Chapter Text
Hyuntak walked the halls leisurely. He hears laughter from the classrooms, birds flying around the courtyard, sees the sun diagonally filtering through the verandas, its warmth settling on his skin like a hug. It was never this warm from where he came from. His small hometown has always been dull, rainy, and birds were rarely around.
The walls are painted a pale yellow, some parts of it fading, discolored. Not from some kind of carelessness or neglect, but more from memories, the long stretch of time and history making itself known on the surface of the paint.
Meanwhile, the floors are of red concrete, where many parts of the red have already chipped away. The real grey concrete underneath has started showing, giving way to the countless nuns, priests, and students who have been walking these same halls everyday for the past century. Hyuntak’s heartbeat surges up a bit, getting excited at the thought of it all.
His lips curled up into a smile.
This'll be home from now on.
A student runs across him, a piece of paper falling behind her. He picks it up. It's a drawing filled with a green field of grass, a yellow sun in the corner. In contrast, there's a black church in the middle, a cross on its roof colored a dark red.
He tapped her on the shoulder, crouching down on one knee, “Hey. You dropped this,”
The girl’s hair was messy, her braids loose, a mischievous smile on her lips. She snatched the piece of paper from him, clearly in a hurry, and zoomed away before Hyuntak could say anything else.
Hyuntak stared after her amusedly, shaking his head.
He stood up, continuing his own little tour. He passed by a few classrooms, one or two restricted rooms that are clearly for admin, a canteen. And a bigger room that looks sterile, the clinic.
On his next turn, he comes across a room that didn't look like a classroom nor a canteen.
There is a bed in the middle.
The door is ajar, and it creaked as he pushed it open.
His eyes travelled to the rest of the room. No table, no chairs, just a lone cross hung on the wall opposite of the bed.
Suddenly, he hears soft scratching. Something like nails on a chalkboard, a bit painful to the ears.
Before he could see where it's coming from, he hears a low, “Amen,”
He gasps, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest, having assumed he was alone in here the whole time.
He finally noticed the figure sitting in the corner. A boy was hunched on the floor, almost entirely hidden by the bed. Only his two eyes are visible, the bottom half of his face hidden behind the mattress.
Hyuntak exhaled, laughing a little at himself.
“Hi,” he waved, a little awkward.
“Hello,” the boy greeted back, though he didn't move. He hasn't moved at all. Hyuntak can't even see his mouth moving, though his eyes attentively follow Hyuntak.
“What are you doing here?”
The boy looks and sounds his age. His figure looked a bit solemn, with that posture, sitting alone in that room. He's still wearing pajamas even if it's the middle of the day, the fabric thin and a little bit tattered.
“Being punished?” the boy answered—asked?
“You are? Why?” Hyuntak crouched down on the floor, on the other side of the bed, so they're at eye level. From this angle, Hyuntak can see under the bed. The boy is barefoot, sitting on his heels.
“They punish kids like me,”
“Kids like you?” Hyuntak's heart dropped.
The boy chuckled.
He climbed over the bed and started crawling towards him. His movements are slow, each dip of his hands and knees on the mattress made the bed creak. His eyes are wide and unblinking. Hyuntak watches him back, uncertain yet also a bit entranced.
He crawled towards the floor, too. Left hand on the floor first, then his right, and then his knees. Didn't stop and got so close that it had Hyuntak reeling back a little.
But he couldn't react quickly enough. The boy grabbed his face with both hands until his lips were puckered like a fish.
“What—get off of me—” he stuttered and flinched back, but the boy’s hands were unrelenting. He leaned in, and Hyuntak felt rather than see something wet lick upwards his cheek.
“Geum Seongje! Let go of Hyuntak!” Sister June stormed into the room with heavy footsteps. She untangles the boy from him.
“I see that you haven't been behaving yourself.” Her voice thundered in the room. Even Hyuntak felt like he had to straighten himself.
Seongje looked down, hands held together in a meek manner. So starkly different compared to the crazed look on his face just a few seconds ago.
She pulled him out of the room, and turned back to secure the padlock on the door. The last thing Hyuntak saw through the slit of the door was Seongje looking pitiful, still hunched on the floor.
