It had started with a crowd.

Heechul remembers it as if it had been yesterday. 

The first time, he’d been calmly making his way over to his last class of the day, a binder clutched in his hand and his school bag slung over his shoulder lazily.  The day had been boring and long and tiresome and he’d wanted nothing more than to go home and feel his bed under him.  He recalls feeling rather lethargic right before he’d turned into the hallway before the one his class had been in and seeing it all happen.

There, in the center of the hall, was a crowd of students of all ages, it seemed, circling around some attraction in the middle.  Girls in the outer rings of the circle were walking around frantically, jumping every so often to look over the shoulders of the uniformed boys who were leaning over each other’s shoulders to get a view of what was happening.  He’d pursed his lips and slowed his walking a few steps further into the hall, coming to a stop a good twenty meters from the large group of students.  They’d seemed restless, loud chatter escaping in the form of jumbled, incoherent sentence fragments and jarred speech patterns.  He’d frowned at the noise.

A sound had soon broken over the voices in the crowd, coming out loud and clear and chilling Heechul to the bone as he’d realized what was happening.

It had been deep but fragile, loud but weak, and above all horribly, terribly pained.

A scream.  A deeply terrified and horribly pained scream.  Heechul knew exactly what was happening now.  The pieces had come together with that scream and he’d felt himself rushing forward into the crowd of students, latching a hand onto the strap of the bag that was hanging off his shoulder and tightening his grip on his binder so as to not lose it.  He’d pushed through the people, not bothering to apologize as he fought to make his way toward the center to get a better view of what was happening.

In all honesty, he hadn’t been planning on doing anything special when he finally did reach the front and had a clear view of what was going on.  He’d simply planned on edging in and watching the two students – whoever they were – fight it out until either a staff member dragged them away or until the two simply couldn’t anymore.  However, he also hadn’t been planning on seeing four boys ganging up on what, at the time, had appeared to be a small, dark-haired kid curled into a ball with his arms covering his face in an effort to protect his head and stomach.

His blood had started boiling the moment he had been able to make sense of the situation.  He’d taken two long strides into the center of the circle, face twisting into a searing glare as he’d yanked the nearest attacker away from the boy by the arm, letting his binder fall to the floor.

“Yah,” he’d shouted as he’d shoved the first one away and pulled back a second one, pushing this one away from the victimized boy as well.  “What the hell is wrong with you?  Why are you all attacking him?”  His voice had been loud, even to his own ears, and very, very angry, because if there was something Heechul despised, it had always been the mistreatment of others.  The other two boys whom he hadn’t touched had both stopped their advancements toward the victim at the sound of his voice and whirled to face him, eyes wide in shock for a moment before narrowing into angered slits.

“What’s it to you,” one of the ones he hadn’t torn away from the kid himself had asked, brows furrowed into a glare that maybe would’ve registered as threatening had Heechul not been so ridiculously pissed off.

“It’s not right to gang up on other people, you twit!  Or were you not taught better when you were younger?  Look at him,” Heechul had spat as he’d pointed at the now whimpering body on the floor.  “What the hell did he ever do to you to deserve something like this?  He doesn’t look like he did anything at all.  As a matter of fact, he looks terrified and hurt for no apparent reason, you .  What the hell could he have possibly done?”

The one that had spoken first out of the group of four, the taller out of the two that he hadn’t laid a finger on Heechul had noticed, had only started glaring at Heechul harder before turning to look at the boy on the floor with a look of disgust etched on his face.  “He’s not from here, the bastard,” he’d said, spitting onto the floor right next to the kid.  “The damn guy’s from China; he doesn’t belong here.”  He’d edged closer to the kid as he’d spoken, the boy sensing this and letting out a particularly loud whimper.

Heechul had given the bully no time to do anything.  He’d stepped in the boy’s way and given him one of his fiercest glares, both warning him and challenging him with his eyes to dare to take another step.  The boy had glared right back, but he’d stopped dead in his tracks, body visibly tensed in front of Heechul as he’d scanned the angry boy’s threatening gaze and shoulder-length hair.  Heechul had seen the boy’s lips twitch upward briefly in amusement before he’d said, “You look like a girl.”

