Chapter Text
In theory, exercising produces endorphins.
In theory.
They make you forget about all the unpleasant things, all the sorrow and pain and weariness that eats away at you. Makes them dissolve away like an effervescent tablet at the bottom of a cup of water. Like the quiet receding of waves on the shore, carrying away sand and a mix of seashell fragments and chipped glass back into the ocean. Like an isotonic drink that gets poured onto a running track encircling the school field, every crevice saturated with a mixture of sweat and tears and electrolyte water.
But that day, no matter how much Sunghoon ran, the endorphins just didn’t seem to work at all. Not even in the slightest bit. And he couldn’t stop crying.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
Sunghoon circles the school track for the fifteenth time that afternoon. Or the sixteenth, he isn’t really counting. Tears mix with sweat down his neck, and when he feels his knees buckle, he crumples into a heap on the track.
Rolling over, he feels the hand across his torso rise and fall as he tries his hardest to catch his breath. It rises and falls like a ship in the ocean, caught in the tendrils of a terrible storm. Like the terrible storm festering in the expanse of his mind. At the bottom of his stomach. In his bones, and across every inch of his skin.
Sunghoon hears footsteps pad across the concrete behind him, before they turn crunchy as soles press against the rubber granules of the track. Cigarette smoke gets blown in his face, and he chokes, eyes flying open and getting up an instant to land a punch on whoever the culprit is. Except, he doesn’t, because he whips around and comes face to face with a pair of eyes resembling those of a fox’s. A pair of eyes so nonchalant, yet sparkling softly with a glint of mischief.
“Kim Sunoo! What the hell?” Sunghoon coughs and looks up at him pointedly.
“Sorry.” Sunoo utters the half-hearted apology like he doesn’t really mean it. He gives a tiny shrug and extends a bottle of apple soda towards Sunghoon. “Here, have my drink.”
Sunghoon doesn’t notice the coy playfulness tugging at the corners of Sunoo’s lips as he grabs the bottle from him without a word and brings it up to his lips. Expecting the sweet, crisp tang of the soda to hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, but what he gets instead is Sunoo squeezing the bottle like a kid and a faceful of soda that splashes right back up at him.
“What the fuck!”
Sunoo laughs obnoxiously, doubling over as Sunghoon wipes the soda from his eyes. Sunoo takes a quick drag from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers, and exhales in something between a satisfied huff and a suppressed giggle.
Before Sunghoon can get up to whack Sunoo on the shoulder, he looks up to see Sunoo miming an open mouth. The cigarette is shoved between his lips, and Sunoo’s already up and going before he can even register whatever that’s happened in the last fifteen seconds. He watches as Sunoo’s figure grows smaller and smaller until he disappears behind a pillar.
“Ya… K’m Sunoo, wh’t the hell are you up to?” Sunghoon mutters under his breath as he sits on the track, dazed with the cigarette still hanging between his lips. He can barely hear the footsteps approaching from behind him. No, it’s not Sunoo’s footsteps, not the light shuffle of canvas shoes on rubber. They’re heavier, more pronounced. With a measured cadence of sorts.
Sunghoon’s still lost in his own mind, the footsteps now turning into something like white noise radio to him. That is, until he whips his head around when he hears someone clear their throat and comes face to face with the god forsaken disciplinary officer.
“The Student Affairs office! Now!” Sunghoon spits the cigarette from his lips.
“What—” He blinks. “Sir, it wasn’t even me!” The officer’s hands are around his arms, yanking him off the ground. He doesn’t even say a word.
“I’m serious! This… this thing isn’t even mine!” Sunghoon looks down at the cigarette on the track expectantly, like he’s waiting for it to come to life and save his ass or something. The cigarette lies on the track, unmoving.
The disciplinary officer drags him towards the Student Affairs office as he looks around frantically for any traces of Sunoo, but the track’s virtually empty. Tough luck, Park Sunghoon.
Maybe, just maybe, Kim Sunoo came to comfort him that day. In his own way that no one else would understand. Not even Sunghoon, at that point in time. Like an angel in disguise sent down from the heavens. Like a beacon of salvation. Like the sun that cuts through layers upon layers of dark clouds and softly bathes the surface of the ocean aglow.
