Chapter Text
Yoora’s brother had always been a dumbass.
Really, that’s the only thing to note about him. When they were kids, he was always coming up with stupid shit for them to get into, and get in trouble because of. Really, Yoora may have been the dumbass for continuing to listen to him. But when you have a big brother, and he looks at you with a wicked grin and says you’re going to do something– well, you do it.
Until she didn’t.
She had to tell my parents about what he did. She was scared. She’d always listened to her big brother, but she couldn’t this time.
The anger in his eyes when the police came to take him to juvie had stuck with her ever since.
“Yoora.” Mama gently knocked on her door, before pushing it open. She rolled her chair back from her desk after flipping her sketchbook closed.
“Hey Mama, what’s going on?”
She gingerly settled down on Yoora’s unmade bed, taking a strand of hair in her fingers and absentmindedly twirling it around. Yoora had seen that many times before, especially while dealing with her brother’s court proceedings. She saw the motion the day she brought to her what he had done. Whatever Yoora was in for, it was bad.
“Yoora, your Mom and I think that it’s time for you to go visit your brother.”
Her very blood ran cold. She turned away from Mama, hoping she wouldn’t be able to see the anger that is surely set in on her face. Yoora had always been told she wore her heart on her sleeve, and her emotions on her face. Mama had already gone through enough. She don’t want her anger to affect her too.
“I… Mama, I don’t know.” She sighed and drummed her fingers across the top of her sketchbook. “You know how Angelo feels about me.”
“He loves you, baby,” Mama said softly. Yoora heard her bed squeak behind her as she stood up, and then her fingers gently combing through her hair. “You’re his sister. How could he not?”
“You didn’t see how he looked at me. When he went away. At the court. He was so, so upset. He looked at me with– disgust. Anger.” Yoora closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt under the gentle massage of Mama’s nails on her scalp. “I don’t think he’d want to see me. I don’t think I’m ready to see him.”
“Just– think about it, baby. I really believe Angelo would appreciate seeing you. Your Mom and I, we think he misses you.”
She glanced up at Mama, smiling slightly at the mess of curls that fell in her eyes. It was so… her. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
And Yoora did. Really, she did. She stared at herself in the mirror and told herself it was a bad idea. Angelo didn’t want to see her, why would he? She was the snitch. The stupid little sister who turned him in. She wouldn’t want to see herself either. She would be convinced she would stay far away from him, until she’d see siblings skating together at the skate park they used to go to, or a picture of the two of them trapped deep in her Instagram.
Mama and Mom were so excited when Yoora told them she had decided to go visit Angelo. They each took turns hugging her, kissing her, telling her how strong and brave she was.
When finally faced with the front of the juvenile detention center, she hoped their words would be true.
“I’m going to give you all the time you need, alright?” Mom took Yoora’s hand in her large, muscular one. She gave it a gentle squeeze and offered her a smirk-like smile. “And if you need anything, text me, okay? Or run out here and get me. Or, if Angelo is being a dick, let me know. That boy may be in juvie but he is not above getting whooped by his Mom.”
She couldn’t help it– Mom’s words made her laugh. She covered my mouth with her hands as she dissolved into snickers. “Okay, Mom. I think– I think I can do this.”
Mom patted her shoulder. “I know you can do this. Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Yoora groaned while she left the car. “Time and place, Mom.”
She slid her phone in her pocket and jogged up to the front doors of the juvie. The building was terrifying. It was massive, towering over her like a fortress. She craned her head back and shivered. She felt a sudden ache of sadness for her brother, trapped in this hell.
“I’m here to see Angelo Neem,” Yoora told a man when she approached the front desk. He waved for her to follow him, and led her through a door marked NO ENTRY. They walked down a long hallway. It smelt of mildew and sweat, and something that could only be described as boy. Her eyes darted around with every step they took. They passed by what looked like a school cafeteria filled with guys her age wearing sweatshirts and navy sweatpants. One of them hung his eyes on her, before tucking his lip under his teeth and winking at her.
