Joonmyeon would arrive every day bringing his own lunch and peering over Jongdae’s shoulders trying to snatch a decent look or two at the photographs, but was most of the time blocked by a hand that would wave in front of his face, unabling him to see properly. In the end they would talk; Joonmyeon with his mouth full of food, oftenmuch choking on the bits whilst laughing, and Jongdae would listen quietly his antics, sometimes sharing his own too.

 

And Joonmyeon more than often tried to make him laugh.

 

-I’m going to cry  

 

Why? Jongdae typed back absently, focusing back on his math homework that pointed accusing integers at him.

 

-Because you’re forgetting me His collocutor replied, sounding somewhat offended.

 

what? Jongdae typed.

 

-you forget to talk with me, I’m getting lonely

 

you sound like a lonely housewife

 

-I do, don’t I? Just forget it, what were you up today?

 

Jongdae took a slight break from the homework by pushing it further away over the desk, his pencil clattering along, and he rolled up his sleeves.

 

Spent half a day wasted in class, but that’s the usual. Had lunch with Joonmyeon and afterwards Jongin came to pick me up because he wanted to pass the courtyard where the girls were chatting and what’s better than to show off what a great guy you are but by caring for your disabled brother.

 

-He’s trying to charm ladies already? He’s rather... advanced? The other joked.

 

hopeful* Jongdae made the correction, smirking at the thought of Jongin fiddling around pretty girls. He was a lost cause.

 

-You’re being evil again, what kind of a big brother are you? The other chided him in response.

 

A realistic one, really. But hah, he keeps running away when they greet him so I don’t have my hopes up. So far only our neighbour talks/communicates with him so it’s more likely that he’ll die a than anything else

 

-I wouldn’t like to be your brother

 

Hahaha, I’m not 'that' evil

 

-yes you are. What did you guys do during lunch?

 

Joonmyeon and I? Nothing much really. He talked, I listened, he choked, I laughed. That’s pretty much it when you look at it. He said he has a dog and that his dog is incredibly stupid and likes to eat tennis balls. Reminded me of your dog for a moment, except your dog is able to digest them somehow. Jongdae smiled faintly as he typed.

 

-quiet, he might remember he didn’t eat any today 

 

Hahaha, then I’ll be quiet. Shh... Hehe, pat Chanyeol for me, would you?

 

-He’s off running in the backyard, I’ll pat him later. So, what else did you talk about?

 

You’re overly interested in this topic. Jongdae wrote as a response, worrying his lip in between his teeth.

 

Response came barely a blink of an eye later.

 

-I’m overly interested in people’s love lives, that’s the thing

 

Who says it’s my love life? Jongdae frowned.

 

-Well, you like him. That equals a love life.

 

You’re still awfully suspicious.

 

-Why?

 

Who else would be so terribly interested in a topic of a guy liking a guy Jongdae felt like an idiot for even having to point that out.

 

-person who will stay forever single and ?

 

oh please, at least your nether regions are moving. People think I piss myself because I can’t control my bladder. Jongdae would laugh had the other ability to hear him. That way he just swallowed the discomfort alone.

 

-You don’t?

 

Eyes bulging out in shock, Jongdae felt  further and further aggravated, mind fueling hands to write an angry reply:

 

I’m not THAT disabled. Mid-thighs and lower. I do feel my bladder being... being

 

-Oh, sorry us mortals thinking you are dead waist below

 

forgiven A little indignant huff ran past his parted lips, still feeling anxiety bubbling in his chest. His disability is something he was very touchy around.

 

The other only continued further to prod him with questions, leaving Jongdae stressed and feeling slightly at loss.

 

-being witty, I see.... fine. But no, seriously, what else, fill me in with details.

 

He was practically dying from the wish to talk with someone about it, but it just felt wrong, different, to talk about it with someone whose face and voice he had yet to see. With someone who knew his words, his photography, but not him entirely. Yet, he still gave up on fighting, replying with small bits he learned about Joonmyeon:

 

fine... He mentioned he likes art too, his favourite juice is apple juice, he doesn’t like rice all that much (but he still has it every lunch, idiot), he likes photography a lot, but he’d like to study architecture, he has no siblings, his mom lost hearing few years back so that’s why he can speak sign language ...

...what else?

 

-Okay, okay, but what’s he like? Why do you like him?

 

The question left him silent.

