Chapter Text
Send in the Clowns
Part I
“Live simply
so others may simply live.”
- Mother Teresa, 1979 Nobel Peace Prize winner.
The slums never really sleep.
That’s how things run their course over the last impoverished neighborhood of Guryong, Gangnam District.
Broken lights flickering on and off on the dark ceiling of the nearly rundown Chapel around Guryong skid roads, scrawny rats running around and digging for scraps on the sullied streets outside the house of worship, and children begging for money to buy cigarettes and soda cans just to offer it to their hungry little brothers, sisters and similarly starving parents as tonight’s supper afterwards.
Poverty oversees the slums of Guryong Streets as would a powerful politician to its territory - and everyone is leeching off of their misery, making their same overseeing poverty as their primary excuse to keep wasting their time slacking off, sit back and do nothing while making sure their pockets always remain empty. After all, if you’re born penniless and living under a rundown division full of the starving and rowdy underclass, you might as well live the rest of your life as if you're only worth was to wait for the Reaper to finally collect what's unfortunately his.
What’s the use of trying to get by and better in life when you're starving, malnourished, grimey, and constantly near death's door anyway? Might as well die like you were born to do so.
Lisa’s oversized grey shirt was soaked with her back sweat that night. Two of her hands were still slightly wet from the fried oil clinging onto her calloused palms. She worked as a street vendor, cooking khao pad, muk grob, moo ping, gai tod and other Thai street food for twelve hours straight – the oil on her hands serving as a daily reminder that she’s incessantly trying her best to make ends meet everyday just to come home with barely enough coins in her wallet to buy food stocks at the end of the week.
Her skin is dry and sagging, her muscles are aching, and her body is overall screaming to rest from the exhaustion. But she can't. The smell of dirt, sweat and the financial failure that runs rampant on the slums of Guryong is the reason why she couldn't even consider taking a break. She knows she won't live through tomorrow if she follows through it.
“You chose this…” Lisa murmurs weakly to herself, eyes remaining fixed on the crucified feet of the image of God before her. A white candle sitting on a glass cup was laid ignored on the rusty pew beside her. “You chose to stay with her, Panpriya.”
“You chose this.”
While she remained swallowed in her own thoughts and prayers that night, the flames of the candle continued burning peacefully close to her without even coming close to being snuffed out from the wind. Eventually, it will remain alight until the night would eventually give way to dawn.
And Lisa left the Chapel with a lighter weight in her chest and tears that dried sooner than it did yesterday.
The slums never really sleep, instead it only grows quieter.
Less yelling, less witchlike laughters, less static radios playing the same music or radio talk shows over and over again, and more of everybody trying not to let the neighborhood know that they're crying themselves to sleep that night; every night, actually.
After all, nothing screams social suicide more than to let those laying beside you on the floor matt discover you’re unable to sleep, falling apart, and slowly losing yourself the longer time ticks and turns. It’s how the poor living in poverty simply learn to live.
As if you all have one foot in your own graves, dying to keep breathing your last.
Lia was talking in her sleep by the time Lisa came by the doors of Sawangjai Apartments, the only rundown apartment complex that still stood strong against the tides of rotten Gangnam trends and the fickle interests of those who sits at the lowest of the class hierarchy. She was huddled to herself, drooling on her Pikachu pillow on the front desk after absolutely failing to lock the entrance door and secure the place before calling it a night for the third time this month.
Lisa smirked before running her fingers through Lia’s blonde hair lightly as she walked past her. If we get robbed, there’s nothing but a few drinks and a couple loose mouths can't fix. I’ll have the name of the robbers before the second night of the week even comes crawling in. Loose mouths sink ships all the damn time, after all.
And because of that, Lia will always be safe from her mistakes.
Lisa’s feet were airy, her steps quiet, and her exhaustion taking hold of her usual sleeplessness as she made her way upstairs. It made movement listlessly slow and her gait unbalanced and odd. She was completely drained from all life and energy but she still has enough of it to prepare herself for what’s waiting for her behind the doors of her own studio apartment the moment she slides the entrance open.
You chose this. Lisa reminded herself that night; every night, actually. You chose to stay with her.
You chose to stay with your miserable, broken mother, Pranpriya Manoban.