Sunoo’s head peeks out from behind a pillar, toothy grin on his face and a hand extended out that gives Sunghoon a playful, little wave.
“I swear! It was Kim Sunoo!” The officer doesn’t even budge. Sunghoon groans inwardly.
Sunoo’s eyes twinkle with excitement as he points a finger towards himself, wagging his finger and shaking his head to mime a ‘Nope, not me!’ He then points right back at Sunghoon and gleefully brings up two fingers to his mouth, pretending to take a puff from the imaginary cigarette between his lips. He mimes a ‘Yeah, it was definitely you!’
It’s strange, this feeling brewing within Sunghoon. In that moment, Kim Sunoo made him feel like all the sadness in the world had absolutely nothing to do with him. Even as he was being dragged by the arm towards the Student Affairs Office by an infuriated disciplinary officer. Even when it seemed like the whole world had turned against him. Kim Sunoo made him feel like he deserved to be happy, even just for a fleeting moment.
And he only realized it much later, that on the worst day of his life, he met the person he loved the most.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
Sunghoon thinks sadness is like a song. The beginning doesn’t start with unrelenting heartache or suffocating grief, no. It starts off a quiet hum, like the buzz of dragonflies hovering above a lake. It’s only when you get to the chorus that the indelible melody piles upon itself and spreads like a disease. Like a ripple in a pond.
And if sadness strikes when you least expect it to, that’s because you’ve overlooked the low hums and cues buried in the notes right from the beginning. Whispers festering unnoticed, waiting to evolve into overwhelming despair that rages and unfurls like a crescendo.
Sunghoon halts his bike outside a record store, tyres screeching noisily against the asphalt. A neighbor pokes their head out the window, and Sunghoon gives them a small nod of apology with a sheepish grin on his face.
As he steps in, the dust in the air almost makes him step right back outside. A man in a movers’ uniform brushes past him with a taped box in tow and a small, courteous smile on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Someone taps him on the shoulder all of a sudden, and Sunghoon spins around to see his Dad looking back up at him incredulously. “You broke up with someone or something? Don’t pull that face.”
“Dad, you’re not keeping any of this?” Sunghoon blurts out as he scans the interior of the humble shop and sees stacks of cardboard boxes piled up high among the dozens of empty shelves. Each box is labeled with a list of names, and Sunghoon can just barely make out a couple of them.
Matchbox Twenty, Takeshi Kaneshiro, Elton John, Faye Wong, Laura Posini, Teresa Teng, Nina Simone , the names go on and on as Sunghoon scans each box.
“You know, if no one listens to these CDs, they might feel neglected!” Sunghoon’s dad chuckles softly as he picks one up from the pile next to him and dusts its plastic cover. It’s Everything by The Bangles. Sunghoon vaguely remembers Eternal Flame playing through the car speakers as the three of them traveled down a freeway in Xizhi in their trusty Nissan Cefiro. It was ages ago, but for some reason the songs that his dad played through their car speakers really stuck with him.
Sunghoon smiles to himself and fishes out a CD case from an opened box, bringing it up closer to his face. It’s Sky by Faye Wong. Sunghoon’s transported back to summer of a particular year in high school, with a melting lemon-flavored popsicle in his mouth and sweat clinging uncomfortably to the small of his back. He remembers this album being played through a radio as he did his math homework.
Sunghoon finds it funny how so many of his memories are linked to songs. Songs played in this very record store. Songs that will always have a special place in his heart as much as he doesn’t like admitting it.
“I’m keeping this box.” Sunghoon places the CD back in and folds in the flaps of the cardboard box, hoisting it up onto his arms. A mover whizzes past Sunghoon, and he spies the guitar case in the guy’s grasp and snatches it over, whispering a soft ‘I’ll keep this, thanks!’
“Your exams are round the corner! You’re telling me you’re gonna start playing the guitar now?” Sunghoon’s dad looks at him with a mix of amusement and disappointment. It’s hard to tell.
“Well, can’t I learn it after my exams?” Sunghoon pouts defensively and holds the guitar closer to his chest. Sunghoon’s dad chuckles softly under his breath and shakes his head.