He hadn’t hesitated in punching the boy in the face.

The boy had fallen flat on his , face contorted into a mixture of shock and pain as his hand flew up to cover his now gushing nose.  “Shut your trap, you useless piece of garbage,” Heechul had shouted at him furiously. “If anyone doesn’t belong here, it’s you, so get the hell out of my sight.”

The boy had quickly heeded Heechul’s words, standing up and forcing his way through the crowd of students, who all had quickly parted off in the end in an effort to save their uniforms the torture that were blood stains.  Heechul had turned to the other three still standing in the middle of the circle staring at him in shock, arms spread out defensively as he stood before the boy to prevent them from coming any closer, before he’d said, “You three, too!  Get out of my sight before I do something you won’t like!”

They had needed no other warning; they were out of Heechul’s sight within seconds.  He’d narrowed his eyes and watched them turn the corner for a moment before turning to the crowd and telling them to “go wherever it was they needed to go, the bell was going to ring soon damn it and they should’ve felt horrible about watching some poor innocent get beat up just because he was from another country.”  He’d made sure they were all cleared out, watching every single one slip either out of the hall or into their classrooms as the bell rang, signaling the beginning of class.

He’d then turned and kneeled down next to the boy, who was still whimpering softly in pain from his spot on the floor.  His hair was matted and sweaty, sticking to his forehead as he let out labored, weak breaths, light tremors taking over his body – either from fear or pain, Heechul could not decipher.  He’d gently, ever so gently, wrapped his hand around one of the wrists covering the boy’s face and tugged it away.  The boy had tensed at his touch, almost immediately resisting and trying to keep his arm in front of his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Heechul had cooed, running his thumb over the back of the boys hand softly as he’d gently pulled the boy’s hand down and reached for the other one, doing the same when he’d managed to wrap his hand around that one as well.  The boy had had his eyes squeezed shut, absolutely willing himself to not look at whomever was in front of him.  Heechul’s brow had puckered into a frown at the sight.  He’d lifted once of his hands to run his thumb over the boy’s sweaty forehead, ignoring the sweat in favor of pushing the hair away from his face.  The boy had seemed to relax at the soothing touch.  He’d opened his eyes slowly after a moment, looking up at Heechul with dark, broad and scared eyes.  Heechul had given him a reassuring smile, signaling him that everything was okay.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” he’d said softly, continuing to run his thumb over the kid’s forehead.  The kid, in turn, had sat there for a short while simply staring back at him with those big, dark eyes of his, seeming to assess the boy in front of him.  Heechul had given the kid a concerned look before running his hand down from the boy’s forehead to his cheek and letting it rest there.  “Hey, it’s okay,” he’d said, “I’m not going to hurt you.  I’m here to help you.”

Silence had reigned between them for a few brief seconds before the boy had spoken in a voice so soft and pained it was barely audible: “Dui bu qi.  Wo bu zhidao ni shuo shen me.”

It had hit Heechul then that the boy didn’t know a word of Korean.  He’d mentally slapped himself and let out a small sigh; then he’d given the boy a kind smile – a rarity for Kim Heechul, who only smiled when amused.  He’d held out his other hand for the boy to take, pulling him up when the boy got the message and lightly placed his hand in Heechul’s. 

Heechul had then helped the boy weakly walk over to the infirmary and explained to the nurse what had happened, effectively getting the four boys who had done the abusing suspended and severely punished and getting the injured boy treated for all of his wounds.  Heechul had skipped his last period to make sure the boy was alright and well taken care of.  He’d smiled when the boy had mumbled out a soft “xie xie nin” before succumbing to sleep.  Heechul didn’t know Chinese, but he could recognize gratitude in almost any language.

“You’re welcome,” he’d whispered before grabbing his things and exiting the room, glancing back one last time to take in the face of the boy resting peacefully on the all white bed.  It had been a Friday.

The second time had taken place a few weeks later.  Heechul had seen neither hide nor hair of the boy he had saved from the bullies that day; he had not seen the bullies themselves as well.  As per usual for a weekday, he had just finished placing his math book in his locker and was halfway down to the cafeteria when he’d heard it surround him.

