Chapter Text
Hoseok had the first inkling that he wasn’t quite normal when he was eight. He had been at his annual check up, happily coloring in a picture while his mom spoke with his doctor.
Out of nowhere, she gasped. He looked up quickly and dropped his crayon when he saw the look on her face.
“Mom?”
She was quick to smooth her expression from terrified shock to something more neutral.
“It’s ok baby. Don’t worry about it.” She leaned down to pick up the crayon that had rolled onto the floor. “Sorry for scaring you.”
He accepted the crayon from her. Her hand was shaking.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, eyes wide with concern.
Tears came to her eyes but she shook her head. “It’s nothing honey, you can go back to coloring.”
And so he did.
***
The next clue that something was not quite right happened when he was eleven.
“Why can’t I go?" Hoseok whined. The nearby performing arts school was holding auditions and Hoseok’s dance teacher had encouraged him to apply.
His mother sighed. “It would be too much stress on you and I want dancing to be fun.”
“I can do it!” Hoseok insisted. “I don’t think it will be too stressful for me.”
Besides,” she continued as if she didn’t hear him, “It’s farther from your current school and it would be a long way for me to drive. And wouldn’t you miss your friends?”
She didn’t tell him that the school had a strict policy against enrolling Littles. Something about “maintaining their reputation as a serious performing arts school” and “not stealing a spot from a child with a future career”. It was discrimination at its finest, and she knew as Hoseok got older he would only experience it more and more.
“Why don’t we just continue those community classes instead?” She suggested.
Hosoek looked disappointed, but he gave her his brightest smile anyway. “Ok Eomma!”
***
It wasn’t until he was fourteen that he began to understand just how different he was.
He had been sitting at the dinner table like usual, discussing all the things he learned at school to his attentive parents.
“And then I got the highest score in the class!” He said excitedly. “Mr. Park said we’re going to learn real calculus in high school next year, I can’t wait.”
The sudden screech of a knife scratching against a ceramic plate halted the conversation. Hoseok’s mother was frozen, her hands hovering over her food, clutching tightly to her fork and knife.
“Are you ok?” Hoseok scanned his mother frantically, searching for the cause of her sudden stillness.
When she didn’t answer he looked towards his father in confusion, but he wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Did I say something wrong?” Hoseok asked timidly.
That seemed to knock his mother out of her daze.
“No! You did nothing wrong. Everything’s fine.”
Hoseok’s father huffed and put down his fork. “Lying to him isn’t going to help him.”
Hoseok looked back and forth between his parents as they stared each other down.
Finally, Hoseok’s dad broke the silence by turning back to his meal and taking a bite.
“What your mother isn’t telling you,” he said with faux nonchalance, “is that you aren’t going to high school.”
“What do you mean?” Hoseok was at a loss. His parents were acting weird and it was scaring him.
“Honey,” his mother said gently. “Have you ever heard of Littles and Caregivers?”
At his confused frown, she explained. “Remember when you stopped seeing Hajun in class?”
“Yeah, he moved.”
She shook her head sadly. “No sweetheart, his parents pulled him out of school when they found out that he was a Little. That means he… is wired a bit different than other people.”
“Different how?” Hoseok wished his mom would just spit it out. He had a very bad feeling about the direction this conversation was headed.
“Well,” his mom had a pinched look on her face, like the conversation was physically painful. “He has unique needs. The way his body functions and handles stress is different from other kids, and when he grows up, it will be different from other adults. Since he won’t ever be expected to have a job, his parents didn’t think he needed to go to school.”
Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if you think about it.” Hoseok’s dad chimed in. “School is a lot of work and a lot of responsibility. Why put a child through that when it's unnecessary? Littles need lots of love and care, they don’t need an education.”
“So what’s he supposed to do if he’s not going to school?” Hoseok was beginning to understand what they were trying to say and he didn’t like it.
Hoseok’s mother and father shared a glance.
“All he has to do is stay home and be a good boy for his parents,” his mother said. “And then when he’s older, he will move in with a Caretaker who will love him and care for him.”
“You’re saying I’m like Hajun.” Hoseok concluded. “So I have, like, what? A disability?”
“No, no honey.” His mother was quick to assure. “You’re just as capable and talented as anyone else. You just… require a little more care and attention. So, according to the law, you don’t need to go to school anymore.”
“But that’s not fair!”
“I know sweetheart,” she said sadly. “It’s just the way things are.”
Hoseok’s eyes filled with tears as what they were saying started to sink in. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing!” His mother was quick to wrap him up in her arms. “You’re perfect, don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’re not.”
She hugged him tightly and rocked him as he cried. His father sat nearby and rubbed his back comfortingly.
“I know it’s hard to hear, son.” His father said. “Your future is just going to be a little different from the life we had envisioned for you. But who says that’s a bad thing?”
“The good thing,” his mom added, “Is that you will always be so loved.”
Hoseok sniffled. “Really?”
“Yes of course!” she said. “You are so easy to love, and your Caregiver is going to absolutely adore you.”
He didn’t really understand what that meant, but he allowed himself to be comforted in his parents’ embrace.
***
Although Hoseok legally couldn’t attend school anymore, that didn’t stop his parents from educating him. He still learned all the subjects he wanted to, and since his mother didn’t have the heart to pull him out of dance, he saw his friends every week at dance class. He was the star student, and his love for dancing grew with his talent. For a while it seemed like his parents might have been right–everything was really going to be ok.
That ended when he got the first application in the mail.
“I don’t need a Caregiver!” Hoseok yelled through his bedroom door. He had slammed the door in his mother’s face when she tried to convince him to fill out the form. “All I need is you and dad.”
“I know you don’t feel ready, but we can’t care for you forever. You’re going to need someone who’s biologically in tune with your needs. A Caregiver can provide for you better than we ever could.”
Hoseok vehemently disagreed, but he could read between the lines. He was becoming a burden on his parents, and he was determined to fix that.