By Spartace_jjang

[ posted seperately 08/10/2016 00:14]

Current song: Alone--Infinite H

Current mood: trying to be angst but is constantly disturbed by the low battery of my laptop and also by Hoya's y rap

 

Wind howled and brushed against his face, the city line of Seoul scampered past his sideburns. Stumbling, he went into a corner and crashed into the muddy yellow lights that linked around him. He blinked his tears that were swelling around his eyelids and pushed open the heavy door. Even from this distance, he could smell the freshly cooked spaghetti scent wafting from the kitchen. He took small strides and at last settled in front of the television.

'Oh my gosh! What happened my dear hobaby?' His mother rushed into the living room, hands wiping furiously onto her apron. 'What happened to your face? Is it those boys again? Huh?' She cupped his face and the bruises scratching across half of his face with some force, trying to relieve his pain. The accumulated tears of his could no longer hold their weights and began to shatter one by one, tumbling from those long eyelashes to the puffy cheeks till the tip of the sharpening jawbone. The silent cries were strangely audible in the room filled with the cracking of wood in the fireplace, alongside with some from the boy sitting in the middle of all sound and the anxiety of a mother.

‘Is it your name again?’ She saw the boy humming a response and the end of her wrinkles loosen a bit. ‘Fine, Hodong, I am going to change your name. Pick one that you like.’

He skipped and pushed open the door, greeting a very happy mother that stood against the door frame and patted his head affectionately as he continued to skip into his room. He rattled his screeching hamster and put on his plain clothes before halting himself into the sweet aroma filling the whole living room. He sat down, gaining a slight ruffle of hair on his head, prayers as usual, and soon his mouth was stuffed between a ruckus of lasagna and sips of orange juice.

‘No homework today, dongwoo-ie?’ His mother asked. He shook his head.

‘Wow! That’s great. What are you planning to do tonight then?’

‘Dancing,’ he replied while gulping down his cup of juice.

‘Oh! That would be nice,’ His mother smiled at him. ‘Good luck in your dancing then, my little dino.’

He nodded again, heart swelled with the blissfulness that he had felt since he came back home.

He was Howon, not Hodong. He would not be bullied by anyone anymore. Howon. Howon. Howon. He reminded himself constantly as he dragged his feet forward.

But why was he feeling so insecure like the old times?

He leaned in and pushed his face against the picture frame. The cold glass pressed back and Howon was faced an old and yellowish picture of his mother that looked as if it could crumble in a matter of seconds. In the photo was molded into a perfect grin, lips parting a little, as if she was trying to tell him something encouraging and inspiring (just like what she said in those sleepless nights with the soothing sound of hers), even though he knew that it was anything but.

Howon nearly regretted that he chose such a cheery picture for a funeral.

He glanced up and stared at the white veils passionately. The curves of white and pink flowers swayed from both of the rear ends and connected the ground with a light touch. White and pink were still spotted in the sea of people and sketched the face of the bride with blushes ever so lightly.

‘Hey! Dong Woo! You look fabulous today!’ A pat on his shoulder and a gush of cheap peppermint breath made him turn round and face one of his uncles, who was smiling at him with a cigarette hanging loosely between his teeth. ‘Are you excited?’

His voice might be too loud and it attracted a few looks from the people around him. Seeing their judging notes and their moving lips full of unheard words, Dong Woo replied a smile almost as big as his, ‘Of course. This is my sister’s wedding. No one will judge others by their outfit and outlook, right?’

His uncle’s face presented a confused look, but he still patted his nephew on his head and walked away. Dong Woo looked around and tugged his lips up a bit when he heard no one dare to speak anymore.

‘You are not going anywhere. The home needs you—we need you. Idols get little money. And the lives of trainees are so hard. Why bother?’ His dad’s demanding voice trilled his hand a little that was gripping on the handle. ‘I...I have my own dreams too, father. Please let me go,’ Howon’s voice was shaking. ‘I—I don’t want to let go. My only talent is dancing, afterall.’

‘...You are not my son anymore,’ His father swung and slammed the door with a stormy face and a last look at Howon. ‘Lee Hodong.’

Howon watched his father disappearing from the horizon and sighed. Chagrined, he tugged at the handle and pulled open the wooden door. Without a second thought, he walked into the freezing Busan air.

I am not going to give up anymore. Not after I have given up too many things.

My name. My mother.

I won’t let go of my dreams now.

‘Dancing? Woah. That’s cool.’

Dong Woo smiled upon his sister’s words. He sat onto the edge of her bed as he watched her combing her hair fondly. It was her holiday so she left her office and went back home to visit her family and her dongseang. Of course, everyone both cramped and soothed her with questions and warm smiles and she made her quick escape with Dong Woo into the room after an hour of bombard.

‘But what about the income? Dancing won’t make you rich.’

‘I am planning to go to Seoul and find a studio to be a dancing teacher. Then I will probably go for auditions as trainees in dancing groups.’ He stared in wonder as she swirled the last streak of her golden hair into a bun in one swift move.

‘There, there.’ She touched the hairstyle and confirmed that it was fixed firm. ‘So. This is your plan? Going to Seoul?’

‘Yeah. But you know...I am a bit hesitant, actually.’ He touched the nook of his neck in slight embarrassment. ‘Our family is not well-off, and I will not get a lot of money from dancing, and you have to survive with your husband and it must be hard for you—I mean, me as well—to provide enough money for the family...’ he rushed on. ‘Anyway—you get what I mean right? Cause like—do you—do you think mom and dad will go against my idea?’