Sunghoon steps out into the sun, leaving behind the shop that’s now been caked in a layer of dust and buried memories and long-forgotten sounds. Sunghoon can’t imagine not coming home to the record store ever again. Even though the cancer hasn’t worsened in these past few years, Sunghoon’s dad still made the decision to close his record store and shift his focus to treatment instead.
Sunghoon knows it wasn’t an easy feat at all. Especially since his dad had literally built this store with his own bare hands. Meticulously stocked each and every CD onto the shelves, all arranged by date and genre and artist. He even goes the extra mile and puts aside newly-released albums for his regulars. Sunghoon thinks it’s unnecessary, but Sunghoon’s dad would say that the smiles on his regulars’ faces would say otherwise.
Sunghoon thinks back to every waking moment he’s spent with the shop. 8-year-old Sunghoon drawing hopscotch boxes onto the concrete floor with broken chalk, then crying when it all got washed away by the rain shortly after.
12-year-old Sunghoon getting his first pair of headphones and closing his eyes softly as he let a soft ballad play in his ears and relished in the somewhat crackling audio; it’s perfect for Sunghoon if he’s being honest.
15-year-old Sunghoon stepping into the store one rainy afternoon with blood trickling down his cheek as he got an earful from his dad. He remembers giggling like a fool as he watched his friends wave goodbye to him from outside the store, before they scurried away like mice when his dad turned around and gave them a hard glare.
Now, 18-year-old Sunghoon watches on as the movers load the final boxes into their truck and drive off into the sunset until they disappear beneath the horizon. Sunghoon’s still clutching onto the box of CDs and his guitar. A bitter feeling washes over him momentarily, one that’s mixed with relief and grief and sweetness.
Sunghoon convinces himself that it’s a new beginning for him and his dad, and new beginnings are always good, right?
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
“The doctors said my white blood cell count’s normal today.” Sunghoon’s dad smiles to himself with a hand on the wheel as they cruise down the freeway. “They said the treatment’s looking good too.” Sunghoon finds himself smiling with his dad as he fiddles with the wires of the pair of headphones in his hands.
“Oh right, it’s your mom’s birthday next month.” The car comes to a stop when the light turns red and Sunghoon’s dad turns towards him to ask. “Why not we pay her a visit and celebrate it together?”
“Yeah. Sounds good!” Sunghoon hums in approval. “I’ll get the cake!”
“And I’ll get the present!”
“What? No!” Sunghoon feigns shock as he shakes his head in disapproval at his dad. “You always get the weirdest gifts for her.”
“Do I?“
”Yeah,” Sunghoon crinkles his nose in disgust. “Remember when you got her that set of lipbalms? The one with pickle and wasabi and freakin’ bacon flavors!”
“And what’s wrong with that? Your mom seemed to like them a lot, you know!” Sunghoon’s dad folds his arms as he tries to prove a point. Sunghoon really likes it when his dad acts like a child again.
“Keyword being seemed, dad!” Sunghoon exclaims and he finds his dad laughing along with him. “You’d better watch out, she might give you a good beating if you decide on a weird gift again this year.”
“You know, Sunghoon-ah, when someone hits you, it’s because they like you.” His dad starts slowly as the car picks up speed and they continue to drive along the freeway. “I’ll tell you something. If you find that someone’s always hitting you or teasing you, it means they secretly like you.”
Sunghoon simply laughs. He thinks it’s ridiculous for someone to do that. Why hit the person you like? It doesn’t even make sense, at least not to Sunghoon.
“This is another one of the silly little life lessons you have for me, right?”
“It’s real! You’ll know it when you get to experience it for yourself.” Sunghoon’s dad smiles to himself proudly. “That’s how I fell for your mom.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes and huffs out. “Yeah, you’re joking again, dad!” He looks out the car window and rests his chin on his palm, with an elbow on the window ledge. “I’m gonna focus on my studies and learn how to play the guitar.”
“Are you sure about that?” Sunghoon’s dad looks at him in amusement with an eyebrow raised. Sunghoon gives him an affirmative nod. “All right, I’ll teach you the guitar as soon as you're done with your exams.”
“Sweet! And I’m not gonna fall for one of your little life lessons again, by the way.” Sunghoon chuckles as he jabs his dad in the side. Which in turn earns himself a round of merciless tickles.
They’re giggling and laughing and yelling until everything cuts to a deafening crash and silence follows.