 

I won’t answer this

 

-Why? Did I ask something wrong

 

Yeah, this is personal

 

-And I’m your best buddy and I want to know

 

And you’re officially suspicious and I’m putting you on my blacklist

 

-Not that again... Come on, I’ll be an obedient puppy if you answer me

 

Why are you so persistent? This is getting embarassing

 

-Because I’m a forever-alone-gonna-stay- and I want to know

 

Solution to that: Call the hot line. 

 

-I’m going to cry in frustration over here The other wailed in reply, causing a snarky reply in retaliation from Jongdae:

 

Do it silently, I don’t want your mom to be disturbed by her son crying over the fact his friend doesn’t want to share secrets with him. You know, you’re fit for those American TV shows  like “sixteen and pregnant” and other. You could cry buckets, get filmed and be famous for it

 

-Please, you’re ruining the fun

 

Well, what do you want me to say? He’s nice. Like, really, really nice. He has an incredibly handsome face I and another more or less 200 girls cry over, he has an amiable voice, cheerful nature, and he’s generous. He treats me nicely even though I don’t see a reason why, but it makes me feel good. Like he’s actually interested in being friends.

 

-Hey, why wouldn’t he? Reply seemed the slightest bit a mixture of offended and protective at the same time.

 

Because no one is. No one wants to. I’m still secretly waiting for him to do something to me because it’s... it’s too good not to be a bet. you don’t just approach someone with an umbrella one day and behave like ‘hey, we’re buddies now, best buddies at that’ without an ulterior motive.

 

No matter how Jongdae tried to look at it, from all different angles he could picture, the truth was still there, blatantly flaunting itself around and causing his heart to be squeezed hard by grief in an unyielding grip. He tried to explain it to himself that perhaps Joonmyeon was indeed interested in him as a friend and that there was nothing behind it, but nothing he could come up with seemed legit enough to make it seem genuine.

 

-But what if his motive is different than that?

 

What else? He can’t be genuinely concerned for me, he barely knows me.

 

-What if he’s trying hard to talk with you because he finally can and because... I don’t know, because it makes him happy?

 

Stop being so angry with me, I’m just being logical here. What would 'he' be doing with someone like 'me'? It doesn’t make sense

 

-to you! Oh god, you irritate me so much sometimes.  What’s so different about him and you that makes it seem as if you live in different worlds?

 

With the same fervor in his words, Jongdae typed his reply back:

 

He’s the popular kid, I’m the cripple people make fun of. Life is not really a sappy American romance movie, okay? No one talked to me in elementary school, not even now, why would suddenly... why would he suddenly approach me with an umbrella and start a conversation... and, just... What if it really is a bet?

 

-Jongdae, I’m sure it’s not. His collocutor was firm in his decision to contradict all of Jongdae’s beliefs.

 

But, what if it is? I really like him, and with him around me, I like him even more. I feel like I’m drowning, my chest hurts so bad imagining his mocking face when he does the bet in front of everyone and... I don’t want that. I want to believe he’s genuine with his intentions. I want to believe we can be friends. I don’t even care for the fact I’m going to continue to like him in secret. I... I’m just afraid. It’s too good to be real.

 

-Look, I don't’ think he’s a bad guy. I’m sure he wants to talk with you because you both like art. He seems like a down to earth person, not a snobby brat, don’t worry your pretty head so much.

 

I’m afraid. Jongdae admit with remorse in his words.

 

-I’ll make you laugh then The other stood up firm in his decision.

 

huh? 

 

-I’ll make you laugh all the time then so you’ll forget your fear

 

thanks, but no thanks

 

-I feel offended now

 

How are you supposed to make me laugh? Jongdae asked with complete disbelief all over his face. There was just so much a person can do over the internet.

 

-How do you make a blonde work colleague in the office laugh on Monday morning?

Tell her a joke on Friday night.

 

Lips parting in an smile, a merry laugh escaped Jongdae’s mouth as his shoulders shook in delight, hand coming up to muffle the laughter escaping him.

Ahaha, oh come on, that’s... haha, low, but a good one

 

-or hear this, He was intercepted by his collocutor before he could even muster the rest of his reply, Two blondes were taking a trip to visit Disneyland. On the way they saw a sign that said “Disneyland Left” They both started to cry.

 

Tears in his eyes from all the laugh bubbling in his chest, Jongdae tried to wipe them away with his hand, ending up blurring his sight and missing a few keys on the keyboard before retyping his reply:

 

Okay, stop, I got your point.

 

-Whenever you feel sad you’re gonna get bunch of these, just so you know The other warned him childishly.

 

Thanks He replied with a thankful smile, despite knowing the other could not see it.

