TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE

This chapter is kind of sad (compared to the others) but I promise you that my future chapters will be a little more 'happy'.

So please read with caution <3 <3 (stay safe people)

Chanwoo wakes up to the sound of shouting from the kitchen that echoes in the empty halls of their house, he’s up on his feet as soon as he can and pulling on an oversized t-shirt that he founds on the floor. Same floor that he was beaten and kicked to a pulp on only a few hours ago.

He’s dressed within seconds and rushing down the stairs toward his father, he knows he should have set an alarm but he had been so tired the day before that he couldn’t even think straight. As he enters he sees the man he despises sitting at the table with a newspaper in front of him and an empty cup, “where is my tea?” he is slightly more calm than yesterday but he’s still terrifying and Chanwoo doesn’t dare to go against him. Chanwoo drags himself to the counter and puts the kettle on, he grabs the earl grey package from the shelf above him and just as he is about to place it on the counter the sound of glass shattering against stone floor. He turns around quickly and sees the empty cup that had once stood in front of his father on the floor shattered into a thousand pieces, he’s startled and shocked by the turn of events. He carefully walks toward his father and kneels beside him, “did I do something wrong?” he asks quietly and dares to take a glance at the man. “You didn’t answer my question” he says, his voice dark and somber, it scares Chanwoo, but he’s used to it.

“I’m sorry” he says and as soon as the words leave his mouth there’s a hand slapping his cheek, hard, and his head whips to the side. It stings an awful lot but he can’t say anything about it, he knows that his punishment will only get worse if he does. His father grumbles something else that Chanwoo can’t understand and then he grips his head and turns it towards the ground, “clean that up” he states sharply and Chanwoo hurries to clean up the mess of the broken cup.

As he picks it up he sees which cup it is and a few tears make it into is eyes, it’s the cup that he gave to his father a few years ago when they were still an actual family, when his father didn’t hit him and when he was kind to him. Chanwoo can barely remember what those days were like, he was so young back then. The cup had been a gift to his father on Christmas, his father had smiled at him and been so thankful. Now, he never smiles, and he hasn’t thanked Chanwoo for anything in almost seven years.

When the pieces are all picked up he throws them in the trash and returns to the kettle, he takes out another cup from the cup holder and pours the tea in, he tries to hurry the best he can so that he doesn’t anger his father again, he’s shaky on his legs as he pulls out milk from the refrigerator and puts a cup of sugar on the table next to the cup of tea. His father looks at him with disapproving eyes as he does and Chanwoo looks away, it’s always like this. He does exactly like the man asks him too but it’s never enough.

After he’s cleaned away everything he bows deeply to his father and excuses himself to his room, he has to get ready for school and he really doesn’t want to be late, both because he knows the teacher’s will be mad but also because he knows that they’ll call home to his father- and his father won’t be happy. Chanwoo knows, he has been through it before.

When he is dressed in his school uniform he packs his backpack with the books he’ll need and a little money for lunch, the lunch in school is too expensive for him to afford and his father never sends any with him, so he usually just ends up buying a sandwich and a drink from the local market. Sometimes he’s short on money though, and he has to live through the day on an empty stomach.

As he walks carefully down the stairs so that he won’t alert his father he thinks about the money hidden away in his closet behind dirty laundry and  a pair of old sneakers, it would be so easy, he thinks. So easy to just one day grab all the money, buy a ticket for some bus heading to nowhere. He doesn’t know where he wants to go, he just wants to get away.

He knows that today isn’t the day, it’s in the middle of the week and he has school work and work afterwards, but he thinks that a Sunday is a good day to leave on. It’s a calm day, not many people do much on sundays because it’s the last day of their vacation until they go back to school or work. He stays inside and his father heads out, it’s the perfect day. He’s unsupervised for an entire day which leaves him plenty of time to pack everything he needs and, well, leave. There’s not much else to do for him, he has no friends to say goodbye to or people to thank, he guesses it’s the perks of being a loner. It makes it so much easier to leave.

As he exits the house through the pharmacy he sees a car pass by just as he closes the door, the people inside are all wearing the exact same uniform as he is, only difference is that they bought their’s without even checking the price tag while he bought his in a second hand shop for his own money that he’d been saving up for a long time.