The silence is so thick, so thick Sunghoon thinks he might choke. He should be able to hear the fire roaring next to the wreck, should be able to hear the screams of passersby on the street, should be able to hear the sobs now tearing from his own throat. But everything’s silent, silent like a sick pantomime.
Sunghoon turns to his side and the sight that greets him almost makes him retch.
“Dad?” Sunghoon brings a trembling hand up to his dad’s shoulder as he nudges at him. Nothing. Sunghoon shakes him even harder now. Still nothing.
He wishes with every fiber in his body that this was some sick, twisted dream. That he’d wake up from it in the morning and everything would be back to normal, and he’d still be sucking on a popsicle in the store with music playing through the radio. And his dad would still be behind the counter, chatting up his regulars.
The sob that escapes his lips is one that’s guttural and so full of hurt that Sunghoon thinks he might die. There’s so much blood all over his dad’s face, on his shirt, on Sunghoon’s hands, down his legs, and he wipes at every surface fervently to get rid of all the blood, but it just stains everything a darker shade of crimson. It spreads and spreads and spreads until Sunghoon feels himself go rigid.
The last thing he feels is the car jerking as someone pries their car door open and gets to them. His dad’s hand is still in his, and it’s so, so cold.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
Sunghoon always thought that the world had abandoned him, that everyone had played some sick, cruel joke on him.
A flurry of phone calls and texts and angry-looking scribbled letters stuck to his front door. Family of the deceased screaming in his face, showing up at his school, demanding compensation. They’re asking for a sum of money Sunghoon has never even dared to think about in his life. Numbers he can’t quite fathom. Numbers his dad and their little humble record store will never fathom.
“Your dad took three lives! Have you ever thought about our family, us who are left behind?”
“I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll try to get last month’s payment in by the end of next month.”
Just as Sunghoon thinks everything can’t get any worse, he gets on the phone with his mom and he feels the pit of his stomach drop all the way to the ground. Feels his heart sink deeper and deeper until he’s nothing but a hollow shell.
“Hoon-ah…” He hears his mom’s voice quiver over the line. “Sunghoon-ah… I-”
“Mom, there’s a customer waiting by the counter, I’ll talk to you later.” It’s a lie. Sunghoon hangs up on her before she can get a word in and shoves his phone into the pocket of his work attire. He makes his way behind the counter, scans the barcode on the guy’s ready-to-eat meal and asks in the sweetest, most customer-service voice he can muster.
“So sorry to keep you waiting! Would you want it re-heated for you?”
The guy nods, and as Sunghoon picks up the packet meal and turns around to head to the microwave ovens, he lets the tears fall.
Just when Sunghoon’s starting to feel numb all over, with his faith in the world and everything in-between completely lost, a strange boy barges into his life.
He’s about to change Sunghoon’s life, but Sunghoon doesn’t know it yet.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
Sunghoon feels his head loll to the side as the bus comes to a stop, the double doors swinging open to invite a cacophony of chatter and beeps as students swarm the bus.
He has to mentally count the number of stops he’s got left till he arrives at school, and he vaguely counts six since they’ve just rounded a sharp corner and made a right turn. Which means they’ve just gone past Xinshan Street. Which means he’s on Anhe Street now.
The bus picks up again and drives off, and he feels someone next to him brush against his sleeve. Sunghoon can’t be bothered to crack open his eyes and offer his seat, so he continues to doze off as he makes a mental note to remember to get off at the right stop.
Sunghoon almost gets fully pulled under by sleep. Almost. Because when the bus jolts all of a sudden and his head falls sideways and lands on something resembling a pillow, he feels the instant, sharp sting of a slap against his forehead.
Sunghoon won’t admit how the ‘pillow’ had felt kind of soft and warm, and that he’d almost willingly snuggled up to it.
“What the hell!” It’s a shrill voice. Sunghoon jumps and his eyes fly open in an instant, headphones dropping to his neck as he blinks hard in confusion. A boy stares back down at him, eyes nearly burning holes into Sunghoon. If looks could kill, Sunghoon thinks he’d be dead.
“Huh?” Sunghoon’s gaze trails downwards and he realizes the pillow from earlier isn’t actually a pillow. It’s the boy’s fucking chest he leaned on. The soft pillow he nearly snuggled up to.