It had been mocking and cold, cruel and amused, reveling in the sanctity that was someone else’s misery.

Laughter.  Raw and cruelly amused laughter.  And it had only gotten louder as he’d made his way nearer to the cafeteria.  He’d frowned upon reaching the metal cafeteria doors and seeing a masked male student walking through the hallway with his head bowed and hands clasped tightly together as he walked.  He’d taken large steps, the student had, as if he were dying to escape the judging eyes and relentless laughter that had followed him along as he’d walked.  Heechul had the tingling suspicion that the figure was familiar.

The giggles and chuckles that had been escaping the other students in the hall only intensified when the kid had tripped over someone’s outreached leg and fallen to the floor, just barely catching himself so that his masked face wouldn’t come into contact with the hard, white linoleum tiles that lined the halls.  Full blown had laughter erupted from every student’s mouth that hadn’t been Heechul’s; he had just glared angrily at the people around him.

He’d seen the boy curl up into a ball with his elbows on the floor, uninjured physically but refusing to stand up out of sheer embarrassment and shame.  Heechul’s anger had peaked.

“Yah,” he’d shouted as he’d lifted his enraged gaze to meet every pair of amused eyes in the room.  “Shut up!  This isn’t funny!  He isn’t doing it for your entertainment!  Look at him,” he yelled, pointing at the boy who was curled up on the floor, body trembling as soft sobs escaped.  “He isn’t trying to be funny!  He’s being bullied, you big bunch of geniuses, and you’re not helping the situation.  I may not be the smartest person, but at least I know what’s wrong and what’s right!”

He’d stepped over to the boy curled up on the floor and crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his back and removing the mask gently but swiftly from the boy’s face.  Heechul had felt his heart drop in sympathy for the victim; it had been the same boy who’d been beaten up by those four bullies a few weeks prior.  The boy had seemed to have noticed the mask had been removed and had hurriedly buried his face in his arms.

Heechul had felt a concerned frown making its impression on his face.  “Hey, don’t do that.  It’s okay now,” he’d cooed, softly running his hand through the boy’s dark locks.  “It’s alright; no one’s going to do anything,” the second part a threatening warning to the students in the hall watching the scene intently.  “As a matter of fact, they’re all heading to where they need to be.”  He’d thrown all of the students a harsh look which, of course, they’d understood and heeded.

The boy did not move; he only continued to sob quietly into his sleeves in his curled position on the floor.  Heechul waited a moment before trying again.  “C’mon, it’s okay.  I’m here.  I won’t let anything happen to you.”  He’d remember those words so clearly when he was older, although he’d never have been able to imagine it at the time.

Time seemed to slow down and take an eternity all at once as Heechul waited, crouched down next to that boy and rubbing his back soothingly, before the boy had finally made a semblance of movement and shifted his head to look at Heechul through one puffy, red-rimmed eye.  Heechul had given him the same reassuring smile he’d given him the first time he’d helped the boy out, ushering all of his concern and care onto his face.  The boy had simply continued to stare at Heechul for a long while before closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath.  He’d sat up onto his knees, Heechul’s hand sliding off his back and falling back to his side, and looked up at Heechul with those big, dark, red-rimmed eyes.

“Xie xie nin,” he’d repeated, twice as gratefully and alertly as the first time.  He’d silenced then and glanced unsurely at the floor then, frowning, seeming to be thinking about something excruciatingly hard.  Heechul had edged forward a bit in worry, hoping the boy wasn’t hurt in any way or thinking he deserved any of what he had been receiving from the students.  A few more seconds had passed in tense silence for Heechul before the boy turned back to face him and said, in a light accent, “Gamsahamnida.”

Heechul remembers feeling his face contort into one of surprise before he’d smiled kindly – still a rarity for Kim Heechul no matter the circumstance – and nodded his head in acknowledgement at the boy before him.  “You’re welcome,” he’d said softly, sweetly, before reaching out a hand for the boy to take.  The boy had received the message much faster the second time around and placed his hand in Heechul’s.  Heechul had pulled him to his feet easily and assessed his figure once more to verify that he was not injured before speaking to the boy again.  “Don’t let them get you down,” he’d said, placing a hand on the boy’s forehead.  “Just remember you’re better than letting someone put you down, and if you ever need reminding, I’m here for you.”

