Year Two:
Ache and Overtake

“Lee Donghae.”

Hyukjae’s head snapped up at the name, listening for his voice but only heard the excited murmuring that decorated every first day of class. They were in their sophomore year now and as protocol, the teacher would check attendance—a procedure that easily dies down after a week or so.

The teacher squinted at his class list. “Lee Donghae?”

Hyukjae tried to hide his worry after checking the back of the room, and still not spotting that familiar head of brown hair. Though it was difficult since the empty tree branch from this morning was already enough to get him on edge.

“Lee Donghae? Not here? Hm. Lee Hyukjae.”

Hyukjae raised his hand wordlessly.

“Lee Sungmin.”

“Here!” Sungmin answered louder than intended, causing a few giggles in the room. He scratched his head in mild embarrassment then subtly leaned to his right. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to Hyukjae, “maybe he slept in.”

Hyukjae shrugged and buried his head in his arms, feeling oddly unmotivated for the day.

Sungmin could only sigh at his slumped figure.

- - -

Thirteen days passed and the tree branch remained empty.

Although his mom was happy to see Hyukjae up and about so early in the morning instead of rushing out the door like he used to back in first year, she didn’t like seeing him so…troubled. Hyukjae was silent at the breakfast table instead of boasting about how he was the one preparing breakfast everyday now.

He didn’t laugh at her jokes as much, nor did he complain about the boredom that was school, which got her worried. She’d already promised herself years ago never to have her son fall into any sort of depression ever again—especially after what happened.

“Hey, honey.”

Hyukjae looked up from his food to his mom across the table.

“Where’s that friend of yours from last year? The one who got leaves in your hair?”

His eyes widened a fraction before looking back down at his food.

“I don’t know, mom.” He mumbled.

Her heart ached as she watched Hyukjae’s slumped shoulders as he ate. He rarely showed weakness, always one to keep his cool and step up wherever she lacked. Truth be told, she’d no idea where she would be without her son’s strength and while she did feel grateful, guilt continued to eat away at her. When he should have been enjoying life like every other kid, he was stuck taking care of her when she was at her most vulnerable. Her baby boy had been forced to grow up too fast, and she wonders, to this day, who is taking care of whom.

But now, looking at her son from across the table, shoulders slumped and lips turned down into an almost pout, she feels she has her baby boy back.

“Well then…” she gently lifted Hyukjae’s chin with a finger, and smiled. “Why don’t you go find out?”

- - -

It was the fifth time, Hyukjae counted, he checked his watch and there was still no sign of him. Was he worried? Why would he be? Donghae was neither a close friend nor was he someone he’s shared his deepest darkest secret with—in fact, it’s only been a few months since he’d known the brunette and it wasn’t like they spent every single day with each other.

Donghae was just a person he met from time to time, a person who was able to lighten up his mood and get him to think that running to class was actually fun. He wasn’t smart, his jokes were odd, he laughed too loud and too early and his spit would occasional fly to his face. Donghae wasn’t that special.

So why, Hyukjae constantly questioned himself, just why did he brush off precious minutes of sleep like they were nothing just to see if that tree branch would be empty again?

The guy could have just up and left the school, Hyukjae shouldn’t care too much. High school was boring, right? If anything, he should be happy for Donghae because he was able to escape it all.

Knowing him though, he might’ve gotten lost or fallen asleep on another branch somewhere and dropped his shoe on some thug that wasn’t as cool and as forgiving as Hyukjae was and— god, why does his chest feel so tight?

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be home late.”

Suddenly, Hyukjae wasn’t at the park and under the trees anymore. He was seated beside his mom on the cold concrete of their front steps. They were playing card games, the stars and dim streetlights hovering over to help them see. It was getting dark and he saw his mom shiver under the shawl draped over her shoulders but they stayed until the cold became difficult and the mosquitoes wouldn’t stop biting his arms and legs.

Still, he never came that night and Hyukjae woke up to loud voices and the sound of the door slamming. He saw his mom alone, crying into what looked like that man’s shirt. Hyukjae went downstairs as soon as she left to pick up the phone, and frowned because his dad’s clothes on the floor smelled nothing like his mom’s perfume.

He remembered never wanting to see her cry again.

The sound of the bell rang across the park, breaking Hyukjae out of his reverie. He sighed before picking his bag up and with one last look up at the tree, dragged his feet to school.

- - -

It was faint and a mere murmur between two girls chatting at their lockers a few feet away from Hyukjae, but he was certain he heard it.

“What was that?” He stumbled over.

They stared at him in mild shock, “What?”

“What you just said--” Hyukjae blinked, suddenly feeling out of breath, “about Donghae—what was that?”

The girls glanced at each other, biting back laughs from an inside joke. “We saw him at the office today, he was handing in his excuse letter for all the classes he missed.”

“He was smiling and laughing, and joking with the cashier” one of the girls gushed, “Who knew Donghae-ssi could actually be pretty cute?”

“See! I told you!”

“You never said anything!

“What! Yes I did! Remember when I was telling you about that speech exercise last—hey, where’d he go?”

They stared at the empty spot Hyukjae stood just moments ago.

He ran through the classrooms, bumped into a few shoulders and almost slipped on his way down the stairs. It was lunch break and class was going to start again in a few minutes so the hallways were full of students scurrying back to their rooms, but still no sign of Donghae.

He didn’t know why he was running so fast, or why he needed to see him right at this moment when they still had one more class together in the afternoon.

But Donghae doesn’t smile, laugh and joke with other people.

The halls were emptying out and he used this opportunity speed past his classroom, deaf to the shouts and waves of Sungmin from inside. He flew out the building and past the school gates.

Something is wrong.

Hyukjae ski