This Love Will Never Fade (1/2)
This Love Will Never Fade.
The fire had completely burnt out during the night. It was so cold that when I awoke I was shivering and sniffling. It felt like the morning tears slipping from my eyes had frozen on my face and created little icicles that would shimmer and maybe melt from the shining, low sun beams streaming in through the parts of the window that my dull curtain did not cover. These were the days that my Umma said little boys and girls traveling to school were run over, as the sun painted its way across the sky making it impossible to see the road from the driver’s seat in the car. Not a very pleasant thought for early in the morning, none the less, she wanted me to be careful. Luckily for those children and for me there wasn’t a school in sight for about 4 miles. There was one road, to one village, to one school and that was down the mountain - there wasn’t anything to hit.
Blinking, I glanced across the room - some parts were dark and gloomy, other parts such as where the light crept in made the worrying amount of dust dancing in the room’s atmosphere visible. Once my eyes were adjusted they glanced at the alarm clock, then to the calendar: Wednesday 14th 8:00AM. Calculating what I had to do today, other than fetch firewood and use it to radiate heat to this old dump, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up grumbling as my head spun. I’m seeing him today; it’s Wednesday.
Despite having a tight schedule, I took my time wandering across my room - brain still not quite working or processing what had to be done. After wandering around aimlessly I came across an abundance of clothes stacked neatly on an old, wooden, dusty chair that had my trousers camouflaged into the jean-like fabric. Once I was dressed, knowing that I would not get any warmer than I already was, I made my bed and pulled hard at the stiff door, attempting to leave my room and get the firewood so that breakfast could be an option. Although my breakfast didn’t exactly lie on the fact that we needed a source of fuel, it lay on the hens. If they didn’t lay any eggs then we didn’t eat and as the weather got colder our eggs became less. Unfortunately, much like me the door was frozen. You could see the little glint of ice between the doorframe and the wooden planks that stuck it together like super glue. With a harsh tug it opened and I entered into a busy room full of family.
The boot, thick wool jumper, coat and scarf didn’t make much of a difference as I stepped into the crisp glistening snow on the stone slabs of our needing-repair front door with a crunch. It was as cold in the house as it was out here. Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, I glanced over my shoulder as my Dongsaeng and Appa stepped out, most probably heading in the direction of the village. Then I began my trek to the woodshed in the corner of our garden. The remainders of an old snowman that I’d made with the milk delivery boy sat beside, awaiting its pitiful death. It was a masterpiece that day but slowly it had begun to melt and deformities had developed but even so it still had elegance, was that his work or mine? My fingertips twitched in the depth of my pockets as I stared reminiscently, these were working hands not graceful and artistic like his; which were weren’t small, dainty and covered with blue, hand-knitted mittens given to him by his Adjumma so he said, one of which lay on my bedside cabinet.
I will admit that the milk boy had had me falling since the day I met him. His natural beauty shone from the inside and the out; although I’m weary of the word beauty as it’s been so over-used to become almost meaningless, an empty pleas entry reserved for mothers and friends. Like snow, the image danced in my mind. His Delicate, full lips; perfectly shaped and perfectly colored a deep red, that of fallen rose petals. Except his were not wilted like that of the roses, they were soft, plump and luscious - those that you would want to kiss. His skin, pure white, a winter blanket holding everything perfectly in place, this pureness provided a breathtaking contrast to his black hair that hung loosely down his forehead as if he had spent decades in making it look perfect.
The shed door clicked as it closed, breaking me away from the thoughts and making me weary of the snow. Wood in hand I made my way back to the house, as my hand hovered over the door handle, it opened. She jumped back and looked at me with tired eyes, hand on heart.
“Junhyung-ah…you could’ve given me a heart attack!” I pushed past her gently and sat down on the wooden floor, preparing to start the fire.
“You’re not that old Umma.” She pouted a hint of playfulness in her eyes before she sat down beside me to help. “Aish…” I slapped her hand away and placed the wood into the fire, lighting it I helped the flames spread. She watched happily.
“Omo, so warm!” She warmed her hands at the fire and smiled at me. I smiled back before getting up. “Junhyung-ah, we need some groceries from the village. I know Appa would usually get them but he’s going to be late back today, would you mind?” ‘I guess I won’t be seeing him after all.’ Muttering my thoughts aloud I looked up at her.
