24 December 2013

Brunch on Christmas Eve was their tradition. He had never been a super early riser, so his family had decided long ago that a less grouchy Kyuhyun was worth the two hour delay for food. However, on that particular day, no matter how good the food was, nothing could change the heavy atmosphere.

Kyuhyun adjusted his collared shirt, beginning to feel suffocated. Playing with the edge of his tie, he imagined loosening it, but knew better than to actually attempt that. The restaurant they ate at was heavily decked out for Christmas, the fireplaces and the warm golden lights hanging from walls. Their family sat beside one of the trees, slightly hidden away from the other dining families.

His sister cleared . “How has work been, father?”

“Fine,” he responded, forking a piece of food to eat. “How is your husband? Why couldn’t he make it to brunch?”

She smiled a little. “Actually, he caught a bad cold. I’m heading right back to take care of him after we eat.”

“Ah, even holidays can’t ward off sickness,” Mr. Cho clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His eyes drifted over to his quiet son once more. Clearing his throat, he sipped his red wine and leaned back. “Kyuhyun,” he began, nearly making his son jump out of his skin. “I called SME University this morning. You will be continuing as a law student in the spring.”

He froze.

“They agreed that it was understandable as you come from a well-educated family of scholars. For you to waste time on things like music—”

“No.”

His father slowly looked at him, mouth shut rigidly.

Kyuhyun gazed back at him, horror and fury mixing on his fine features. Deep offense cut his eyes. “You can’t just do that to me. I’ve thought about this clearly. Music is the only thing that makes sense in the end.”

“Don’t talk to your father like that,” Mrs. Cho scolded. “We aren’t saying these things to upset you, Kyu. Your future is already bright and secure. Don’t endanger it by wasting years on this frivolous interest.”

“It’s important to me.” He scooted away from the table, wanting to put any sort of distance possible between him and his parents. “Noona is allowed to play music,” Kyuhyun argued sharply, “why am I not?”

“You aren’t your sister,” Mr. Cho retorted. “There is a legacy you are expected to uphold. I will not watch my only son, the future head of the Cho household die a starving artist!” he slammed the glass of wine back down, the pent up anger beginning to fuel him.

Kyuhyun stood up, snatching his jacket as he went. “I want this now. I don’t want to be someone I’m not,” he bit out. “My future is mine to make or break. I’ve already wasted too many years pretending that music is just a passing—” Hard knuckles connected with his jaw, flinging him backwards. Kyuhyun choked on his own breath, silently gasping as he crashed into an empty table.

Glass and porcelain tumbled to the red carpeted floor, some so delicate they broke on impact. Kyuhyun stared unblinkingly at an undefined point, eyes wide in surprise. The taste of warm iron filled his mouth. Touching the edge of his mouth, he felt blood trickling down from a cut on the corner of his lip.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Cho spoke in a contained voice, glowering at his son, hands still fisted. Both mother and daughter were no longer looking, heads dropped. “Being a singer isn’t a lifetime career. It will end.”

“That’s fine,” Kyuhyun spat, deliberately ignoring the part of his conscience that told him he had just spit in someone’s restaurant. “I’d rather die happy than deal with the pain of regret.”

He pushed off the table he had been slumped over and strode away from his family. They called after him, but he pretended he couldn’t hear, disappearing down the hallway. Reaching into his pocket, he found his scarf and wrapped it tightly around his neck, buttoning the jacket as he went. Kyuhyun stuffed his hand into the other pocket, heart dropping as he realized that he left without his cell phone.

Cursing under his breath, he hunched his shoulders, deciding the next best thing was to wander the city. It could be fun, right? At least, it had to be better than whatever just happened with his father. Kyuhyun winced, feeling the aching of the lip wound more acutely than he had ever felt anything else.

For a split second, he wryly thought about how he wouldn’t be able to tell Ryeowook what happened. Laughing humorlessly, he continued down the emptying streets. “You can’t come running now, huh?”

***

Henry shoved Donghae, glaring at him. “You cheated!”

“I did not!” he huffed, shoving the younger boy back. The words “GAME OVER” flashed on the television screen with Donghae’s character celebrating underneath it while Henry’s moped. Grinning, the older male pressed reset. “You wanna play again?”