“I’m, I’m so sorry.” He blurts out, still in a daze.
Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on him and notices the name tag on his shirt reads Kim Sunoo.
“You’re sick!” The boy gives him a hard look and turns on his heels to move to the front of the bus. He swivels back around to glare at Sunghoon. Sunghoon gulps, hard.
What a great, fucking way to start the day.
He stares at the black screen of his phone and sees the reddening patch on his forehead in the reflection. Way to go, Sunghoon . He’ll have a hell lot of explaining to do to Jay later in class.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
With his English textbook literally plastered onto his face, Sunghoon shuffles down the hallway and makes a right turn on the third classroom along the corridor. He meanders along rows of tables to the back and dumps the textbook onto the table, slumping down into his seat.
“Dude, what’s up with that? ” Jay leans over and points to Sunghoon’s forehead with an eyebrow raised. “You got into a fight or something?”
“I bumped into a wall.” Sunghoon mutters as he buries his face into the textbook again.
Jay stares him down, then shrugs as he watches their teacher, Ms. Yang, walk into class for the first period.
Sunghoon just wants the day to be over as soon as possible. So he can walk home, get under the covers, and slap himself on the face for whatever he’d gotten himself into on the bus this morning. He hopes he’ll never have to cross paths with the bus boy ever again.
Kim Sunoo, that was his name.
Sunghoon shudders when he remembers his piercing glare. So piercing, it’s all Sunghoon can see when he closes his eyes.
“Good morning class!” Ms. Yang’s cheery greeting is met with a mixture of mumbles and sighs of ‘Good morning, Ms. Yang’. She smiles wryly to herself.
“Starting today, we’ll have a new transfer student!” She gives a tiny round of applause as soft gasps emanate throughout the classroom. Sunghoon opens his eyes, face still obscured by the textbook.
“Let’s welcome our new classmate, Kim Sunoo!”
The bottom of Sunghoon’s stomach dips at the name. Kim Sunoo.
Kim Sunoo, like, bus boy ? Sunghoon peeks his head out from behind the textbook and watches as Sunoo walks up to Ms. Yang’s side.
“Fuck…” Sunghoon mumbles under his breath as he watches Sunoo glare daggers at him down the row of tables.
“Sunoo, you may sit at the ba—” Ms. Yang is left hanging mid-sentence as Sunoo locks his eyes on his target and ambles down the space between the tables, gaze never leaving Sunghoon.
“I’ll take this seat.” Sunoo slams a hand down on Jay’s adjacent table with a nonchalant look on his face, clearly disregarding the look of disapproval from Jay. Sunghoon winces and wishes he could bury his head even further into his textbook. Hell, he’d bury himself a hundred feet into the ground if he could.
“No way, this is my seat!” Jay starts, but Ms. Yang nods in approval at Sunoo. “Perfect! I’ve been meaning to switch your seat anyway. You’re always talking to Park Sunghoon in class.”
Jay frowns and looks to Sunghoon for help. Sunghoon still has his head buried. Jay huffs and packs up his stuff.
“Make it quick!”
Sunoo slides into Jay’s seat with ease and dumps his backpack onto the ground next to his table. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, but Sunghoon can’t see it because he still has the textbook stuck to his face like it’s a mask or something.
“Hey, new neighbor.” Sunoo jabs him in the ribs and waits for a reaction. Sunghoon turns his head ever so slowly to face Sunoo, and gives him a sheepish smile in return. Sunoo giggles, then gets up to whack the ever-loving shit out of him like he’s waited all of his life to do it.
“Try smiling one more time, I dare you!” Sunoo yells as he rains down punches on Sunghoon, even grabbing his backpack from the floor to whack Sunghoon with it.
“Stop it!”
“You deserve this!”
“What the heck, Kim Sunoo!” Sunghoon’s words fall on deaf ears as Sunoo continues shoving him until Ms. Yang steps in to pull the two apart.
“Let me go!”
Sunoo, hair disheveled and uniform crumpled, pants like he’s just run a marathon. And Sunghoon’s sitting on the floor, once again dazed with no fucking clue why Sunoo has been picking on him the entire morning.
