Caged Birds
Title: Caged Birds-chapter 1
Pairing: YeBum/KiSung, very light :3
Rating: R
Word Count: About 18,311 for this chapter.
Warnings: Strong language, incest, angst(maybe humor here and there.) High-School AU, very OC-ish...
Summary: Everything changed when Jongwoon's mother died. His father is a looney drunk who abuses him, and he's the freak of the school. Being a champion basketball player and a soloist in the choir seemed to be a thing of the past. Scared to make friends or even to speak, Jongwoon isolates himself from everyone else, and refuses to trust- that is, until the new, popular guy in school decides to be his partner for a writing assingment.
Slowly, this boy helps Jongwoon open up and fight his battle, just like he had to at a point in his life.
(MY SUMMARIES SUCK.)
Notes: Kangin is a teacher in this. He and Kibum are close, and they discuss what is going on with Jongwoon through the story.
Credit for help on the storyline goes to everyone who suggested in this post, because you all gave me ideas.
I'm not sure if imo is the right term for aunt,btw.
THIS IS MY FIRST FIC EVER, IN HISTORY. I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN BEFORE. SO IF THIS SUCKS, DON'T BE TOO SURPRISED (IN OTHER WORDS, GO EASY ON ME. REALLY.) THIS IS SO NOT GONNA BE CROSSPOSTED...THIS IS LIEK...A TEST RUN OF SORTS.
I don’t know why God decided to take her away like that. I wish he would of taken me away instead. I wonder if this is a punishment for something bad I’ve done…but have I really done anything wrong?
I walk to school alone, with my black schoolbag decorated with a skull in front over my left shoulder. It’s heavy with notebooks and overdue papers. I push open the doors of the school and go inside. Students are walking to their lockers or classes. Others just hang out with their friends and talk amongst themselves. Everyone in school seems to speak of things that really don’t matter- the cutest senior in class. The girl who stole another girl’s boyfriend. Who’s better than whom at basketball. Honestly, who cares?
When I pass by the usual group that chatters in the hallway, they all stare at the boy wearing the baggy jeans and the loose, long shirt he’s had since last year (meaning me.) My dark-brown hair is now almost down to my shoulders. I am slim, but I have muscle. My eyes are dark, sharp, and not double-lidded. In terms of size, I’m pretty tall, but many see me as short.
I don’t think I’m ugly. I don’t think I’m handsome. People think my fashion sense is fucked up. But along with my Appa changing when Umma died, I did too. Life changed completely when she died. I was all alone.
I walk with my head down to my classroom: Room 3A-Math. Usually I was good at math. Today was a different story. My teacher banged his ruler on my desk, and I jumped up. I hadn’t realized I fell asleep right in the middle of the lesson.
“Mr. Kim,” he said, “Pay attention!” He returned to explaining what was on the board.
The others stared at me. My cheeks were burning. I slowly sank onto my seat and scribbled on my notebook.
“How was school, Jongwoon?” I was surprised my father even asked.
I glanced up at him from the cooking pot. “It was okay,” I replied, softly. “I was very tired.”
“Tired?” he gave me a weird look. “You should sleep more.”
I stared at him, quiet for a few seconds. “Yes…I should.” I said, bitterly. It’s all his fault I’m tired, after all. He should know better than to do that to me on a school night, at 11:00 pm.
“Got any homework?” he asked, and took a drink of soju.
“A report on Global Warming for English. Worksheet in Math. 2 more worksheets for Science.” I said, stirring the sauce in the pot with the spoon.
“That’s a lotta work, best get started on that early.” He said. He stood and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’ll cut ya a break today.” He whispered in my ear.
I didn’t say anything, or didn’t push him or kick his ass, which was what I felt like doing, because if I did, I’d get in trouble. He held me there, and nuzzled the back of my neck.
I turned my head.
“Thought you were cutting me a break?” I said.
His lips curved to a smirk. “Right.” He said, and returned to watching his action flicks, while my brother ran around the room.
“Hey, you stay still, boy!” Appa snapped at him, and grabbed his arm. He pulled him to the couch.
Jongjin was a crybaby, so he started crying right after that, and it was always my job to get him to stop.
Nothing special ever happened in school- that is, until a tall, bulky young man replaced Mrs. Ye, our Journalism teacher. He was surprisingly handsome, and the girls in class couldn’t help but giggle at how handsome he was, especially in his suit.
One girl entered the room and froze at the sigh of the teacher. “Oh.my.god…” she whispered, her cheeks burning.
The teacher smiled at her and gave her a wink.
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, another freaky teacher episode, I suspect.
The girl squealed and ran to her seat. “Did you see how he winked at me?” she said to her friends. I shook my head, annoyed. I felt like throwing a book at them.
Once everyone is settled in their seats, he begins to speak.
“Good morning, everyone.” He says.
“Good morning~” the girls say, dreamily.
Oh, for God’s sake…
He smiles and introduces himself. “My name is Mr. Kim, and I am replacing Mrs. Ye while she’s on maternity leave.” He looks at me and smiles. What a fucking weirdo. “Before I start, I’d like to get to know everyone, so why don’t we introduce ourselves? Please tell us your name, and what you like to do.”
Shit. What’s up with every new teacher doing this?
Everyone introduces themselves around the room. I put my head down as my turn approaches. I don’t like to talk-especially in class, where everyone can hear me. When it was my turn, and I didn’t reply or raise my head, he walks towards me, and my face grows hot with every footstep.