The expression on Henry’s face only sent Donghae into a new fit of laughter. He rolled on the floor, protecting his face as pillows were launched at him. “This game is stupid anyway!” Henry whined, curling into a ball, glowering at the Super Smash Bros. character selection page. “There’s nothing good about it…”

Donghae threw his arms around the pouting boy, still laughing. “Don’t blame the game. It’s fun!” He grinned, squeezing the balled up Henry a bit. “What do you wanna do instead?”

Snow had begun to fall softly. They sat in the living room of the Lee family’s one bedroom apartment, a petite Christmas tree settled in the corner by the balcony door. The scent of an apple-cinnamon candle wafted around the small area, making it all the cozier.

Henry smiled. “Thanks for inviting me over. I didn’t actually think I would be spending Christmas like this.”

“Oh, yeah, what happened?” Donghae tilted his head, resting it on Henry’s shoulder. “I never asked.”

 He wanted to bury his face in a hole, but held back the urge. “I was supposed to work on Christmas and Christmas Eve, but I didn’t want to. Also, Jiyoung-hyung is off on vacation so I just…I don’t know. I guess I got frustrated and left.”

“Why didn’t he take you on vacation?”

“We aren’t family,” Henry mumbled, “That’s the only reason I could think of. It makes sense though. It’s better to draw the lines now, don’t you agree?”

Donghae was frowning though, staring at a spot on the floor. “I don’t agree. Friends can be co-workers too and vice versa. I don’t think it’s weird at all for the two of you to vacation together, especially if he’s the one taking care of you personally and musically.”

He knew it was meant to be comforting, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of abandonment that grew with those words. So if it wasn’t weird, why? Why couldn’t he just spend Christmas with Henry like a family? Immediately, he crushed that thought, guilt swarming him. That was a horrible thing to think, wasn’t it? His selfishness was growing and he didn’t like it one bit.

“We can bake cookies!” Donghae suddenly said, jolting Henry out of his thoughts. Standing up, he grabbed the latter’s hand, pulling him toward the kitchen. “I think we have a cookbook around here…” He released the flabbergasted boy to search for the item of interest, digging through cupboards.

Henry took the chance to look around again, seeing a pink hardcover book sitting on a side table by their dining room table. Stifling a chuckle, he walked over to it, picking it up. His eyes fell on an ancestral shrine then. There were pictures of a grandmother, grandfather, and a handsome, middle-aged man. An incense bowl sat in front of them. Henry clapped his hands together, silently pressing palm to palm as he closed his eyes and internally greeted them.

When he finished, he looked up to see Donghae watching him. As their eyes met, a slow but faint smile formed on the older one’s face. “Thank you, Henry,” he spoke softly, eyes warm.

“Thank you,” he returned, gaze trailing back to the three pictures, “thank you for letting me into your home.” Henry bowed once more to the photos.

“My father passed away a few years ago,” he explained. “It’s just mom and me now.” Donghae came closer, a fond expression on his face as he looked at the shrine. “My dreams are my father’s dreams too. He’s always supported me through it all and I know he still does. That’s why no matter what happens, I can’t give up on what I love.”

Henry listened quietly, imagining what it felt like to be so burdened. The mere idea of his family leaving him was enough to send him into a panic attack. What would he do without his parents? Although they were far away right now, he knew they were always waiting for him.

“C’mon, let’s bake cookies!” Donghae snatched up the pink cookbook with a grin.

“You’re really amazing,” Henry looked at him, voice earnest and soft. “You’re really, really amazing Lee Donghae.”

He just smiled wider, laughing and ruffling the younger one’s hair. “You are far more amazing than me.” Winking, he pinched Henry’s cheek, adding, “But not for long. I’ll catch up really fast.”

Chuckling, he nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

***

The sky had already darkened by late afternoon, but now as the streets emptied with the clock striking half past the eleventh hour, there was a distinct chill to the shadows. Kyuhyun had long since been kicked out of the last warm café which had been his habitation since early evening. Now, he found himself slightly chilly with a cup of steaming café mocha in one gloved hand.

Sighing, he slowed his steps, sitting down on a stoop. The building was dark, so he assumed that they were closed for the night. No one would care too much if he was occupying their steps, right? After all, he was still trying to decide if going back home was a good decision or not.

What if all they did was yell at him again? He knew his father didn’t approve, but to go so far as calling SME? How could he do that? Every time he thought of it, Kyuhyun couldn’t stop the anger that boiled up inside of him. Did they trust him so little? Did they really think he couldn’t succeed with music? There were people – plenty of people – who made it. So why couldn’t Kyuhyun?