The boy had just looked at him blankly for a moment.  Heechul had known perfectly well the kid couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but judging by the smile that had adorned his face a few moments later, the kid had understood the caring and gentle tone Heechul had used and gotten the gist of what he'd said.  “I’m your friend,” Heechul had said after only a slight moment of hesitation.  “I’ll be here for you; I won’t let anything happen to you.  I promise.”  He’d held out his pinky then, in a sign to show the other he planned on keeping his word.

The boy had stared at Heechul’s thin pinky for a moment before gently wrapping his own around it.  His gaze had met Heechul’s, dark eyes glimmering with gratitude and shining with kindness.  “Ni shi wo de peng you ma,” he’d said after a moment, clearly posing a question.  Heechul had frowned, not understanding what it meant.  He’d felt a soft tug on his pinky and watched as the boy before him pulled it up to eye level.  “F-friend,” the boy had sounded out in his accent, brows furrowed in concentration.  “Peng you,” he repeated in Chinese.

Oh.  Oh.

He had been questioning about Heechul being his friend.  Heechul had let the smile he’d lost before stretch over his lips again.  “Peng you,” he had repeated as best as he could.  “I promise,” he’d said, holding their pinkies up higher to signify his words.  The boy had returned Heechul’s expression with a smile that had made Heechul’s heart briefly stop before slamming back into his ribcage.  “Xie xi – a – gamsahamnida.”  It had been a Wednesday.

The third time, there had been no incident of bullying.  There had been no crowd and no cruel laughter, no bullies and no whimpering or sobs of pain.  There had been no anger, no rage, no arguments, fights, or scoldings.  There had been no injuries, no abuses, and no emotional or mental scarring.  There had only been them.

It had been four months after the last incident, and so much had changed over those four months.  Heechul had ended up spending more and more of his time with the easily targeted Chinese boy – Hangeng was his name, he’d learned early on – and they’d become practically inseparable.  He’d had a large group of friends before meeting Hangeng, but none had clicked with him as well as Hangeng had. 

He’d found it amazing how someone who could barely speak the same language as him could understand him so well.  He’d been thoroughly impressed by how well they had ended up complimenting each other; Hangeng’s nature was quiet and observant, Heechul’s hot-headed and excitable.  Despite the huge difference, the two had learned that they worked well with each other.  As a result, they had not left each other alone whenever possible.

They had learned so much about each other, so so so much.  In those short few months, their friendship had reached the point where Heechul could cry in front of Hangeng and feel safe – a feat that no one else had managed to accomplish, much less in such a short time.  He’d only done it once, but Hangeng had pulled him into his warm arms tightly, rubbing his back and soothing him and whispering softly to him in Chinese until he’d fallen asleep in the boy’s arms.

In those few short months, Heechul had learned that Hangeng had had no other friends before Heechul in Korea, as he had just recently moved with his parents from China.  He’d also learned that that was the reason Hangeng could speak so little Korean.  He’d ended up trying his best to teach his best friend Korean and had succeeded in teaching him a whole lot of conversational things – specifically curse words, although he would never admit it publicly.  He’d managed to break one of the biggest barriers their friendship had easily, although even before then they had had their own way of understanding each other.

The third time, there had indeed been an incident, although not one that was malicious.  The third time, there had been an empty park and equally deserted swings.  The third time, it had been dark outside, and only a few streetlamps had lit the park that night.  The third time, the sky had been painted a deep blue so dark it was almost black, even with the billions of stars scattered across it.  The third time, the boys had decided to hang out around town after school and had stayed out longer than they’d planned to, although they hadn’t minded.  The third time, they had found the empty park, deserted swings, and decided to relax for a bit before heading home.  The third time, they had decided to just sit on the swings and point out constellations for a while before going to Heechul’s, whose house they had unanimously decided would shelter both of them for the night.  The third time, they had ended up showing their gratitude to each other for each other in a way that hadn’t crossed their minds until it happened.

