Archiving this here.
He couldn’t pinpoint the day or even the week or month it happened, but just like that, his life as he knew it was gone. It wasn’t in his contract, or in his moral agenda, for that matter. But the day that man pulled him aside, reached out and tucked hair behind his ear to whisper into his ear all the things he wished he could do to him, that was the death of Minki, and the birth of Ren.
His whole life he’d been mocked for the looks he was given, not by choice, but by sheer fate. Being treated as a female, teased, never taken seriously. But all it took was three words, “You are beautiful”, to kill him.
That had been months ago now. Ren had seen the inside of half the hotel rooms in Seoul, and the men kept coming. It was an addiction of sorts to him at this point, and mixed with a bit of a self-destructive personality, the boy reveled in it.
“That’s it?” The older man asked as Ren sat up, pulling his blond hair into a messy bun in the back of his head. He looked back at him and nodded, then got up, pulling his jeans back on and buttoning them. “I thought you said you did this kind of thing often. It’s only been two hours.”
“I know.” Ren said in a faint whisper, his voice hoarse and body sore. “But I have practice tomorrow morning, very early. I can’t afford to be late.”
The man sat up and reached over, grabbing a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “Fine.” He didn’t ask too many questions, at least. “Minki, was it? Will you be around tomorrow night? My wife expects me home by Monday.”
“Um… yeah.” Ren responded, finding his shirt and pulling it on, then slipped on his shoes. He glanced in the mirror above the ancient television to check his makeup, making sure not to make eye contact with himself. Satisfied, he turned back around. The man offered him his cigarette. Ren sat down and took it between his fingers, brought it to his lip, and took a deep drag. They sat in silence. The man watched Ren as Ren watched the blue smoke coil up from the cherry of the cigarette and disappear into the fog of the room. They passed it back and forth between it for a while, and as soon as he tasted filter, Ren was gone.
Outside, it rained. Heavily.
Ren shivered and hugged himself, walking quickly through the puddles as he made his way back to the dorm. It was three AM now, which meant he’d get an extra hour or so of sleep tonight. He couldn’t wait to take a quick, hot shower to wash the smell of that man off him and hide in his bed for a few hours. Why was it always raining around this time, and by now, wouldn’t he have thought to bring a hoodie or something? Such thoughts meant nothing now, though. All that mattered was to get back to the dorm, which, after being splashed by few passing cars, he eventually did.
He went directly to the bathroom and undressed, leaving his clothes on the floor. He was naked now, as he often was, though recently, it was rarely while alone. Wetting a washcloth, he looked into the mirror, directly in his own eyes, and began to scrub the makeup off his face violently, eager to get every last bit off as soon as he could. The black kohl that traced his eyes smudged over his face, the foundation slowly began to melt away, and as soon as his skin began to turn from alabaster to red from irritation or blood, he wasn’t sure; he dropped the cloth, staring at himself again.
Somewhere, hidden in that face, was Minki. In his eyes, he saw him. And before he could stop it, the words, “Who are you?” fell from his lips.
He saw his own eyes get wide with terror at that. He ducked back to his pile of clothes, grabbed the unlabeled pill bottle, and turned back to the mirror. Carefully, he shook four or five little beads from the bottle into his hand, and shoved them past his lips, swallowing them dry. Maybe now, Minki would leave him alone and Ren could do what he wanted without complaints.
There were a lot of things Ren didn’t know. Along with when he was born, or how, he didn’t know how he’d developed a taste the chalky tablets that made him numb all over.
He started the water, waited a moment for it to heat up, and stepped in, closing his eyes. All he could smell was the stench of sex, mixed with cheap cologne and tobacco with just a hint of alcohol swirling around him in a mist. Grabbing the closest soap he could find, he scrubbed deeply, glaring down at his body. He washed away every trace of that man, and would have scrubbed until the ivory of his bones gleamed up at him, but he knew not even that would make him feel clean again.
Changing into a pair of pajama pants that may or may not have actually been his, he collapsed into his bed, curled into a ball on his side, and closed his eyes, comfortable in the womb of blankets he had created. All Ren smelled now was his shampoo, which had no scent save for the chemical clean of soap. Satisfied by this, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.