“Are you sure I should be here?” Yoora squeaked. The man, a heavyset Filipino dressed in a security guard outfit, continued to stay silent. He didn’t speak until they came upon another door. This one had a small window to the inside, and through it, among other teenages boys sitting at small tables, Yoora noticed her brother. He had lost weight, and grown a stubble on his chin, but it was him alright– her brother.
“Good luck,” the man whispered as he opened the door. I shuffled into the room, exhaling as the door clicked shut behind me. Some eyes darted up to me, mainly the boys who didn’t have anyone sitting at their table with them. I made a beeline to Angelo, quickly plopping down in the cold metal seat across from him. He sat with his hands folded, his eyes narrowing as I sat down.
“Where’s Mom.” His words weren’t a question. He looked at her as if he wanted to strangle her. “Mom was supposed to visit me today, not you.”
“Mom said you wanted me to visit,” Yoora said softly. “They thought it would be good for y-”
“Why the hell would I want to see you?” Angelo scoffed and slammed his fists down on the table. “You’re the reason I’m in this fucking joint, Yoora! I’m trapped in this hellhole because of you. It’s all your fault.” His voice rose to a shout, and he jumped out of his chair. The hard metal squealed as it scraped the concrete. “Fuck this.” Angelo turned away from her and ran past the rows of boys to a door in the back. Some stared at him, and others acted as if they saw that every day.
She watched him leave, stunned. She knew it wouldn’t go well. Hell, she knew he would be angry. But she didn’t expect, well, whatever that was. She leaned forward, placing her hands in her outstretched palms.
“Does he always act like that?” Her attention was turned to a boy her age sitting at a table next to her. His brunette hair appeared to have been attempted to be slicked back, but loose strands of it fell over his forehead. His eyes darted over to Yoora, long enough for her to notice that they were hazel, before they lowered back to the table in front of him.
And shit, he was hot. Very, very hot.
“I–” Yoora cleared her throat, a nervous laugh escaping her. “I wish I could lie and say no, but he’s always been a bit of an ass. I think it’s part of his charm.”
The boy frowned and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “So you’re openly admitting that your boyfriend is an asshole?”
“BOYFR-” The disgust was clearly written on her face because the boy’s eyes shot wide open. “He’s not– that’s my brother,” she explained quickly.
“Oh, so is your boyfriend in a different juvie?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” The boy smirked and nodded seemingly to himself, and she suddenly realized. “You tricked me! You just wanted to know if-”
“You had a boyfriend? Yeah, I did.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and fully turned in her chair to face him. “You know, most guys don’t try to pick up girls when they’re waiting in the visitation room at a juvenile detention center.”
The boy suddenly seemed to remember where he was again. He glanced around and pursed his lips together. The cool look Yoora had seen previously became replaced with irritation. “Yeah, well. I’m not most guys.”
“Touchy subject?”
He shrugged. “Just my dickhead dad.”
She pressed her lips together and rose from her seat. She sat down opposite the boy and folded her hands atop the table. He looked surprised as she scooted her chair up, and she offered him a tiny smile. “Screw your dad. I’m your visitor now.”
He cracked a tiny smile and offered a soft laugh. “Fuck your brother, I’m your visitee now.”
Yoora winced. “After the boyfriend comment earlier, please don’t include ‘fuck’ and my brother in the same sentence.”
That got the boy. He started laughing, so loudly, until it delved into a full-bodied snort.
And it. Was. Adorable.
He slapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. “You did not hear that,” he insisted.
“I totally did,” Yoora answered through her own giggles. “And I’m totally going to remember it forever. I cannot believe you snort when you laugh!”
He shook his head and turned away from her, a tiny smile ghosting his lips. It quickly disappeared when he noticed a guard approaching him. “That’s my cue,” he said softly, before turning back to her. “Well- thanks for making this tolerable.”
Yoora rose from her chair and smiled at him. “Thanks for giving me someone to talk to that’s not my brother.”
He jutted his chin at her and offered her a weak smile as he followed the guard to the door she had previously seen her brother run out of. She sat in the room a while longer, listening to the soft voices of those around me. Some people were crying, some were excited, some angry. It was a room full of so many emotions, Yoora couldn’t imagine how they all could be processed in such a small space.