He stares after them as they drive away, their car is super cool and awesome and Chanwoo knows that it isn’t even the most expensive. Those people are the normal ones, while Chanwoo doesn’t even fit into the lowest category, he’s the lowest of them lowest, except for people who live on the street. Chanwoo almost, almost thinks that he would be happier if he lived under a bridge than where he is now. Almost.

He makes it to school with 10 minutes to spare and as soon as he sees the front gates of the building the anxiety builds up, he’s not nervous about being in school per se, but he’s nervous about the way he’ll act around the others. What if someone will sneak up behind him and he’ll throw his hands up in shock and his shirt will follow and someone will see the bruises, it’s highly unlikely, impossible probably since no one would sneak up on him, friend or foe. But the thought crosses his mind and he tries to discard it, but as soon as it’s gone something else comes to mind.

They’re one student short in his class since of three weeks ago when a girl dropped out and moved town after breaking up with her boyfriend, it has been bugging Chanwoo ever since he heard the news, not because they broke up or because he’ll miss her in class or anything, but the fact that it was so easy for her. She didn’t want to continue because she’d have to sit beside her ex all the time so she dropped out and got into another prestigious school, Chanwoo wishes he had it that easy. But it’s not, not for him.

And so Chanwoo always makes sure to go to every lesson, and listen to what the teacher says (he doesn’t have a phone to distract himself with anyway), take notes and do all the assignments even though he despises the subject, because if he doesn’t he’ll get kicked out and probably never be able to get into a school like this one ever again.

His seat is at the back of the classroom and he’s alone at the table for two, his seat mate moved seats as soon as the previous girl left, he’s pretty sure she’s dating the boy. They’re always whispering things and their hands always linger on each other a little longer than others, at least that’s what Chanwoo thinks, but what does he know? The only love he’s ever seen (that he remembers) is on tv, where everything is planned into the last second, every line and touch and look. Chanwoo wonders what it’s really like. To like someone, - to love someone.

“Chanwoo-yah, congratulations” Chanwoo doesn’t understand what’s going on for a second as he looks at the paper the teacher gave him, it’s a test, he realizes. And when he looks at the top of the page he sees his score, 100/100. At first he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, there’s no way that he could get such good results on a test. But on closer inspection he realizes that it’s his English exam, and that his score is really 100/100, and he thinks he’s about to cry because he’s proud of himself and it’s such an out-of-this-world feeling.

The torture of having to look up every complicated word in the Harry Potter series seem to have paid off and he’s filled with joy that gets a small grin out of him. It’s a boyish and childish grin but it’s a smile nonetheless. It makes him want to run to someone and tell them about his score. And that’s when the smile slips off his face- when he realizes that there’s no one to tell. His father doesn’t care and… Well, that’s about it. He supposes he could tell his co-workers at the café, but he doubts they’ll care much.

The man who held him at gunpoint makes an appearance and Chanwoo tries to shake him away because why the hell would he care, besides, they’ve only met once, maybe that isn’t how friendship works, he thinks. Maybe it takes longer than 20 minutes of awkward car riding to build a friendship, Chanwoo thinks. But he doesn’t know. So he lets the thought linger for a bit.

The day passes agonizingly slow and Chanwoo thinks he’s about to pull his hair out, his hands are digging into his forehead as he tries to massage the aching pain away, it feels like his head is about to explode and he feels a little sick. Almost like he’s overheated and clammy but at the same time freezing and shivering, he’s not visibly sick, he thinks. And thank god for that, he can’t afford being sent home early.

When the bell rings he’s first out hurrying down the hallway to his locker where he grabs his jacket and leaves his books, he’s basically flying out of the school, wishing for nothing else than to get home to his bed and sleep. He’s halfway down the street when he realizes he still has to go to work, he smacks himself on the forehead (which he really regrets) for being stupid and forgetting all about it. And so there he is, feverish and tired, running to catch the bus with his school uniform slowly getting drenched in cold sweat. He makes it to the bus but is disappointed to see all the seats taken, all except for one- the seat reserved for ‘people in need’.