“Yaa! It’s like…4 miles…and it’s icy and snowy. Can’t we just wait?” She pouted again playfully.
“Don’t you want to help your Umma, Jaesoonie~?” I glared, grumbling. ‘That is not my name! It’s a girl’s name and I am not a girl!’
“What did I tell you about calling me that!? I’m not a girl!” She laughed at me.
“Aish, but it’s your name~”
“No it isn’t.”
“Fine then, Junhyungie~ Will you please go to the village and buy me the groceries, I told that little milk boy kid not to bother coming because you’d come and pick it up~” My face lightened up although I’m not sure if she could tell, I hoped not. Ignoring the pet name she gave me I nodded.
“Fine.”
Setting off, with the cold nipping at every opportunity that it could, I walked down the mountain. The road was slippy and I knew that if I slipped I’d probably slide all the way down; at least it would save me the aches and pains of walking such a long way. Although there wasn’t a path and if a car came, which was unlikely, I would die. I’d rather take precautions and try my best not to slip. I’d walked down the mountain a couple of times before; it wasn’t that bad, it was worse at nighttime: The trees stuck out, frozen branches glistening in the moonlight creeping like snatching hands coming to steal you away into the darkness. There was no streetlight to light up the way; you had to rely on the moon which gave an eerie and unsafe glow to the landscape. You’re completely alone when walking, nobody else’s laughter, voice or footsteps to be heard and so every little sound you or something else made echoed; even so it did that now - in daylight. Living up this mountain gave an almost every day Christmas feel, except we were the only ones here; as if we were the only ones in the world, enjoying Christmas by ourselves. Like in those zombie apocalypse movies. I’d like to see a zombie try and get up this icy road-hill thing of death.
I should stop complaining, Umma always nags at me for complaining. At least I get to see Kikwang; I could already hear his sweet laugh ringing in my ears. I loved the way he made a joke out of everything, like he didn’t have a care in the world and his nativity made him seem oh so much more pure than he probably should have done. His angelic features made him seem like he had been pulled out of his happily-ever-after from a fairy tale and I knew that I was not the only one that had noticed this. A village painter by the name of Doojoon was fascinated by the short man. Whenever Kikwang would come up to deliver the milk he always talked about how Doojoon was nagging him and nagging him to model whilst I sat there and listened quietly breathing in the scent of coconut and hibiscus that was radiating off this boy. He would then go on to explain that’s all he ever did. Doojoon was hoping that the beauty of this young boy would lead him to fame and riches but if he also wanted him for something else, like I did, I didn’t know.
The cold had stopped bothering me, becoming numb all over as the village came into view. My pace of walking became faster, hoping to get there quicker and stay in the grocery store to warm up. The road had now split into two, one traveling to the village coming from the nearest town and one traveling away from the village, following the same route. Of course there was the road up the mountain to our home but that was rarely used by anyone other than us. The trees still covered everything but the road, coated in frost. There were a few things different than there was up by the mountain; there were streetlights lighting the place up, there was a path that I could walk on although it wasn’t very good and there was voices and laughter. Children probably skipping school and playing in the wood, call me mean but it would be funny if they got lost. I’m sure somebody would find them eventually but…it would serve them right for misusing the fees we all have to pay for them to attend the school.
Walking into the center of the village, where their lay a little fountain of some famous woman who came from here; she was sitting by a lake that unfortunately because of our cold weather had frozen over. Underneath the ice from the previous summer lay coins that people had tossed in when they were wishing for something they desire. The village wasn’t that busy as most people did their shopping on a Friday and by shopping I meant collecting groceries and their daily meat from the butchers. The grocery store wasn’t your average one, I wouldn’t even call it a store; it was an old lady selling things that she and her husband grew in her garden and man, they grew a lot. I guess some of the things she couldn’t grow were brought from bigger stores but she supplied the whole village easily. The butchers did similar things; they got meat from their local farms and the milk boy, Kikwang, his family owned a farm at the edge of the village breeding cattle for milk and sometimes slaughter. It was a simple and joyful way of life, that’s probably why my parent’s moved here.
