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In all the sixteen years, five months, and four days he’s been on this Earth, Dongsung is absolutely, completely, 100% sure he’s never regretted anything more than this.
His ribs ache and his temple is throbbing. His lip stopped bleeding a while ago but it still stings. He’s sure his eye is gonna swell to the size of a baseball, and that’s if it’s not shiny black already, which it definitely feels like. His school uniform is covered in dirt and he can feel it rubbing off on the chair he’s sitting in in the principal’s office.
But worse than everything, worse than everything combined—they called his brother.
The door bursts open, slamming against the wall with a bang. Everyone in the room jumps. But the bang is nothing compared to the voice that bellows, “Who the fuck touched my kid?”
Dongsung cringes in his chair. He really wishes they hadn’t called Seunghyub.
“Mr. Seo, please sit down,” says Principal Kang.
Seunghyub is so enraged he doesn’t even correct him. “Was it you two?” he yells, storming up to the other two students in the room. “You two assholes gang up on my kid? You looking for an express ticket to the afterlife? I can make that happen, don’t fucking try me.”
“No,” blurts out Kim Jaehyun, frantically grabbing his friend, for support or to use as a human shield or both. “No no no, I didn’t touch Dongsung—I mean, okay, I did, I picked him up so my hands made contact with his shoulder, but I didn’t, like, touch him touch him—”
“Mr. Seo,” says the principal sharply. “Neither Jaehyun nor Hun hit Dongsung. Sit down.”
Seunghyub looks unconvinced, but does as ordered. He sits in the chair next to Dongsung’s, and as soon as he sees his injuries Seunghyub looks like he’s going to explode. Dongsung quickly breaks eye contact and prays he doesn’t start yelling again.
“I’ll be talking to the boys Dongsung fought with later, separately,” says Principal Kang. “This is about Dongsung and his violent actions.”
“Dongsung’s not violent,” says Seunghyub.
“He started the fight,” says the principal.
Dongsung wants to disappear into a hole in the earth. He tries, sinking low in his chair when Seunghyub looks at him, but no dice.
“Okay, you’re obviously wrong,” says Seunghyub, turning back to the principal. “Dongsung isn’t like that. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“His classmates and students from other classes all witnessed it,” says the principal. “Dongsung hit the other boy first.”
“He deserved it!” explodes the last student in the room. “You can’t blame Dongsung!”
“Quiet, Hun,” says Principal Kang. He sighs. “Honestly, you should be embarrassed, fighting your juniors.”
Dongsung sneaks a glance at him. It’s Cha Hun, one of the second years in section 2. Dongsung doesn’t really know him. Well, okay, he knows him—everyone in school does since his YouTube channel with Kim Jaehyun went viral—but he doesn’t know him. Hun definitely doesn’t know Dongsung back. This is probably the only time the two of them have interacted.
Well, except for when Hun grabbed the guy Dongsung was trying to kick in the gut. If that counts as an interaction.
Dongsung still has no idea why Hun and Jaehyun got involved in the fight. It just made the thing an even bigger deal.
“They were, like, four on one,” says Hun. “That’s not a fair fight.”
“We didn’t fight them,” insists Jaehyun. “We just jumped in there and broke the fight up. We didn’t hit anyone!”
“I hit a kid,” says Hun.
“Dude, shut up,” hisses Jaehyun.
“I kicked him when he was trying to get up.”
“Dude!”
“Quiet,” snaps the principal. “I’ll deal with the two of you in time. But you should be very ashamed of your involvement in this mess.”
Jaehyun nods, putting on his best good boy face. Hun doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look very sorry. He shoots the principal a look and then huffs and settles in his chair.
“What did he mean when he said that kid deserved to get hit?” asks Seunghyub.
Principal Kang can finally turn his attention back to Seunghyub. “Sorry?”
“He said the kid Dongsung hit—allegedly hit—deserved it,” says Seunghyub. “What does that mean? Is that true?”
“No one deserves to be physically attacked,” says Principal Kang. He turns to the two second years. “Jaehyun, Hun, please wait outside.”
“No, wait,” says Seunghyub, stopping Jaehyun and Hun as they’re halfway to getting out of their chairs. “Why did you say that other kid deserved it?”
Hun hesitates. He looks at Jaehyun.
“Well,” Jaehyun says slowly. “They were, y’know, saying stuff…”
Dongsung sinks further down his chair. He really wishes he could disappear right now.
“What kind of stuff?” asks Seunghyub.
“Well…” Jaehyun trails off when he sees the desperate look Dongsung is shooting him. “Uh… well, y’know…”
“Jaehyun, that’s enough,” says Principal Kang sharply. “You and Hun can go sit outside.”
