Chapter Text
“Nam-gyu? Well? Are you going to tell your father about what happened at school today?”
Nam-gyu picked at his food. Something microwaved slopped onto cheap, plastic dinner plates. Young-mi kept her head down, cutting up god knows what into little pieces and just moving them around her equally shitty plate.
The Jang family were all eating their shitty dinner on shitty plates on a shitty dining table—well, everyone but Se-mi, she snuck her plate upstairs and went to video call her girlfriend or something. Nam-gyu looked up from his plate, staring at the ceiling as if it’d give him the answer.
“Um,” he started, “oh, I uh, flunked a math quiz today,” he finished, taking a bit of sausage and sticking it into his mouth.
Jang Min-yeo’s lips tightened, “no, the other thing!” she shrilled, slamming down her fork.
Deok-su finally looked up from his plate, “what other thing?” Nam-gyu craned his neck, avoiding eye contact, “What happened at school today?”
Nam-gyu tapped his spoon onto the table in thought. Truly deep thoughts he was pondering—he paused for a moment, trying to recall what exactly his mom was talking about.
Then, it came to him, “oh, the school shooting?” he could hear Se-mi laughing this ridiculous laugh through the thin walls. Nam-gyu mentally told himself to yell at her later. Maybe he should just get up from the table right now just so he could get out of this conversation.
Min-yeo, however, seemed to be very insistent on keeping him at the dinner table.
Her shoulders tensed visibly, “yes, the school shooting!” she nearly shrieked.
“Oh yeah,” Nam-gyu said flatly. Young-mi abruptly shot up from her chair, the wood scraping against the floor painfully, mumbling something about “not feeling hungry” and practically fleeing the dining table with her half-finished food. Great, Young-mi really had the nerve to leave Nam-gyu there after he let her borrow half of his Twix bar a week ago. Just saying.
“Um, some kid shot up the school or whatever,” Nam-gyu finished rather lamely, half-heartedly shrugging. He didn’t even care that the food looked inedible and tasted mediocre, he just needed to finish fast, leave, and maybe reprimand Young-mi. He really should’ve just taken the food up to his room.
Deok-su looked up again, waving his knife around, “who shot up the scho—was it you?”
“No!” Nam-gyu replied hastily, his tone slightly defensive.
“Did you get shot?” he asked, his voice impatient.
“No,” Nam-gyu repeated, taking a sip of his soda.
“Oh,” Deok-su said gruffly, slumping back into his seat, “well, what’s this about failing a math quiz?”
Nam-gyu stopped for a moment, trying to think of a way to safely phrase how he absolutely bombed the test when Min-yeo suddenly stood up, slamming her hands down on the table.
“Are you serious?!” she yelled, running her hands through her hair and tugging at her roots in stress, “Did you not hear what your child said?” she screamed, gesturing wildly. Deok-su’s eyes darted between the two before he just nodded slightly.
“Kids died at his school today,” she continued shouting, her eyes bulging.
Deok-su gritted his teeth, “well, uh, I’m sorry that—”
“And why are you all acting like this is normal?” Min-yeo exploded, her body shifting back and forth. She finally slid her plate aggressively across the dining table, stomping upstairs while calling out about how abnormal everyone was.
For a bit, the house was silent, other than the sounds of Min-yeo shuffling up the stairs while breathing heavily. After that, there was no more sound—not Min-yeo huffing dramatically, not Se-mi talking and laughing, not Young-mi speed-eating at the sink, nothing. Nam-gyu picked at his food again.
“Damn, what’s up mom’s ass?”