Heechul had just pointed out the big dipper, grinning happily at his best friend, who had given him a gentle smile back in return.  A comfortable silence had overtaken them for a while afterward as they both searched the sky for more constellations, the faint humming of a car passing by the empty park every once in a while managing to reach them.  It was a silence that had only truly broken when Hangeng yawned lightly.  Heechul had turned and chuckled amusedly at his best friend.  “Sleepy, there Hannie?”

Hangeng had flashed him a soft, tired smile, but had shaken his head.  “No, it’s okay.  I just want to stay here a bit longer,” he’d said, his accent not as thick as when Heechul had first heard him speak Korean, although still there, proudly.  Heechul had long before decided that, of all of the things he liked about Hangeng, his accent was one of them.  It made the boy so much more unique; he’d even questioned whether or not it was indeed the boy’s language barrier that had made them as close as they were now, that had made it possible for their friendship to blossom so fully, that had allowed them to step onto a level of friendships that all of their other friendships could not, because they understood and complimented each other so well, and they knew it.

“Okay,” Heechul had responded with softly, “we can stay a bit longer.  Just let me know when you’re ready.”  He’d seen Hangeng nod from the corner of his eye, the smile he had broadening as he looked up at the stars.  It hadn’t been long before he pointed out yet another constellation.  Heechul smiled and nodded at his best friend, letting his eyes follow the finger Hangeng was pointing with up to the picture in the sky before letting them follow the same finger down to Hangeng’s face.  His stomach had flipped as he’d taken in the happiness in the boy’s dark eyes, the way his lips had curved up in his perfect smile.

Hangeng must’ve felt Heechul staring at him, for he'd turned his head and glanced over at the long-haired boy, tilting his head to the side.  “Are you okay, Heechul?” 

Despite being younger than him, Heechul had told Hangeng to not worry about the hyung suffix early on in their friendship, as they were best friends and formal titles didn’t matter to him with Hangeng.  The boy had merely nodded in agreement then, calm and quiet as always.  Perhaps that was why Heechul enjoyed his company; it was a beautiful contrast to the loud, rambunctious group of friends they were usually around.

Heechul had trailed his eyes from Hangeng’s smiling lips up to his eyes, meeting his gaze, and given him a smile.  “Yeah, I’m fine, Hannie.”  He’d pushed his swing with his feet a bit, allowing it to rock back and forth as he’d brought his gaze back up to the sky.  “Are you sure,” the other had asked after a while.  Heechul had turned his head to look at him again and felt his stomach flop all over again.  For some reason unbeknownst to Heechul at the time, the concerned look on Hangeng’s face had made him feel a bit lightheaded; it hadn’t been the first time.

As a matter of fact, over the course of the four months that they’d been friends, Heechul had had the stomach flips and odd lightheadedness – many times, countless times.  He’d never voiced it aloud, not even to his best friend.  He hadn’t been sure of what it was and either way, it didn’t bother him; it was almost an uncomfortably pleasant feeling, even if he hadn’t known the reason – at least until it started guiding him, as it had been doing within the last few seconds.

He hadn’t known he was doing it, but Heechul had been edging closer and closer to Hangeng slowly with his swing, eyes glazed over for reasons he could not fathom into words in that moment, reasons he could not even make tangible in thoughts until later that night.  Before he’d realized it, he’d been pressing his lips, gently, oh so gently, against Hangeng’s, eyes shut and the flips in his stomach bursting into a million butterflies fluttering around wildly within him.

What had finally snapped him out of his reverie had been Hangeng pressing his lips softly back against his own.  His eyes had flown open suddenly, although for the first few fractions of a second, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to pull away from Hangeng.  He had, instead, within those first few fractions, studied the contours of the other’s face, taking in how beautifully dark his lashes were against his pale cheeks, his eyes closed in the most peaceful face Heechul had ever seen on him.