Sister June looked him up and down. “Hyuntak, darling, are you alright?”
“Yes,” he answered weakly, the stripe on his cheek now dry.
He can still feel it so vividly. He fights the urge to touch his cheek in front of her.
Instead, he asks, “Who is that? Why is he locked up?”
“Punishment.” Sister June cryptically answered. Her face is stoic. “Geum Seongje is a problem child. That's why his parents sent him here. To get disciplined,”
“He is?” Hyuntak frowned. He trusts Sister June’s judgment—he’s been punished before, too, and even though it did make him better and more obedient, he can't help but feel bad for the boy. He believes punishments are necessary, but it must be lonely in that room.
Through the next few days, he couldn't stop thinking about the boy. He walked past the room everyday.
It remained locked.
“Does he get food?”
“No. We used to serve him food, but he doesn't eat. Like a hunger protest. So we leave him be,”
His stomach felt queasy with pity and guilt. After all, they only locked him in after the incident with Hyuntak.
He doesn't know if they do that regularly and he doesn't really want to ask.
“Sister June, may I ask you of something?”
“Yes, dear?”
“May we be roommates, please? I still don't have one,”
Sister June frowned. “Hyuntak. You don't know this boy. Three days ago, he hurt another kid. That's why he's being punished,”
Hyuntak paused, but he still felt determined. He wrung his hands together nervously as he insisted, “I will watch him. I'll make sure he follows rules, the curfew,”
Sister June still looked unconvinced.
“Like a buddy system. I'll take responsibility for him. I'll make him just like you did to me,”
“Hyuntak, you can't take responsibility for him—you guys are the same age,”
“But—” he searched his brain for anything. “But I'm obviously way more mature than him,” and I've been a bad kid in the past, too. He doesn't say the quiet part out loud. Sister June already knew this anyway.
After a few moments, she sighed. It's a sigh of defeat. Hyuntak instantly smiled, all sweet and dimples, holding onto her arm with two hands, “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
Though he did ask for it, he still got startled the night Seongje arrived at their now shared dorm.
He had been doing his routine prayers before bed time, kneeled on the floor, elbows on the bed. Hands clasped together earnestly. He was on his last Glory Be when he heard a door quietly open and shut.
He assumed it's from the room beside his so he paid it no mind.
A sudden, whispered “Hi,” extremely close to his ear had him shrieking and falling on his ass.
Seongje laughed, extending a hand towards him, “You’re so easy to sneak up on. Let me say hi again. Properly,”
Hyuntak huffs, though not seriously affronted. He took Seongje's hand and then he was pulled onto his feet. With both of them standing now, he's realizing for the first time that Seongje is taller than him.
Not a lot, but he still noticed the way Seongje had to tilt his head down a little to look at him.
“I’m Geum Seongje. Problem child, nicotine addict, curfew disobeyer, whatever else they put on my records, I couldn’t really keep up—” he winked playfully and then leaned closer, aiming for a cheek kiss.
It's a familiar gesture around here, like the other nuns and priests have done with Hyuntak on his first day, but it felt like déjà vu. Hyuntak reeled away, leaving Seongje’s mouth hovering just a few inches away.
Seongje raised a brow, but he leaned back again, standing straight. His expression fell into an understanding one, though there’s still a slight lilt to the corner of his lips, like he found something so hilarious about it.
“Anyway, hello, roommate,”
“Go Hyuntak,” Hyuntak shook their hands that were still clasped together. He doesn't think it's necessary to tell Seongje that he's a problem child too—was, anyway. It's all in the past now.
He beamed at the other, a resolve in his mind.
He's going to help Seongje be better. He aims to do to him what Sister June did for him, before.
“Go. Hyun-tak.” Seongje practiced the name on his tongue, looking thoughtful.
“So, where will I be sleeping? Couch? Floor? Windowsill?”
Hyuntak tilted his head curiously, not sure if Seongje’s trying to be funny or actually serious. Windowsills?