He stops, right beside me.
“What about you, young man?” he asks.
I raise my head and look up at him. I shake my head.
“No?” he says.
“Don’t bother with him, Mr. Kim, he’s just a weirdo.” A girl says.
“We don’t say things like that, Ms. Lee.” Mr. Kim says to her. I put my head down again, and he points to the next person to introduce himself.
A weirdo was all people ever saw me as.
I never saw my father as anything other than my father. But when you’re stuck being his sex toy, it’s hard to even see him as such. Obviously he didn’t see me as his oldest son. All he saw was Umma, whether he admitted it or not.
He tasted and smelled like booze, the same scent when we always do this. The first day he wanted to do this to me, the first day I refused and fought back as he tried to strip me of my clothing, was the first day I was ever beaten up-not only was I raped, but the next day, I had to go to school with marks and bruises, which I tried my best to hide. I was traumatized for several days, and still am. I couldn’t focus at all. I came to school early, actually. I was in pain and sobbing in the middle of class.
Appa was pissed at me when he knew I came early. He smacked me across the face and said, “You tell anyone about this, and I will KILL you.”
And I knew he wasn’t joking. I was scared of him.
The scent of sex was in the air. I was sprawled down on the bed, eyes closed. Maybe Appa was just as sad as I was. Maybe he was traumatized too.
When Umma died, Appa told us to throw away anything that reminded us of Umma. The pictures, her clothing, the figurines…even the necklace she gave me for my 12th birthday. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to pretend that he never fell in love, never got married, never had Jongjin and I. Jongjin isn’t his son, he’s just there. Me? I’m just his toy.
Journalism had become an annoying class. Mr.Kim was such a flirt, the type of guy I hate. I actually wanted naggy Mrs.Ye back.
Is it just me, or has life suddenly decide to change, as far as school goes? Next thing I know, we have a new student in our class: Kim Kibum. He was very attractive, and had a charismatic smile that made the girls swoon. He wore glasses, and made them look good. He got along so well with other people-in just a matter of days he was already popular. I wonder how…
Watching him, he was the type of guy who was charismatic, the type of guy who girls stopped dead in their tracks just to look at him, the type of guy other guys envied. Everyone loved this guy all of a sudden, even teachers-he was a star student, a star athlete…he was good at everything…so when he picked me to be his partner for a Journalism project, the whole class-no-, the whole school was surprised.
“Are you crazy?” one girl hissed at him. “He’s like a total freak show.”
I raised my eyebrow at that. Freak show?
“He looks normal to me.” Kibum replied.
“Well, he’s not. He wears the same clothes, he doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t care…”
“Psht. I’ll get him to talk, don’t worry.” Kibum looked at me. “Got any ideas for our project, Jongwoon?”
I stared at him, without saying a word, then looked back at my book.
“See? Completely impossible to work with him.” The girl scoffed. “Why don’t you just work with me?”
“We’ll be fine. This guy is really good at writing, you know. I’m sure we’ll be able to make a kick-ass writing piece together.” Kibum replied.
The bell rang, and I instantly got up. I was outta there.
“Hey!” a voice behind me said. “Hold up!”
I knew it was Kibum, but I wasn’t about to stop. There’s no way I’m talking to him.
“Aish, that boy…” Kibum sighed.
“That boy is going to be such a challenge for you to work with, Kibummie,” Mr.Kim said, spinning around in his chair. “If you even get a word from him, I’ll congratulate you.”
Kibum sat at the other side of his desk. “Is he really that weird?” he asked.
“I believe he’s just troubled. All we know about him is that his mother passed away when he was 12.” Mr.Kim said, reaching for his mug of coffee.
“Why don’t people like him?” Kibum played with the pencils in the pencil holder.
“Is the fact that he doesn’t speak a good enough reason?” Mr. Kim said, quite sarcastically.
“Mm. Is he…mute?”
“Dammit, Kibum, I don’t know. Nobody knows anything about him except that he’s weird.”
“I thought that as a teacher, you’d worry about him.” Kibum said.
Mr. Kim spun around in his chair again, completely ignoring him.
“Aish! you always ignore me, Kangin!” Kibum protested.
“Deal with it.” Mr.Kim vexed.
“So I was thinking that maybe we could meet up at your house and work on the project?” Kibum suggested, flipping through the pages of his notebook.
My eyes opened wide as soon as he said that. “No,” I instantly said. “You’re not coming to my house.”
“Okaaaay…what do you have in mind, then?” Kibum asked.
I didn’t respond.
“Look, if we’re gonna do this together, you have to talk to me.”
I was really annoyed now.
“I’m not doing this project, not with you.” I snapped at him. “I can do it on my own.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Mr.Kim said we HAVE to work with a partner. It’s a collaborative assignment.” He said, matter-of-factly.
“Well then.” I closed my school bag. “I guess I’ll just get an F.”
Kibum grabbed me. “I am not about to fail this project just because you refuse to cooperate with me.” He said, glaring at me.
I slowly turned. “Look. I’m not letting you use me for an A+.” I said, looking at him sharply.
“What makes you think I’m using you, just because I said you’re good?” he said. “I can write a good piece with my eyes closed. But I chose you because I think we can make a good team.” He let go and crossed his arms. “But if you want to be an outsider for the rest of your life, you’re doing a pretty good job at it right now.”
