Chapter Text
Anger. The anger within Jinyoung would never fade. It's blazing up, and sometimes in the rare moments, subsided a little, but it never dies. The flame was eating the people around him, burning them alive until he was satisfied. And it wasn't long before it went on rampage again.
Suffering. It wasn't that he was happy to see others suffered, but he found contentment in solid proof of people suffering just like he did, even if he had to be the cause. He was selfish enough that he would be glad to make someone's life a living hell even though he didn't really into hurting people that only made him drowned further into the depth of his suffering. He was glad to do that, because his suffering was the fuel of his burning anger. Because he was afraid if the flame died, he would be left empty and vulnerable. Because the flame was the only thing existed inside him, and his only form of defense.
And that was why seeing two people saved Mark from his lackeys before they managed to properly give him a lesson only ignited his anger, ignoring the slight feeling of relief in a small corner of his heart. His eyes were burning fire into the person beating up those weaklings from across the river, forgetting the boy slumped in relief beside him, seeing his savior got saved. And when his so-called friends ran away, he glared at the person who finally noticed his presence and looked back. And what he saw in his eyes was something he never expected.
Shocked. That person was shocked when he saw Jinyoung. Not because there was someone standing there glaring at him, but because that someone was Jinyoung.
Jinyoung's confusion brought down his anger a little, as he turned and walk away, leaving the scene.
--
Jinyoung kicked the chair and swept everything on his desk falling to the floor. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the result from the appearances of two people he hated the most being fused. His mother's eyes staring back at him, his teeth gritted inside his father's mouth before his fist landed on the mirror, the cracks were smeared with his blood. He threw himself to his bed, letting his scream of anguish being swallowed by the pillow, and dampened it with his tears. This time the one being consumed with his flame was none other than himself, the extreme heat followed by burning damages here and there inside.
When he told the Thai nerd that he was betrayed by his friend, it was only one of many betrayals that made him who he was today. He wasn't always like this. He was kind and cheerful. He could still smile, laugh, capable of holding something dear. He loved to sing, to dance, to read. He never experienced any shortage of money, his father being one of the biggest businessmen out there. His family was perfect, their parents both the best on their area of expertise, and he was proud of them. Even though they were never home, he understood that they were busy. He had many friends, the wall surrounding him hadn't grew as tall and thick. It was all back when he was still naive, until everything changed in middle school.
Middle school was when he found out that most of his friend befriended him because of his money. Middle school was when he found out that one of his closest friends at the dance studio purposely hurt his leg when he was admitted to a major dance competition, out of jealousy. Middle school was also when he found out that his parents weren't busy enough that they each had another lover of their own, his father even had another kid from his lover and that they actually never cared of his existence.
He was shattered, broken into pieces, and he built an unpenetrable wall around the ruins. Then flame started to ignite, fueled by his pain, burning the remains inside the wall. Burning his capabilities to love something, love someone. Burning his capability of being happy. The only things left were ashes and the flame that never ceased to exist. And sometimes that flame didn't only get other people, but also himself burnt, like now.
The scene he saw when he walked home before kept replaying inside his head. His father was walking hand-in-hand with a woman, carrying a kid on his other arm. He never even remembered his father ever carried him that way. Why would his father do that, he was just an unwanted child from a political marriage, being born out of formality only for the sole purpose of becoming a heir. That was why his teachers let him to do as he please, for his father had bribed the school to not let him got into any scandal that could ruin his name in the guise of donation. That was why him bullying other kids never went outside the school, when he actually wanted to tell the world how his so-called parents fucked him up.
He was tired of the despair he couldn't get out of his head, so he finally drowned himself to sleep in the hope of escaping his mind, wishing for a dreamless night.
--
Jinyoung woke up with a throbbing pain on the back of his right hand. Last night he was so lost in the pain in his heart he didn’t even realize his physical one. Then he heard someone knocking from the other side of the door.
“Young Master, time to wake up.”
When he didn’t answer, the door opened. He could see surprise passed through his housekeeper face before it was back to stern as she looked around his bedroom. Jinyoung sat at the edge of his bed with a grunt when she went to the bathroom inside his room, and saw her back with first aid kit on her hand.
“Let me tend to your hand, Young Master.”