His voice was beautiful. A voice and a decent face are all a singer needs. Not to mention, Kyuhyun had G-Dragon as his guide. What more could he ask for when it came to making connections?

And yet they didn’t trust him. His own parents didn’t think he could make his dreams come true. The idea of graduating and becoming a lawyer were so far behind now. Just imagining it had become impossible – just like marrying Sungmin had become an impossible thought. Looking back on it, Kyuhyun couldn’t see himself staying with him for much longer anyway. The fact that they stayed together until just this past November was shocking in itself.

He took a small sip of his drink, wanting it to last until he found a place to stay for the night. There were probably a few cheap motels around here that would suit him just fine. Kyuhyun cringed at the thought, but quickly shook it off.

One gross motel was better than being under the same roof as people who didn’t believe in him.

“Who the are you?”

Kyuhyun’s heart rocketed, eyes slowly shifting over to a group of guys coming toward him. Curses burst like fireworks in his mind as he took in their attire. Scruffy faces, dirty clothes and ragged coats were only minor in comparison to the scars and tattoos disappearing into their attire.

Swallowing hard, he stood up. “Uh, I’m sorry,” he quickly bowed.

“I asked who the are you?” he growled, voice thick and coarse. Black eyes colder than any snowfall watched him. “What’s a little rich boy doing in our territory?” He kicked aside a can of trash, the contents spilling out onto the street.

Kyuhyun quickly climbed off the stoop, still bowing to them. “I got lost. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He tried to back up, but one of them was already there, shoving him toward the others. The hot drink in his hand flew loose, splashing the leader in the face.

A hoarse shout cut the night as he grabbed at his scalding face. Kyuhyun’s eyes widened and he shoved past them, yelling apologies all the way.

Beer bottles and other assortments were chucked his way, some of the broken glass flying past. He was breathing heavier, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Somehow, it felt like he was running very fast, but at the same time, it seemed like he couldn’t run fast enough. Gasping for air, Kyuhyun clenched his fists, pumping his arms harder as he tried to avoid the wide array of projectiles. He looked over his shoulder, seeing them not far behind. Just as he did so though, a broken bottle nicked his cheek, slicing the cool skin.

Swearing, Kyuhyun touched his face, feeling blood seeping through his thin gloves. His eyes shifted back to the front in time to see a patch of icy sidewalk coming up. The moment his shoe hit the slippery area, he flew, skidding and rolling across the ground.

, , … He grunted, trying to get back up despite the angry cries of his muscles and bruised bones.

A grimy hand curled into his hair, yanking him up. Rancid breath rushed over his face and Kyuhyun had to fight the urge to puke. Without warning, a fist slammed into his stomach and he choked on a gasp, his scarf suddenly feeling too tight.

“You think you can just throw on our faces and run?” the leader stood a bit behind, his face tinged red and pink from the burn.

Kyuhyun took it all back. He’d rather be home.

Ryeowook checked the clock. It was already eleven at night. The sound of Hyungsik’s family laughing and playing games caught his attention and he looked over. Maybe if he just called Youngwoon to pick him up, he could stay a little longer. Nodding, Ryeowook tugged out his phone, heart dropping as he realized that it was out of battery.

The buses were definitely already shut down for the night. Frowning, he tried to recall his brother’s phone number but soon gave up as he realized that Youngwoon always changed the number each time he got a new mobile. It didn’t make sense, but Ryeowook had long since given up arguing the point.

Reluctantly, he tapped Hyungsik’s arm. “Hey, I have to go,” Ryeowook explained the circumstances softly as they walked toward the door.

Both of his parents came along as well, smiling at the young man. Ryeowook zipped up his coat, bowing low to them. “Thank you for inviting me over. I had a great time.”

“You’re always welcome over,” the mother hugged him gently.

“Thank you again,” he laughed, blushing. “Merry Christmas!” Ryeowook waved goodbye to the younger siblings still sitting in the living room with the game board.

Hyungsik shrugged on a coat as well, pushing open the front door. “I’ll walk him down the street.” Once they were alone, he took Ryeowook’s hand, leading him down the slightly darkened street. “Are you really okay walking home alone?” Hyungsik was watching his boyfriend worriedly. “I’ll walk you home instead.”

“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled, “I know I don’t look strong, but I’m still a man. I can handle a twenty minute walk. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, no one is out.” Ryeowook smiled reassuringly. Touching the CD in his pocket, he added, “Ah, and thanks again for the present! I was dying to hear their new CD.”