I clenched my fists, and shoved him. “Look, I don’t need you telling me who I am, like those other assholes!” I yelled. “I don’t care what you think of me, and I don’t care about your stupid F! And if you wanna talk shit about me turning you down to work as partners, then be my fucking guest!” I stormed out of the room.
“He completely turned me down, he was really pissed at me, Kangin hyung…” Kibum said.
“What did you say to him?” Mr.Kim asked.
“I said we made a good team.”
“What else?”
“…that if he wouldn’t cooperate, he’ll never belong.”
“You’re a fucking idiot~” Mr.Kim laughed so hard the janitor outside heard him over the vacuum.
“Okay, it’s really not that funny.” Kibum said. “It’s not like if everyone else tells him the same.”
“That’s what he hates, you can’t talk to him like that.” Mr.Kim said, trying to stop his laughter.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Kibum asked.
“Psht, I dunno! Figure it out yourself.” Mr. Kim said, carelessly.
“You’re useless.” Kibum walked out.
Of course I thought he was insane when he came up to apologize to me. Did he really care that much about a stupid grade?
“Listen, I’m sorry for what I said back there…” he began. He took a deep breath. “I honestly thought you’d like for someone to work with you…you look lonely.”
“I guess I’ve gotten used to it by now.” I pushed my hair back.
“Wait…you’re okay with being lonely?” Kibum asked me.
“It’s not that I’m okay, it’s just something I can’t avoid.” I bit my bottom lip.
“Why do you say that?” Kibum asked.
“Look…just…don’t talk to me.” I said. I wonder why talking to this guy made me feel even lonelier.
“He doesn’t speak to others because he feels that being lonely is something he can’t avoid.” Kibum said to Mr.Kim.
“How are you planning to change his attitude?” Mr.Kim asked, his legs crossed.
“I don’t know…but I’m not giving up on him just yet.” Kibum said, determined.
“I think loneliness is always avoidable.” Kibum said to me the next day at lunch.
I looked up at him. Why is this guy so persistent?
“I used to be lonely too, when I lived in California. I didn’t have any friends. I couldn’t communicate with people.” He said.
Yeah, but I bet you weren’t forced to have sex with your father, I thought.
“Yes…but your were among Americans.” I said. “You didn’t speak the same language, so of course you couldn’t communicate…”
“That’s not the point,” he broke in, realizing this was a horrible example.
“Then what is?” I asked, my eyes meeting his.
“The point was that I know what’s it’s like to be lonely.” Kibum said. “And you’re not even trying to fight back. I had to.”
“You pretend to know what I’m feeling…” I shook my head. “But nobody can feel what I feel. You haven’t gone through what I’ve gone through.”
“You say that, but no one knows anything about you. Maybe if you told someone, they’d understand.”
I just shook my head.
“I’m not going to leave you alone until you decide to give me a chance. Stop isolating yourself from the rest of the world already. I know there’s a warm, fun person in there.”
That’s were he was wrong…there used to be a happy, carefree little boy…but something, or someone, took him away.
I shot hoops in my backyard. Appa watched me from the window, drinking his usual booze. When I was younger, I remember Umma used to always come to my basketball games, cheering me on. It was what motivated me, what made me a good player. She’d be so disappointed now.
She took great pride in my talents. She always talked great things about me. I used to sing, but now there’s no reason to. All I do now is write. Appa used to always practice with me right on this very same backyard, Jongjin wanting to play with the ball too, while Umma watched us from the kitchen with a big smile on her face.
It was how things were supposed to be.
“You look like shit today, boy.” Appa said that night, pouring me a glass of soju.
I pushed my hair back with one hand. The room was hot, and very dim…we need some new lightbulbs.
I take a sip of the drink and let out a heavy sigh.
“Life is shit right now.” I said.
“Why you say that?” he asked me.
There was an eerie silence in the room.
“I miss umma.”
He loathes that word…especially when it comes out of my lips.
“What happened to your face?” Kibum asked me the next morning.
I bury my face behind my book. “Nothing.” I replied.
“It doesn’t look like it…” Kibum said.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said.
“I want to worry.” He said, pushing my book down.
Why did he care so much, anyways?
“I don’t think you’re weird, or a freak. You’re just misunderstood.” He said, softly. His face was close to mine. Did he really care?
I looked down at my book.
“How can I trust you, really?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. But what I do know is, I want to be your friend.” Kibum put a hand on my shoulder.
“Friend…”I said, softly.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked me, sitting at a bench by the beach.
I sat beside him and put my bag on my lap.
“I don’t know.” I said. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he said, confused. “Don’t you have a goal?”
I looked out at the ocean and watched the waves go back and forth. Always going back and forth, always ending up in the same place…
“I don’t know. I can never see myself as a grown man with a good job and a family.” I looked down at my old shoes.
“But…why?” was all he could say.
I was silent for a while.
“Did you ever stop to think what a caged bird must feel like?” I asked, rhetorically.
He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at me.
“Well, that’s how I feel. Like a caged bird just waiting to spread it’s wings and fly away.”
“Why?” he asked.
I looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“You ask too many questions.” I replied.
“Well, we’re friends now, right?” Kibum asked.
I slightly nodded.
“Then we have to get to know eachother.” he said, grinning.
I nodded and absent-mindedly traced the skull pattern on my bag.
It’s been so long since I’ve talked like this to anyone…I felt shy, but perhaps a little excited.