Placing the things that were on the shopping list into the basket, I made sure not to stray and buy anything unnecessary. The bags weren’t as heavy as I thought they were going to be and proved not to be a nuisance as I walked my way to the dairy farm. Everyone had milk at their doorstep, he must’ve already finished his round. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Sighing, I sat on the set closing my eyes, ready to wait for someone to return as I heard footsteps in the house. They were fast pace, a kind of hurried walk and soon the door swung open and a small panting lady stood there. I can see where Kikwang got his height from. Bowing, I introduced myself.
“A-Ah…anyeonghaseyo!” She replied, “You must be Yong Junhyung! Your mother mentioned you to me; you’re here for the milk aren’t you?” I nodded. She copied a little to herself before hurrying off to fetch it.
I looked around the hallway for any sign of Kikwang. The house was fairly silent which was a big indication that he wasn’t in. The house seemed fairly nice; it was neat and tidy which meant that Mrs Lee must work at home as having a child like Kikwang must’ve been messy. She waddled back carrying it the best that she could. I stepped in further and took it from her as she thanked me.
“No thank you~ Ahh, is Kikwang anywhere about I think he left some gloves at my house the other day?” Although she may have not thought much of it, asking where Kikwang was without a reason seemed to me like every emotion I had for him would be let out. She may have found it creepy that all I wanted to do was to talk to her son and maybe sneak a few touches here and there.
“Ahh, after he finished his milk round earlier Yoon-shii came around and asked if he wanted to do some more modeling, Kikwang left with him and I assume he’s still there~” She smiled at me and I flashed her a half smile back nodding and bowing as I left. ‘Damn it Doojoon, can’t you just leave him be for one day. ‘
Doojoon’s shop was not unknown to me; I had been there a couple of times during my high school years with Kikwang. Opening the shop door with a ding, I glanced around the room. Many pictures, mostly Kikwang related, hung on the shop walls and sat in boxes ready to be sold. They were beautiful; I could never deny the fact that Doojoon was a good painter. They captured the beauty and innocence of Kikwang, the sweetness that came straight from his heart. However although beautiful, some of them infuriated me. Such a sweet boy had become violated with too much skin exposed and too sexual poses. Doojoon was just asking me to hit him.
Making my way to the back of the shop, into Doojoon’s workshop; which I knew Kikwang would be in if he was here - being painted. Clicking open the door, the air changed; it became dense with smoke and another musky smell. I knew Doojoon liked to smoke whilst he painted but I wasn’t aware of how much it filled the air, this must’ve affected Kikwang a lot. There didn’t seemed to be anyone in here, or maybe that was just the smoke burning my eyes and making me blind. I retched and began coughing, feeling someone’s eyes gazing upon me.
“Junhyung?” Rang Doojoon’s voice with a hint of surprise. He got up from leaning on the wall, next to him a half painting of…lots of pale, exposed skin, dark hair and peachy cheeks. You could hear the grin on his face, “Isn’t it a masterpiece? It’s a shame he wouldn’t let me finish it off…I had to imagine the rest of him so I don’t believe it’s entirely accurate.” It had me glued to the spot. It was stunning; the way Doojoon had inflicted the shadows to highlight his angelic body. His abs and muscles that he tells me are just for show. “It’s ruined. My whole work is ruined.” My eyes glance to the lower half - unfinished and ripped. Doojoon was right, it was ruined.
“What happened?” I asked eyes following Doojoon as he paced around the room.
“He came over today, so that we could finish it, except he refused to show anymore skin.” He sighed, throwing his hands up into his air before they lowered down clasping my shoulders harshly, like a madman. “It’s only art, I told him! Except he wouldn’t listen - I tried Junhyung! I tried to give him a little encouragement. All I wanted was more skin, more skin to paint onto this canvas and into my memory; why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful?!”” He let go of me, shoving me back a little before screaming angrily and kicking the painting - ripping it again. All I could do is stay silent.
“Where did Kikwang go?” He shrugged.
“He left earlier.” I nodded.
“Any idea where he went? I have his gloves I need to return to him.”
“How should I fucking know?” Doojoon looked up, glaring at me. “He kept going on about wanting to save himself for somebody else, it wasn’t like I was going to rape him!”
