft. It was his father's gift during his birthday and he just finished assembling the pieces. He proudly lifted it up for his father to see.
But the said man, who wore his business attire even at home, hadn't notice the little boy as he was speaking urgently with someone on his phone.
"What? The stocks should be rising by now, what do you mean its gone bad? What about the project proposal of-" he kept talking as he paced across the room.
The little boy followed him and kept talking, "Appa, there were many pieces but I managed to sort them out well. It took time but I already made my toy! Look!"
But the man didn't look. The boy pouted when he noticed that his father was not paying him any attention. So he grabbed a fistful of his father's trousers and shook it fervently. "Appa!!" He whined.
"-tell Ms. Hwang to call the management. Let them check the progress of Mr. Lee's proposal and-" he finally noticed the little boy so he stopped to scowl at him, "don't interrupt me boy." He pushed the boy's hand away and continued his call, "when that's done, call for the board and we'll have a meeting."
But the little boy didn't stop and continued his whining. It was too much that it irked the man. There were too much on his plate already and distractions were not welcome.
"I said stop it Junmyeon!" His father growled at the boy, without meaning to, he pushed away the little kid. Little Junmyeon lost his balance and then he fell to the floor. He hissed in pain as he felt the wooden floor scrapped his palms and knees. His toy, his perfectly-built aircraft, wasn't saved. As the fragile thing hit the floor, it exploded into bits and pieces. Junmyeon watched it in horror then tears threatened to spill. He looked up to see his father glaring at the broken toy. Then the man looked at him with a sharp gaze.
"Kang Hee-ah!" He snapped and moments later a woman in her thirties entered the room in her maid's clothes. She looked at the mess and at the crying child and exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, you bad child! I just finished sweeping earlier!"
"Clean that up after sending Junmyeon to his room," the man said coldly then he glanced away and continued his call.
The maid shook her head at the boy. Instead of pity, it was full of disappointment as she looked at Junmyeon.
The memory burned the little boy's head as he cried for his toy airplane, for their maid's sympathy and for his father's attention.
Then the scene changed.
A storm was raging outside the Kims' residence. 10-year old Junmyeon clutched his ironman toy as he looked out of the window. He was awed by the ferocity of the wind and the intensity of the rainfall. But the noise of the commotion outside wasn't enough to cover the shouts of the inside. The little boy sniffed. He knew that for the past few days, constant bickerings could be heard from his parents. They would act like nothing happened in front of him during the day. But at nights like that, when they thought he was fast asleep, the fights would ensue and things would break. Just like that night.
"I've had enough!" His mother's voice rang out and he perked up. He ran towards his bedroom door and opened it silently. He peeked behind it and he saw his parents' bedroom door opened. His mother got out, a suitcase in her hand. His father got out also and pointed at his mother, his hands trembling with rage.
"Then get out of here! Get out of our lives!"
"Oh I sure will, you insufferable jerk!"
His mother was crying and trembling on her own when she screamed. Then she turned around, grabbed her suitcase, and ran away.
The child was so startled by the turn of events and bursted out crying. He threw his toy away and opened his door wide. Then he chased his mother. His father shouted for him to stop but he didn't.
"Eomma(mom)! Eomma! Eomma!" He cried out as he ran across their house. "Don't leave me eomma! Don't leave us eomma!" His cries grew louder as he hastened his pace.
His mother was already at their door when he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Eommaaa!!!"
Then he tripped and fell forward. He groaned as pain racked his little body. He looked up and saw that his mother stopped to look at him for the last time. Her tears streaked her cheeks but her eyes held the determination that the child was fearing.
She casted him with a cold, resolute look as she said, "You're on your own." Then she whirled around, opened the doors, and slipped into the storm.
She didn't even ask if he was hurt. She didn't even pity her child. She didn't even think of him. She just left him.
His father didn't even stop her. His father didn't even chase her. His father didn't even come to him. His father didn't even console his child. He just let him be.
The child didn't stop crying as he made himself into a ball. He slept on the floor the whole night.
The scene changed once again.