“I was finally able to get through him, but did you notice how he came with those bruises today?” Kibum said to Mr.Kim.
“What are you suggesting?” Mr.Kim was spinning around in his chair again.
Kibum rolled his eyes. “Something happened last night.” He said.
“You’re not gonna stalk him, are you?” Mr.Kim smirked. “You really care that much for him this early?”
“What are you trying to say, that I’m interested in him?” Kibum said, eyes big, voice slightly higher than usual.
“I don’t know…he is quite pretty if you leave out the whole poor look he has to him.” Mr.Kim.
“I will so tell him you’ve been checking him out.”
“Whatever. Do you even care for him, or are you just nosy?” Mr.Kim asked.
“I do care for him.” Kibum said, looking away. “I don’t want him to be sad anymore...I don't want him to be what I used to be.”
“You kind soul~” Mr.Kim cooed. “You always where the nice one.”
Kibum looked at the bird perched on the windowsill.
“He said he was like a caged bird…” Kibum said, softly. “…and I want to be the one to set him free.”
“That’s a pretty romantic line.” Mr.Kim pointed out.
“You just ruined the whole mood.” Kibum sighed.
“You came home later today.” It was the first thing Appa said when I stepped into the house.
I didn’t say anything, and went to my room to put my stuff down.
Appa stood by the doorway, attentively.
“Were you doing anything?” he asked.
I didn’t say anything.
“Answer me, boy!” he snapped at me, the way he did every time when I didn’t respond.
“That’s none of your concern. I’m home, aren’t I?” I glared at him.
He frowned. I had just successfully gotten under his skin.
“You better watch that mouth of yours, kid, before I fuck up the other half of that pretty face,” he hissed, his face an inch away from mine. “You’d better be here on time, or I will fuck you up, you hear?”
I didn’t say anything, just glared at him.
He smirked.
“Boy, do I love that look on your face when you’re mad.” He said, and stroked my hair.
“Don’t.touch me.” I said, backing away.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know, boy…I really like you when you follow orders…but when you get this stupid little teenage rebellion shit…I feel like I should kick your ass until you cry.” He said, quietly, but obviously irked.
“My name is Jongwoon, not boy.” I said. “And I’m not putting up with your shit, appa, not today.”
“Fuck, will you stop it with the appa already?!” he snapped.
“Why, huh?!” I yelled. “Because umma is gone, you’re not my appa anymore? What kind of bullshit is that?!”
“I’m not your appa…and you are not my son.” He said, turning away.
“Then why do we look the same?! Who are you?!” I demanded to know.
He suddenly turned and socked me in the face, and I went flying towards the ground.
I looked up at him, both of us breathing heavily. Blood ran down the corner of my mouth.
Umma always said I was the splitting image of my Appa when he was younger. It was impossible to deny I was his son. We even had the same smile.
…When was the last time Appa gave me that sweet smile again?
“You need a new makeover, Jongwoon. This gloomy image, it doesn’t bring out your cutene-handsome…ness.” Kibum said, blushing.
“…How are we going to do that?” I asked. “I don’t have any money…”
“My aunt is a really good hair-stylist. And don’t worry, I’ll pay the clothing for you.” Kibum reassured.
“Y-you’ll pay? You have that kind of money?” I asked, voice high-pitched with surprise.
Kibum nodded. “So wanna have a go in changing your image?” he asked.
I looked down. If I went, Appa would give me a beating once I got back home. If I ask him during the weekend, he won’t let me go at all.
“Sure,” I found myself saying.
Kibum put an arm over my shoulder and led me to his shiny, new car.
We were friends, but I envied him so much. He had everything.
We stopped in front of a big, white house. It looked fake, like a doll house, with flowers decorating the windowsills, and flowers growing in the front yard, and the windows were so clean and spotless that, if it wasn’t for the curtains covering it, you’d think the house had no windows at all. It was the type of house I wish I lived in, although we lived in something similar when I was really little.
“Please take your shoes off and leave them by the door, Jongwoon.” Kibum said, opening the door. He took off his shoes, and left them by the door.
“Imo~” Kibum called out. “I’m here!”
A short, skinny lady, possibly in her 30’s, walked into the living room. She had short, straight black hair, and wore a tank top and loose-fitting pants.
“Ah, Kibum,” she said, smiling. “Welcome back!” she gave him a kiss on the cheek. She noticed me, struggling to take my shoes off at the door.
“Who’s this? A friend?”
“Yes, imo, this is Jongwoon.” Kibum introduced. “Jongwoon, imo.”
I bowed to her. I glanced at Kibum, waiting for him to explain why I was here.
“Oh,” he said. “Imo, I brought Jongwoon over because we’re changing his image a little bit. I was hoping you could do his hair, maybe give him a haircut?”
I played with my long hair as he spoke, holding it up to my nose.
“Oh, of course!” she grinned from ear to ear. “Let me just get my supplies ready.”
I watched her walk away and disappear into one of the rooms in the hallway, then I turned to Kibum.
“Do you live here?” I asked him as he sat down comfortably at the couch and turned on the TV.
“Mm-hmm,” he said.
“Where’s your umma and appa?” I asked.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you..they died a long time ago.” He answered.
Except for the TV and Kibum’s imo getting ready, everything was silent.
There were questions I wanted to ask: about how he felt, about how he dealt with it, and what happened to his parents…but I didn’t know where to start. I kept quiet.
