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Father insisted that Hanseo and Hanseok got along, especially if they wanted to take over the company after him. “You’re brothers. You should act like it,” he had said one day. So, in an effort to get the two half-siblings to become closer, he rented out a hockey arena.
It was dim—just enough light to see, just dark enough to feel creepy. It was a huge empty, echoing space, with only two people and weapons to take advantage of.
Hockey sticks. Blades. Weapons.
Hanseo felt weird for thinking so violently. Focus on your feet, he told himself.
He gripped his stick until his hands were white. Still not the best at skating, his legs shook as he tried to keep standing. His brother, on the other hand, glided along the ice like he had done it for years. After a few minutes of mindless skating, Hanseok went back to the center and stopped abruptly, a rush of snow flying in the air from the friction.
His stick crashed into the ice. Hanseo flinched. Hanseok laughed.
“Let’s play,” he said simply.
Hanseo stood still. Tried to. His legs were shaking, trying to keep himself upright. “I think I need more practice.”
Hanseok stared at him for a few seconds before sliding forward. Hanseo fell back, struggling to keep his balance, but his brother caught up to him quickly. “Then we’ll practice. Get the pucks out.”
There was no use in arguing. Hanseo huffed audibly and headed to the edge of the ice. There was a box sitting against the outer wall of the rink, so he pulled it over and began tossing pucks haphazardly onto the ice. He did so until his brother was satisfied, then shoved the half-empty box back over and entered back into the rink.
In that time, Hanseok had already gotten comfortable shooting the pucks into the nearest net. His swing was tough and quick. A hard slapshot every time, like he was trying to put a crack in the ice. He missed about a third of the time but never slowed down in his efforts. Hanseo watched from afar, wondering when he should join in. Maybe his brother was distracted enough that he could simply sneak out of sight and escape.
Hanseok looked to be having enough fun on his own anyway. He wasn’t the most social person. Actually, he hated people. Hated the idea of friends. He called them, “basically pets you need to do favors for,” which Hanseo couldn’t even try to understand. He always knew his older brother had some wires crossed in his brain that shouldn’t have been.
It was last year, maybe, that Hanseok was diagnosed with ASPD, though the diagnosis didn’t generate a solution. Not with Father’s insistence that medication was out of the question. The diagnosis just gave Hanseok another reason to call himself better than other people. There was nothing Hanseo could do about it besides try to stay on his good side.
An object flew by him, missing his head by just a few centimeters. In a flash of panic, he slipped and hit the boards on the way down.
Hanseok’s laughter echoed off the walls of the arena. He set his stick back down, lining up another puck in front of it. “What’s got you so distracted?”
“N-nothing. I was just—”
“Focus, dongsaeng. You’ll never beat me if your head is in the clouds.”
“Sorry,” he said hurriedly, eyes flickering downward apologetically.
“Grab your stick. Let’s begin.”
“Yes, hyung.” He did as told without hesitation. His own obedience was humiliating. He could feel his face heat up. Stupidly, he lifted his stick and slammed it down on the ice. The sound disoriented him and got the attention of his brother, who stared at him. He was always staring. Hanseo didn’t know why he did that so much.
Hanseo was the first to pick up speed, hitting his first shot toward the net. He missed, but he was honestly more focused on keeping his balance and not missing the puck altogether. Eventually, his brother joined in, and they skated like they were really having fun. Hanseok kept showing off his excess experience like a silent challenge. His arrogance was infuriating and it made Hanseo want to shout.
Instead, he eyed a puck and hit it. It went into the net. He hit another and another, and both went in. “Are you keeping count?” He said, a surge of confidence rushing through him.
“That’s your job.”
“I got three in a row.” He said proudly.
“Tell me when you’re ten for ten and I’ll listen.”
Hanseo bit his cheek. “Okay,” he said shortly. “Then let’s make it into a game.”
Hanseok’s eyebrows raised. Now he was interested. He always loved competition.