She stood from her chair and quietly scooted it back into place. She turned on her heel and followed the path she had previously come upon. This time, it wasn’t so scary. It was just a place where hurt people were kept. Like Angelo. Like the boy she had met that day.
Yoora nodded to the security guard at the front. She jogged to Mom’s car and threw herself in the passenger seat.
“You’re smiling,” Mom said softly. Yoora glanced at myself in the mirror and noticed that yes, she was.
“I guess I had fun,” she answered.
“What did you and Angelo talk about?” Mom looked at Yoora, her eyes wide with concern. She realized Mom thought she was happy about Angelo, which, of course– she should be. She should’ve talked to him. A slight pang of guilt ate into her stomach as she thought about the tiny conversation she had had with Angelo. It wasn’t good, and Mom definitely wouldn't want to hear about that.
“Um… just… stuff.”
Mom nodded knowingly. Relief softened the wrinkles in her face. “You kids and your secrets. I’ll let you have it this time. Do you think you’ll want to go see him again?”
Yoora nodded, thinking not of Angelo but the mystery boy. “Yeah, I think I would.”
The next time Yoora went to the juvenile detention center, Mama insisted on driving her. She still wasn’t sure that she and Angelo would be able to talk without dissolving into anger. Mama was right, of course, but Yoora couldn’t let her know that. Her parents were so happy that she and Angelo had supposedly gotten along, she couldn’t crush that. When the topic of visiting Angelo was brought up again, Yoora went along eagerly. And this time, she really, really wanted to talk to him. She didn’t want to lie to her parents. The moment she stepped into the visiting room, however, Angelo’s eyes locked with hers, and he stood up and stormed away.
She shifted her gaze to the table beside him where, once again, the mystery boy sat alone at a table of his own. He watched Angelo go, and then locked eyes with her. “Still trying with that guy?”
Yoora sighed as she sat down at the table. “It’s for my moms. They really want us to get along, and they’ve been stressed about our relationships ever since he’s come here.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Moms?”
Yoora groaned and pressed her forehead down on the surface of the plastic table. “Please, please don’t tell me you’re homophobic.”
“No, no, no.” She felt his fingers gently grace my cheek, and he tilted her head upwards to look at him again. “Look, I’m bi– I promise you I’m not homophobic. I just thought it was cool.”
His fingers were warm on her cheek, and she prayed that her cheeks weren’t flaming red. His eyes were intense as they stared at each other, silence hanging between them. Until, as if the spell was broken, he cleared his throat and lowered his hand. Yoora blinked a few times and shook her head. “I’m bi too,” she said quietly, taking a few strands of hair and twirling it absentmindedly around her finger.
He offered a weak smirk– seeming like an attempt at a smile. “Seems we have something in common.”
Yoora giggled softly and shook her head. “I’m sorry I just automatically assumed you were homophobic.”
“No, I get it.” He gently rested his chin in the palm of his hands, two of his fingers curling around to his cheek. “It’s a shitshow out there. Some people are so accepting, but then there are some people who, if you talked to them, it’d make you think we still live back in the Dark Ages.” He rolled his eyes, a playful quirk in his lips bringing red to my cheeks. “So, I take it your parents were pretty accepting?”
She snorted. “They were almost too accepting. My Mama, love her to death, but she wanted to throw a whole coming-out party and it was just too much for me.”
“You said no to a party?”
“Well…,” Yoora sighed and laughed. “I asked her to tone it down. She wanted to invite the whole neighborhood and all our family and blah, blah, blah. We compromised with a cake, and I got to have a sleepover with some of my friends.”
“She still let you have sleepovers?”
“Yeah. My parents and I have a really open relationship when it comes to things like that, like relationships and sex and all that. I would’ve told them if I planned on having sex with my best friend, which, no, she’s not my type.”
“Wow.” He looked taken aback, and a glimmer of sadness seemed to surface. It was so quick, Yoora wasn’t even sure if it was real.
“I take it you don’t have a good relationship with your parents?” she asked, speaking as gently as possible. His face went dark, and he leaned back in his chair.
