“Yifan, listen to me when I speak to you.”

Yifan jolts, making eye contact with his father for the first time since entering the office. They were supposed to be talking about Yifan’s future with the company.

All Yifan can think about is Junmyeon.

Mr. Wu clears his throat and shifts in his seat. Yifan feels his face twist into a grimace. Usually by this point his father would be well into a scolding about the importance of Yifan’s role to the future of his family. But Mr. Wu has been acting strangely for some time now. Ever since he picked Yifan up at Baekhyun’s.

Yifan squirms around awkwardly, trying to figure it all out. His father had been the same as usual when he called him out of Baekhyun’s, but he had been… weird, on the way home. Quiet, and not so overbearing.

The only thing Yifan remembers happening in between is Junmyeon, standing small next to Yifan’s giant of a father, speaking in low tones Yifan couldn’t hear. He’d smiled, when Yifan asked what was going on, and Yifan’s curiosity had been immediately disarmed. He never thought he’s have a reason to doubt a Junmyeon that appeared too happy.

Yifan thinks of Junmyeon, beaten black and blue by his own father, standing bravely next to Yifan’s and scolding his about how he treats his son. The irony of it should be comical. Instead, Yifan feels his blood boil. He is nearly overwhelmed with how angry he is, at Junmyeon for not telling him and Junmyeon’s father for being a monster and at himself for not seeing it.

“Can you just, like, be my dad for like ten minutes?”

Mr. Wu freezes in bringing his tea to his mouth, eyes widening a little before he gets himself back under control. “Pardon?”

Yifan needs to vent, and his dad talks at him all the time and it’s about time Yifan returned the favor. “Junmyeon almost died.”

Yifan takes a deep breath. Tries not to cry. “Junmyeon almost died, a few weeks ago. He hit his head and nearly bled out all over the bathroom floor. And before that, almost every night his dad would beat him, and he’d come to school all covered up with a smile and we never suspected a thing. But now that I know, all I can think about is how many times we almost lost him. Most of the time he wasn’t too seriously injured, but it would have been so easy for his father to hit him the wrong way, or kick him too hard. And Junmyeon…” Yifan stops. Breathes. Tries again. “Junmyeon had to learn, is the worst part. He had to learn when to speak and when to stay quiet, and when was a good time to do all his chores and when his father would get angry just looking at him. He had to learn to give and take, sort of, but all he gave was fear fueled submission and all he got for it was pain. It was a lose-lose situation for him, but he was too afraid to look for a way out.”

Yifan looks at his father again, and he has something like a revelation. “I don’t want to be afraid to look for a way out, dad. I don’t want to be like Junmyeon, throwing away my own health and happiness just to stay in your favor. I’m sorry.”

Mr. Wu has leaned forward on his elbows; has one fist pressed to his mouth and the other held up to tell Yifan to hold on. “Junmyeon… which one is that?”

And Yifan wants to cry, because right now all he has are his friends and his father doesn’t even know their names.

“Is Junmyeon the one that I talked to outside the Byun’s house?”

Yifan’s eyes widen, holy crap he remembers?, and nods. Mr. Wu released a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but they both know he’s not laughing because it’s funny. “He was so little. Didn’t even reach my shoulder. I remember looking at that kid, who looked me in the eye and told me to straighten up, and I thought, ‘I wonder what kind of person this kid is going to grow up to be?’ I never even would have thought, with the way he stood up for you, that he may not get to grow up at all.”

They both drift into silence, trying to take each other in. Things like this, conversation charged with a n emotion other than frustration and disappointment, are uncharted territory for them. Yifan watches his father’s face flip through more emotions in five minutes than he’s seen in his whole life, and Mr. Wu sits and completely relives his conversation with the short little teenager with the strong gaze, and now he sees everything else. He sees the tension in Junmyeon’s shoulders, and the way his hands tighten on the grocery bags to keep them from shaking, and suddenly Mr. Wu feels like such a fool.

“I’m honestly a little afraid of him. And you’re exactly the same.”

He laughs, not amused but completely dumbstruck, and rubs his face so hard he knows it’s going to be red. “He flat out told me he was afraid of his father and I didn’t think a single thing of it.”

Yifan keeps his gaze on him, and for the first time, Mr. Wu really looks at Yifan. Sees his shoulders straining not to hunch, his neck muscles tense as he fights not to bow his head, and Mr. Wu wonders how he didn’t notice when he turned his son into a slave. He sighs.

“Will he be okay?” He asks, and Yifan finally looks confident when he nods, a determination in his gaze that reassures him. Yifan trusts his friends, and Mr. Wu trusts Yifan, and he knows that child that saved his relationship with his son will be okay.

He sighs. He’s going to have to learn to like basketball.