Jaehyun and Hun flee. Dongsung wishes he could go with them.
“How did this fight start?” asks Seunghyub. He’s speaking calmly now, and that’s a thousand times scarier. “You claim Dongsung hit first. Did the other kids provoke him?”
“A verbal taunt is not the same as a punch,” says the principal.
“How is it not the same?” asks Seunghyub. “Seems like the same to me. Seems like they’re both aggressive.”
“Physical violence is violence,” says Principal Kang. “Boys tease and make fun of each other all the time, it’s part of growing up. A boy of Dongsung’s age can’t be sensitive to these playground jokes.”
That was not the right thing to say. Dongsung can’t stop himself from shaking his head. Now they’re both in it.
“Teasing?” says Seunghyub. “So if I called you a fish-faced fuckwad who would be out of their depth in a puddle, you’d call it just teasing?”
Principal Kang goes red. “Excuse me—”
“It’s just teasing, isn’t it?” says Seunghyub, eyes sparking like they’ve been lit on fire. “Nothing aggressive, right? Maybe you should be less sensitive, it’s just a little playground joke—”
“Mr. Seo—”
“It’s Lee.”
Principal Kang stops. “Sorry?”
“It’s Lee,” repeats Seunghyub. “Lee Seunghyub. We’re not related by blood.”
Principal Kang frowns as he rifles through the ledger in front of him. “But you are Dongsung’s legal guardian,” he says.
“I am,” says Seunghyub.
Dongsung doesn’t make eye contact with the principal when he looks at him. Principal Kang was informed when he first enrolled, but he obviously forgot over the course of the school year. Dongsung should’ve known this would happen eventually.
“I see.” Principal Kang looks awkward now. He clears his throat. “Dongsung, please go wait outside. I need to speak with your—your…”
Dongsung takes pity on the man and gets up, saving him from the stuttering. He bows politely and leaves the office. He does not look at Seunghyub.
It’s nice and peaceful outside the office. There’s the white noise buzz of students talking in the distance, the breeze coming in through the open window. Kim Jaehyun and Cha Hun are there.
“Dude,” says Jaehyun, eyes wide as he gets to his feet. “Your brother’s scary as hell.”
“Oh no, he’s not, really,” says Dongsung quickly. “He’s actually super chill and laid back, I promise.” He doesn’t know why he’s defending Seunghyub to a couple of seniors he’s never even talked to before, but it feels important.
It’s kinda ironic, because a long time ago Dongsung had also thought Seunghyub was intimidating, cool and unapproachable. Now he’s just Seunghyub.
“Really? ’Cause it seemed like he was gonna rip my head off,” says Jaehyun.
“Well the situation is… unique,” says Dongsung.
“No kidding!” exclaims Jaehyun. “I’ve never been in trouble for fighting before! Though I guess I didn’t really fight, exactly, y’know? I was just in there trying to break you guys up. I didn’t hit anyone, honest, that wasn’t a lie just to save my ass.”
From behind him, sitting on the bench in the hallway, Hun volunteers, “I did.”
Jaehyun whips around to look at him. “Stop saying that,” he hisses. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”
“We’re already in trouble,” says Hun sourly. “They’re gonna call your mom, Jaehyun.”
All the color drains out of Jaehyun’s face at the thought of his mother being called to school. “Oh, no,” he whispers, and it’s the quietest Dongsung’s ever heard him. He feels a stab of pity.
“You okay?” asks Hun.
It takes Dongsung a moment to realize the senior is talking to him. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says. He motions to all the damage on his face. “These? Just flesh wounds.”
Hun hums and nods, and that’s that. He’s not much of a nurturing type. It’s Jaehyun who walks up to Dongsung and starts fussing over his torn clothes and blooming bruises. It’s a little over-the-top, but kind.
“By the way, sunbae,” says Dongsung, casually, “who was the one you kicked?”
“Me? I don’t know his name,” says Hun. “He had a really pointy nose and I think you got him in the face.”
Dongsung works out who it is, and smiles.
Jaehyun is in the middle of puffing up Dongsung’s combat skills when the door opens and he promptly shuts up. Seunghyub comes out alone. He looks calm, but Dongsung isn’t fooled. The shit has only just hit the fan.
“Dongsung, we’re going home,” he says.
Dongsung follows Seunghyub without a second’s delay. He throws an apologetic look at Hun and Jaehyun. Hun just blinks, but Jaehyun smiles back big and bright and encouraging.
Seunghyub’s trusty old van is waiting outside the school gates. Dongsung remembers when he first met Seunghyub he had a motorbike. Nothing too flashy, but to young Dongsung it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. Seunghyub sold the bike and bought the ugly van after the accident.