“But you were going to look at him. You know how naïve and innocent he is, he’s just saving his naked self for somebody he loves.”
“What are you his fucking boyfriend?!” His eyes grew darker.
“I’m his friend.” Deciding I couldn’t take much more before I pounced I turned my back and walked off through the shop, milk bottles clattering beside me as I began to look for Kikwang.
I wandered street after street, back alley after back alley. I searched in all the shops, the park and his home, in any and every place that he could have been. Panting, my breath coming out like steam as the sun was setting and the weather was getting colder. I perched on the side of the pond with the lady beside again and sighed. ‘Where the hell could he be? What did Doojoon do that was so bad to scare him off this much?’ I was determined to find him. Getting up again, I saw a shadow flash against a street light in one of the close by side alleys. These bags would only slow me down, leaving them where they were I ran after him. ‘Please be Kikwang.’ My mind kept repeating, kept hoping that this was him. Suddenly the figure stopped, he became smaller and more afraid as I slid and bumped into him; my heart racing as the boy looked up at me.
“J-Junhyung-hyung.” He breathed.
There was paint matted in his hair, from where I figured Doojoon had taken hold of him. The happiness and playfulness had been drained from his eyes; all that was left was fear and panic as he begged me not to turn him into Doojoon. I promised him I wouldn’t as he told me what had happened and how as Doojoon was stroking his hair and ruffling it a little more than usual. Touching his soft, smooth, pale skin much more than Kikwang had wanted him to. Kikwang had pushed him away when he tried to remove his trousers, voicing his opinion; that he didn’t want to. My blood was boiling as he continued to talk about how Doojoon had gripped him hard, a handful of his silky hair and a plum-colored bruise to his upper arm. He kept telling me that he had to run away or else he’d find him.
“Yah, Kikwangie, it’s just a painting; he’s not going to hurt you.” All he did was shake his head and mumble that he will. Sighing, I hugged him tightly. “I still have your gloves.” He looked up to me and hugged me tighter. “Junhyung, will you follow me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to escape, I hate this place.” His voice was shaky and his eyes seemed uncertain but it seemed like he’d been holding this in for a long time and now he’d finally found someone to tell the truth to; me.
I felt honored that he’d entrusted me with this but I honestly didn’t know what to do or say.
“Kikwang, where are you going to go? Do you know how far the nearest town is, let alone city.” He shrugged.
“There were two things keeping me here Junhyung…one of them has let me go…and the other will come with me if he agrees.” And that’s when I got it. Doojoon had been making money of this poor boy, now that he didn’t want him he could go.
“Me…?” He wanted me to go with him, or ‘follow’ him as he said. My Dongsaeng nodded.
“Hyungie…please?” His eyes glistened like that of a puppies, how could I have resisted.
“You know that I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, why is it even necessary to ask?” I stared at him, his eyes meeting mine as a small smile formed on his lips.
The next thing I knew was he was running home to pack his things, and I, I was going back to give Doojoon a piece of my mind. Slamming the door open and marching it, I raised my fist and threw it though the air hitting him dead-center. His nose cracked and he fell to the floor.
“What the fuck?!” He screamed, in both pain and anger - his voice hoarse.
“Pay back.” I grunted. Wiping the blood dribbling onto his lips away, he smirked.
“Let’s make a bet. I know what Kikwang’s been planning for weeks. He mentions these little things that he thinks no-one will be able to guess but unlike him, I’ve got brains.” His smirk widened as he saw the pain in my eyes, my heart drop. ‘So I wasn’t the only one he’d told. I wasn’t first’
“Name it…”
“First one to Kikwang wins his prize will be having access to Kikwang whenever he wants; we’ll call punishment when we get there.” I nodded, I’d definitely beat him; don’t they always say with the power of love on your side that you can do anything?
“Okay. When do we start?”
“He leaves tonight; we’ll give him 3 days head start - Saturday 9AM at Son’s Inn.” Agreeing I left, grocery bags forgotten in the snow.