Surely, he couldn't be mad about that tiny accident on the bus. At least, that's what Sunghoon hoped.
Or not.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
“Ms. Yang, Park Sunghoon harassed me on the bus today.” Sunoo sits back in the plastic chair and folds his arms with a bored look on his face. “He used his head to touch my chest.”
Ms. Yang raises an eyebrow and looks towards Sunghoon. Sunghoon stares back down at the lacquered desk in the teachers’ office, silent.
“That’s why I had to teach this idiot a lesson.”
“It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t mean to do that!” The pleading look on Sunghoon’s face doesn’t even faze Sunoo in the tiniest bit. “I fell asleep and didn’t even know, I swear.”
“Cut the crap! You apologized immediately. Which meant you knew what you were doing.” Sunoo retorts. “Which meant you did it on purpose!”
“I just—”
“That’s enough, you two.” Ms. Yang drops her forehead to her palm and sighs. “I believe that Sunghoon didn’t do it on purpose, and I understand why Sunoo’s upset. But using violence is still wrong.”
Sunoo huffs and blows a strand of hair out of his face.
“Since this is your first offense, your punishment is to clean up after school today.”
“Okay.” Sunoo rolls his eyes, and Sunghoon honestly feels like giving him a good beating for the way he’s acting. Because who the hell does he think he is? The principal’s son or something? And even so, it still doesn’t give him the right to act this way in school.
“All right, Sunoo, you can return to class.” Ms. Yang waves a hand to dismiss him. “Sunghoon, can I have a word with you?”
Sunoo slings his blazer over his shoulder and stalks out of the staff room, and Sunghoon can sense what could possibly be Kim Sunoo’s hundredth eye roll of the day.
Sunghoon sinks deeper into his seat as a look of concern mixed with disappointment crosses Ms. Yang’s face. A million thoughts race through his head, thoughts like outstanding school fees and failed tests and expulsion and detention.
“Sunghoon, your grades have dropped a lot this year.” She looks at Sunghoon like she really cares about him, but all Sunghoon can do is to look back down at his hands on his lap.
“I’m not blaming you,” Ms. Yang reaches out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And I know that you’re going through a lot, too.”
“Sunghoon-ah, the school doesn’t encourage students to have part-time jobs, you know?” Ms. Yang speaks up again after a long beat stretches between the two of them. The whir of the fan overhead seems to be a lot louder than it usually is. “Students must prioritize their studies.”
“I know, Ms. Yang.” Sunghoon exhales shakily. “I just... have a lot to make up for.”
Ms. Yang doesn’t pry any further, and Sunghoon is thankful for that.
“How about this? I’ll ask the Social Affairs Bureau for help, to see if your family—”
“It’s alright, Ms. Yang.” Sunghoon already knows where this conversation is going. It’s not the first time someone has brought it up to him.
“I’ve looked it up myself. My grandpa left us our house, so I don’t fit the criteria for social assistance.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Sunghoon hates the conversation he’s having with Ms. Yang. Hates to see the burdened smile she has on her face as she tries to comfort him. To tell him it’ll all be fine and that everything will work out for him in the end. That the school will always be there for him. That his friends will always be there for him.
Sunghoon struggles to believe in that.
“Ms. Yang, there are others out there who need the help more than I do.”
“All right, then.”
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Yang, I’ll work harder for the next tests.”
Sunghoon’s up and out the door before Ms. Yang can even wave goodbye to him.
“Park Sunghoon.”
Sunghoon stops in his tracks as Sunoo leans up against the wall outside the teachers’ office.
“It was a misunderstanding.” Sunghoon states dryly. “Forget it if you don’t believe it.”
Sunoo gets up and storms towards Sunghoon, before kicking him hard in the back of his knee.
“Ah! Kim Sunoo! Are you fucking crazy?” Sunghoon points back up at Sunoo from the floor. Sunoo’s eyes sparkle like those of a hyena’s hunting down a rabbit. “Don’t think I won’t hit you, Kim Sunoo!”
“Yeah? Go ahead! Try it then!”
“You asked for this.”
It’s another flurry of punches and slaps and desperate kicks exchanged between the two students before another teacher has to intervene and physically pry them apart. Even so, Sunoo’s still kicking and punching at the air like he can reach Sunghoon.
