Imaginary Friend
Kyungsoo needs a friend. Jongin needs something else.
The room was nothing exciting. Still, it fit what Kyungsoo required; a desk, a dresser, a low rise bed under the window. Not much of a view out that thing. You could practically jump through the neighbors’ window their house was built so close, especially with the roofing practically overlapping like that. Luckily there didn't appear to be any peeping inhabitants across the way. The only visible contents of the adjacent room were a pile of furniture covers and a futon.
“Honey, come help with the boxes!” His mom called. Better twist the curtains shut, just to be safe.
Kyungsoo’s parents were obviously getting along with the neighbors well. They’d come over two hours ago and hadn’t moved a box since. At least Kyungsoo had his things ordered. That’s all he cared about. Sunset loomed as he straightened the pencils on his desk for the nth time. There, perfect, now for rest.
A knock came to the window.
Kyungsoo’s eyes darted to the curtains. A robber? A dumb bird? Kyungsoo legitimized it as a fluke after a few seconds of silence, but it soon returned, and this time, persisted. He flicked off the light and parted the curtains cautiously. On the overlapping roof balanced a boy, gesturing the window open. He looked borderline feral stretching across the gutters so peculiarly.
But Kyungsoo had a soft spot for strays.
“Thanks, buddy!” The boy folded through the meager opening and unraveled on Kyungsoo’s bed. What an astonishing entrance. “You’re the new guy in town?”
Kyungsoo nodded. There probably wasn’t another one, right?
“Great! And you are?”
“Kyungsoo.”
“Jongin.” A handshake concluded the formalities. Silence followed.
“S-so, why aren’t you downstairs with your parents?”
“Dun wanna be.” Jongin responded casually. “I stay in my room mostly.” So that was his room? No way. Kyungsoo tried to glance past Jongin inside, but the curtains had been drawn.
“You going to school?” Jongin questioned, moving into Kyungsoo’s view.
“Are you?” That was a bit ruder than Kyungsoo intended, but Jongin laughed it off.
“I’m not a hermit.” He joked. Ah, so he wasn’t totally crazy. Kyungsoo smiled carefully.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” He took a short bow. “I hope we’ll become better friends in the future.”
Jongin grinned behind a thoughtful hand. “Yeah, welcome to the neighborhood.”
The first day of school didn’t go so well. Kyungsoo was immediately singled out. But what did you expect? He wasn’t the tallest, smartest, coolest new kid to ever transfer. Kyungsoo surveyed his vacant locker while a few kids leered from down the hall. The classic shoe-stealing wouldn’t have affected him so much if it wasn’t a uniform violation. He’d have to find a spare before the end of the day. Most kids had two pairs, but Kyungsoo didn’t have the heart to ask his parents such a favor. Not with their finances where they were. But surely Jongin would have some extras he could borrow. That should be fine, right?
“Hey Jongin.”
Jongin sat with a small group by the chalkboard, not responding. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Kyungsoo shuffled over and gave him a tap on the shoulder. “Jongin, I wanted to ask…”
“Excuse me?” Jongin gave him a critical scan. There appeared to be an error.
“J-Jongin? It’s me, Kyungsoo.”
“Have we met?” The confusion within Kyungsoo subsisted on Jongin’s face. It was the wrong person. “Oh, no.” He must have grabbed the wrong person. “Sorry, I...” Even if he was an exact replica he
“was wrong.”
Kyungsoo found his shoes in a urinal later that day.
Homework was a dreary process that extended long into the night and slowed the cogs in Kyungsoo’s brain. A soft rapping of knuckles on the window sparked his gears back into motion.
“Yes?”
He lifted the latches quickly and made way as a foot passed through the frame. Jongin soon stood inside, despondent. “You need these?” A pair of shiny uniform shoes extended toward Kyungsoo.
“Yeah, thanks.” The air staled. “Y-you wanna sit down?”
The boys sat on the bed stiffly, looking opposite directions as midnight passed. “Today at school,” Kyungsoo started.
“I can’t talk with you at school.” Jongin stated plainly. Kyungsoo stared at him wide eyed.
“Why not?”
Jongin’s eyes averted. “This school’s got a big problem with bullies.” He explained. “I don’t want to go through the mill again.” His hands wrung steadily. “You know how it is.”
Yeah, he did. But it still hurt. However Kyungsoo could accept the terms logically. Why bring Jongin down? Surely the heckling would end soon, and Kyungsoo would have paid his dues like everyone else. That’s how it worked, right?
Jongin held Kyungsoo as he began to sob. “O-okay.”
