Dongho was a er at heart. He was the type of guy who would cry freely while watching soap dramas, not caring if people were in his company. He was the type of guy who would run up to his friends when they were sad and say the nicest things in the world and give the widest smile in the world. He was the type of guy who enjoyed being touchy because he thought physical closeness could create a pathway to spiritual closeness, that holding hands meant sharing hearts and hugging tightly meant everlasting brotherhood. He loved to wake up early in the mornings so that he could see the sunrise and bask in the new-birth warmth, from the tip of his dark, brown hair to the ends of his wiggling toes. He loved the smell of new books, of pine combs and of fluffy plushies (recently washed, of course.)

 

 

Dongho was a man who valued the finer things in life and thought that he would eventually obtain those finer things; he was bursting with youth and eargerness to carve a place for himself in this world. 

 

Per Angusta Ad Augusta; that was Dongho's motto.  "Through difficulties to honors;" that was Dongho's ethos. 

 

Thus, when a man (a prepubescent teen, really) of this mentality entered high school, with his chest b with high hopes for himself, only to have his entire world shot down; what happens to this man (prepubescent teen)? 

 

When Dongho was 14, his world toppled. The thing to cause his world to plunge was a boy that Dongho accidentally bumped into. To this day, he can still remember that dreadful encounter: 

 

"Hey! The hell, douche!" 

 

Dongho had been caught up in his fantasies about his new school and new life. He hadn't noticed that he had bumped into someone until the said person gave a punch to his gut. The pain vanquished the delusions of grandeur and focused Dongho's attention on the small, petite student he bumped into. 

 

The small, petite student had brown hair which swirled messily, much like a greek god's, on top of a face that sported jaw-dropping features. Artic eyes surveryed Dongho ruthlessly and unhindered, searching for elements Dongho would later know as weakness. A lovable button nose served to point out the symmetry of his face—which was, of course, spoiled by a quality of asymmetry that, at the same time, perfected his godly features. But the feature that truly jumped out at Dongho was the boy's lips. Such a long philtrum! And such an arched cupid's bow! If he puckered up those lips, if that bow fired, how many people would this boy enslave in a cycle of unrequited love and self-serving hate?

 

Dongho noted with a slight disappointment that those lips were now pressed in a hard line, as if the boy was contemplating a serious matter. 

 

He...is...so...cute, Dongho thought. His pain was already forgotten and the offense already forgiven. What Dongho wanted now was to turn this into a happy event. He wanted the first day of high school to be perfect. And what else would be more perfect that a new cute-looking friend? 

 

"Hi! My name is Dongho. Kang Dongho! I like sunshine and rainbows. Let's be friends!!!" Imposingly, but without realizing how imposingly, Dongho took hold of the cute boy's hands and shook them from side to side. Dongho thought that this was the beginning to a splendid relationship. 

 

The cute kid looked at Dongho, affectless, and sighed. It was a loud sigh. One that spoke hidden volumes of annoyance and impatience.  The boy yanked his hand back and said softly, "Piss off."

 

Dongho felt crushed. Tears almost leaped out of his eyes. How could such a angelic face be so diabolically cruel! 

 

"W-w-why?" was all Dongho managed to stammer. His ego was deflated and had been left dying slowly on the ground. 

 

The boy was about to walk away but stopped to give Dongho another emotionless stare. "Becuase," he started, "you look stupid, weak and needy." Then he walked away and left Dongho, who had fallen to the floor, dumbfounded.  

 

Those words were like a punch to his lungs. All the air seemed to have been out of him. He could feel a raw pain, a bleeding pain, that wreaked havoc inside him. "Stupid," the boy had said. His bronchi  exploded, one by ing one. "Weak," the boy had said. The right atrium of his heart squeezed him so hard, Dongho felt his chest scintillate. "Needy," the boy had said. His brain stem severed itself from the rest of his body and Dongho forgot how to breath. He felt himself die.  

 

Kang Dongho, fourteen years old, passed out on the floor on the first day of high school. 

 

Now, two years later, Kang Baekho, sixteen years old, sat on the top step of the school stairs, waiting for someone on the first day of junior year. 

 

He had changed, he thought. No longer was he stupid (maybe just a little bit,) weak (still mentally weak,) and needy (still loves skinship.) Kang Baekho was completely different from Kang Dongho. Kang Baekho was not a douche, did not cry at soap operas, did not rise to the sunshine, did not own any plushies and did not try to make friends. Kang Baekho was the epitome of "manliness." 

 

He had muscles that filled up his school uniform. His hair was a dirty blonde. His eyes were a fiery blaze. 

 

Kang Baekho was a man (not a prepubescent teen) out for revenge. 

 

"Today, I get back my dignity!" 

 

 

 

 

///   ///   ///    ///   ///   ///    ///    ///   ///   ///    ///   ///   ///    ///   ///   ///    ///   ///   ///    ///   ///   ///    ///   ///   ///

 

Thank you for reading, commenting and subscribing. Thanks a lot. The picture above is a token of my appreciation. 

Credits on pic; image does not belong to me.