Sunghoon honestly doesn’t know how he’d gotten himself signed up as a human punching bag for a certain Kim Sunoo.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
DEMERIT NOTICE
KIM SUNOO of YEAR 3 CLASS 5 has been assigned ONE DEMERIT POINT for engaging in a physical altercation with a fellow student on campus.
“No way! Isn’t that Kim Sunoo?”
“The new transfer student? Why’s he so violent?”
“That’s assault and he’s only given one demerit point?”
“I honestly think he should get expelled.”
Sunghoon stands at the back of the crowd that’s formed in front of the school’s bulletin board. Kim Sunoo’s demerit notice is printed nice and big and stuck right smack in the middle of all the other notices and club posters.
“Hey, what’s your deal with the new boy?” Jay hooks an arm around the back of Sunghoon’s neck, with a basketball in the other hand. “Why does he keep hitting you?”
“Who knows?” Sunghoon pouts, feeling frustrated and wronged in so many different ways.
“Does he like you?”
“What?”
“Yeah, no, probably not.” Jay hugs the basketball and looks down at the ground. “And you don’t even look like you deserve a beating, anyway.”
“You’re the one who deserves a beating!” Sunghoon raises his fist at Jay playfully and laughs.
“So, why does he actually keep hitting you?”
“That’s not up to me to answer, Jay-ah.” Sunghoon shrugs. “Maybe he just really hates me.”
And Sunghoon thinks he might be right. Because in the next two weeks, he gets beaten up and teased in all sorts of ways. A bucketful of dried leaves dumped over his head (leaves he’d just swept up from the stairs, mind you) , getting jabs in his ribs and shoulders, a broom shoved in his face, and getting his desk raided by none other than Kim Sunoo himself.
“Kim Sunoo, just you wait, I’ll beat you up!”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you try, Sunghoon-ah.”
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
A playful little tune hums through the speakers in the convenience store as the glass doors slide open, inviting a patron in.
Sunghoon stands behind the cashier with his back against the glass display cabinets and an icepack pressed up against his elbow. It hurts, but Sunghoon can’t really feel any of it, really. He stares straight ahead at the bread aisle across from the cashier and wonders how the fuck he’s gotten himself entangled with fucking Kim Sunoo.
He thinks dealing with Kim Sunoo might be harder than any college entrance exam or audition.
“Hey, welcome.” Sunghoon murmurs without looking up from where he’s fixed his gaze onto. Until he decides to look up and ends up coming face to face with Kim Sunoo.
Kim fucking Sunoo.
Out of all places, he’s chosen to show up at Sunghoon’s workplace tonight. Really?
Sunghoon thinks tonight can’t get any worse than the sprained elbow and the mountain of onigiri waiting to be stocked in the backroom.
Sunoo’s wearing a pink graphic tee and jeans, a sky blue tote bag hanging from his shoulder. It’s such a stark contrast against Kim Sunoo from school, where Sunghoon’s used to seeing him with a perpetual scowl on his face, ruffled hair and creased uniforms. And the occasional bloodied lip or gash on his arm, he should mention.
They lock eyes with each other for a moment, before Sunoo turns away and proceeds to pick out an instant meal from the chiller. Sunghoon watches on with curiosity as Sunoo trails his fingers over each item, scanning over labels. He’s half-expecting the boy to walk straight up to the counter to give him another round of beating, but Sunghoon’s pleasantly surprised to find out he gets none of that tonight.
Which confuses him. Because that’s Kim Sunoo he’s looking at. Kim Sunoo who’d never let up the chance to whack him across the back. Kim Sunoo who’d always find a way to tease him and leave him utterly embarrassed in front of the entire school. Kim Sunoo who had some sort of deeply-rooted hatred for him.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he gets snapped out of his thoughts momentarily. He fishes out his phone and sees his mom’s caller ID at the top of the screen.
“Hey, mom?”
“About the funeral…”
“I’ll work out the fees for dad’s funeral soon.” Sunghoon heads into the backroom, out of Sunoo’s earshot.
“Alright, you take care of yourself.”
“You take care too, mom. Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
“Okay, goodnight mom. Get some rest, I love you.”
Sunghoon hears a resounding thud and peeks his head out from the backroom to see Sunoo’s item on the table. Extra spicy curry rice . Nice, just like Sunoo himself.