Pairing: YeBum/KiSung, very light :3
Rating: R
Word Count: About 18,311 for this chapter.
Warnings: Strong language, incest, angst(maybe humor here and there.) High-School AU, very OC-ish...
Summary: Everything changed when Jongwoon's mother died. His father is a looney drunk who abuses him, and he's the freak of the school. Being a champion basketball player and a soloist in the choir seemed to be a thing of the past. Scared to make friends or even to speak, Jongwoon isolates himself from everyone else, and refuses to trust- that is, until the new, popular guy in school decides to be his partner for a writing assingment.
Slowly, this boy helps Jongwoon open up and fight his battle, just like he had to at a point in his life.
(MY SUMMARIES SUCK.)
Notes: Kangin is a teacher in this. He and Kibum are close, and they discuss what is going on with Jongwoon through the story.
Credit for help on the storyline goes to everyone who suggested in this post, because you all gave me ideas.
I'm not sure if imo is the right term for aunt,btw.
THIS IS MY FIRST FIC EVER, IN HISTORY. I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN BEFORE. SO IF THIS SUCKS, DON'T BE TOO SURPRISED (IN OTHER WORDS, GO EASY ON ME. REALLY.) THIS IS SO NOT GONNA BE CROSSPOSTED...THIS IS LIEK...A TEST RUN OF SORTS.
I don’t know why God decided to take her away like that. I wish he would of taken me away instead. I wonder if this is a punishment for something bad I’ve done…but have I really done anything wrong?
I walk to school alone, with my black schoolbag decorated with a skull in front over my left shoulder. It’s heavy with notebooks and overdue papers. I push open the doors of the school and go inside. Students are walking to their lockers or classes. Others just hang out with their friends and talk amongst themselves. Everyone in school seems to speak of things that really don’t matter- the cutest senior in class. The girl who stole another girl’s boyfriend. Who’s better than whom at basketball. Honestly, who cares?
When I pass by the usual group that chatters in the hallway, they all stare at the boy wearing the baggy jeans and the loose, long shirt he’s had since last year (meaning me.) My dark-brown hair is now almost down to my shoulders. I am slim, but I have muscle. My eyes are dark, sharp, and not double-lidded. In terms of size, I’m pretty tall, but many see me as short.
I don’t think I’m ugly. I don’t think I’m handsome. People think my fashion sense is fucked up. But along with my Appa changing when Umma died, I did too. Life changed completely when she died. I was all alone.
I walk with my head down to my classroom: Room 3A-Math. Usually I was good at math. Today was a different story. My teacher banged his ruler on my desk, and I jumped up. I hadn’t realized I fell asleep right in the middle of the lesson.
“Mr. Kim,” he said, “Pay attention!” He returned to explaining what was on the board.
The others stared at me. My cheeks were burning. I slowly sank onto my seat and scribbled on my notebook.
“How was school, Jongwoon?” I was surprised my father even asked.
I glanced up at him from the cooking pot. “It was okay,” I replied, softly. “I was very tired.”
“Tired?” he gave me a weird look. “You should sleep more.”
I stared at him, quiet for a few seconds. “Yes…I should.” I said, bitterly. It’s all his fault I’m tired, after all. He should know better than to do that to me on a school night, at 11:00 pm.
“Got any homework?” he asked, and took a drink of soju.
“A report on Global Warming for English. Worksheet in Math. 2 more worksheets for Science.” I said, stirring the sauce in the pot with the spoon.
“That’s a lotta work, best get started on that early.” He said. He stood and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’ll cut ya a break today.” He whispered in my ear.
I didn’t say anything, or didn’t push him or kick his ass, which was what I felt like doing, because if I did, I’d get in trouble. He held me there, and nuzzled the back of my neck.
I turned my head.
“Thought you were cutting me a break?” I said.
His lips curved to a smirk. “Right.” He said, and returned to watching his action flicks, while my brother ran around the room.
“Hey, you stay still, boy!” Appa snapped at him, and grabbed his arm. He pulled him to the couch.
Jongjin was a crybaby, so he started crying right after that, and it was always my job to get him to stop.
Nothing special ever happened in school- that is, until a tall, bulky young man replaced Mrs. Ye, our Journalism teacher. He was surprisingly handsome, and the girls in class couldn’t help but giggle at how handsome he was, especially in his suit.
One girl entered the room and froze at the sigh of the teacher. “Oh.my.god…” she whispered, her cheeks burning.
The teacher smiled at her and gave her a wink.
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, another freaky teacher episode, I suspect.
The girl squealed and ran to her seat. “Did you see how he winked at me?” she said to her friends. I shook my head, annoyed. I felt like throwing a book at them.
Once everyone is settled in their seats, he begins to speak.
“Good morning, everyone.” He says.
“Good morning~” the girls say, dreamily.
Oh, for God’s sake…
He smiles and introduces himself. “My name is Mr. Kim, and I am replacing Mrs. Ye while she’s on maternity leave.” He looks at me and smiles. What a fucking weirdo. “Before I start, I’d like to get to know everyone, so why don’t we introduce ourselves? Please tell us your name, and what you like to do.”
Shit. What’s up with every new teacher doing this?
Everyone introduces themselves around the room. I put my head down as my turn approaches. I don’t like to talk-especially in class, where everyone can hear me. When it was my turn, and I didn’t reply or raise my head, he walks towards me, and my face grows hot with every footstep.