“I know you like them,” Hyungsik smiled, “Though I’m not sure why sometimes…” His eyes twinkled teasingly as he spoke, and Ryeowook simply pouted, bumping his lover’s shoulder. Leaning down, Hyungsik kissed the other’s cheek. “And thank you for the mittens.”

“I’ll have a better gift next time,” he promised, sighing, “I thought they would be good for the season.”

“They are,” he laughed, “Really, thank you. I love them.” They neared the corner of the street and Hyungsik turned to face Ryeowook. “Call me when you get home, okay? I’ll be up until you do.” He wrapped his arms around that slender waist, pulling him closer.

“I promise,” Ryeowook pressed their lips together, arms closing around his neck.

The kiss lasted until Ryeowook was sure he was warm enough to just strip off his coat. That probably wasn’t a good sign. Panting softly, he brushed his lips against Hyungsik’s once more, opening his eyes to see the other male’s gaze scorching. His heart sped up, but he broke away nonetheless, knowing that he definitely needed to get home.

Pushing on Hyungsik’s chest, he smiled at him. “Good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” he breathed, pulling him in for one last kiss, holding him steady.

Ryeowook’s head was swimming, lips wet and burning. Making a soft noise, he finally freed himself with a laugh, seeing his own disappointment reflected in Hyungsik’s eyes. “We’ll continue next time.” Waving goodbye, he hurried down the street, trying to calm himself.

The walk was indeed empty and quiet. There was no wind that night, thankfully, but the chill was evident. For some reason, it was particularly cold and he didn’t know why. Reaching for his coat zipper, he tried to tug it higher, but it was a useless effort. Ryeowook frowned, suddenly feeling like he had forgotten something. However, the streets were already changing as he took a short cut through the residential areas.

And then it hit him.

Ryeowook whirled around, looking down the street in vain. Checking the street clock, he was that it was already l1:20PM. He couldn’t just turn around and go get his scarf, could he? Wasn’t it already too late? Sighing, he decided to troop on, but stopped once more as he felt a sudden sharp wind.

Wincing, he turned and headed back the way he had come. It was no big deal, but somehow that scarf meant something more. Well, Ryeowook knew why, but he didn’t like to think about it. Wasn’t that hoping for too much? Whatever he had going on with Hyungsik was special and at times felt even fated. That sort of relationship was what he always wanted.

Ryeowook backtracked for five minutes before he stopped once more. This didn’t look right. Was he in the same neighborhood? Hyungsik’s house should’ve only been a few blocks behind him. Where had Ryeowook taken a turn?

Slowly, he looped around, walking right for another five minutes. The further he walked though, the more foreign everything was looking. In fact, as he entered another district of houses, he was positive he had never seen them before. There were heavy shadows and dirty streets. Up ahead though, he saw a familiar street name and tentatively continued on.

The street was long and somewhat narrow. Ryeowook jumped at the sound of a trashcan being kicked over. Ducking behind a building, he peeked out to see a gang. They were hounding someone. He shook his head, refusing to get involved in the slightest.

And then the victim’s voice stopped him from running away.

“Are you kidding me?” he hissed under his breath, craning his neck to see the person. Sure enough, it was him. That was a face so breathtakingly handsome and currently scared out of its wits, that it was impossible to forget. Ryeowook watched as Kyuhyun accidentally threw his coffee at the larger man.

In a flash, he watched the tall male sprinting down the street with the gang hot on his heels. Without thinking, Ryeowook gave chase, watching as they started throwing things. His eyes widened as a broken bottle nicked Kyuhyun and he stumbled and tumbled across a sheet of ice.

Looking around frantically, Ryeowook found a slightly broken jug of what must’ve been alcohol. He tested the weight as he crept up behind the group. He heard Kyuhyun’s gasp, feeling like he himself had been punched as well. Hurrying his steps, Ryeowook glared at his friend.

Slowly, Kyuhyun lifted his head, breathing heavily, eyes blurry. Suddenly, they sharpened as he took in Ryeowook’s appearance.

Raising three fingers, he lifted the large jug, mouthing the numbers. Three…two…one! “Now!” he shouted, and Kyuhyun quickly shoved his foot into the man’s crotch, flinching at the broken yelp he let loose. Ryeowook slammed the bottle down on one of their heads, knocking him to the ground.

“Go! Go! Go!” Kyuhyun nearly screamed, snatching Ryeowook’s wrist. They ran across the street at high-speed, heading straight into the darkness and distant city lights.