“Help me line up these pucks,” he added. But his brother didn’t make any effort to move. As usual, he was left to do the dirty work on his own. It was annoying, but he made sure not to show it on his face. After some time, the pucks were more or less lined up. “You go first.”
“Why? You want to know what you’re up against?”
Hanseo didn’t bother to hide rolling his eyes.
The older brother stopped at the start of the line of pucks, eyeing the net. He swung, and the puck went flying.
A miss. Hanseo felt a spark of hope that he might win this.
One point. Two points. Four. Eight. By the end of it, Hanseok got 13 of the 20 pucks in the net.
“I’m bored,” Hanseok complained. “Let’s add some stakes to this game.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like…” he drawled, “if you can’t beat my score, you have to be my servant for a year.”
“A year? No way, I’m not doing that.”
Hanseok looked almost upset by his response. “Well, then if you do somehow manage to outplay me, I’ll be your servant for a year. Does that sound exciting?”
“I- it’s not even a fair fight. You know I’m not as—“
“Dongsaeng.” Since when did Hanseok get so close? Everything around him was very, very dark. “Don’t be so pessimistic, it’s making me feel bad. You wanted this, so finish it.”
Hanseo was quiet. He knew Hanseok would never keep his word. But, the alternative was saying no to him while they were alone and surrounded by weapons.
He had to go along with it. And—well—he kind of liked the idea of ordering his brother around for a change. If he kept faith in his abilities, he might be able to win this bet. “Fine. But you have to keep your word, hyung.” Hanseo straightened as tall as he could, trying to be eye-to-eye with his brother. “You can’t back out either.”
Hanseok gave him a devilish smile. “Sounds like fun.” He held out a hand, his pinky finger straightened out. “No backing out.”
Hanseo took it with his own pinky finger. “No backing out.”
—
On the tenth puck, Hanseo was feeling sick. He only had four points so far. That was a failing grade. If he missed three more, the next year of his life was going to be hell on earth.
He sucked in a breath. Focus, Hanseo. He glanced at Hanseok, who stood back, leaning against the boards. Then he took his next shot.
A miss.
It was getting harder to breathe. “L-let’s take a break.”
“No. Keep going.”
He was trembling, feet starting to give way. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could. He could do this. He was going to prove his brother wrong.
His next shot went straight into the net.
The one after, too.
He continued until he got to the last three, getting all three of them in.
Time moved slowly once he was finished. He cracked a smile. That was thirteen. Thirteen meant it was a tie. Meaning he was free from this game. The bet was off.
“Ooh, twelve! You surprise me every day, dongsaeng.”
Twelve? But he counted…
“Wait, but—”
There was a weight on his shoulders and a stick in his face. Hanseok held the hockey stick below the younger’s chin, leaning most of his weight into him. “Don’t be a sore loser. A loss is a loss.”
“I-I counted thirteen.”
“You counted wrong.” Hanseok giggled next to his ear. “There’s a list of chores waiting for you back home.”
Hanseo felt his legs about to give way. “Can we make it a month? A year is way too long. It’s not fair.”
Hanseok hummed. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought we made a deal.”
The stick was pushed up against his throat.
“I know you’re stupid, but I never took you for such a crybaby.”
It hurt and he couldn’t breathe. The pucks and the net blurred into one and he thought he was going to pass out.
“Apologize and tell me you’re going to keep your word.”
Hanseo nodded profusely. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he choked out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
Finally, Hanseok dropped the stick. “Good. Now clean up this arena. Father will be mad if it's left a mess.”
Hanseo grabbed his throat lightly, trying to breathe through the pain.
As Hanseok skated away he sang. “One whole year. How exciting, dongsaeng!”
Once he was gone, Hanseo fell to his knees. He exhaled hard, the air coming out in a chilled fog.
His brother was not going to let him breathe for the next twelve months. Although he said only chores waited for him, Hanseo knew there would be much worse. With Hanseok, it was always worse.
Stupid. Why did he ever think he could beat his brother? Hanseok always had his way, no matter what. He needed to accept that before his stupidity killed him. Stupid.
God, he was stupid.