He stops, right beside me.
“What about you, young man?” he asks.
I raise my head and look up at him. I shake my head.
“No?” he says.
“Don’t bother with him, Mr. Kim, he’s just a weirdo.” A girl says.
“We don’t say things like that, Ms. Lee.” Mr. Kim says to her. I put my head down again, and he points to the next person to introduce himself.
A weirdo was all people ever saw me as.
I never saw my father as anything other than my father. But when you’re stuck being his sex toy, it’s hard to even see him as such. Obviously he didn’t see me as his oldest son. All he saw was Umma, whether he admitted it or not.
He tasted and smelled like booze, the same scent when we always do this. The first day he wanted to do this to me, the first day I refused and fought back as he tried to strip me of my clothing, was the first day I was ever beaten up-not only was I raped, but the next day, I had to go to school with marks and bruises, which I tried my best to hide. I was traumatized for several days, and still am. I couldn’t focus at all. I came to school early, actually. I was in pain and sobbing in the middle of class.
Appa was pissed at me when he knew I came early. He smacked me across the face and said, “You tell anyone about this, and I will KILL you.”
And I knew he wasn’t joking. I was scared of him.
The scent of sex was in the air. I was sprawled down on the bed, eyes closed. Maybe Appa was just as sad as I was. Maybe he was traumatized too.
When Umma died, Appa told us to throw away anything that reminded us of Umma. The pictures, her clothing, the figurines…even the necklace she gave me for my 12th birthday. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to pretend that he never fell in love, never got married, never had Jongjin and I. Jongjin isn’t his son, he’s just there. Me? I’m just his toy.
Journalism had become an annoying class. Mr.Kim was such a flirt, the type of guy I hate. I actually wanted naggy Mrs.Ye back.
Is it just me, or has life suddenly decide to change, as far as school goes? Next thing I know, we have a new student in our class: Kim Kibum. He was very attractive, and had a charismatic smile that made the girls swoon. He wore glasses, and made them look good. He got along so well with other people-in just a matter of days he was already popular. I wonder how…
Watching him, he was the type of guy who was charismatic, the type of guy who girls stopped dead in their tracks just to look at him, the type of guy other guys envied. Everyone loved this guy all of a sudden, even teachers-he was a star student, a star athlete…he was good at everything…so when he picked me to be his partner for a Journalism project, the whole class-no-, the whole school was surprised.
“Are you crazy?” one girl hissed at him. “He’s like a total freak show.”
I raised my eyebrow at that. Freak show?
“He looks normal to me.” Kibum replied.
“Well, he’s not. He wears the same clothes, he doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t care…”
“Psht. I’ll get him to talk, don’t worry.” Kibum looked at me. “Got any ideas for our project, Jongwoon?”
I stared at him, without saying a word, then looked back at my book.
“See? Completely impossible to work with him.” The girl scoffed. “Why don’t you just work with me?”
“We’ll be fine. This guy is really good at writing, you know. I’m sure we’ll be able to make a kick-ass writing piece together.” Kibum replied.
The bell rang, and I instantly got up. I was outta there.
“Hey!” a voice behind me said. “Hold up!”
I knew it was Kibum, but I wasn’t about to stop. There’s no way I’m talking to him.
“Aish, that boy…” Kibum sighed.
“That boy is going to be such a challenge for you to work with, Kibummie,” Mr.Kim said, spinning around in his chair. “If you even get a word from him, I’ll congratulate you.”
Kibum sat at the other side of his desk. “Is he really that weird?” he asked.
“I believe he’s just troubled. All we know about him is that his mother passed away when he was 12.” Mr.Kim said, reaching for his mug of coffee.
“Why don’t people like him?” Kibum played with the pencils in the pencil holder.
“Is the fact that he doesn’t speak a good enough reason?” Mr. Kim said, quite sarcastically.
“Mm. Is he…mute?”
“Dammit, Kibum, I don’t know. Nobody knows anything about him except that he’s weird.”
“I thought that as a teacher, you’d worry about him.” Kibum said.
Mr. Kim spun around in his chair again, completely ignoring him.
“Aish! you always ignore me, Kangin!” Kibum protested.
“Deal with it.” Mr.Kim vexed.
“So I was thinking that maybe we could meet up at your house and work on the project?” Kibum suggested, flipping through the pages of his notebook.
My eyes opened wide as soon as he said that. “No,” I instantly said. “You’re not coming to my house.”
“Okaaaay…what do you have in mind, then?” Kibum asked.
I didn’t respond.
“Look, if we’re gonna do this together, you have to talk to me.”
I was really annoyed now.
“I’m not doing this project, not with you.” I snapped at him. “I can do it on my own.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Mr.Kim said we HAVE to work with a partner. It’s a collaborative assignment.” He said, matter-of-factly.
“Well then.” I closed my school bag. “I guess I’ll just get an F.”
Kibum grabbed me. “I am not about to fail this project just because you refuse to cooperate with me.” He said, glaring at me.
I slowly turned. “Look. I’m not letting you use me for an A+.” I said, looking at him sharply.
“What makes you think I’m using you, just because I said you’re good?” he said. “I can write a good piece with my eyes closed. But I chose you because I think we can make a good team.” He let go and crossed his arms. “But if you want to be an outsider for the rest of your life, you’re doing a pretty good job at it right now.”