The bullying escalated quickly. Kyungsoo wouldn’t have minded so much if it wasn’t affecting his grades. Simple jeering could be swallowed, but this particular day the teacher was late, and a swarm of goons encircled him. A heavyset boy hooked him from behind. Another snatched his book bag. Kyungsoo couldn’t be bothered putting up a struggle. The contents were dumped and mocked one by one. Kyungsoo could only focus on how impossible it’d be to reorganize it all.
To the right, a lighter caught his essay. To the left, paper crumpled into crude spheres and pelted his face. A few hands grappled at Kyungsoo’s belt in an effort to shove spiny wads inside his waistband to help him "grow a pair", but the teacher soon arrived, and despite his expressed apathy, the crowd dispersed. Attendance commenced while Kyungsoo collected his things. He shoved them into his pack sloppily. Who cared if his worksheets were perfectly straight or if his pen collection exploded? Kyungsoo couldn’t be bothered anymore.
When it came to “Has anyone not finished their homework?” The whole class turned to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo turned to the ripped up papers on the floor.
The teacher yawned. Of course it's the new kid. Isn’t it always? His eyes rolled, giving up on the roster. “See me after school.” He sighed. The tone warranted incrimination.
When Kyungsoo left the classroom that evening, he found Jongin leaning casually against the wall. Jongin looked up slowly, and Kyungsoo half expected him to say something, but... It registered within Jongin as well. His mouth gaped, indecisive, as if angry with his own rules. No talking at school. His brow settled into a furrow, eyeing the extra length in Kyungsoo’s shoes. His shoes. Then he glanced up, pivoted, and stalked off without a word.
Kyungsoo didn’t see him on the way home.
“How was school today, honey?” Dinner was nothing exciting.
“The teacher made me feel pretty worthless.” Broccoli isn’t very good if it’s not doused in fat.
“Well it’s motivation to work harder, son. Gotta keep those grades up to get into a respectable college these days.” Maybe there’s cheese in the fridge.
“Sure thing dad.” He could melt that on it.
The bullying continued, but in milder forms. Rude comments, the occasional defiled belonging, it was merely part of the routine. As long as Kyungsoo managed to get his work in on time, and even that felt pretty impertinent these days. On the off occasion he was beat up or harassed to a more serious extent, Jongin always came to the rescue later, arriving in Kyungsoo's room with some ice and a comforting hand. They’d play games or read books, anything to distract them from reality into the wee hours of the night, until, of course, the next day, when it all seemed so ephemeral. Kyungsoo could barely focus in class he was so tired, but staying up was all he had. It was the only time beign awake felt worth it. And thus the sequence recurred, as if the Jongin that crawled through his window was a completely separate existence, some kind of transient fairy godmother, only available in the night. True, the evanescence of it was taxing, but Kyungsoo developed an attachment to the routine, even if it was becoming surreal.
These peas were too cold to be on someone’s eye, or at least Kyungsoo thought so. Plus it gave him blurry vision. “Jongin?” He removed them despite previous orders.
“Yes?” Blissful compliance laced the word. Kyungsoo reconsidered proceeding for fear of losing such delicately whispered words. A blush consumed him as the fingers on Jongin was draggin across his stomach drawled their patterns and attentive eyes set on his swelling lids. “Something wrong?”
Kyungsoo swallowed. “Why don’t we ever talk about you?”
Jongin's face dropped. “It’s not something I want to talk about.” He deadpanned. His mind turned faster than his words. Too fast to read.
“Your parents don’t even know we’ve met.” Kyungsoo pressed.
“They shouldn’t.”
Kyungsoo frowned. Jongin wasn't going to give him anything, was he? Figures. Kyunsoo curled to his side and heaved a sigh. “I thought we were friends.”
The next second, Kyungsoo was ramming the wall with his back, heart pounding as Jongin’s fist stopped just short of the juncture of his lungs. “We are friends! I take care of you!” He hadn't actually been hit, but somehow Kyungsoo still felt a searing pain clenching the left side of his chest. Jongin had never been so loud. Kyungsoo shook, and the anger in Jongin's eyes promptly dissipated. He loosened his grip, gazing remorsefully at the crinkles that remained in Kyungsoo’s shirt as the boy quaked, terrified. “I’m sorry.” Jongin mumbled. It was the most insipid apology Kyungsoo had ever heard.
“It’s better like this.” Jongin lingered in the windowsill.
“Did you ever ask me that?”
Jongin glanced back, teetering on the balls of his feet. “Would you know the answer?” No response came. Jongin gave a smile anyway as he turned away.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo tried. Too late. Jongin had rocked forward, and let the momentum carry him away.