Author’s Note: Just to show that I’m not dead for those of you who still remember me and my fanfics. ^=^ Happy birthday Junhyungie, you are an inspiration who writes beautiful lyrics and I love you ♡ Part two should be out later this week, if you want a spot for that just let me know! Thank you for reading, please leave comments! :D
The fire had completely burnt out during the night. It was so cold that when I awoke I was shivering and sniffling. It felt like the morning tears slipping from my eyes had frozen on my face and created little icicles that would shimmer and maybe melt from the shining, low sun beams streaming in through the parts of the window that my dull curtain did not cover. These were the days that my Umma said little boys and girls traveling to school were run over, as the sun painted its way across the sky making it impossible to see the road from the driver’s seat in the car. Not a very pleasant thought for early in the morning, none the less, she wanted me to be careful. Luckily for those children and for me there wasn’t a school in sight for about 4 miles. There was one road, to one village, to one school and that was down the mountain - there wasn’t anything to hit.
Blinking, I glanced across the room - some parts were dark and gloomy, other parts such as where the light crept in made the worrying amount of dust dancing in the room’s atmosphere visible. Once my eyes were adjusted they glanced at the alarm clock, then to the calendar: Wednesday 14th 8:00AM. Calculating what I had to do today, other than fetch firewood and use it to radiate heat to this old dump, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up grumbling as my head spun. I’m seeing him today; it’s Wednesday.
Despite having a tight schedule, I took my time wandering across my room - brain still not quite working or processing what had to be done. After wandering around aimlessly I came across an abundance of clothes stacked neatly on an old, wooden, dusty chair that had my trousers camouflaged into the jean-like fabric. Once I was dressed, knowing that I would not get any warmer than I already was, I made my bed and pulled hard at the stiff door, attempting to leave my room and get the firewood so that breakfast could be an option. Although my breakfast didn’t exactly lie on the fact that we needed a source of fuel, it lay on the hens. If they didn’t lay any eggs then we didn’t eat and as the weather got colder our eggs became less. Unfortunately, much like me the door was frozen. You could see the little glint of ice between the doorframe and the wooden planks that stuck it together like super glue. With a harsh tug it opened and I entered into a busy room full of family.
The boot, thick wool jumper, coat and scarf didn’t make much of a difference as I stepped into the crisp glistening snow on the stone slabs of our needing-repair front door with a crunch. It was as cold in the house as it was out here. Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, I glanced over my shoulder as my Dongsaeng and Appa stepped out, most probably heading in the direction of the village. Then I began my trek to the woodshed in the corner of our garden. The remainders of an old snowman that I’d made with the milk delivery boy sat beside, awaiting its pitiful death. It was a masterpiece that day but slowly it had begun to melt and deformities had developed but even so it still had elegance, was that his work or mine? My fingertips twitched in the depth of my pockets as I stared reminiscently, these were working hands not graceful and artistic like his; which were weren’t small, dainty and covered with blue, hand-knitted mittens given to him by his Adjumma so he said, one of which lay on my bedside cabinet.
I will admit that the milk boy had had me falling since the day I met him. His natural beauty shone from the inside and the out; although I’m weary of the word beauty as it’s been so over-used to become almost meaningless, an empty pleas entry reserved for mothers and friends. Like snow, the image danced in my mind. His Delicate, full lips; perfectly shaped and perfectly colored a deep red, that of fallen rose petals. Except his were not wilted like that of the roses, they were soft, plump and luscious - those that you would want to kiss. His skin, pure white, a winter blanket holding everything perfectly in place, this pureness provided a breathtaking contrast to his black hair that hung loosely down his forehead as if he had spent decades in making it look perfect.
The shed door clicked as it closed, breaking me away from the thoughts and making me weary of the snow. Wood in hand I made my way back to the house, as my hand hovered over the door handle, it opened. She jumped back and looked at me with tired eyes, hand on heart.
“Junhyung-ah…you could’ve given me a heart attack!” I pushed past her gently and sat down on the wooden floor, preparing to start the fire.
“You’re not that old Umma.” She pouted a hint of playfulness in her eyes before she sat down beside me to help. “Aish…” I slapped her hand away and placed the wood into the fire, lighting it I helped the flames spread. She watched happily.
“Omo, so warm!” She warmed her hands at the fire and smiled at me. I smiled back before getting up. “Junhyung-ah, we need some groceries from the village. I know Appa would usually get them but he’s going to be late back today, would you mind?” ‘I guess I won’t be seeing him after all.’ Muttering my thoughts aloud I looked up at her.