“You're sleeping on a bed. Your room is there,” he pointed to the door adjacent to his own. They had separate bedrooms, but they had a small, shared lounging space in the middle, with a couch and a small coffee table. Hyuntak put his cactus on it the moment he arrived, the only other item he packed besides his clothes.
He talks to it sometimes.
“What the hell—” Hyuntak frowns at his choice of word, “—a bed? You're shittin’ me,”
He almost tells him off about his language, but it's only the first day—not even the first hour, yet. He figured that can wait for next time.
Seongje dropped his duffel bag on his bed, opening it to start unpacking. “So, why were you so jumpy?”
“Um, still settling down in the new place. I keep having nightmares,”
“Getting cold feet?” Seongje muttered, tossing his clothes into the wooden cabinet haphazardly. “Soon you'll learn to ignore it,”
“Sorry, ignore what?” Hyuntak hangs by the door frame, not entering the bedroom out of politeness.
From this angle he could barely see Seongje, so Hyuntak just looked at him through the adjacent full body mirror instead, where he could see Seongje's back as he dumped the rest of his duffel bag’s contents into the cabinet.
Without any kind of organization, Hyuntak can see that the inside of the cabinet is now just a pile of unmade clothes.
“The cold feet? The doubt?” Seongje shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall on the floor.
“I don't have doubts about this,” he answered quickly, voice rigid.
Seongje's pants and shirt followed, leaving him in just his briefs. Hyuntak flinched, his foot inching a step back, but his grip on the door frame tightened. There's a frozen second where it's like his body couldn't decide whether it wanted to recoil or have a closer look.
Somehow, Hyuntak does both.
Seongje’s back muscles flexed as he stretched his neck and shoulders, probably so stiff from being locked in that room for so long. His waist is narrow, Hyuntak wondered how much of this narrowness is from not eating for a few days and how much of it is natural.
Seongje cracked his knuckles one by one.
“Hm, but if we can't admit how we are feeling, our dreams do it for us, right?” he turned, chin over his shoulder, the line of his spine rippling from the motion as he made direct eye contact with Hyuntak through the mirror.
Hyuntak startles.
“Huh?”
“It’s why they're punishing me, and why I keep doing things that I get punished for. To get rid of the doubts, you know?”
“I don't,” Hyuntak replied, and he meant it.
This is the only life he's ever known, and he's prepared for the rest of his life to be just like this, too. Just for this. Just for Him.
Seongje lazily smiles at him through the mirror.
“I’ll make sure you do before the year ends,”
“So, how did you end up here? All the way from Korea?” Seongje laid back on his bed, sipping on the coffee Hyuntak made him.
Unlike Hyuntak who hovered outside the door frame, Geum Seongje walked straight into his bedroom, sitting himself on Hyuntak's bed even without invitation.
The cup of coffee in his hands, the warmth of the dim lamp on his skin, the way he sat amidst the mess of Hyuntak's sheets and clothes. He looked cozy. Geum Seongje looked right at home, like he's always been there. As if they didn't just officially introduce themselves half an hour ago.
Somehow, it also made Hyuntak feel at ease, even a little. It's like he's just catching up with a friend he's known for a long time.
“Sister June was one of the facilitators at the orphanage I grew up in, and she kind of did some counseling with me since I was a bit of a problem child—”
Hyuntak paused, but Seongje already heard the word. His eyes shone in interest, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “Oh, were you, now? I could've never guessed,”
The orange light from the lamp bounced against his eyeglasses, the glare uncomfortable to look at. Hyuntak turned away, busying himself with organizing his desk. His ears burned hot in shame.
He ran his nails lightly on his chest until he found the shape of the cross pendant underneath his shirt, seeking comfort in the familiar coldness of the metal.
With difficulty, he admits, “Yeah. I also used to get punished a lot.”
“Really? How so?”
“Just like what they did to you,” Hyuntak answered carefully, voice controlled into a monotone.
It's all in the past. There is no need to get emotional about it anymore.
“Would they beat you, too?”
Hyuntak sucked in a breath, getting nervous at where the conversation was going. He clutched at his chest, the edges of the cross pendant digging into his fingers harshly, grounding him.