 

-No problem

 

Joonmyeon, it seemed, was interminably persistent when it came to persuading Jongdae into giving him a hold of his camera every day, artfully managing to coax the younger into handing over the precious device with wording that simply gave no loophole for Jongdae to slip through.

It was, in the very least, a warm sensation - that of having a friend. He did think often of Mark_Twain, indeed, but having a physical connection that consisted out of innocent touches, gentle brushes of words against skin, occasional laughter and generous smiles was by far more valuable. Yet, in a way, he felt like he was betraying his online friend. More often he found himself staying outside school with Joonmyeon, chatting and animating himself with the sight of the other bursting into laughter all by himself from the antics he had told that were obviously amusing to him solely and rarer he would rush to unlock his phone and connect to internet so that he could chat with Mark on his way home. In a way, he started forgetting him. The initial rush of adrenaline Mark’s attention proffered him with died off after a while and he found himself smiling fondly at the imagery of Joonmyeon laughing more often than before, sometimes even dozing off during the conversations with Mark, causing an unpleasant reaction from the other.

 

Yet Mark held himself restrained in his opinion, seemingly disregarding the matter. Though, the lack of attention got him more than just aggravated a few times, for Jongdae never gave a clear reason why he was ignoring all of the other’s messages for a few days, and thus the two have fought severely a few times, ending up with a week of silence from both sides. Jongdae has not failed to notice lack of Joonmyeon’s presence by his side during the same week too.

 

-”What’s wrong?” Joonmyeon asked him one lunch break in mid April, long months after the pouring rain when they first met, face looking slightly disinterested and dispirited.

 

-”My best friend, if I can call him that, is mad enough at me to ignore me for the past week and he just won’t reply to my messages.” Jongdae let out a deliberately exasperated sigh, rubbing his thumb over his nose lazily, too tired to take off his glasses and rub at his itching eyes.

 

-”Why is he mad at you?” Joonmyeon inquired, face almost matching the bleak intonation of his words. Jongdae gave him a sad look, fiddling with the sleeves of his dark brown sweater he pulled on in rush.

 

-”He thinks I ignored him on purpose on a few occasions.” Jongdae muttered sheepishly.

 

-”Have you?” Joonmyeon muttered between stuffing himself with two spoons of what seemed to be burnt rice this time around. Certainly made by him.

 

Jongdae shook his head in denial, a soft and strained aspiration leaving his lips:

 

-”Never, I was just busy... Busier than usual, actually, and he took it the wrong way.”

 

Joonmyeon looked at him with a nonplussed sight in his eyes, mouth busying themselves with chewing on the food as to muster a quick reply:

 

-”What were you busy with?” He choked out after a few moments, still fighting with the bit of rice in his mouth.

 

-”Thinking.” Replied Jongdae.

 

-”About what?”

 

You, but Jongdae rather had sternly refrained himself from answering with such outright and forward answer. Instead, he satiated himself by giving the other a wry smile, shaking his head gently in response. “It’s a secret.” He chuckled, amused by the adorable pouting look  Joonmyeon gave him.

 

-”You won’t share it?” Joonmyeon inquired, his innocent words laced with interest.

 

Jongdae just shook his head in response, denying Joonmyeon the knowledge.

 

Later that day Jongdae had realized that taking a long and winding detour around school would have been a but by far smarter and safer idea when he had already noticed a group of renowned bullies forming around the entrance gate, flocked together in a distinct mob, yet still foolishly he thought they wouldn’t pick on him again.

With his backpack lazily hanging over the back of his wheelchair, swinging gently in  a monotone rhythm left and right with his camera hanging limply around his neck, he slightly peered searchingly his head around, looking for Jongin’s distinct form somewhere near the gate, trying to notice a spot of swarthy sun kissed skin among the myriad of buzzing students ahead.

Seeing his step-brother tall on his tiptoes doing just the very same, he realized it was pointless just to stand still and wait patiently, so he wound his fingers around the wheels and pushed himself forwards with the shortest trek towards his brother in mind, right past the wretched group of residential bullies chatting nearby.

 

He should have expected it, though, they just never felt a gnawing urge to leave him alone. Ever.

 

One of them, a sneering and actually pitiful looking girl whose limp sable bangs covered half of her pock-marked face, stood in front and forbade him to move forwards with the others circling him soon enough, bucolic guffawing quickly ensuing.

 

-”Look at this ugly duckling...” One of them, a boy with pig-like small eyes that could be barely seen from the fat in his cheeks and lips that matched the thinness of a paper mused, flicking a finger over Jongdae’s cheek. With an irritated sigh, Jongdae flinched, tilting his head to the side lest he gets touched again.

 

-”What do you want this time around, Jun Min?” He asked, failing to feign nonchalance as the slightest notch of fear weaved itself into his words. “If it’s juice again, just bloody do it already so that we can be done with this. I don’t care if you’re going to take photos too, just... Hurry up, I don’t feel like dragging this for too long.” He looked up, the brave gaze he prepared faltering as he met a pair of dark squinted eyes and a devilish smirk of distaste and malice.

 

-”Actually, this time around I want to do something different.” Growing anxiety in Jongdae’s stomach threatened to make him throw up from the uneasiness, visibly distressed by the intonation of the sentence. Something was wrong.

 

-”What do you want then?” Jongdae choked out in fear, clutching for the material of his pants as he visibly tensed from the gazes that were stuck to him, and not just from the bullies, but the onlooking passengers and audience too.

 

-”I think it’s time for you to show us what you take photos of every goddamn day, don’t you think? Because I think I have a hunch it’s not trash the only thing you found interesting.”

 

Eyes bulging out in utter shock, Jongdae quickly swallowed the thick knot forming in his throat, sudden gush of  fear latching for his limbs as he was about to cry out for Jongin to help him, too frozen in horror to move by himself. His camera was the most precious item he ever possessed, but that very moment he was ready enough to throw it to the ground with such force that it would shatter into small pieces, disabling others to see its content. Albeit, his reactions were too slow for him to function and before he knew it, the leather strap around his neck attached for his camera was lifted from around his neck along with the aforementioned device, causing him to let out a shrill yelp and a fighting cry as he tried to reach out for the camera, surrounded by victorious guffawing of the accursed bullies around him. He fought as hard as he could, but his arms were by far too short to reach out for it and Jun Min proudly stepped back, his laughter growing only more audacious and louder the more Jongdae begged him to stop and return the camera.

 

-”Please, don’t, I promise I’ll do everything you want, just don’t-” But he was by long too late.

 

Jun Min’s eyes widened in shock as his slack jaw fell, ugly, thin mouth parting open in complete bewilderment as he swiftly continued to press the buttons near the screen, suddenly starting to laugh like a proud and victorious maniac.

 

-”I knew it! I knew this prick was a ! Look, all the pictures are of Joonmyeon! Haha!” The poor camera was swiftly passed around, followed by more and more accusing and proud idiotic guffawing as Jongdae begged more and more for earth to swallow him whole, feeling his own pride, the only thing that kept him breathing and sane all alone, shatter into edgy shards. Eyes flickering wildly over the sneering mob that surrounded him, not failing to miss even the last of the audience, his gaze froze on Joonmyeon’s still form, Joonmyeon's eyes looking sad and confused as he stared at the scene unfolding in front of him, hearing his own name echo around through blasts of choked laughter, uttered out between fits of laughs and giggles.

 

Jongdae’s eyes stared wide open, shocked and worn out at Joonmyeon’s form, looking as if belonging to a martyr whipped by society’s cruelty and not a young boy, mouth rendered wordless at the sight. Had it not been for a fleck of swarthy skin kissed by sun running past him and a dark hair of unruly tresses pushing past Joonmyeon’s narrow silhouette, Jongdae would fail to see Jongin forcing his way into the crowd, a curled and fist of strong and bony knuckles connecting itself with Jun Min’s jaw, the camera that returned back to his hands falling on the ground from the impact and getting trampled by the uneasy stomping of myriad of feet.

 

There wasn’t much he remembered of what ensued, but all he knew were Jun Min’s painful and anguished screams of agony as Jongin lurched back at him with such fervor, strong fists flying swiftly and with accuracy through the air, cutting it sharply like a knife as second, third and eventually sixth punch hit the obese boy in the face.

 

The crowd had somehow dispersed almost to naught, all audience gone as Jongin raised his fist for the last time, looking all battered and ragged from fury as he threatened Jun Min to punch him again if he dares so much as to utter a word, mouth clamped tightly shut pulled into a frown of loathing. The fat boy quickly pulled himself straight, legs running faster than his mind could process the sudden waves of information crashing at it as he ran to distant safety, far away from the beastly savage that was Jongin.

 

By the time the youngest turned around to face his step-brother he protected , Jongdae was long washed in sorrowful tears, shoulders shaking in agony as he barely choked out a few wordless gasps through his mouth pulled awry in an ugly grimace, face cradled by hands with elbows resting on his knees.

 

Jongin wordlessly pushed the wheelchair away from the scene, unable to muster a sentence with his bruised and hurt hands and too disturbed himself to actually bother and initiate a conversation.

 

Jongdae felt like a big part of him had died that very afternoon. He clutched at his backpack once he arrived home, feeling naught of remorse for the broken camera as he now saw it as a destroyed evidence of the love he harbored for a long time, gaunt face of sharp and distinct lines cloyed by the very misery tearing with claws at his insides, ripping him to shreds. His mother, realizing the source for his silence was not about to be divulged that soon, stopped cooing him after a few days to tell her what had happened and instead tended to him when he needed help, reminding him to eat when the time was for the meal. He was absent from the school for three days that merged together with the weekend, leaving him absent from the society for five full days out of which he spent three unmoving under bed covers, only here and there joined by Jongin who sought company. Most of the time the younger had pressed himself against the bed frame, manhwas in his lap as he read diligently page after a page, occasionally checking to see if Jondae was still asleep.

 

On the evening of the second day Jongdae’s phone buzzed, chat application announcing he had a new message. He never replied to it. Neither did he reply to the next message that ensued afterwards, by the end of the fifth day amounting to exactly 86 new messages all following the same receipt of “Are you there?”, “I’m worried, please reply, I know you’re there”, “Please don’t ignore me” and “You scare me, are you okay?”.

 

Jongdae had read every and single one Mark sent him, fingers absently running a path down the screen with eyes that barely possessed the strength to stay wide open.

 

-”I’m sorry...” He whispered, voice lost in the silence of the room, reading the last received message woven with care. They made Jongdae feel a small part of him wither to naught, leaving an empty spot where the sympathy for Mark lay.

 

-”I’m sorry to be such a bad friend to you.” Words on the screen kept piling up, never losing their consistency of worry showing in them.

 

please answer me, I know you’re reading this right now, the icon says you’re on, jongdae

 

Jongdae why are you so stupid?! At least write something just so that I know you’re not dead

 

why are you so stubborn?

 

are you sad again? I don’t have any jokes to amuse you with, I’m sorry. I wish I knew where you live, I’d come myself and cheer you up

 

One day when I meet you, I’ll make you stay over at my place and we’ll watch movies all night long and stuff ourselves with food and we’ll feel sick in the morning and it’ll be really fun

 

please don’t be sad, you’re making me sad too

 

Jongdae, I beg of you, don’t ignore me

 

did I do something wrong?

 

tell me, please, you’re killing me this way

 

And truth to speak, Jongdae wasn’t all that far from doing the same to himself, feeling dread creeping slowly beneath morbidly pale skin at the very thought of going to school the next morning, already aware that he will attract attention of all people in the school.

There was an unyielding urge, perhaps the last semblance to empathy, that had him type a response to silence the ongoing waves of messages washing over the screen.

 

I feel like I could die

 

The message had certainly brought silence along, for the chat had stilled for several seemingly long, immensely long moments before a response ensued:

 

-I want to help you

 

Jongdae merely stared sadly at the words spinning in his vision, eyes blank and bleary whilst drinking in the content of the blinking message in the half dazed state of his mind, fingers ever so slowly, as if afraid they were about to break, typing a reply:

 

nobody can

 

-Jongdae, what happened? Can you tell me

 

you can’t help me

 

Curtly typed Jongdae back, exacerbated by his own refusal of help. His pride got the better of him, seemingly.

 

-but, at least you’re going to feel better if you tell me  The other was firm in his intent to have Jongdae tell him of truth, continuing to pester Jongdae with same worried messages.

 

With an almost bitter smile dripping in sorrow, he diligently let his fingers glide over the screen, words coming to life from his mind:

 

i’m just really sad and I don’t want to leave my room, I don’t want to go outside, I don’t want to be seen, I want to stay inside forever

I want to die

 

-Don’t say such inconsiderate things. If you die, more people than you think will be hurt. I the most.

 

I still feel miserable

 

-Jongdae, what happened?

 

I don't want to talk about it now. I'm tired, I’m sorry, I just want to go to sleep

 

-jongdae!

Wait, i want to talk, you can't leave

Jongdae!

 

-"I'm sorry..." The gaunt faced boy whispered, thick lashes fluttering as his eyes slowly came to a close as he let his phone rest on the nightstand, getting lost in his own nightmare haunting his mind as he wished he had been long gorged down by earth.

 

And so, Monday approached , sun peeking above the vast horizon stretching into infinity, streams of light peeking through the curtains.