“Yaa! It’s like…4 miles…and it’s icy and snowy. Can’t we just wait?” She pouted again playfully.
“Don’t you want to help your Umma, Jaesoonie~?” I glared, grumbling. ‘That is not my name! It’s a girl’s name and I am not a girl!’
“What did I tell you about calling me that!? I’m not a girl!” She laughed at me.
“Aish, but it’s your name~”
“No it isn’t.”
“Fine then, Junhyungie~ Will you please go to the village and buy me the groceries, I told that little milk boy kid not to bother coming because you’d come and pick it up~” My face lightened up although I’m not sure if she could tell, I hoped not. Ignoring the pet name she gave me I nodded.
“Fine.”
Setting off, with the cold nipping at every opportunity that it could, I walked down the mountain. The road was slippy and I knew that if I slipped I’d probably slide all the way down; at least it would save me the aches and pains of walking such a long way. Although there wasn’t a path and if a car came, which was unlikely, I would die. I’d rather take precautions and try my best not to slip. I’d walked down the mountain a couple of times before; it wasn’t that bad, it was worse at nighttime: The trees stuck out, frozen branches glistening in the moonlight creeping like snatching hands coming to steal you away into the darkness. There was no streetlight to light up the way; you had to rely on the moon which gave an eerie and unsafe glow to the landscape. You’re completely alone when walking, nobody else’s laughter, voice or footsteps to be heard and so every little sound you or something else made echoed; even so it did that now - in daylight. Living up this mountain gave an almost every day Christmas feel, except we were the only ones here; as if we were the only ones in the world, enjoying Christmas by ourselves. Like in those zombie apocalypse movies. I’d like to see a zombie try and get up this icy road-hill thing of death.
I should stop complaining, Umma always nags at me for complaining. At least I get to see Kikwang; I could already hear his sweet laugh ringing in my ears. I loved the way he made a joke out of everything, like he didn’t have a care in the world and his nativity made him seem oh so much more pure than he probably should have done. His angelic features made him seem like he had been pulled out of his happily-ever-after from a fairy tale and I knew that I was not the only one that had noticed this. A village painter by the name of Doojoon was fascinated by the short man. Whenever Kikwang would come up to deliver the milk he always talked about how Doojoon was nagging him and nagging him to model whilst I sat there and listened quietly breathing in the scent of coconut and hibiscus that was radiating off this boy. He would then go on to explain that’s all he ever did. Doojoon was hoping that the beauty of this young boy would lead him to fame and riches but if he also wanted him for something else, like I did, I didn’t know.
The cold had stopped bothering me, becoming numb all over as the village came into view. My pace of walking became faster, hoping to get there quicker and stay in the grocery store to warm up. The road had now split into two, one traveling to the village coming from the nearest town and one traveling away from the village, following the same route. Of course there was the road up the mountain to our home but that was rarely used by anyone other than us. The trees still covered everything but the road, coated in frost. There were a few things different than there was up by the mountain; there were streetlights lighting the place up, there was a path that I could walk on although it wasn’t very good and there was voices and laughter. Children probably skipping school and playing in the wood, call me mean but it would be funny if they got lost. I’m sure somebody would find them eventually but…it would serve them right for misusing the fees we all have to pay for them to attend the school.
Walking into the center of the village, where their lay a little fountain of some famous woman who came from here; she was sitting by a lake that unfortunately because of our cold weather had frozen over. Underneath the ice from the previous summer lay coins that people had tossed in when they were wishing for something they desire. The village wasn’t that busy as most people did their shopping on a Friday and by shopping I meant collecting groceries and their daily meat from the butchers. The grocery store wasn’t your average one, I wouldn’t even call it a store; it was an old lady selling things that she and her husband grew in her garden and man, they grew a lot. I guess some of the things she couldn’t grow were brought from bigger stores but she supplied the whole village easily. The butchers did similar things; they got meat from their local farms and the milk boy, Kikwang, his family owned a farm at the edge of the village breeding cattle for milk and sometimes slaughter. It was a simple and joyful way of life, that’s probably why my parent’s moved here.