Yoora noticed, though she didn’t want to, of course, how muscular his shoulders were. She bit her lip and shifted her eyes away. What a way to react to someone when they’re obviously upset. She mentally facepalmed, though outwardly her mouth settled down into a thin, sharp line.
“My parents…” The boy hissed his words out the side of his mouth, an irritated glare coming to his eye. “My dad dipped early on, and then decides ever-so-often that he wants to waltz back into my life. My mom is a cunt, and I know that’s wrong to say about your mom, but I mean it.” He turned his head, looking everywhere in the room but at Yoora, it seemed. “Sorry. That was a lot.”
“It’s okay,” Yoora said softly. She looked down at her hands, perfectly folded in her lap. Contemplating. She could do this? She could do this. She reached her hand out and gingerly took his in her own. He looked up at her, and his face immediately softened. The anger dissipated like the clouds separating. “I can’t say I understand it, but I’m okay to listen to it.”
His eyes connected with her. “Thank you,” he whispered. He tucked his lip under his teeth. He looked nervous, Yoora thought. It was sweet, in an odd way.
“Anytime,” she hummed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the security guard approaching, just as it had happened the time before. “Your guy is here,” she told him. The boy quickly dropped her hand and wiped at his eyes. He pushed himself out of his chair and swatted at his sweatshirt.
“Thanks,” he said again, turning to follow the guard as he came up.
That was how most of Yoora’s visits to the juvie went after. She would say she was going to visit Angelo, but spend all her time talking to the mystery boy. She found herself fantasizing about him outside of their conversations. Her homework became interrupted with thoughts of those glimmering eyes and that twisted smirk.
“School, it goes pretty well for me,” she told the mystery boy at their next meeting. She fiddled with the frayed edges of her warm orange sweater, and offered him a small smile. “Though it’s a shitshow, I gotta admit. My school.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Where do you go?”
“North Hills High,” she said. He started chuckling, a faint blush covering his cheeks. “What?” she laughed. “Do you go there?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”
“Oh, my god. I can’t believe we go to the same school!”
“Did,” he corrected her. He took her hand and absentmindedly began to play with the gold ring on her finger, twirling it around. “I dropped out.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He shook his head, pursing his lips together. His eyes hung on the ring on her finger. “I was being stupid. Thought I could get through life selling drugs and all that bullshit. Then, I started going to West Valley, and the school-” He exhaled. “It was just a better environment. I mean, you go to North Hills, you know how bad it is. It’s hard to learn there, and it made me not want to learn.”
“So you’re going to West Valley now?”
“Nope.” The boy chuckled, and held Yoora’s hand against his cheek. “That’s why I’m here.”
“What happened?” she whispered, scared about what the answer would be.
“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “It’s in the past now.”
As fall bled into winter, Yoora found herself spending more and more time at the juvie, spending time with the boy whose name she still didn’t know. Something about their relationship was so simple, and so perfect. There were no names, no pressures, and it was kept contained in this small room. She saw enough of him that left her dreaming of seeing more, but not too much that it drove her absolutely crazy with want.
On a particularly brisk December afternoon, Yoora stopped at a local coffee shop before heading to visit the boy. She bought two gourmet hot cocoas, hoping it would bring a smile to the boy’s face.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Alcantara,” Yoora said to the heavyset man at the front as she headed for that familiar door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Yoora.” He called back. She practically jogged down the hallway to the visitation room, each footstep bringing her closer to the boy that occupied all her thoughts. She paused, briefly, outside the door. She closed her eyes. The excitement was bubbling within her.
She pushed open the door with her hip, and her eyes darted to the boy’s table.
But he wasn’t there.
Instead sat Angelo, a bruise blossoming on half his face.
Yoora dropped her cups, the thick chocolatey substance spilling all over the floor.
“Yeah,” Angelo said, running his fingers along the bruise. “I’m shocked that your boyfriend would do this to me too.”
“Wh-where is he,” Yoora gasped.
“He’s gone,” Angelo spat. “Sit down. We need to talk.”