The Person in the Mirror
Marks.
Touching the cool surface of the mirror, I look at the person, covered in his marks.
Slowly, my hand moves from the mirror, towards, but away from the person, and I watch the hand of the person in the mirror with blank eyes. The person rubs the marks gently, tears forming in their eyes as the hands trace over each mark individually.
Lips whisper words in the mirror, that cannot reach the owner’s ears as the tears slowly fall down the cheeks of the person in the mirror. I sink down to the floor, and I lie, exposed on it, feeling my cheeks getting wetter and my body getting colder.
And I fall asleep, wishing away the person in the mirror.
“It’s a new beginning, our dearest son; you should be happy.”
What is happiness?
I smile at my parents and say, “I’m very happy.”
Like a good boy should.
Like they want me to.
I leave the house a bit early, the music of some new band that I said I liked blaring through my ears.
This way, I wouldn’t have to think, or at least, listen to myself think.
I stood at the bus stop, looking around at the people who could me possible classmates, or at least, schoolmates. I lock eyes with some boy, also staring my way, and I smile that very same smile I used with my parents.
One that people believe because it’s easier to.
He smiled back, and walked over to me, surprising me a bit.
I’ll have to make friends with him, now, huh?
“Hey, haven’t seen you around before. You new?” He asked, looking at me curiously.
I observed him quietly, noting his straight, neat uniform that looked almost as new as mine, and said, “Ah, yes. I’m transferring into this school today from Seoul.”
One of the boy’s eyebrows lifted, noticing my polite speech, and asked, “What grade are you in?” I had already guessed that he was either a second or third year, by his appearance, but I knew I didn’t look my age, so I was expecting this reaction.
And, I had a pretty good idea what his second reaction would be when I said, “I’m in the first year.”
Bingo.
His eyes widened, taking me in again. “Wah, you’re really tall! I thought you’d be a third year like me, but you’re actually a first year? Amazing!” I almost flinched, I had been expecting ridicule or bullying for my height.
The bus came then, and I was slightly relieved that I wouldn’t have to talk or think about my actions anymore.
Needless to say, I was shocked when he patted me on the shoulder, and said, “Let’s sit together on the bus, ‘kay?”
I stopped myself from flinching against his touch, my heart pounding in my chest, hard.
I wanted to rip his hand off, that hand that was touching me.
But, I just made a fist by my side.
And I smiled at him.
Even if it went against everything I had told myself.
“’Kay.”
His name is Yoon Doojoon.
He rides the same bus as I do.
He wears glasses when he reads.
He takes pride in being the class president of 3-B.
He seems to love soccer, as he talks about it a lot, and has even invited me to play with some of his friends.
He snores when he naps on the bus.
He’s a good student.
He has many admirers.
Both male and female.
He views me as a valuable dongsaeng.
I let him.
I might be falling in love with him.
I flipped through my textbook, just to do something with my hands. A boy from my class that I had recently befriended came over, and started talking to me about his boyfriend. He had figured out my orientation a little over a week ago, and decided that we should become friends. I half-listened to him, making little sounds of interest every now and then.
It had been two months.
Two months since I came to this town.
This school.
Since I started riding that bus.
With hyung.
“Are you listening, babe?”
I glanced at my friend, remembering only then that his name was Lee Kikwang.
He liked to give people nicknames.
Mine was ‘babe’.
“Of course, Kwangie. This guy, Yoseob, must be something, huh?”
“He really is,” Kikwang sighed with happiness, and I wanted nothing more than to hit him.
I don’t know why.
Must be envy.
I nodded, smiling at him, and then the bell rang.
“See you later, gotta go see my Seobie.”
I watched him walk off, smiling contentedly.
Time to see hyung.
“Dongwoon-ah!”
I turned towards the source of my name, smiling out of habit at the sight of him.
Doojoon.
“Hello.”
Doojoon put his arm around my shoulders, something he often did, and leaned against me, sighing. I glanced at
him, not knowing what to do. Despite his energetic greeting, why was he like this? We stood there in silence for a
moment.
His eyes were closed, and it looked like he was in deep thought.
My eyes were open, watching him.
And then the bus came, and that one, endless moment, was over so quickly.
Too quickly.
His eyes opened, and he gave me a heartbroken smile.
