Chapter Text
Today was February 15th, 2014, Kim Dokja’s birthday.
So, as he trudged along the same path, stared at same night sky and the same silent stars, he wondered how long it had been since every minute blurred into every hour and every hour into every day and week and year and decade.
He wondered how he had simply lived continuously and drifted through every task and burden of what was his pathetic existence. He supposed, it wasn’t all that bad. He had a roof over his head, all his limbs, his electric space heater he got for discount at 25,000 won and even his chronic back pain.
And just for a couple treasured moments, minute and fleeting, he had the moments of serenity in which everything simply vanished and he was nothing more than a little speck of nothingness in the ever-wider blob of nothingness, the instant of bleary consciousness in the morning, ignorant bliss.
Of course, till it wasn’t and it all came rushing back, a huge, massive kick in the balls. Emphasis on how big the kick in the balls was, because he could confirm, it hurt.
The breeze nibbled at his nose and he felt an eyelash awkwardly poking at his eyeball and the strap of his eighty pound backpack made sure to dig deep into his shoulder as he walked slightly tilted to the right.
His choppy bangs stuck frizzled to his forehead and his hands were buried as deep in his pockets as they could go, as if they too were trying to run away and shelter in the warm, enclosed darkness of unfamiliar obliviousness.
A tremoring sigh of endless capacity escaped his lips, forming a whispering bundle of foggy white whisps in the chilly winter air. An almost invisible smile tugged at his lips, and he breathed out again, longer this time. How pretty.
Despite all his self-pitying and endless voids of sadness, he could in fact, not wallow forever as he so would have wished. His mind caught up to the fact that he was miles behind on homework and if he didn't start the moment he got home there was not way he'd finish it on time, as he drifted back to the images of all the disapproving glares from his teachers. He was sure he held the record for most detentions over either forgetting to do homework, having resigned himself to simply not bother doing it or not knowing he had any altogether.
Despite the impending doom of afternoons spent in a stuffy classrooms looming over him, his mind continued to drift between thoughtless trails of syllables, dragging the heel of his foot against the gritty pavement in no real hurry to get home.
*
Once he did finally get home, Kim Dokja immediately peeled of his uniform, drowned himself in a cold shower, made himself a sad and sloppy-looking sandwich, failed to force it down, and then crawled into bed.
He lived all the lives he wished to be a part of through the complex -and questionable- world of web novels that he got lost into for hours on end, till the sun rose routinely and as it set somewhere far off, somewhere he could actually be in his own little web of fictious, carefully woven lies. All from the comfort of his dim, badly heated cave of resonance.
It was exciting and compelling and exhilarating and all the emotions the never truly felt in the never-ending cycle of his existence.
His phone always stayed just a reach away, clutched in the grip of his curved fingers to scroll once again into any new cliché and generic novel he hadn't read yet, all simply badly replicated variations of one another with nothing much in the plot ever really changing. Yet, he couldn't help but find comfort in mindless scrolling, the repetitive flick of his finger very quickly becoming an automated motion.
It was an uneventful birthday, but he wasn't entirely sure what he expected. Glancing up at his apartment, it was bare of anything above strictly necessary furniture and appliances. There were no posters on the walls, no magnets on the fridge or a tablecloth on the kitchen table. So, he couldn't quite place why the absence of any banners or cake or people, for that matter, seemed to stand out to him.
Still, he liked to think he didn't mind too much; sometimes being on his own with himself and his untouched little bubble was all that he needed.
And rather, it didn't matter if he did mind.
So, on February 15th, 2014, on Kim Dokja’s 16th birthday, he laid soundlessly on his lumpy mattress, still in uniform and legs sprawled out and dangling off the splintered bed frame, waiting patiently for sleep to overtake him, engulf him so he could resign himself to his only solace.
It did not come, just as all the many nights before. Today wasn’t any different after all.
*****
“Okay class, quite down. Today we’ll be going over what we did last lesson, so write down the date and title on the board and begin answering the question sheet that has already been handed out. I’ll also be coming around to collect your homework, so have that out on your desk.”
Fuck.
This was what brought Kim Dokja out of his disconnected trance of staring out the window and picking at his fingernails, drifting around in the foggy depths of his headspace.