A couple days of crying alone and you start to miss the point in crying. It doesn’t change anything. Not when there’s no one to listen. Instead, Kyungsoo rested his head in the freezer from time to time. Good substitution, especially when he needed to reduce swelling. His parents couldn’t see the point in buying frozen peas when both of them despised the repulsive things. After all, “they’re just wrinkly green skins encasing nauseating mush,” similar to the lower portion of Kyungsoo’s back.
The teachers chided, “I’m severely disappointed in your performance.” Family problems.
His parents scolded, “We sacrifice for your education and you repay us with these grades?” It’s the bullying.
The kids scoffed, “You wanna die, kid?” Maybe.
Kyungsoo never made excuses. He didn’t like to think frivolous things could affect him. But the noises coming from Jongin’s room that night… there’s no way he'd mistaken them. Kyungsoo shook it off, and covered his head with the pillow. Assuming never lead him anywhere good. Knowing didn’t either.
“You’re getting too skinny.” Kyungsoo knew Jongin heard him. He'd seen him at school, so he held on to the belief that he had to be in that room. They’d both left their windows open since last time. It meant something. He had to be there.
Still nothing came.
“If I leave you something, don’t let the birds get it. I’ll be angry.” Not like Kyungsoo would ever find out. Jongin surely planned to eat his offerings in secret. “I’m putting it out now.”
Kyungsoo balanced the dinner plate precariously between the two roofs. He hadn’t been out here before. The breeze unnerved him. He considered entering Jongin’s room to stabilize, but something in him didn’t want to confirm his fears. “I miss you…”
He watched the dark purple curtains flutter. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps Jongin wasn’t there. Kyungsoo crawled back into his room. Probably better that way.
“Do you know what our relationship is built on?”
Kyungsoo’s eyes shot open. How long had he been asleep? The soft rise and fall of the book on his chest held. It was too dark to see, but his eyes flashed to the window. The unsettling rhythm of Jongin fingers scraping across the shingles rang in his ears. Kyungsoo could picture him in the black, hanging halfway out his own window.
He focused slowly on the clean plate now resting on the frame of his, not daring to pull it down.
“Need.” Jongin continued. “You need me to comfort you, and I need a person to comfort. You understand?”
How upsetting the statement sounded, almost as if it were upset with itself. But why should it be? It was the truth.
“So you need me to hurt?”
The silence grew audible.
“Yeah.”
Kyungsoo traced the thought, still floating in the window, not reaching him. He wanted to keep it there, not let it connect, but what if it kept Jongin out, too?
“Could you pick someone else?”
“…no”
Kyungsoo’s spine sparked rigid. Why? Why couldn’t they just be friends? Normal friends?
“You’re all I have.” Kyungsoo choked.
“We can’t be just friends."
No,
"I’ll hurt you, Kyungsoo.”
No. Kyungsoo pressed his palms over his face. The way Jongin said his name made him want to vomit. Suddenly everything about him was disgusting. How could he do this to him? Why him? Kyungsoo felt himself become shrouded in cold nausea. He wailed, but it would't go away. “Jongin," He pleaded over his sobs. "please,"
Jongin’s window shut.
A few weeks later, it was as if nothing happened. He’d made it all up, hadn’t he? The room really had been a storage room after all, hadn't it? That’s how Kyungsoo figured it was. All a dream. A figment of his imagination, and he accepted that. It was over.
So why did those screams still haunted him in his sleep?
“Honey!”
Kyungsoo didn’t look away from the tv or bother to turn the volume down. Nothing interesting was on, but surely his mother didn’t have anything more interesting to talk about.
Still, she called again. “Honey, come to the door! I have a surprise!”
Kyungsoo didn’t turn off the tv, just let gravity drag him from the couch as he groaned begrudgingly. “What is it?” He hollered, but received no answer as he made his way to the front hall.
“Look sweetie, the neighbors’ son finally came to meet you!”
Kyungsoo froze. There was no way he was seeing this properly. In the doorway stood a family of three, and protruding from the smiley parents was a small downcast face. The father pushed him forward proudly. “Say hi, Jongin.”
A joyless smile was presented, feeble arms wrapped a shaky stomach. He was unmistakable, despite the bruise consuming the expanse between his right eyebrow and cheekbone, barely covered by unkempt chunks of hair.
“Hi.” He mustered. “Nice to meet you.”
A/N: I tried to write something sort of serious/sad to stretch my writing abilities. I’m really bad with that stuff because anytime I get serious I think I just sound cheesy and awful, but this is my best attempt. If you have any helpful tips on how to not sound like a cliché poet when a character feels like crying noodles, I’d really appreciate it. Thanks!