Before he could answer, Seongje suddenly started laughing, “Shit, where did you get this? Cute,”
Hyuntak turned back to see Seongje digging into the remnants of his unpacked bag, dangling around his orange and pink striped underwear. He quickly snatched it back, shoving it back into the bag, zipping it close.
“Get off my—” shit, he paused, swallowing the word, and settled for, “—things,”
He almost cursed out loud and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours with him.
Seongje kept laughing, but didn't forget to turn back to the topic. “Anyway, so? Would they?”
“Well, Sister June was kind. She helped me more than the other adults, back in the orphanage. We did several sessions of counseling for over a year. And she just opened my eyes to all this, you know? That whatever I did, whatever kind of thoughts I had, it doesn't have to define me. She cleared my mind and I felt like my soul was cleansed,”
Seongje thankfully doesn't address the fact that Hyuntak didn't really answer his question.
He put his coffee down, went full horizontal on the bed, staring at the ceiling while he spoke, “Me, problem child—as you know, but not from the orphanage. I actually had shit ass parents, but they threw me early here because they couldn't deal,”
Hyuntak’s face turned solemn, though he couldn't exactly relate to having parents and getting thrown out. Couldn't really miss what he never had.
“I’m sorry, Seongje,”
Seongje looked like he's about to laugh, but also like he thinks Hyuntak's an idiot.
“Don’t say sorry. You didn't birth me, asshole,”
Hyuntak winced at the word. Tomorrow.
“But, being here helped. A little. I get to be away from my parents, and punishments here are usually mild compared to what my parents used to do to me,”
“Mild?”
“Yeah,” Seongje doesn't elaborate. Fair. Hyuntak didn't either, earlier. “Not anything soul cleansing though,”
“Say it, hyung,” one of the little boys pushed, the other students egging him on, too.
Hyuntak just finished teaching them a few Korean basics, and now they're teaching Hyuntak back.
“Sono una farfalle?” Hyuntak mumbled, uncertain. He glanced at Seongje, past and over the students crowding him. He's currently sitting at the very back of the classroom. The whole day, starting right when they left their dorm, he looked ready to bolt, to make trouble again, but somehow, he's still here.
Hyuntak wanted to ask why, but he's grateful enough not to.
“No, hyung, farfalla,”
“Okay, okay,” Hyuntak cleared his throat.
“Sono una farfalla e devo volare,” he finished the sentence with a proud tilt of his chin.
The students clapped, some of them giggling, some of them giggling way too much for Hyuntak not to be suspicious.
“What does it mean?”
“I am a teacher and I love to teach,” said the girl from the back with a heavy accent, and she's one of the most behaved ones, so he nodded, trusting her answer.
When he glanced back at Seongje, he's smiling now, eyes amused.
Hyuntak eventually escaped the students making him say one sentence after another, with some help of Seongje's feigned sternness.
“So,” Seongje dropped the act and chuckled as soon as they were back in the halls, “Farfalla, huh? You a teacher now?”
Hyuntak scratched his nape, feeling flustered. He's not half knowledgeable enough yet, hasn't had even half the experience enough to be eligible to teach anything at all, especially here.
“No way, one of the sisters just asked me to assist today since they were short,”
He'd like to, though. Someday.
“You did well with the kids,” Seongje said, for once without the following laughter or mockery in his voice.
“You fit with them, right in this place,”
For some reason, the very lack of the usual mockery in his statement bothered Hyuntak more than it should.
Before night fell, Seongje finally strayed away.
Hyuntak felt odd about it. To some degree, it almost felt like he was holding his breath and waiting the whole day for Seongje to do this, the thing that gets him punished, as if Hyuntak wanted to see a criminal red-handed.
“Bathroom. See ya,” Seongje sunk into the shadows of the halls, the sun quickly setting after he left.
Hyuntak went back to his room, washed up, finished unpacking his bags, and put away the remaining clutter on his desk. Through all this he kept looking at the front door. Waiting.
When the hours struck too late with no sign of Seongje, he turned off the lights and went to sleep. For the first time in a while, he slept an hour later than usual.