Placing the things that were on the shopping list into the basket, I made sure not to stray and buy anything unnecessary. The bags weren’t as heavy as I thought they were going to be and proved not to be a nuisance as I walked my way to the dairy farm. Everyone had milk at their doorstep, he must’ve already finished his round. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Sighing, I sat on the set closing my eyes, ready to wait for someone to return as I heard footsteps in the house. They were fast pace, a kind of hurried walk and soon the door swung open and a small panting lady stood there. I can see where Kikwang got his height from. Bowing, I introduced myself.
“A-Ah…anyeonghaseyo!” She replied, “You must be Yong Junhyung! Your mother mentioned you to me; you’re here for the milk aren’t you?” I nodded. She copied a little to herself before hurrying off to fetch it.
I looked around the hallway for any sign of Kikwang. The house was fairly silent which was a big indication that he wasn’t in. The house seemed fairly nice; it was neat and tidy which meant that Mrs Lee must work at home as having a child like Kikwang must’ve been messy. She waddled back carrying it the best that she could. I stepped in further and took it from her as she thanked me.
“No thank you~ Ahh, is Kikwang anywhere about I think he left some gloves at my house the other day?” Although she may have not thought much of it, asking where Kikwang was without a reason seemed to me like every emotion I had for him would be let out. She may have found it creepy that all I wanted to do was to talk to her son and maybe sneak a few touches here and there.
“Ahh, after he finished his milk round earlier Yoon-shii came around and asked if he wanted to do some more modeling, Kikwang left with him and I assume he’s still there~” She smiled at me and I flashed her a half smile back nodding and bowing as I left. ‘Damn it Doojoon, can’t you just leave him be for one day. ‘
Doojoon’s shop was not unknown to me; I had been there a couple of times during my high school years with Kikwang. Opening the shop door with a ding, I glanced around the room. Many pictures, mostly Kikwang related, hung on the shop walls and sat in boxes ready to be sold. They were beautiful; I could never deny the fact that Doojoon was a good painter. They captured the beauty and innocence of Kikwang, the sweetness that came straight from his heart. However although beautiful, some of them infuriated me. Such a sweet boy had become violated with too much skin exposed and too sexual poses. Doojoon was just asking me to hit him.
Making my way to the back of the shop, into Doojoon’s workshop; which I knew Kikwang would be in if he was here - being painted. Clicking open the door, the air changed; it became dense with smoke and another musky smell. I knew Doojoon liked to smoke whilst he painted but I wasn’t aware of how much it filled the air, this must’ve affected Kikwang a lot. There didn’t seemed to be anyone in here, or maybe that was just the smoke burning my eyes and making me blind. I retched and began coughing, feeling someone’s eyes gazing upon me.
“Junhyung?” Rang Doojoon’s voice with a hint of surprise. He got up from leaning on the wall, next to him a half painting of…lots of pale, exposed skin, dark hair and peachy cheeks. You could hear the grin on his face, “Isn’t it a masterpiece? It’s a shame he wouldn’t let me finish it off…I had to imagine the rest of him so I don’t believe it’s entirely accurate.” It had me glued to the spot. It was stunning; the way Doojoon had inflicted the shadows to highlight his angelic body. His abs and muscles that he tells me are just for show. “It’s ruined. My whole work is ruined.” My eyes glance to the lower half - unfinished and ripped. Doojoon was right, it was ruined.
“What happened?” I asked eyes following Doojoon as he paced around the room.
“He came over today, so that we could finish it, except he refused to show anymore skin.” He sighed, throwing his hands up into his air before they lowered down clasping my shoulders harshly, like a madman. “It’s only art, I told him! Except he wouldn’t listen - I tried Junhyung! I tried to give him a little encouragement. All I wanted was more skin, more skin to paint onto this canvas and into my memory; why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful?!”” He let go of me, shoving me back a little before screaming angrily and kicking the painting - ripping it again. All I could do is stay silent.
“Where did Kikwang go?” He shrugged.
“He left earlier.” I nodded.
“Any idea where he went? I have his gloves I need to return to him.”
“How should I fucking know?” Doojoon looked up, glaring at me. “He kept going on about wanting to save himself for somebody else, it wasn’t like I was going to rape him!”
