twenty three.
lather, rinse, repeatHimchan and Daehyun made an odd pair. A strangely odd pair that seemed to get along perfectly well in every little thing they did. I was jeaous; but of whom, I wasn’t quite sure yet. Both with a seemingly impossible to quench round of energy, I wasn’t sure how exactly I was meant to keep up with them.
It almost felt as if they were the brothers, and me the unwanted friend who’d decided to tag along.
And sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been adopted.
In all my life, living under the constant pestering care of Himchan, I’d realized that I was completely different from him. Education had never been a problem for him, neither had sports. He was popular; I wasn’t.
But most importantly: he was pretty, I wasn’t.
Genetics had really been an unfair in overseeing our births. It had decided to adjust all the good chromosomes of our parents in Himchan’s favor, while twisting it in all the wrong direction and shape for me. I was obviously the unwanted puppy of the litter – the deformed little thing no one could possibly love. Not even my parents. Fat and stupid, everyone knew that I was the child-gone-wrong of our family.
For sure, it would have made so much more sense had Daehyun been the second son of our family than me. It would have made for a much happier family portrait than it was now.
“Himchan?”
Unlike my brother and my so-called friend, I was easy to tire and by the end of the evening, I had been left slumped against Himchan’s side as he guided me to the subway. He let me rest, eyes closed and leaned up against his shoulder as the train rumbled on.
Having to go back to work – his night shift at that convenience store still awaited him – Daehyun had waved bye and disappeared off to a different line a number of minutes ago, leaving it to be just me and Himchan again. The silence was almost deafening now, though I won’t say I missed Daehyun’s constantly rambling.
“Do you sometimes regret me being your younger brother?”
I could feel his shoulders tense under me. My question had caught him off guard, I could tell.
It took a minute – a minute too long – for him to reply, a heavy sigh signaling the beginning of his rant. “Why would you think that?” I shrugged half-heartedly. I didn’t need Himchan to tell me face-to-face to realize that I wasn’t actually loved. “Get that thought out of your head. You’re my younger brother and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I could have argued back to his statement – growing up, we’d spat less-than-sweet words back and forth – but decided against doing so. I thought, hoped, I deserved at least so much to maintain my already too low self-confidence.
“But him, your friend,” humming, his hand came down to my thighs, giving it a light pat, squeezing the fat between his fingers – making me squirm –, “his name is Daehyun, right?”
Jung Daehyun. The world’s great idiot, but at the same time, the best friend anyone could possibly ask for.
“I like him. You should hang out with him more often.”
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