Dongsung climbs into the front passenger seat. Seunghyub doesn’t say anything as he starts the engine and they set off.
The drive is silent. Seunghyub doesn’t talk, and Dongsung isn’t volunteering anything either. He almost wishes he was back in the yard, fighting off four other boys. It feels a lot easier than dealing with Seunghyub right now.
It’s only as they’re pulling into their street that Seunghyub finally breaks the silence. “So,” he says. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
Dongsung doesn’t. “It’s nothing,” he mutters.
“Definitely doesn’t feel like nothing,” says Seunghyub. “You don’t start beating up kids for nothing.”
He doesn’t look at Dongsung, keeping his eyes on the road the entire time, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “It’s nothing,” repeats Dongsung.
They’re coming up to their apartment building now. But Seunghyub doesn’t stop. He drives right on past it, not even slowing down.
“We’re not leaving this car until you tell me what happened,” says Seunghyub.
“I told you, nothing happened,” says Dongsung. “They were just being annoying. It was Taeho and his loser friends. Other kids complained about him before but his parents and the teachers never do anything. Taeho didn’t get into the track team and I did, so he was trying to push me around. I didn’t let him. You’re the one who said I should never let anyone push me around.”
“I did,” says Seunghyub calmly. He makes a turn, and Dongsung realizes they’re circling back to their building. “You’re not in trouble, Dongsung. I just wanna know how it started.”
“I already told you,” insists Dongsung.
But Seunghyub isn’t fooled. He knows there’s something more to it. They reach their building again, and again they drive past it.
Dongsung bites his bottom lip. He does not want to tell Seunghyub. If he tells Seunghyub he’ll make a big deal about it, and that’s the last thing Dongsung wants. He wants this all to blow over and for no one to bring it up ever again. He just wants this day to end.
But Seunghyub won’t let go. Dongsung knows he won’t let go. He’s like a dog with a bone when he wants to be, and this time he has his jaws locked in.
They drive past their apartment building for the third time. The thick air in the car builds with every second passed in silence, and it’s suffocating. Seunghyub just keeps his eyes on the road.
Dongsung can’t take it anymore. He turns so that he’s facing the window, away from Seunghyub so that he won’t see his face, and mumbles, “They were talking about how Mom and Dad died.”
The car jerks to a stop. Dongsung isn’t surprised. He doesn’t turn to look at Seunghyub, because he can guess the expression he has on his face and he doesn’t want to see it. “They found out Uncle didn’t wanna take me in,” he continues. He’s doing great at sounding unbothered. “I dunno how. Maybe Taeho or one of his idiots knows one of my middle school friends. Whatever. He was making fun of me, saying no one wanted me. He asked me if I was being raised by dogs now or something.”
Silence. Dongsung wonders if he’d been too honest.
“Anyway, whatever,” he says, shifting, trying to sound relaxed. “It was annoying, so I punched him in the face. And then his stupid friends jumped on me. I guess Jaehyun-sunbae and Hun-sunbae jumped in too. I dunno.” He shifts. “Then they called you.”
Dongsung waits for a reaction, but nothing comes. He feels the urge to fill up the silence. “He’s just jealous I made the team,” he says. “He sucks. That’s why I was able to take on him and all his friends at the same time.”
Still nothing. The van starts moving again.
When they reach their apartment building for the fourth time and slow to a stop, Dongsung chances a look. Seunghyub’s face is solemn, but betrays nothing else. He’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.
They go up. The apartment is big enough for the two of them, and that’s it. Seunghyub wanders into the tiny kitchen and comes back with a first aid kit. There aren’t really any cuts to clean or bandage up, but Dongsung sits still and lets him poke around with it for a while. They go through the whole scene in silence. When Seunghyub’s done, Dongsung gets up and goes to his room and falls into bed, still in his uniform. He buries his face in the pillow and wishes he could redo the day or month or his entire life. He wishes he could bring his parents back.
When he comes out of his room after probably hours, he’s surprised to find Seunghyub still there, sitting on the couch watching TV. “You didn’t go back to the shop?” asks Dongsung awkwardly.
Seunghyub shakes his head. “Closed it for the day,” he says. “Wanna watch this with me?”
It’s an idol music program. Neither of them are really into idol groups. Dongsung sits down and watches the show.
Conversation is sparse for the rest of the day. They have yesterday’s leftovers for dinner, and Dongsung does his homework. Then Seunghyub says, “Good night, Dongsung,” and they head to bed.
Dongsung wakes up in the morning, automatically, before his alarm even rings. He’s about to roll over and go back to sleep when he gets a glimpse of the time. It’s ten fifteen.
He jumps out of bed, cursing loudly. He washes up and gets ready in a whirlwind. He has no idea why his alarm didn’t ring but that doesn’t matter right now. He’s already late for school.
He dashes out of his room, all ready to skip breakfast and run the entire distance to school if he has to, when he sees Seunghyub sitting at the table and screeches to a halt.
“What are you doing here?” asks Dongsung. “You should be opening up the store.”
“I was waiting for you,” says Seunghyub, calm as anything. There’s food and plates in front of him, and he says, “Eat.”
“I have to get to school,” says Dongsung. He suddenly remembers how super late he is and runs to the front door to get his shoes. “I can’t eat, sorry—”
“You’re not going to school today.”
Dongsung stops, half shoed. “I’m not?”
“You’re not,” says Seunghyub. “Now sit down and have breakfast with me.”
Slowly, Dongsung takes off his shoe. He puts his school bag down and goes to the table.
A full breakfast is spread out. There’s soup, and rice, and a variety of side dishes, as well as cereal and toast and eggs and anything else Dongsung might want. He sits and takes a wary bite of a slice of toast. He’s had enough experience with Seunghyub’s cooking to not try one of the homecooked dishes first.
“I thought you could take a break today,” says Seunghyub as he sips his coffee. Dongsung doesn’t get coffee—all that’s on his side of the table is juice and milk—but that’s okay because he knows what’s in that cup and it’s so foul and dark you could pave the road with it. “You could come with me to the shop today.”
Dongsung stops with the toast halfway to his mouth. “Really?”
“Really,” says Seunghyub. “Unless you wanna stay home instead.”
“No, I’ll go,” says Dongsung immediately. “Yeah, sure, let’s go.”
“Great,” says Seunghyub. “Then finish eating, kid, and we’ll head out.”
Dongsung eats much more enthusiastically after that. He even tries some of the stuff Seunghyub made, and because he loves his brother he convinces himself it’s not too bad. Definitely better than when they first moved in together. Dongsung tells him so, and Seunghyub tries to coolly brush it off even though Dongsung knows he’s super thrilled inside.
It’s a short drive from their apartment to Seunghyub’s shop. It has a proper name—Music Something or Whatever—but everyone just knows it as Seunghyub’s shop. Most of it is filled with shelves, row after row of CDs of every genre you could think of, from preppy bubble pop to black metal to old jazz and blues. In the back is a small selection of instruments and music equipment. But anyone who comes for the instruments is really there for Seunghyub. He’s respected by a lot of the young artists in the local music scene, and he’s always ready to give tips or chat about music.
That’s how he and Dongsung’s parents met. Seunghyub was a fledgling artist and Dongsung’s parents played in a band, even performing on stage sometimes. Dongsung still doesn’t know what convinced Seunghyub to set up shop instead of trying to make it big as a musician, but Seunghyub always credits Dongsung’s parents for steering him towards the decision.
Dongsung loves the shop. He grew up around music and loves it, and there’s no place that was made for music like Seunghyub’s shop. It’s like he can breathe and feel the notes in his lungs. Seunghyub sometimes talks about opening a bar or event hall for all the local artists to play at, and Dongsung can’t wait for that day to come.
“I’m gonna take over this place when you’re old,” he says.
“Shut up, kid,” says Seunghyub, like he does every time Dongsung says that. “Dream bigger.”
“It was a big enough dream for you,” says Dongsung.
“Your head is bigger than mine,” says Seunghyub, and as if to prove it he knocks Dongsung on the crown. “Go to university and fill it up.” Dongsung just rolls his eyes at that.
It’s relatively slow that day. It’s Wednesday morning after all, most people are working or studying. Still, Dongsung doesn’t mind. He gets time out of school, and he gets to hang out with Seunghyub in his shop. A few people who know him stop by—old friends of his parents, or people who knew them—and that’s pretty nice too.
He feels Seunghyub’s eyes on him sometimes, but Seunghyub doesn’t say anything in particular. He acts all relaxed and chill like usual, though maybe a little sweeter than most times.
Dongsung gets it, he really does. Seunghyub’s upset about what happened the day before. He thinks Dongsung is fragile and needs to be spoiled and protected and babied, which is why he let him stay out of school for a day, and even took him along to the shop. But Dongsung is fine, really. He’s not fragile. He’s not made of glass.
Yeah, his parents are dead. It’s true his uncle never wanted to take him in and jumped at the chance to sign his guardianship away the moment Seunghyub offered. He had to move out of the house he’d lived in all his childhood because they couldn’t afford the rent, and he had to move out of his old school district and into this new one for high school, where he didn’t know anyone and had to try and make friends with kids who’d all known each other since elementary.
No, Dongsung’s life isn’t perfect. But he’s fine. He’s okay. He has a place to stay, he has kids he talks to, and he has a brother that loves him and takes care of him. He’s okay.
For most of the day Dongsung sits behind the counter, selling a few CDs, listening to music, listening in on Seunghyub’s conversations. Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, around three, Seunghyub declares that he has something to take care of and will be out for a while.
“You’re in charge,” he says with a grin. “Don’t sell the place for magic beans.”
“Aww, man, but what if they’re really shiny beans?” asks Dongsung, big grin on his face.
Seunghyub laughs, ruffles Dongsung’s hair, and leaves.
It’s never too quiet in the shop, even when Dongsung’s there alone. Music plays at a comfortable level over the speakers—a playlist of Seunghyub’s making, one of his easy listening ones. It’s nice.
A customer enters, breaking the still atmosphere. Dongsung is surprised to find that he knows him, and even more surprised that it’s a student from his school.
Yoo Hweseung is in the same year as Dongsung but in a different section. He’s not super popular, but Dongsung recognizes him immediately. He sang at the school festival in the middle of the year, a classic rock song that he absolutely killed, clear and strong voice ringing out over the crowd. He has the kind of voice you don’t forget, and naturally Dongsung didn’t forget his face either.
Dongsung himself is pretty lowkey, so he doesn’t expect Hweseung to recognize him. But Hweseung stops right in front of the counter, points straight at him, and says, “Seo Dongsung, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” says Dongsung, taken aback. “How do you know me?”
“Are you kidding me?” says Hweseung with a laugh. “You took on Shin Taeho and his cronies yesterday in front of everyone. The YouTube sunbaes got involved. Everyone’s talking about it.”
Dongsung wants to hide behind the wooden counter, sink right down behind it and straight into the Earth’s core. He did not know he would make school headlines.
“I should warn you though, Taeho is pissed as hell,” says Hweseung casually. “He says he’s gonna pay you back double.”
Dongsung tries not to groan. He had the element of surprise last time, which was how he fended off four guys all at once. Next time he’ll have nothing. There are kids he’s friendly with in the class, but no one close enough to fight for him. He supposes he should be glad Jaehyun and Hun jumped in when they did.
“Relax,” says Hweseung. “At least you were pretty cool. Better to be famous for being in a fight than running from one, right?”
“Rather not be famous at all,” admits Dongsung.
“Really? It doesn’t seem so bad to me,” says Hweseung. “Being famous means getting to do whatever you want, like being on stage instead of having to go to school.” He eyes Dongsung behind the counter. “Speaking of, why aren’t you at school?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” says Dongsung.
Hweseung peers at Dongsung, and then he says, “Touché.”
He breaks into a grin, and it’s so genuine Dongsung grins back. “So what are you looking for?” he asks.
“Nothing, really,” says Hweseung with a shrug. “I have an audition coming up, so I thought I’d drop by and talk to Seunghyub-hyung.”
“He should be back soon,” said Dongsung. “You wanna wait?”
Hweseung does. He buys a trot CD for his mom, and he and Dongsung talk about music. Hweseung listens to a lot of different genres, and he’s tried singing everything at least once. He says rock ballads suit his voice best. He’s thinking of joining or starting a band.
“You did great at the festival,” says Dongsung.
“Thanks,” says Hweseung, a little embarrassed by the earnest compliment, which Dongsung thinks is kinda funny because Hweseung should definitely be used to this by now, with his voice. “Lemme know if you know a band looking for a vocalist.”
Seunghyub shows up soon after. “Seunggu,” he calls out, grinning, and claps Hweseung on the shoulder. “Oh, you met Dongsung? Dongsung, this is Hweseung.”
“Yeah, we know each other,” says Hweseung.
At Seunghyub’s look, Dongsung explains, “We go to the same school.”
“Oh, right,” says Seunghyub. “I didn’t know you hung out before. Dongsung’s been having trouble making friends, Seunggu, if you could—”
“No way!” cries Dongsung, dying of embarrassment, and he immediately gets up and leaves while Seunghyub and Hweseung cackle like demons.
Seunghyub and Hweseung talk, and Dongsung not-so-subtly eavesdrops. Hweseung’s upcoming audition is a big deal, for a label that has ties all over Korea and even internationally. Seunghyub mostly gives advice on staying calm, but Hweseung seems thankful.
It’s a little weird watching them interact. Hweseung is Dongsung’s age, but Seunghyub treats him differently. He might call him his brother, but Dongsung is fully aware that Seunghyub is his guardian. Seunghyub carries himself differently with Dongsung. He doesn’t even comment on Hweseung skipping school, even though it’s obvious since he’s not wearing uniform. Dongsung would’ve never heard the end of it.
It’s times like this that Dongsung remembers that Seunghyub is only twelve years older than him. Twelve years was an eternity at eight, but at sixteen it’s not much. When Seunghyub becomes too old to run the shop, Dongsung will be old too.
Hweseung leaves after a while. “Catch you later, Seo Dongsung,” he says with a smile and a wave, and Dongsung waves back. They don’t get many customers after that, and it’s quiet when Seunghyub closes up.
They grab fast food on the way home for dinner. “A treat,” says Seunghyub. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” says Dongsung, grinning. When he first moved in with Seunghyub almost four years ago they used to have takeout at least five times a week. Seunghyub wasn’t the best at feeding himself. He still isn’t, but the two of them together manage.
They eat on the floor in front of the couch, watching the second half of a movie on TV. It’s a silly romcom—not Dongsung’s favorite genre, but basic enough to follow and fun. After dinner Dongsung goes to call one of his classmates to ask if there’s any homework, but Seunghyub stops him.
“We’re taking a break day,” he says. “That means a break from everything.”
Dongsung shrugs and puts the phone down. He can deal with missing homework for a day. He’s already in trouble for fighting.
They stay up later than usual for a school night. Seunghyub plays songs on his keyboard, and he and Dongsung badly sing along to the lyrics. Dongsung takes out his bass after what feels like weeks and they do a couple of songs together. They used to do this when he was just learning bass. When his parents were still there, and his mom would get on her drums in the garage and give the beat, and if his dad was in a good mood he’d break out his old guitar too. It sounds a little empty now, without the live drums and guitar, but they make it work.
It’s a different kind of music, Dongsung thinks. A different genre maybe.
Seunghyub eventually complains of his old bones giving out, and they head to bed after midnight. Dongsung turns off the light and burrows under the covers, tired, but with a smile on his face.
The alarm screeches at seven-thirty in the morning. Dongsung groans and slaps it off.
Seunghyub gives an unintelligible grunt as Dongsung walks into the living room. He’s not much of a morning person. By the end of breakfast he’s better, and more or less normal as they climb into the van to drive to school.
“See you after school,” Seunghyub says as Dongsung gets out at the gate, and Dongsung salutes him goodbye.
Dongsung feels eyes on him as he takes his seat in class. He’s not surprised, since Hweseung warned him people were talking, but it’s still weird. No one comes up to talk to him, not even Taeho and his lackeys to try and threaten him.
The rest of his class have probably decided it’s not worth making waves to be on the new kid’s side. It sucks because Dongsung tried out for the track team to get closer to people and make more friends, but he can’t blame anyone. He’s totally fine with eating lunch alone. Which is why he’s pretty surprised when the two chairs on the other side of the table get taken so quick.
“You don’t mind, right,” says Jaehyun as he slides in, and it sounds more like a statement than a question.
“Uh, no,” says Dongsung, too surprised to give a better reply.
“Great,” says Jaehyun with a big, sunny grin. Next to him Hun just nods in silent greeting, and then digs into his lunch.
He has lunch with the seniors, mostly listening to Jaehyun talk—and Jaehyun never gets tired of talking. He and Hun are planning something music-related for their next video, and they’re so excited about it even Hun opens up. They talk to Dongsung all through lunch and even ask him to join them tomorrow, and it doesn’t feel like pity, or charity for the strange kid that fought four guys. It’s nice.
After lunch Dongsung gets in trouble (again) for not submitting homework, but he doesn’t really care. He expects Taeho or one of his lackeys to make a comment, but they don’t. When he looks at them, they don’t look back. Even Taeho, that pointy-nosed bastard, won’t make eye contact. Dongsung is… confused.
They don’t glare at him or insult him. No passive-aggressive snide looks or anything. Things are not going like Dongsung expected.
After the final bell, while he’s packing up his books, some other students finally approach Dongsung. Some of them tell him he was cool the day before yesterday, which he tries to brush off hurriedly. A couple of others act like nothing happened, which Dongsung appreciates. One of the other kids who made the track team comes over from another section, claps him on the shoulder, and says she looks forward to competing with him, and Dongsung really appreciates that.
Dongsung is in a surprisingly good mood as he walks out of the school building. And then he sees Taeho and his three bowling pin friends standing by the front gate and it all comes crashing down like a burning hydrogen blimp.
He doesn’t back down. He doesn’t try to sneak out through some other way, jump the wall where it’s kinda broken down at the back, or wait them out. Dongsung stands up straight and walks right for the gate.
The four of them are talking when one of them spots Dongsung. He quickly taps at the others, getting their attention, and then all of them are looking at Dongsung, watching him approach.
No one says anything. Dongsung keeps walking, pretending like he doesn’t see them. He’s just crossing them, eyes resolutely focused ahead, when Taeho says, “Hey.”
Dongsung prepares himself for a lot of things after that hey. He expects a sharp wannabe-smart insult, or maybe for them to circle him and intimidate him with numbers, or maybe even a straight punch to the face.
What he doesn’t expect, what Dongsung definitely did not prepare for, is for Taeho to say, “Sorry.”
Dongsung stops. He stares.
“We’re sorry,” says Taeho, like Dongsung didn’t hear the first time. Which, he heard, he just didn’t believe it. “For, like, the shit we said about you. And your parents. And for bragging about my parents being alive. And the dog thing too. And also for picking on you before that.”
He looks super awkward, stiff and uncomfortable. His cronies are pretty much hiding behind him.
“And we’re sorry for beating you up too,” adds Taeho.
“Even though you hit Taeho first,” one of his friends says from the back. Another hisses dude, shut up , and elbows him in the gut.
Then Taeho and his friends all look at Dongsung, waiting for him to respond.
“You didn’t beat me up,” says Dongsung, because he literally can’t think of a single other thing to say. “You got me a couple of times, but I beat you up.”
It’s like Taeho doesn’t even hear him. “You forgive us, right?” he says. “Since we apologized. So we’re cool now?”
Dongsung blinks. “No,” he says.
Taeho’s eyes go plate-wide. “Come on, man,” he says. “We said sorry!”
“Yeah, and I decided I don’t forgive you,” says Dongsung. He doesn’t get what’s so hard to understand.
“Just forgive us,” says Taeho, and he looks weirdly desperate. “Come on, we’re sorry, we won’t do it again. Tell him we apologized, we learned our lesson, I swear.”
“Good for you,” says Dongsung. He walks past them.
He hears Taeho and his friends yelling behind him, but he doesn’t care. Taeho and his friends can apologize, and Dongsung can still hate them. He’s not even sure he hates them all that much. He is kinda glad he got to punch Taeho, though.
He does wonder why Taeho suddenly decided to apologize. He didn’t look that remorseful. He looked scared more than anything, actually.
“Hey! Seo Dongsung!”
Dongsung turns at the sound of his name, and sees Hweseung jog up to him.
“Your house is this way?” asks Hweseung. “Mine too. Let’s go together.”
It’s been a while since someone wanted to walk home with Dongsung. They walk in a pair until they reach the intersection where Dongsung goes right and Hweseung has to go left, cutting short their conversation about the lunch food.
“Hey, Jaehyun-sunbae and Hun-sunbae are looking for a singer,” says Dongsung just as they split. “It’s only for one video but it could help you find more people.”
“That sounds pretty good,” says Hweseung. “I’ll talk to them. Thanks. Catch you around, Dongsung.”
Dongsung walks into their apartment in a much better mood than he’d predicted at the start of the day. He changes out of his school uniform, showers, fixes himself a snack. He checks his phone while eating. Hweseung texted him, continuing their conversation about food and music. Dongsung replies.
It’s already dark out when Seunghyub returns from the shop. “Yo,” he says as he walks through the door, grinning triumphantly. He raises a plastic bag smoking steam.
They’re fish buns. Dongsung grabs one before Seunghyub even puts the bag down. It’s hot and cooks the inside of his mouth a little, but it’s good.
“Don’t finish them before I get changed,” says Seunghyub, but he barely bats Dongsung away as he takes the bag from him. “How was school?”
“Not bad,” says Dongsung. He watches Seunghyub, looking for a reaction.
“Yeah?” Seunghyub turns away from him to walk into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” says Dongsung, following Seunghyub in. “Taeho talked to me.”
“Taeho’s that kid with the nose, right?” Seunghyub is busy opening the cabinet he keeps the coffee in. “How was it?”
“It was okay,” says Dongsung, slow and deliberate, keeping his eyes on Seunghyub’s side profile. “Better than okay, actually.”
“Yeah? How?”
“He apologized to me,” says Dongsung.
“Really?” says Seunghyub, opening up the coffee pot. “Looks like he learned the error of his ways. Good on the kid.”
Dongsung drops the act. “Hyung, did you scare Taeho to make him say sorry?” he asks.
Seunghyub gasps, scandalized. “What? Scare a kid? I would never!” He even clutches his chest in disbelief. “How could you think I would threaten violence on a poor, defenseless minor? A child! Honestly, Dongsung, I’m shocked—”
Dongsung doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Seunghyub, features flat, lips pursed. He can wait.
Seunghyub stops in the middle of his theatrics. “Okay,” he says finally. “Okay, first off, I didn’t even say anything—”
Dongsung groans. He doesn’t even know how to respond to that.
“Second off,” continues Seunghyub, “second off, I didn’t do anything illegal. I just explained to the kid why what he did was wrong. And what might happen to him if he didn’t stop being an asshole and ended up messing with the wrong guy.”
“You totally threatened him!” cries Dongsung.
“It wasn’t a total threat—”
“Thank you.”
Seunghyub stops mid-defense. He raises his eyebrows at Dongsung.
“You stopped him,” says Dongsung. “He’s never gonna bother me again. I thought him and his friends were gonna beat me up today. The only reason they didn’t is because of you.”
“You know I wouldn’t let anyone do that to you,” says Seunghyub. A shadow passes over his brow. “I’m sorry you had to fight. I should’ve protected you from that.”
Dongsung shakes his head. “I’m glad I fought,” he says. He won’t have to again. He grins. “You should’ve seen their faces today. Kihoon was literally hiding from me! What did you say to them?”
“Doesn’t matter, as long as they never bother you again,” says Seunghyub.
“I don’t think they will,” says Dongsung.
“Then they know,” says Seunghyub. He grins. “Yeah, you are being raised by a dog. The scariest, wildest one of them all.”
Dongsung blinks at him, and throws back his head and laughs. And then he grabs Seunghyub and hugs him.
It’s been a while since Dongsung hugged Seunghyub. They do side hugs occasionally, loose, casual squeezes where even a second is too long, but no warm, proper hugs. He doesn’t really remember when he stopped doing it, or why. Maybe when he got into high school. Maybe when he thought he didn’t need them anymore.
When it’s been long enough Dongsung tries to step back, but Seunghyub doesn’t let go. He stays holding onto Dongsung, arms wrapped tight around him.
“Hyung, any longer and all the fishcakes are gonna go cold,” says Dongsung, joking.
“You’re a strong kid, Dongsung.”
Dongsung stills. He tries to look at Seunghyub, but he can’t see more than his ear at this angle.
“I know why you didn’t tell me about the bullying,” says Seunghyub. “I get it. And I know you can handle shit.”
His voice is low, but calm. It’s run through with an emotion Dongsung hasn’t heard in a long time.
“You’re already so strong,” says Seunghyub. “Just waking up in the morning and deciding to get out of bed makes you so much stronger than everyone else. You’re trying to tell yourself four years is enough time for things to be normal. But it’s never enough when you lose someone. Things never get normal, not like what normal was before.”
Dongsung doesn’t say anything. He can’t. There’s something tight in his throat and he can’t swallow it down to talk.
“You can miss your parents every day,” says Seunghyub. “And you can be weak and complain and cry when it’s hard. You don’t need to be tough all the time. Run to me. Let me be strong for you too.”
The edges of Dongsung’s vision blur. He blinks, but it doesn’t go away.
“Okay?” says Seunghyub.
Dongsung nods, chin against Seunghyub’s shoulder.
“Promise this stubborn son of a bitch,” says Seunghyub.
Dongsung laughs, but it comes out a watery cough. “Promise,” he says, voice wet.
“Good,” says Seunghyub.
He squeezes Dongsung, and Dongsung buries his face in his shoulder, wiping his tears against the material of his shirt. Then Seunghyub lets go of Dongsung, and steps back.
“I’m gonna go change and shower,” he says. “Then we’re gonna have these fishcakes. You can have four and that’s it, got it?”
“Aye, captain,” says Dongsung, grinning, still a little teary-eyed.
Seunghyub smiles and ruffles his hair, and then he heads off to his bedroom. Dongsung hovers in the kitchen, trying to gather himself. He sees the bag of food sitting on the counter and peeks inside.
There are five fishcakes, steaming hot. Dongsung isn’t even surprised.
He closes the bag and looks around. The kitchen is cramped and understocked, more instant and tinned stuff filling the cabinets than fresh groceries in the fridge. The apartment is a little too small for two, and the building it’s in is old. It’s a pretty long walk to the high school he never wanted to attend, filled with kids he’d never wanted to know.
He misses his parents. He misses them every day and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop missing them. Sometimes thinking about even the good times hurts, when he can’t feel that warmth in his chest with the memories and all he can remember is how he’ll never see them again.
Shit sucks. Dongsung never imagined he'd have this life at sixteen. He wishes he didn't.
But instant food isn’t that bad. Dongsung has his own room and it’s big enough for all his stuff. He’ll have his first track practice soon, tomorrow at school he can talk about music and videos with Jaehyun and Hun, and the walk home isn’t that long when Hweseung’s there for half of it. There’s hot fishcakes in the bag on the table and his bass is in the living room, and maybe Dongsung can learn a little more of the song Seunghyub is writing for him.
Shit sucks. But life didn’t take everything from him, and it gave him some good things too.
Dongsung picks up the bag of fishcakes and goes to the living room to eat with his brother.