I clenched my fists, and shoved him. “Look, I don’t need you telling me who I am, like those other assholes!” I yelled. “I don’t care what you think of me, and I don’t care about your stupid F! And if you wanna talk shit about me turning you down to work as partners, then be my fucking guest!” I stormed out of the room.
“He completely turned me down, he was really pissed at me, Kangin hyung…” Kibum said.
“What did you say to him?” Mr.Kim asked.
“I said we made a good team.”
“What else?”
“…that if he wouldn’t cooperate, he’ll never belong.”
“You’re a fucking idiot~” Mr.Kim laughed so hard the janitor outside heard him over the vacuum.
“Okay, it’s really not that funny.” Kibum said. “It’s not like if everyone else tells him the same.”
“That’s what he hates, you can’t talk to him like that.” Mr.Kim said, trying to stop his laughter.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Kibum asked.
“Psht, I dunno! Figure it out yourself.” Mr. Kim said, carelessly.
“You’re useless.” Kibum walked out.
Of course I thought he was insane when he came up to apologize to me. Did he really care that much about a stupid grade?
“Listen, I’m sorry for what I said back there…” he began. He took a deep breath. “I honestly thought you’d like for someone to work with you…you look lonely.”
“I guess I’ve gotten used to it by now.” I pushed my hair back.
“Wait…you’re okay with being lonely?” Kibum asked me.
“It’s not that I’m okay, it’s just something I can’t avoid.” I bit my bottom lip.
“Why do you say that?” Kibum asked.
“Look…just…don’t talk to me.” I said. I wonder why talking to this guy made me feel even lonelier.
“He doesn’t speak to others because he feels that being lonely is something he can’t avoid.” Kibum said to Mr.Kim.
“How are you planning to change his attitude?” Mr.Kim asked, his legs crossed.
“I don’t know…but I’m not giving up on him just yet.” Kibum said, determined.
“I think loneliness is always avoidable.” Kibum said to me the next day at lunch.
I looked up at him. Why is this guy so persistent?
“I used to be lonely too, when I lived in California. I didn’t have any friends. I couldn’t communicate with people.” He said.
Yeah, but I bet you weren’t forced to have sex with your father, I thought.
“Yes…but your were among Americans.” I said. “You didn’t speak the same language, so of course you couldn’t communicate…”
“That’s not the point,” he broke in, realizing this was a horrible example.
“Then what is?” I asked, my eyes meeting his.
“The point was that I know what’s it’s like to be lonely.” Kibum said. “And you’re not even trying to fight back. I had to.”
“You pretend to know what I’m feeling…” I shook my head. “But nobody can feel what I feel. You haven’t gone through what I’ve gone through.”
“You say that, but no one knows anything about you. Maybe if you told someone, they’d understand.”
I just shook my head.
“I’m not going to leave you alone until you decide to give me a chance. Stop isolating yourself from the rest of the world already. I know there’s a warm, fun person in there.”
That’s were he was wrong…there used to be a happy, carefree little boy…but something, or someone, took him away.
I shot hoops in my backyard. Appa watched me from the window, drinking his usual booze. When I was younger, I remember Umma used to always come to my basketball games, cheering me on. It was what motivated me, what made me a good player. She’d be so disappointed now.
She took great pride in my talents. She always talked great things about me. I used to sing, but now there’s no reason to. All I do now is write. Appa used to always practice with me right on this very same backyard, Jongjin wanting to play with the ball too, while Umma watched us from the kitchen with a big smile on her face.
It was how things were supposed to be.
“You look like shit today, boy.” Appa said that night, pouring me a glass of soju.
I pushed my hair back with one hand. The room was hot, and very dim…we need some new lightbulbs.
I take a sip of the drink and let out a heavy sigh.
“Life is shit right now.” I said.
“Why you say that?” he asked me.
There was an eerie silence in the room.
“I miss umma.”
He loathes that word…especially when it comes out of my lips.
“What happened to your face?” Kibum asked me the next morning.
I bury my face behind my book. “Nothing.” I replied.
“It doesn’t look like it…” Kibum said.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said.
“I want to worry.” He said, pushing my book down.
Why did he care so much, anyways?
“I don’t think you’re weird, or a freak. You’re just misunderstood.” He said, softly. His face was close to mine. Did he really care?
I looked down at my book.
“How can I trust you, really?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. But what I do know is, I want to be your friend.” Kibum put a hand on my shoulder.
“Friend…”I said, softly.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked me, sitting at a bench by the beach.
I sat beside him and put my bag on my lap.
“I don’t know.” I said. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he said, confused. “Don’t you have a goal?”
I looked out at the ocean and watched the waves go back and forth. Always going back and forth, always ending up in the same place…
“I don’t know. I can never see myself as a grown man with a good job and a family.” I looked down at my old shoes.
“But…why?” was all he could say.
I was silent for a while.
“Did you ever stop to think what a caged bird must feel like?” I asked, rhetorically.
He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at me.
“Well, that’s how I feel. Like a caged bird just waiting to spread it’s wings and fly away.”
“Why?” he asked.
I looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“You ask too many questions.” I replied.
“Well, we’re friends now, right?” Kibum asked.
I slightly nodded.
“Then we have to get to know eachother.” he said, grinning.
I nodded and absent-mindedly traced the skull pattern on my bag.
It’s been so long since I’ve talked like this to anyone…I felt shy, but perhaps a little excited.