“Want it heated?” Sunghoon says in the flattest voice possible. Like he’s sick and tired of his job. Maybe he is. These night shifts are the absolute worst.
Sunoo nods, and Sunghoon picks up the curry rice and heads to the microwave ovens at the back.
It’s just the low, mechanical whirring of the microwave and the quiet hum of a jingle playing throughout the speakers. They stare uncomfortably at each other as the countdown on the microwave goes painfully slow at a snail’s pace.
Sunghoon’s the first to speak up.
“What did I ever do to you?”
Sunoo stares back up at Sunghoon expectantly.
“Aren’t you afraid of being expelled?”
“Three warnings equal one minor demerit. Three minor demerits equal one major demerit. I’ll get expelled only after getting three major demerits. That means, I can still beat you up ten more times, if I’ve counted correctly.”
Sunghoon stares back at Sunoo, dumbfounded by what he’s hearing. Forget being pleasantly surprised earlier on, Sunghoon takes back whatever he’d said to himself.
“I’ll make the most of them!” Sunoo smiles at Sunghoon sweetly, eyes crinkling into crescent shapes.
“You’re good at math.” Sunghoon scoffs. He pulls the curry rice out from the microwave and places the piping hot meal into a bag for Sunoo. He rummages around in a plastic basket and picks out a bottle of orange juice for him.
“Hitting people must be exhausting. This is for you.” He slides the bottle across the counter, waiting for Sunoo to pick it up. Sunoo grows silent for a moment, pursing his lips.
“What happened to your dad?”
“He got sick.” Sunghoon states bluntly. He tries not to think about the car accident. And he hopes Sunoo doesn’t pry into the matter.
“What’s his sickness?” Sunoo’s gaze softens for the first time ever, and Sunghoon’s seeing a different Kim Sunoo tonight.
“I don’t think it has anything to do with you, right?”
“Well, you could tell me and I might consider not hitting you anymore.”
Sunghoon chuckles in disbelief.
“Really? Just like that?”
“Why not?”
Sunghoon pauses and watches as Sunoo’s expression softens into one of pure concern and worry. His fox-like eyes aren’t as sharp as they used to appear to him, and he almost looks like he’s on the verge of pouting.
“Leukemia.”
He watches as Sunoo’s face falls ever so slightly.
“So you’re working part-time to pay for his funeral?”
“And other things.”
“What other things?” Sunoo presses on.
“Making up for… mistakes.”
“Okay.” Sunoo nods affirmatively, grabbing his bag of curry rice and orange juice from the counter. “Thank you for the drink, by the way.”
“I'll keep my word.” Sunoo turns back to look at Sunghoon, before he’s out the doors and stalking off into the dark of the night.
𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ࿔
“So, have you thought about how you’re going to be bullied by Kim Sunoo today?” Jay slams his hands against Sunghoon’s desk as Sunghoon rests his chin on the surface with his eyes closed.
“Be quiet, Jay.” Sunghoon mumbles.
“I prepared a bunch of stuff for you!” Jay rummages through his backpack and lays out a bunch of items on the desk. Band-Aids, cotton swabs, iodine, gauze and antiseptic. Sunghoon gives him a thumbs-up in approval, head still on the desk.
“Take these.” He’s startled when he feels someone dump a plastic bag onto his face. Sunghoon opens his eyes to find a pink plastic bag full of breakfast and Kim Sunoo sitting down next to him.
“They’re for you.” Sunoo mentions and chews on a piece of gum. “Didn’t you work the night shift last night? I bet you didn’t eat anything at all.”
Sunghoon finds it hard to believe that the Kim Sunoo has prepared breakfast for him. Hell, it’s his favorite meat buns and soymilk. How on earth did Kim Sunoo figure that out?
Jay stares at Sunoo with his mouth agape.
“What are you looking at?” Sunoo stares back at him, annoyed. “Want a beating?”
“Uh, no.” Jay stands up and scurries out of the classroom.
Sunoo smiles to himself, before he turns around to flash a smile at Sunghoon, too.
This time, it’s a genuine smile. A smile that says, I care about you. And I want you to eat well.
Kim Sunoo might not be so bad after all.