He contemplates if he should be the douchebag and just take it but stops and sulks when he sees a pregnant woman step in, he’s not that selfish. The ride doesn’t take much longer than fifteen minutes and the café isn’t more than ten away from the bus station, he walks with hasty steps with his eyes turned to the ground and as he enters the backdoor he gets rid of his uniform, only to replace it with another uniform and get to work. He thanks whoever assigned him to the dishes for the day because he can’t imagine meeting customers now and actually manage to be nice. He takes his time, there’s not that many people and not many people mean not that many dishes.

Time ticks by slower than usual he feels and he feels himself get even more tired for every second that passes, he’s almost sleeping where he’s standing and when his shift ends he’s hastily changing to his extra clothes in his backpack and out running toward the bus. It’s the same routine almost every day and so he knows exactly how much time he has to do everything and how much time he has to get to the bus before it leaves.

What he doesn’t think of as he runs is that today is the day the market opens, which means there’s a lot of traffic, which leads to late buses. Oh, Chanwoo is so screwed.

**       *** **

He arrives 17 minutes later than he usually does and he already knows he’s in trouble, the lights are off in the pharmacy which means his father has closed early, probably to drink himself drunk enough to not remember what he’s about to do to his son. Chanwoo dreads what's about to come, and as he enters the pharmacy he can hear the slurs coming from upstairs, they sound even more angry than usual and Chanwoo realizes he’s in one of those kinds of moods. Meaning the ones where he doesn’t care if Chanwoo bleeds down the whole carpet or that the bruises will show clearer than usual the next morning.

Chanwoo feels bile rising in his throat as he walks the long and agonizing steps up to their apartment, and as soon as he opens the door the stench of alcohol and smoke reaches him and he has to hold a hand over his head to not pass out from it, his father’s grumbles move closer and he hears a few things crash to the ground on his way. Chanwoo drops his bag at the entrance just as his father comes around the corner, he’s already walking like he’s about to tip over at any second but Chanwoo knows that he’s the one in control.

“Whe-where werrre yooou” he slurs and Chanwoo stands frozen in the doorway, he intertwines his hands behind his back and tries to hold his ground, “I was at the library in school.”

“Studying” he adds just to be safe, but there doesn’t seem to be any getting out of this situation because his father growls and pounces on him, his hands wrap around Chanwoo’s throat and grips, hard.

He drags him by the neck to the living room where there are beer bottles littering the entire floor and smoke clouding the air and making it almost impossible to breathe, Chanwoo’s flown onto the ground and he hits his hip on the coffee table. He groans out in pain but has no time to catch his breath before the kicks are raining down on him, a particularly hard kick triggers an intense pain in his chest that is just too much for him and he screams, loud. It does nothing to stop the kicks and he’s sure he can even hear his father’s laugh, it’s horrible, it’s evil.

Suddenly there’s a fist making an impact with his face and he’s so overwhelmed with the pain from all directions that he just gives up and lies still, he’s pretty sure he blacks out for a few seconds and when he returns to the land of the conscious he’s still lying on the floor and there’s something wet coming from his head. He’s exhausted both mentally and physically and emotionally and in every other way if there is any, he wants to sleep but not until he gets out of this house. He can’t stay here, Not after this.

As he tries to move it feels like someone stabs a dagger straight into his chest and he gasps for air as he tries to breathe through the pain, something is wrong. He assumes one of the kicks must have broken a rib or something, and he’s worried, but not enough to go to a hospital. As long as he’s not coughing up blood he thinks it’s okay.

When he manages to get back onto his feet he realizes just how bad his father hit him, there’s not a part of him in sight that isn’t blue or purple or covered in red rusty blood. He’s in so much pain.

He hears the snores of his father from the master bedroom and deems it safe enough to run up to his room to get the money from his closet. There's no running, if you were wondering. No, he climbs the stair on all fours, too exhausted to even stand straight. When he makes it to his room he hurriedly makes it to his closet and digs through all the dirty laundry and stuff for the box he keeps locked behind.

When he finds none he begins to panic, where has it gone?

He rummages through everything but has no luck,  tears of frustration and pain makes it into his eyes as he continues to search for his treasured box. When he’s about to give up he hears something move behind him and as he turns around he sees his father standing there with his box in hand.