“Ma…” Lisa cuts herself short when she immediately realizes something strange and offputting about the front legroom of their humble studio. Chitti, her forty-seven year old unemployed mother who was infamously known for her weekly relationships with younger men and even more for her weekly emotional breakdowns because of them, had cleaned the place.
“Ma?” With a sudden surge of adrenaline and almost forgotten energy inside her, the Thai woman immediately slammed the entrance to their nearly dilapidated studio apartment even wider, throwing her bag at the poorly painted floor, and taking two frantic steps forward before almost slamming into a half-naked man about to walk out of her mother’s bedroom door after he casually slid it open.
He caught her with a strength that was unfamiliar and a frown that was oddly careful. “Hey, hey, you okay?”
He’s young. Younger than all the men Chitti has brought home before and even younger than Lisa finds comfortable. Another boyfriend. Another man who’ll walk away in one or two weeks time and leave her with the responsibility of cleaning up the mess he left behind.
The second one this month.
Despite the kindness in his brown eyes and the carefulness of his grip on her body, the twenty-two year old Thai woman glared at him with a spite that’s unforgiving and coldness that’s nothing short of accusing. You’re taking advantage of a woman who only knew love in broken relationships and her own broken heart.
Stop. “I’m fine.” She seethed through the skin of her teeth, forcing his hands off of her afterwards.
Stop hurting us.
“Where’s my mother?” Even while she says it, her eyes are already wandering past the attractive man and into the unruliness of the room behind him. Chitti was dead asleep in the thin cot with her hair matted all over her sweaty face and her limbs entangled on a bolster pillow. She looks like she’s dreaming with ease and is completely feeling at peace.
Unlike the storm she left behind in the real world.
“Apparently asleep, as you can see. Thanks to me.” The man says with a small smile. He was probably around Lisa’s age, disgustingly enough. “You must be Lisa.”
“And you must be Boy Toy Number Two.” Lisa made sure to avoid bumping into his bare shoulder as she walked past him, acting as if it carried diseases other than the lack of shame in its stance. She took off her bracelets, her necklace, and carelessly threw it on the kitchen table beside her bed. “I’d say welcome home but none of them ever lasts longer than two weeks.”
Lisa may have missed the way he crossed his arms over the hard planes of his muscled chest after the brunette leaned against the unpainted wall beside him - but she can definitely feel the arrogance in his smile all the way from where she stands away from him. How kind that smile still felt to her. “Better make it four then.”
Lisa paused in her movements, suddenly feeling the urge to slam a non-existent door in his face. “We’re poor, we’re barely living by, and we don’t have any money on us at all.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you want from her?” She sharply turned around to find out he kept that smile on his face, albeit more sincerely now. “Because you’re young, you look like you can lift, you have a face that could sell ads and brand deals, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you waste a part of your youth for a middle-aged woman going through a midlife crisis?”
To his credit, the man never even flinched or laughed at the obvious way she subtly called him cute. Where her friends and neighbors were losing their minds and crying themselves to sleep at night, he was standing as if he came prepared for the chaos that came with midnight altogether.
He was a force to be reckoned with, whether Lisa realized it then and there or not.
“I could say the same thing to you.” The man said, a strange curl in his accent she never picked up on until now. Perhaps the exhaustion was catching up to her more than she thought. “You’re beautiful, you’re diligent and I knew you would go through hell and back for those you love if only the smell of fried food on your hands and your sweatsoaked shirt says otherwise. Why would you stay?”
“You know nothing about me.” Lisa scoffs, turning her back at him again.
“Then I guess I could say the same thing to you. What the hell do you know about me, Manoban?” Lisa felt the way he moves around the studio with a relaxed stance that would’ve been irritating if it weren’t familiar. “But I have an answer to your question, in case you’re still up for it.”
If he wants to play with being passive with emotions, then Lisa is more than ready to do the same.
But much to her surprise, he was quick to drop the unfriendliness in his voice and sent the Thai woman one last kind smile, saying, “Because I chose this.”
You chose this. Lisa reminded herself that night; every night, actually. You chose to stay with her.
Blood rushed through her body and warmed her better than the Gangnam heatwave ever could. She felt hot and cold at the same time, it was frightening. As she stood there, still trying to process what he said, the man was already preparing to let her know he’ll never leave her to clean up after the mess he started.
“My name’s Chan. You can call me Chris, came straight from Sydney and grew up there.” Chan says, smiling softly. “Have a pleasant night, Lisa.”