The 12-year-old Junmyeon looked at his hands as he fisted it on his lap. Pain tickled his cheeks where he was hit. His nose bleed but he didn't bother to wipe it off.
"Again, I'm asking you. Why did you hit your classmate?" their bald homeroom teacher directed his question to Junmyeon. He stayed silent, sitting down in a chair in front of their teacher's desk. Opposite of him sat his classmate who exclaimed, "Sir! He hit me with a chair earlier! I only asked for his notes but he got angry on me. Some of our classmates didn't like him too because he mugged and hit them too."
Junmyeon looked up and his lips trembled as he said to their teacher, "That's not true! I didn't hit them! He hit me instead!" Then he lifted his arms to show him his bruises. But the teacher ignored him and gave him a disapproving look instead.
"Liars are meant for hell. You should know that Junmyeon-ah," he paused, "I called your parents and they're already on their way."
Hope blossomed through Junmyeon's heart. His father was coming. His father would believe him. His father would save him from there. His father would know that he wouldn't hit others. His father would know he was being bullied. His father would make that stop. He believed his father would.
But when the parents finally came. Nothing but pure disappointment was emitted from Mr. Kim, Junmyeon's father.
"I never pegged you for a delinquent, Junmyeon. I didn't raise you like this," the man said then turned to apologize to his classmate's parents.
"But I didn't do it! He was the one who hit me! He was bullying me appa!" But he was only met with his father's harsh glare and his classmate's silent snicker.
"Silence, kid. Enough with your lies. You are already a distraction to my work and now you messed up in school. I'll have to talk to you when we got home," Mr. Kim said, his cold gaze fixed on his child. Something broke inside the boy.
Then the scene changed once more.
"Appa! Its my fault. Please appa, I was wrong. Forgive me, appa. Please stop, appa," the crying child rubbed his hands together as a sign of begging for mercy. His eyes red with tears and his throat was sore from crying. His bruises from earlier throbbed and he could feel the pain where his skin opened and blood was trickling out. His knees throbbed with pain from kneeling down for too long.
"That's not enough!" His father shouted as he lashed his belt at his bare back once again. The boy cried out as he felt the hit. Over and over again he was hit. His father intended to stop when he would learn the lesson. It was the first time that his father did this to him. And it would be the last time he would see him as his father. With every lash, his hope for his father to love him back shredded. With every hit, his hope for having an understanding parent slowly dissipated. With every hurtful and cruel word, he broke inside. With every abuse, the child inside slowly died, leaving a soulless shell of what was once the happy kid, Kim Junmyeon.
"Suho-ah, Suho-ah!"
I heard someone said while I felt a tap on my back. I groaned as I tried to move, my back and neck ached. I slowly got up from the uncomfortable sleeping position that I was in for what felt like hours. I opened my eyes and squinted as I asked in a hoarse voice, "Where am I?"
Lights flooded my vision and I abruptly closed my eyes. Then I opened it again and adjusted my vision. I looked around. Cups, some random trash and cigarette butts littered the place. A person was sweeping the trash while another wiped the tables. The place was nearly empty except for those janitors, a bartender who was cleaning up the counter, a guy I remembered as Chanyeol and then there's me. Then I remembered what took place here.
Right. The party. I probably passed out.
I looked up at Chanyeol and asked, "Why are you still here?" It couldn't possibly be because he was waiting for me. We're not close enough.
"I was just done with my last bottle-" he gestured at a nearby table with several empty bottles on it and continued, "then I saw you drooling over here."
"I'm not drooling," I said then I noticed that his voice was slurred when he spoke. He was probably drunk, judging from the way he made a funny face while talking to me.
"I have to wake you up man or you'll be locked here for the rest of the night," a paused, "otherwise you might not invite me to another party." His mouth stretched into a grin as he giggled.
My head throbbed and I could sense a hangover coming up. Well, shit. I ignored it and stood up.
"Good for you," I said and tapped his shoulder. Then I went to the counter and grabbed my jacket. Without looking back, I walked straight out of the club.