“Looking for this?” he cackles and Chanwoo is too tired to try to deny or act innocent or whatever he’s supposed to do, so he nods while tears stream down his chubby cheeks that still haven’t lost all of their baby fat. “Well, it’s empty now” he says and there’s a sadistic smirk adorning his face that makes Chanwoo want to scratch his eyes, but he knows there’s nothing much he can do, he’s too hurt himself to even be able to match up to his opponent. And he also thinks that on some level, even if he was physically capable of going against him, he wouldn’t be able to. Because on some sick level, the man standing before him is still his father, and he hates himself for not being strong enough to forget that.

“Why?” it’s so quiet that it can barely be heard and the man in front of him, his father, has the audicity to laugh, and it sounds so cruel. Something out of a horror story you hear as a kid about an evil wizard bruing poisonous drinks in kettles.

“Because, you’re no better than me, and so you deserve no better than I do” and Chanwoo is too tired to even understand what he’s saying and what it means, all he knows is that there’s no way he’ll ever escape now. He has no money and no place to hide, he’s back to square one and this time he won’t be able to take even one more step, because now his father knows. Chanwoo is trapped.

The though sends chills down his arms and he can’t, he just can’t. And so he gets back onto his feet and stares at the man before him, takes him in, cruelty and all. And comes to the conclusion that he’d rather live under a bridge than spend even one more night in this house, with this man who does nothing but hurt him every day. He looks at him, and then walks away.

He walks straight past the man and down the stairs, his backpack is still lying at the door and he grabs it and slings it over his shoulder, the act hurt and sends that searing pain through his chest but he breathes through it and opens the door. And when he walk, he doesn’t look back.

As soon as he’s out of the pharmacy he’s running down the street as fast as his legs can carry him, which is not as fast as he wishes, but who can blame him with all the injuries he carry. He’s bleeding from his head and multiple places on his body, he’s bruised and broken and so, so tired. He walks the same way as he did before, taking complicated valleys and off limits streets just in case his father’s following. He sees a clock hanging on the wall when he walks past the abandoned train station that hasn’t been working since the 60s or so, it reads 11:32. It’s late he realizes, he guesses that the blackout on the floor must have been longer than he thought.

Half an hour or so later he’s back outside iKon’s house. At first he just stands there and stares, he’s not sure what to do. He knows that he needs somewhere to sleep and perhaps someone to clean up a few cuts so that they don’t get infected, especially the one on his head, but is iKon really the best place to go?

When black spots appear before his eyes he knows hat he needs to get inside somewhere before he passes out right there on the street, and so he walks through the familiar valley but instead of stopping at the trashcans like last time, he walks passed them and stops in front of the door that he remembers the man had walked out from.

He stands in front of it for a few seconds before he raises his hand and knocks, bruised and bleeding knuckles meeting worn out metal.

He hears rustling, some shouting, some...is that a gun? Did someone just a gun? He’s about to turn on his heels when the door flies open and there’s a gun placed on his forehead in between his eyes, it makes him dizzy and so he closes them. He’s almost a 100% sure that the man with the gun, who is not the one he met before, is gonna shoot him any seconds but to be honest he doesn’t mind it that much. He thinks it would be a pretty pleasant way of going, a bang and then nothing more, he probably wouldn’t even feel much.

And just as he’s ready to tell the man to just pull the trigger there’s a shout and suddenly the gun’s gone. He opens his eyes in confusion and sees the man from before, the one who drove him home.

“Chanwoo?”

“Wait, you know this guy?”

So that was exhausting, it is currently 10:22 pm exactly and I'm going to a funeral tomorrow so... Maybe I'm not in one of my happiest moods right now, but I promise that in a few days I'll be happier. This chapter was written just now, and has not been proofread so please excuse any mistakes. But this is where it gets exciting because Chanwoo is finally going to be introduced to the other members!!! (yay)

These past few days I've been writing non-stop but I imagine that the next chapter won't be out until next week (or maybe a few days) because I'm kind of tired now and need to rest (lmao I'm living on like 4 hours of sleep) so, yeah...

I hope you liked this chapter, please comment what you think! <3 <3 (Have a good day/night/afternoon/morning :)