As the sun continues to sleep and Lisa struggles to follow along after it, a man was on the cusp of starting a riot all the way down on the first floor of Sawangjai Apartment’s studio apartments.
“You always look adorable when you’re looking this stupid.” Jisung chuckles just as he was about to shove three dirty hays from some unused sweeper in Lia’s drooling mouth - only realizing Minho quietly slipped beside him and poke his bum three seconds too late.
When the underground rapper sprung from his squatting position and squalled like a runaway duck, Lia shrieked in her sleep and automatically knocked both larger men over. She has Jisung and Minho on their knees before she can even properly open her eyes to realize the damage all three of them have done.
“Wow, do you have the strength of a two hundred pound man.” Minho griped sardonically, rubbing his lower back with a sorry hand and trying to balance himself back on his own two feet now. Beside him, Jisung was still trying to catch his breath and pick himself up off the floor. “Would you like to start arm wrestling and show off your high testosterone levels too, sweetheart?”
“You okay?” Jisung’s voice was softer and gentler than how he usually speaks with Lia on most days, making sure she’s steadying herself after practically landing a clean overhand on both assholes who failed to pull a joke on them both.
This time, the front lobby receptionist responded by landing a clean hook punch on him. “What were you about to do to me, you little ass!? Eager to die?”
As Minho watched Jisung “struggle” against the arms of a smaller Korean woman while absolutely trying not to burst out laughing and piss her off even more - the street dancer cuts to the chase of why he even came to the front desk in the first place. “I heard we have a new tenant tonight.”
“Eh?” Jisung blinked from where Lia was now trying to strangle him. With an ease that was only relatively possible to men and never to women, Jisung untangled himself from her arms effortlessly without a hitch - much to Lia's chagrin. “Who?”
“Cougar Manoban’s new boyfriend, who else would it be…” Rolling her eyes and wiping off the remaining drool in her cheeks, Lia made sure that only the three of them could actually hear the conversation they’re having. “Second one this month.”
“Lisa must be having a field day.” Minho whistles, smirking out of pity for his senior.
“I can already picture the next meltdown this week. I like Noona but I do not like the woman who brought her into this world. Too many unresolved baggage she throws at her younger men.” Jisung shivers, seemingly out of repulse. “Noona must be struggling to fall asleep right now.”
“What, with Cougar Manoban’s mouth? Forget sleep, she’ll be staying awake ‘till Saturday.” Minho smirks as he shares a clap at Jisung, laughing together as Lia’s sorry eyes turn upstairs.
“That’s the thing though…” She murmurs gently. Almost tiredly. “Apartment B1051 has been silent ever since Chitti brought him home.”
“Probably still trying to get him in the mood.” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows and squawked playfully when Minho slapped his shoulder, laughing and making fun of the old woman’s dry groin together.
“Laugh all you want,” Lia finally returns her gaze back on both her best friends, the rapper and dancer she had grown up with over the years and simultaneously witnessed each version over time. “You’ll take all of it back once you finally meet the boy who came home at nightfall.”
“That’s Lisa’s problem, not ours.” Minho playfully slaps the back of Lia’s head. She growls like a defenseless kitten. “Unless you have a crush on Chitti’s new boy toy?”
As Minho’s arms wrap around an adamantly protesting front lobby receptionist, albeit none too gently, he misses the way the smile on Jisung’s face morphs into something more mundane, more grateful as he drags her away to her own studio apartment to actually rest on.
As the underground rapper allowed two of his childhood friends to walk off ahead of him first, he took out the mixtape he had hidden in his pocket all this time and carefully left it underneath the telephone paging system at the front desk. Only Lia will be able to find it once she resumes back on duty tomorrow.
As he finally walked after them, the yellow piece of paper encasing the mixtape was tucked craftily underneath the bottom of the telephone paging system. Dear Jisu, it reads out loud.
When Jisung laughed at the way Lia dug her heel at Minho’s foot before slamming the door on his face, he imagined the reaction she will actually make once she hears the first song he had arranged to be played on his mixtape.
Will You Marry Me?
Only Lia will be able to find the mixtape once she resumes back on duty tomorrow - but she isn't the only one who's completely aware of Jisung's feelings for her. After all, Minho didn't help him give her away tonight for nothing.