And Jinyoung let her. He winced a little when she put antiseptics on his wound. Then she finally wrapped his hand with a white bandage, that soon soiled red.
“Fortunately there’s no glass in your wound, Young Master. I have prepared breakfast, so you better get ready for school now if you don’t want to be late.”
“Thanks, Soohwa.”
Soohwa gave him a slight smile and left. She knew Jinyoung wouldn’t skip school if he could, because this house suffocated him. The only escape he had from this house is school, since he had nowhere else to go and he hated wandering around because it made him feel lost. After 10 years being a housekeeper in this house, she had already grew fond of the boy, and she felt bad for him, having those kind of people as parents. So she tried to care for him as much as she could, without making him feel pitied.
One and half hour later he sat on his seat at the back corner of his classroom, looking outside through the window, busy with his own mind. Nobody dared to approach him at school except his followers who only wanted to impress him, because being his follower meant they were at the top of the food chain. They liked feeling almighty and powerful, and glad to show it off to other kids at school. They bullied other kids without him telling them to, so he often just watched from the sideline without participating except when there was someone who pissed him off, like that Thai nerd Bambam or the betrayer Mark. He admitted there was actually no reason for him to bully Bambam, he just felt burnt from his own flame like last night and needed to burn someone else too, unable to keep the fire inside by himself anymore on the day Bambam first showed up in his school.
The bell rang, everyone back to their seats as their teacher entered the room. She told them there was a new student again, just at the perfect time when Jinyoung needed someone to release his anger to. Yet he never expected the new student to be one of the guys who beat his lackeys’ asses at the riverside. He realized he was gaping at the direction of the boy when he started to speak with a low voice.
“Good morning, my name is Im Jaebum. Nice to meet you.”
“Great. You can sit on the empty seat on the back, Jaebum.” The teacher said. Only then Jinyoung noticed that the only empty seat in this classroom is beside him, because everyone in this classroom always tried to stay away from him as far as possible. And then he saw it again, the shocked expression on the boy’s face when he saw him, before he managed to pull himself into calm expression again. Jinyoung was too preoccupied in his thought and the anger from last night that hadn’t subsided to wonder about it. Now he had someone to release his anger to, and had just the perfect reason to do it. He quickly pulled out his phone and texted his boys about the plan he had for the new guy when the school ends.
--
Jinyoung stood up as he saw them stepped into the shadow formed by the bridge over their head, hiding them from the eyes of passerby. Jaebum was being dragged between two of his followers by his arms. He struggled, but he couldn’t give much of a fight since his wrists was tied with a rope on his back. Jinyoung had specifically instructed them to do so, since he knew Jaebum would just beat up those weaklings again and wrecked up his plan if they didn’t. Jaebum stopped struggling as he saw him, and Jinyoung brushed off any traces of confusion from him as Jaebum was pushed to his knees in front of him.
“So we meet here again.” Jinyoung said, pulling the other boy’s hair, lifting his eyes to meet his.
“So it seems.”
Jinyoung thought he could almost see sadness in Jaebum’s eyes. Why? Am I imagining things? Jinyoung shook his confusion away.
“Do you regret interrupting me back then now?”
“Why should I?”
“Well, I actually wanted to let you off only with some light bruises, but seems like it won’t be enough. You’ll have to learn not to step on my way, ever again.”
“You know that’s not what you really want, Jinyoung.”
Jinyoung was startled. He felt like that new guy could see through him, and suddenly he feel scared for the first time after he changed. He dreaded the thought of someone penetrating the thick walls he had built over the years, breaking the only defense he had inside of him. He pulled his hand from Jaebum’s hair, felt like it was getting burnt from touching the other boy. It had always been him burning others, not the opposite. Then he felt himself burning in anger again, spiced with the hatred aimed toward the boy in front of him. His hand curled into a fist and hit Jaebum’s face with all his might.
“Wreck him.”
Jaebum barely made any noise beside a few grunts he sometimes failed to hold in, drowned by his assailants’ laughter and mocking, the sound of shoe soles and flesh hitting against another flesh, and the steady flow of the river beside them. By the time they left the boy all battered up, bleeding and bruised, untied yet barely able to move, the sun had already being swallowed up by the dark.