Once outside of the building, I inhaled the city air. I took a look of my wristwatch and I came to know that its already a quarter after three in the morning. I opened my phone and saw 36 missed calls and 27 unread messages. None from him but who cares? I slid my phone back in my pocket. I shrugged into my jacket and shoved my hands on its pockets. I walked towards my motorcycle that was parked just near the building. It roared to life after I turned the engine on. I got up on it and slid my helmet on my head. It roared as I drove it away from the place.
Even at this early hour, this part of Seoul was bustling with busy people and cars. Strangers walked wordlessly but noise could be heard from establishments. Buildings for night gimmicks were closing while regular buildings opened for the day and 24-hour stores remained open. The city was dead yet alive at the same time.
I turned around a corner and was met by a 24-hour-open tent store. I pulled over and went inside. The owner of the store, an ahjumma(old lady) in her fifties, greeted me as I entered. As I had predicted, there were no costumers. I made my way to one of the tables and I sensed that she followed me. As I sat down, she asked me, "Oh, sonja(grandson), are you here for the usual?"
I smiled and nodded, "Ne, halmeoni (yes, grandmother)." Although we weren't blood-related, I felt a bond with this ahjumma because I was a regular at her store. It started when I was still in middle school, when I started getting reckless.
Ah, memories. I mentally noted with sarcasm.
The owner went and came again minutes later with my order. A full plate of chicken feet with bottles of soju(a kind of alcohol) and mekju(beer). I flipped a glass and filled it full with somek (mixed soju and mekju). I ignored the fact that I was still hungover and my head would probably be a mess later. I ate and drank in silence. Alone.
Then suddenly, the tent door opened and the cold air entered, along with a figure. I squinted to see what entered the door, just curious. It was a girl. A young, pretty face with a nice figure... A gorgeous, young woman. She looked near my age. She exchanged greetings with the owner as if they were close friends - probably they were. Then she looked around and locked eyes with me. Her hair was jet black and straight and she had a confident-looking face. I couldn't make out her face from afar but I thought her eyes were somewhere between black and brown.
Her mouth quirked up in amusement as she caught me checking her out. She raised her eyebrow and I just shrugged and looked away. From my peripheral view, I saw her as she settled in a table far from mine. I breathed in.
You have far more important things to think about Suho.
I shook my head and drank. Minutes passed as I finished my food. Every now and then, the girl would start up a conversation with the ajhumma. I only heard snippets of their talk but I didn't really care about that.
Her laugh, though, was distracting me. Her laugh sounded so carefree and angelic that it reminded me of my mother. That woman who left me with the bastard. I gritted my teeth as I tried to ignore the sound. But I couldn't help but be drawn to her.
No. You're just drunk Suho. Snap out of it.
And I did. I stood up so abruptly that I almost tripped on my chair. Their conversation halted and two heads snapped at my direction. I waved my hand carelessly and said, "I'm fine." I didn't miss how my voice slurred. I was drunk physically but I was pretty sure I was still thinking clearly.
I walked slowly and they watched me. I opened my wallet and paid for my meal then I turned and got out of the tent. I looked at where my motorcycle was parked and went for it.
I didn't know the girl was following me until I tripped and almost fell. She caught me just in time and I didn't know how she managed my weight. I was grateful though, at least my handsome face wouldn't be squashed. Okay. I'm really drunk.
"You're gonna ride that thing? In this state?" She said, her voice melodic to my ears, as she straightened me up. That's when I noticed how close we were standing to each other. I could smell her scent, the scent of citrus. My eyes roamed her face. Her perfectly shaped brows and nose, her long lashes, her pinkish lips and her small frame. I looked down (for she was shorter than me) and drowned in her eyes. Silver. Her eyes are silver. My head suddenly throbbed.
She must've noticed my intrusion on her privacy for she blushed. She cleared her throat and looked away as she asked, "Should I call a taxi for you?"
"I-" but I was cut off as a searing pain hit my head. My vision swam and the earth swayed.
"Hey, Suho-ssi? Are you alright?" I heard a panicked voice but before I could comprehend anything else, everything went dark.
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1.2
Hey girl, that one moment felt like eternity
When you pierced into me in just one moment
You called my name and came to me
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