“I was finally able to get through him, but did you notice how he came with those bruises today?” Kibum said to Mr.Kim.
“What are you suggesting?” Mr.Kim was spinning around in his chair again.
Kibum rolled his eyes. “Something happened last night.” He said.
“You’re not gonna stalk him, are you?” Mr.Kim smirked. “You really care that much for him this early?”
“What are you trying to say, that I’m interested in him?” Kibum said, eyes big, voice slightly higher than usual.
“I don’t know…he is quite pretty if you leave out the whole poor look he has to him.” Mr.Kim.
“I will so tell him you’ve been checking him out.”
“Whatever. Do you even care for him, or are you just nosy?” Mr.Kim asked.
“I do care for him.” Kibum said, looking away. “I don’t want him to be sad anymore...I don't want him to be what I used to be.”
“You kind soul~” Mr.Kim cooed. “You always where the nice one.”
Kibum looked at the bird perched on the windowsill.
“He said he was like a caged bird…” Kibum said, softly. “…and I want to be the one to set him free.”
“That’s a pretty romantic line.” Mr.Kim pointed out.
“You just ruined the whole mood.” Kibum sighed.
“You came home later today.” It was the first thing Appa said when I stepped into the house.
I didn’t say anything, and went to my room to put my stuff down.
Appa stood by the doorway, attentively.
“Were you doing anything?” he asked.
I didn’t say anything.
“Answer me, boy!” he snapped at me, the way he did every time when I didn’t respond.
“That’s none of your concern. I’m home, aren’t I?” I glared at him.
He frowned. I had just successfully gotten under his skin.
“You better watch that mouth of yours, kid, before I fuck up the other half of that pretty face,” he hissed, his face an inch away from mine. “You’d better be here on time, or I will fuck you up, you hear?”
I didn’t say anything, just glared at him.
He smirked.
“Boy, do I love that look on your face when you’re mad.” He said, and stroked my hair.
“Don’t.touch me.” I said, backing away.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know, boy…I really like you when you follow orders…but when you get this stupid little teenage rebellion shit…I feel like I should kick your ass until you cry.” He said, quietly, but obviously irked.
“My name is Jongwoon, not boy.” I said. “And I’m not putting up with your shit, appa, not today.”
“Fuck, will you stop it with the appa already?!” he snapped.
“Why, huh?!” I yelled. “Because umma is gone, you’re not my appa anymore? What kind of bullshit is that?!”
“I’m not your appa…and you are not my son.” He said, turning away.
“Then why do we look the same?! Who are you?!” I demanded to know.
He suddenly turned and socked me in the face, and I went flying towards the ground.
I looked up at him, both of us breathing heavily. Blood ran down the corner of my mouth.
Umma always said I was the splitting image of my Appa when he was younger. It was impossible to deny I was his son. We even had the same smile.
…When was the last time Appa gave me that sweet smile again?
“You need a new makeover, Jongwoon. This gloomy image, it doesn’t bring out your cutene-handsome…ness.” Kibum said, blushing.
“…How are we going to do that?” I asked. “I don’t have any money…”
“My aunt is a really good hair-stylist. And don’t worry, I’ll pay the clothing for you.” Kibum reassured.
“Y-you’ll pay? You have that kind of money?” I asked, voice high-pitched with surprise.
Kibum nodded. “So wanna have a go in changing your image?” he asked.
I looked down. If I went, Appa would give me a beating once I got back home. If I ask him during the weekend, he won’t let me go at all.
“Sure,” I found myself saying.
Kibum put an arm over my shoulder and led me to his shiny, new car.
We were friends, but I envied him so much. He had everything.
We stopped in front of a big, white house. It looked fake, like a doll house, with flowers decorating the windowsills, and flowers growing in the front yard, and the windows were so clean and spotless that, if it wasn’t for the curtains covering it, you’d think the house had no windows at all. It was the type of house I wish I lived in, although we lived in something similar when I was really little.
“Please take your shoes off and leave them by the door, Jongwoon.” Kibum said, opening the door. He took off his shoes, and left them by the door.
“Imo~” Kibum called out. “I’m here!”
A short, skinny lady, possibly in her 30’s, walked into the living room. She had short, straight black hair, and wore a tank top and loose-fitting pants.
“Ah, Kibum,” she said, smiling. “Welcome back!” she gave him a kiss on the cheek. She noticed me, struggling to take my shoes off at the door.
“Who’s this? A friend?”
“Yes, imo, this is Jongwoon.” Kibum introduced. “Jongwoon, imo.”
I bowed to her. I glanced at Kibum, waiting for him to explain why I was here.
“Oh,” he said. “Imo, I brought Jongwoon over because we’re changing his image a little bit. I was hoping you could do his hair, maybe give him a haircut?”
I played with my long hair as he spoke, holding it up to my nose.
“Oh, of course!” she grinned from ear to ear. “Let me just get my supplies ready.”
I watched her walk away and disappear into one of the rooms in the hallway, then I turned to Kibum.
“Do you live here?” I asked him as he sat down comfortably at the couch and turned on the TV.
“Mm-hmm,” he said.
“Where’s your umma and appa?” I asked.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you..they died a long time ago.” He answered.
Except for the TV and Kibum’s imo getting ready, everything was silent.
There were questions I wanted to ask: about how he felt, about how he dealt with it, and what happened to his parents…but I didn’t know where to start. I kept quiet.