I was in shock.
Later that night, I lie in bed, thinking about that smile.
My only coherent thought was,
Why?
I didn’t sleep.
Seeing him the next morning, I began to wonder if I had imagined that smile.
But, I hadn’t.
Something was troubling him; he didn’t sling his arm over my shoulder like he always did. He didn’t smile as much on the ride to school, even when I tried so hard to make him laugh. He seemed to be looking at me through glazed eyes, thinking about something else, and I was so angry.
So angry.
That he wasn’t paying attention to me.
That he wasn’t smiling despite my efforts.
But, I was more angry at my inability to do anything for him.
“Dongwoon. Son Dongwoon.”
I looked up, towards the door of our classroom, ignoring Kikwang who was talking beside me.
And there he was.
Yoon Doojoon.
Our eyes met, and he beckoned me to the door.
I stood up immediately, startling Kikwang.
"Where the hell are you going?"
I ignored him and the stares of my classmates as I walked out of the classroom with hyung.
Is this a dream?
I wondered as my eyes slid shut and a low moan escaped my lips.
Doojoon’s lip were on mine, his hands in places he’s never touched me, his body pressed against mine and my body pressed against the cold wall of the boys’ bathroom.
My nails dug into his shoulders as he deepened the kiss.
Images flooded my mind.
Images of him.
On top of me.
Raping me.
I pushed Doojoon away, but kept my grip on him, my head falling onto his chest as I choked back sobs.
His eyes widened in alarm, and his arms wrapped around me as we slid to the floor.
He pulled me onto his lap, holding me tight to his body.
He began to softly apologize, running his fingers through my hair as I cried.
The last thing I felt was hyung’s warm hand running through my hair before I fell asleep.
I awoke in my bed, Doojoon nowhere in sight.
I felt fear for the first time in a long time.
I fumbled for my cell phone, and dialed his number.
Three rings, and he didn’t pick up.
I called again; still no answer.
I glanced at the clock: 2:35 am.
I put the phone down and hugged my knees to my chest, trying to remember the kiss.
But all I could remember were his hands, no matter how badly I wanted to forget.
I shook my head to clear away the thoughts, willing myself not to cry.
I hung onto the faint, whispery memory of Doojoon running his fingers through my hair.
And I fell asleep, feeling as if hyung was singing me a lullaby from somewhere far away.
How did he find me?
Why now?
Why now, when I was just feeling happy?
I had a lot of questions when I saw him standing in my way to the bus stop.
Hwang Chansung.
Oh, God, why was he here?
He smiled at me the way he always did, and held his arms out to me, stepping closer.
“It’s been awhile, Woonie. I’ve missed you so, so much.”
I stumbled backwards, getting ready to run the opposite direction, when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him.
He crashed his lips down on mine, his other hand on my neck, holding me in places as he forced my lips to part.
I tried to kick him, but my legs were too weak to move all of the sudden.
I noticed he was actually supporting me with his grip on my hand behind my back, because otherwise, I would’ve fallen onto my knees.
It was the same.
The same as before.
His tongue invaded me, and I felt my eyes water, just like before.
Just like all the times he raped me.
I shut my eyes, accepting it, like I had so many other times before.
Then, suddenly, I didn’t feel those lips on mine or that tongue in my mouth.
I didn’t feel the hand binding my wrist behind my back.
I just felt warm arms wrapping themselves around me and myself moving.
I blacked out from relief, smiling slightly, because those arms were so wonderful and so familiar.
“Hyung.”
I took his face in my hand, kissing him on the forehead and stroking his hair rhythmically, whispering assurances to him.
He held the hand that was touching his face and pressed it there harder, his other arm wrapped around my waist protectively.
We were in my room, hours later, and the warm sunshine filtered through the window as I sat in his lap.
I fell asleep in his arms, feeling warm for the first time in awhile.
I woke up later, feeling like a new person.
I looked at the person who changed me, hints of a smile on his face.
Then, I looked in the mirror across the room, hanging from the wall.
And saw us in it.
Together.
I realized I no longer hated the person in the mirror.
___________________________________
Sequels, there shall be. c:
For the other pairings, though.
I close the book on these two.
Ah, please comment if you'd like. ^^
My first fic.
<3