Usually, forgetting to do his homework wouldn’t be a massive issue in Math if it was only an occurrence that happened once or twice. However, this was his fourth time in the span of three weeks with the same teacher, Mr.P, and he had more than a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t just going to be getting away with it this time.
In his defense, he wasn’t just skipping out on homework without a reason.
Ever since he could even slightly pass of as 16 or just barely 17 years old, which was fairly recently (puberty wasn’t doing him any favours) he had begun working a part time job at a local fast food restaurant along with night shifts at a convenience store, slightly on the outskirts of town.
The exhaustion of no proper rest and constant work and a diet consisting of cheap 30 for 1,500 won cherry lollipops and the occasional gimbap left him absolutely wiped out and with even less motivation than before for school.
At his age, he knew he couldn’t be legally working night shifts, but what else was he supposed to do? He had to earn all the money he could possibly get if he didn’t want to homeless and drowning in student loan debt by the time he was thirty.
He didn’t have to pay rent for his apartment, since his aunt was ever so kind to leave him the scraps of his parents’ property and promptly cut off all contact with him the moment her guilt no longer made her feel obliged to drop in and squeeze out an awkward greeting and pretend to hide disapproving and equally destestful glances at the home where her sister had once lived.
He didn’t blame her for it though, he couldn’t. He knew she had her own family and husband and kids to worry about, and didn’t need the plague of his parents’ legacy following her around. She had a life, one that he wasn’t a part of. That was fine.
This time, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a hand slamming down on his desk, and beady eyes staring at him knowingly. Mr.P, of course, with his caterpillar eyebrows and the beads of sweat always clinging onto his unironed shirts looked at Dokja, waiting for him to speak up.
Dokja said nothing, twiddling his fingers and glancing back, unsure of what he was supposed to say.
More vigorous eye-contact.
“Sorry, I didn’t manage to-”
“No excuses, Kim Dokja, this is the fourth time, fourth time I’ve had you not bringing in your homework and who knows how many times slacking off in class. It's unacceptable, I can't have this kind of behaviour in my class. Absolutely not.”
Well alright, but what was the point of all the menacing eye-contact?
The whole class stared quietly, a couple murmurs and snickers exchanged, some turned at a full 180 degrees in their seats to witness Dokja’s humiliation. Wonderful.
A pause.
“Meet me in my office after class, we have a lot to talk about.”
*****
After class Dokja awkwardly stood, loitering around Mr.P’s desk, waiting for him to show up. He was sure he looked more than just a bit suspicious.
It had already been five minutes since the end of class, where was he? He was the one who had asked him to be here, and he had to do his English homework in his break too, he didn’t need to be on another teacher’s bad side. Mr.P was more than enough.
The sound of the door creaking open finally broke the silence, a short figure stepping into the room to stride to where Dokja stood, pull out the chair next to the desk he was waiting at and sit down, arms crossed.
“Good morning, Mr.P.”
“Okay Dokja, so you know why you’re here. Let’s not waste our time with unnecessary excuses and I’m going to ask you once, what has been going on with you and your schoolwork?”
Not even a “Good morning” back.
“I-”
“You're a bright student with lots of potential and you've been doing well in my class up until recently, right? You know that getting a good grade in Math is important. Why have you been slacking off? Surely, you're aware I can't just ignore this?.”
“Yes of course you’re right Mr.P, and I understand and I promise that from now on I will do my absolute best to complete all my work in a timely manner and-”
“That's not enough Dokja, and you have proved this. I've given you lots of chances, and this is a pattern with you I know we've both noticed. Therefore, I've decided there's only one other way for me to ensure your proper progress in my class.” He paused to take a breath, leveling Kim Dokja with a flat stare.
What was with all the cut offs?
"And what would that be?” Dokja replied, a slight edge to his voice. Surely, Mr.P wasn’t that cruel.
“A tutor.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“And this is not something I will be arguing with you on, it's a must. Come again to my office at the end of the day, I will have decided who will be tutoring you by then and we can discuss further details. Be grateful, I could have you doing a lot worse.” His tone was clipped and left no room for argument.
Still, before he could protest, Mr.P was already swiveled around on his chair, completely disinterested in whatever lame words of objection Dokja could think of. This was not something he could negotiate on, that much was clear.
What crimes could he have possibly committed in his past life to be subject to this? He was sure he almost heard the cackles of the Universe’s mocking song in his ears. A great start to a Tuesday morning indeed.