‘No, smartie bean,’ she laughed lightly. ‘If that’s your concern, you need not worry. You always know that mom and dad support whatever we do. As long as it’s not something bad.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ She kissed the brows of his and ceased out some of his worries. ‘Now go, and ask for permission.’

 

(The next day, Dong Woo bided his parents goodbye with a green backpack full of dreams and a one-way bus ticket to Seoul.)

Joining Infinite meant a lot of shouting and yelling between a father and a son, warm smiles around a family, croaked toes as well as strained vocal and high pitched notes. And seven teenagers fighting their way through blood and tears and the increasing wrinkles between eyes and fingers. Here Hodong became Howon and became Hoya. And Dong Woo remained as Dong Woo. The happy, dinosaur-like Dong Woo. He was satisfied.

Howon was satisfied, too. (Hoya)

Dong Woo and Howon were not close. They lived in separate rooms-- Howon with Sung Jong and Sung Yeol while Dong Woo with Myung Soo; they came into the company in different times; and they have completely opposite personalities.

They were not destined to be friends in the band; or rather—Howon was always the one left out alone, and basically Dong Woo could befriend with anyone.

But for some reasons, Dong Woo liked to stick around Howon in times—before parties, after practices, in the vans, shopping with their disguises on—he just loves to loop his arms around the younger rapper’s shoulders and leads him through rows of products in a 24-hours opened convenient shop and giggled whenever he saw Howon’s awkward smile as he pulled down another pack of chips.

So when a sub-unit was announced, he felt happy more than surprised. Because there was nothing to be surprised about. People viewed them as best friends, fans viewed them as best friends, the band mates viewed them as best friends, Dong Woo viewed themselves as best friends.

(It’s only Howon that he was unsure about.)

‘Where are you heading to, hoaegi?’ He flung his arm around the familiar broad shoulders as the latter knelt in front of their dorm door to tie his shoelaces. Besides him laid a gym bag. ‘It’s almost midnight!’

‘To practice.’ Dong Woo winced a little at the stiffness in Howon’s voice.

‘But we have to wake up at four tomorrow? Are you sure—‘

He tensed as his friend band mate stretched a sudden strain onto his back that bounced straight into his right arm. ‘I am quite positive on this.’

‘What is there to practice anyway? H’s promotion has just finished a week ago.’ Dong Woo kept his tone as light as possible.

‘Well, nobody tells you to accompany me.’ He tried not to show any hurt in his voice as he heard this answer.

‘You really don’t need a partner? I can tell Sung Gyu—‘

‘No thanks.’ Howon ducked his head from Dong Woo’s grip, as lightly as possible. But Dong Woo’s heart had already shattered a floor as the slight action flooded onto him.

‘And yes,’ Howon coughed a bit awkwardly before heading towards the main door. Dong Woo tackled his brows up, suggesting him to continue speaking. ‘Well—um—‘

‘We are friends. You can tell me anything.’ Looking at his hesitant face, he promptly suggested.

‘It’s just that—um—I don’t know how to put it...’ he wavered his glance. ‘Can you not look at me with that expression sometimes? Like—‘

‘Yeah?’

‘I mean—there’s always that flicker of...of...of pity in your eyes when you look at me...’

‘Me? Pity? Pity?’ He repeated the word; it felt so foreign on his tongue.

‘Yeah...as in pity’s pity. Like—just want to let you know this...so you won’t be mistaken. I...I don’t need anyone to pity me.’

‘Pity?’ he tried again. ‘I never meant to pity you. You are just my friend and...’

His voice trailed away when Howon’s back had already disappeared into the nightfall of Seoul.

He stood at the original place and looked at his arms with a foam of bitterness forming in his iris and his mouth. Pity? He would never feel that towards him. Never.

‘Anything on your arms?’ What’s that serious look?’ Sung Gyu appeared from behind, hands wiping furiously on the towel that was on top of his head. He must have just bathed; the scent of his passion fruit shampoo always managed to cheer Dong Woo up.

‘It’s just...it’s Howon.’ He smiled weakly.

‘That kid? What happened?’ he scooted closer. ‘He hit you on your arms?’

‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘But probably something worse.’

‘Huh?’

‘Words…’ Dong Woo gulped. ‘He said…he said I always look at him with pity in my eyes. I…I never did that.’

‘What? Pity?’ Sung Gyu stopped wiping his hair. ‘You? Pitying him? That was a bit…unreasonable.’

‘Exactly! I will never pity him! I mean—we are friends, right?’

‘Yeah. That was harsh…’ Sung Gyu agreed. ‘Maybe he has some troubles these days and he hasn’t been thinking straight. That’s why he told you this.’

‘Yeah. He looked quite out of it these few weeks. But hyung, I swear I did not look at him in that way.’

‘I know, I know.’ Sung Gyu nodded. ‘Well, don’t worry. He was probably just venting out some feelings of his own. Don’t take his words to heart, okay?’

‘Hmm.’ Dong Woo hummed a reply and lowered his glance. ‘I am sleepy. I am going to bed.’

‘Yeah. Don’t forget to wake up at four tomorrow!’ Sung Gyu yelled behind his back as he watched Dong Woo trudging into his room and closing the door softly.

Sung Gyu sighed.

‘Now. Have you been practic