“But you were going to look at him. You know how naïve and innocent he is, he’s just saving his naked self for somebody he loves.”
“What are you his fucking boyfriend?!” His eyes grew darker.
“I’m his friend.” Deciding I couldn’t take much more before I pounced I turned my back and walked off through the shop, milk bottles clattering beside me as I began to look for Kikwang.
I wandered street after street, back alley after back alley. I searched in all the shops, the park and his home, in any and every place that he could have been. Panting, my breath coming out like steam as the sun was setting and the weather was getting colder. I perched on the side of the pond with the lady beside again and sighed. ‘Where the hell could he be? What did Doojoon do that was so bad to scare him off this much?’ I was determined to find him. Getting up again, I saw a shadow flash against a street light in one of the close by side alleys. These bags would only slow me down, leaving them where they were I ran after him. ‘Please be Kikwang.’ My mind kept repeating, kept hoping that this was him. Suddenly the figure stopped, he became smaller and more afraid as I slid and bumped into him; my heart racing as the boy looked up at me.
“J-Junhyung-hyung.” He breathed.
There was paint matted in his hair, from where I figured Doojoon had taken hold of him. The happiness and playfulness had been drained from his eyes; all that was left was fear and panic as he begged me not to turn him into Doojoon. I promised him I wouldn’t as he told me what had happened and how as Doojoon was stroking his hair and ruffling it a little more than usual. Touching his soft, smooth, pale skin much more than Kikwang had wanted him to. Kikwang had pushed him away when he tried to remove his trousers, voicing his opinion; that he didn’t want to. My blood was boiling as he continued to talk about how Doojoon had gripped him hard, a handful of his silky hair and a plum-colored bruise to his upper arm. He kept telling me that he had to run away or else he’d find him.
“Yah, Kikwangie, it’s just a painting; he’s not going to hurt you.” All he did was shake his head and mumble that he will. Sighing, I hugged him tightly. “I still have your gloves.” He looked up to me and hugged me tighter. “Junhyung, will you follow me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to escape, I hate this place.” His voice was shaky and his eyes seemed uncertain but it seemed like he’d been holding this in for a long time and now he’d finally found someone to tell the truth to; me.
I felt honored that he’d entrusted me with this but I honestly didn’t know what to do or say.
“Kikwang, where are you going to go? Do you know how far the nearest town is, let alone city.” He shrugged.
“There were two things keeping me here Junhyung…one of them has let me go…and the other will come with me if he agrees.” And that’s when I got it. Doojoon had been making money of this poor boy, now that he didn’t want him he could go.
“Me…?” He wanted me to go with him, or ‘follow’ him as he said. My Dongsaeng nodded.
“Hyungie…please?” His eyes glistened like that of a puppies, how could I have resisted.
“You know that I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, why is it even necessary to ask?” I stared at him, his eyes meeting mine as a small smile formed on his lips.
The next thing I knew was he was running home to pack his things, and I, I was going back to give Doojoon a piece of my mind. Slamming the door open and marching it, I raised my fist and threw it though the air hitting him dead-center. His nose cracked and he fell to the floor.
“What the fuck?!” He screamed, in both pain and anger - his voice hoarse.
“Pay back.” I grunted. Wiping the blood dribbling onto his lips away, he smirked.
“Let’s make a bet. I know what Kikwang’s been planning for weeks. He mentions these little things that he thinks no-one will be able to guess but unlike him, I’ve got brains.” His smirk widened as he saw the pain in my eyes, my heart drop. ‘So I wasn’t the only one he’d told. I wasn’t first’
“Name it…”
“First one to Kikwang wins his prize will be having access to Kikwang whenever he wants; we’ll call punishment when we get there.” I nodded, I’d definitely beat him; don’t they always say with the power of love on your side that you can do anything?
“Okay. When do we start?”
“He leaves tonight; we’ll give him 3 days head start - Saturday 9AM at Son’s Inn.” Agreeing I left, grocery bags forgotten in the snow.
Author’s Note: Just to show that I’m not dead for those of you who still remember me and my fanfics. ^=^ Happy birthday Junhyungie, you are an inspiration who writes beautiful lyrics and I love you ♡ Part two should be out later this week, if you want a spot for that just let me know! Thank you for reading, please leave comments! :D