He’d pulled back after Hangeng’s face like that was imprinted in his mind, sitting behind his eyelids every time he’d blinked.  He’d sat back on his swing and watched as Hangeng’s eyes slowly opened, a small breath escaping the dark haired boy as he’d met Heechul’s gaze.  Silence reigned between them again for a moment before Hangeng smiled at Heechul and said, “Gamsahamnida.”  It had been a Tuesday.

Heechul smiles as the sunlight pours through the window, highlighting the soft, pale yellow walls of his room as he stretches in his spot and glances up at the person holding him close underneath the covers, a strong arm wrapped tightly around his thin waist.  He carefully examines the straight-bridged nose, the thin-but-not-too-thin lips, the dark hair falling softly against a smooth forehead and the closed eyes that give the whole face a sense of peace and relaxation.

His smile broadens as he attempts to wiggle lightly out of the man’s grip, trying to ease his way up so that they’re face to face rather than with Heechul’s face buried into his neck.  The man senses the movement and lets out a small groan in his sleep, tightening his arm around Heechul’s waist.  A small, quiet laugh escapes Heechul as he struggles against the tightened grip, using his elbow as leverage to ease himself up.

He only gets so far before the man facing him grumbles and wraps his other arm around him, rolling over onto his back with Heechul lying on top of him.  He blinks a dark and bleary eye open, looking up at Heechul sleepily.  Heechul, in turn, smiles lovingly down at him before placing his hands on the man’s shoulders and easing his way up.  The man instinctually closes his eyes as Heechul places a light kiss on each eyelid.  “Good morning, Hannie,” he says after he shifts back down to where Hangeng had placed him on his chest.  Hangeng smiles sleepily, lifting a hand to rub his right eye.  “Good morning, Chullie,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“How was your sleep?”  Heechul grins at the look Hangeng gives him for the question.  “It was good, I guess,” Hangeng replies after a moment, “but it would’ve been better if someone had just stayed in his spot for a while longer.”  Heechul’s laugh is short but honest, although surprisingly soft compared to how loud it typically is.  “I got bored and hungry; I’ve been awake for an hour.”  He places his head on his arms on Hangeng’s chest, glancing up at the dark haired man who looks right back at him.

A short moment of silence surrounds them, playful in nature thanks to the mischief evident in Heechul’s eyes.  Hangeng lets a small chuckle escape before saying, “Okay, okay, fine.  I’ll get up and make you breakfast.”  Heechul smiles and props himself up to place a tender kiss on Hangeng’s lips.  “Thank you, Hannie.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” is the only response he receives as he clambers off of the man and makes his way to the bathroom.  “I love you too, Hannie, don’t worry,” he throws over his shoulder, a happy laugh escaping him as he enters the next room.

The first time Heechul had seen Hangeng, he’d felt a simple need to defend the innocent victimized in his school, but that first time had led to much more – so much more.  It had led to a second time, and then a third time, and that third time had completely changed his life for the better.  He’d made a friend, found a best friend, and found love all within the same person.  He’d found the one person that could make him feel whole and chase away any loneliness, even if the rest of the world’s population had ceased to exist.

It had been four years – four beautiful, long and yet still seemingly short, fun-filled, constellation-finding, empty park visiting, breakfast making, embracing, kissing, hand-holding, and loving years since Heechul had met Hangeng.  And they had been the happiest four years of his life so far.

Heechul exits the bathroom, running a hand through his long hair and making his way over to the kitchen where Hangeng has already set up the ingredients to make breakfast.  He smiles at how concentrated the other looks while mixing and stirring, ensuring that each amount is right and precise and that each added ingredient goes well with the one prior.  It isn’t long before Heechul can no longer resist the temptation and has to slip his arms around the other’s waist, leaning his head against Hangeng’s back.

“I love you, Hannie,” he says softly, the smile on his lips gentle and caring.

“I love you too, Chullie,” he hears Hangeng respond, his own smile evident through his voice as well. 

Holding the love of his life like this, Heechul decides that he would prefer his life no other way; he owes it all to that first time.

It was a Sunday.

And it had all started with a crowd.

Well this took really long to write (I just spent the last five hours writing this up). I hope it was worth it and that you guys enjoyed it; I'm actually pretty happy with the way it turned out. (: