L.Joe: i
Lost Dreamers
“You're home late. Where were you?”
“Do you think my home is a hotel? Coming in and out as you wish?”
Byunghun stared out of the window, shutting out from everything. He preferred to be alone. Isolated. The world was against him. He ran his hand against his hair, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. The older man’s voice washed over Byunghun and it was alike to the rough water tides. Perhaps, it was better for Byunghun to avoid. Perhaps, it was better for him to let this man’s words, murder his dreams. Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to let the man’s words bite him.
“Your parents left you. Is this how you repay us for accommodating to your needs? A shelter to seek cover from. Food to eat. Clothes for warmth. We’ve provided you with everything. What is with this attitude? Are you out to dig a grave for yourself, useless punk?”
The man in his late forties gazed at the blonde haired teenager standing inches apart from him. The man wasn’t happy. He continued eyeing his nephew. Hairstyle dictated the look of a rebellious boy. Leather jacket and heavy studs to match his deep gazed eyes. Bruises in the blues and blacks taped to his skin. His eyes held grudge and adolescent pain. Byunghun formed an identity. His world collided with the man, standing right in front of him.
The man seethed in frustration. Byunghun refused to compete with the man’s words. Words coated with nothing but disgust.
“Have you been picking up fights in the streets?” The man accused, barking into Byunghun’s face.
His hand skidded over to Byunghun’s face, grasping his jaw. Byunghun looked up, undeterred. Byunghun gritted his teeth, tasting frenzied rage between his lips. He would leave holes on the walls if he were to stay put in this place. He would bruise his stepfamily, if the devil in his head chose to break free. Byunghun remained impervious. The heart pricking remark crashed against his heart. Byunghun’s eyes were unfathomable. His stepfamily wrenched him. Time and time again. It was like they have stamped him flat on the dirt marbled floor.
“Fights?” Byunghun’s lips cowered to a smirk. “Where have you been picking up these retarded rumors from?”
His uncle released his grasp. His right hand balled to form a clenched fist. He stood, unable to choke out words from his mouth.
“Headmaster called!" the older man growled. His tone covered with wrath. Byunghun had pushed and pulled the last string. His attitude tugged and scattered, the people around him. Possibly, pushing opportunities thrown upon him. “I’ve enrolled you into Seoul High. Are you out to give me hell? Why didn’t you turn up for school? Why would you want to waste your time behind back alleys, punk?”
Byunghun clutched the end of his jacket, figuring that he shouldn’t be wasting his time on such petty matters. He ignored the man, trudging up the staircase to his room. He was aching in the limbs, thinking of getting sleep after skateboarding by the back alleys.
“Punk, before I tell you to get lost from my home, you’d better listen to what I say!”
The space accommodated for Byunghun was never just right. He lives with his uncle whom he has a family to shelter and care for. Byunghun was just there. The world was just too heavy on Byunghun’s shoulders. They planned his future. They molded his dreams and path. Though he owed it to them for giving him a home. He didn’t have a say in anything. It made him sick, trying to breathe right in this place.
Byunghun had nowhere to go. He has to adapt to the home. Home was hell. Hell was home.
Or he would just... be gone.
The world appeared vast and lost in his eyes. Byunghun wished he had a familiar road to follow. A familiar road to chase after. He needs to be told that he was worth it.
Not a useless punk.
Not a boy depending on a family who he felt nothing but emptiness from.
Byunghun refused to fix his blonde hair, unimpressed with the attire he was made to wear. Discontentedly, he draped the leather jacket over his school's uniform, sneaking in a box of nicotine into his back pocket. Speechless. He couldn’t believe that he will be attending a school dedicated for the rich. The upper class. To his demise, he will be a part of it. Worlds apart or not. He didn’t bid goodbye to his stepfamily nor did he consume breakfast.
Byunghun strode out of the house, wondering what ed up place he will be chained to. He didn’t have a choice, to start with. The watch spoke his tardiness. He was an hour late for school. Byunghun didn’t care. He felt so immune on the inside even though sometimes, his eyes reflected the broken pieces welled inside of him.
He stared by the edge of the walkway, watching the perfectly built school. He wanted to keep a distance from the upper class’s place. It didn’t match up to his reputation. He masked in his own little world. The entrance covered with lush green brilliance. Students were already allocated to their respective classes.
He took a deep breath, idling to enter, scrutinizing the space.
“I don’t belong here. Damn!” Byunghun cursed out loud, raking his hair. His uncle’s words stabbed him in the heart. Useless. Useless punk. What future did he have? This was a way to hear himself out. This was the path to carry him to a distance in order to make a name for himself.
He shook his head, thinking over. He was already late. He was trying to have a heart to heart talk by himself. He had found himself to be useless. " this."
“What are you doing here? Not going in?”
Byunghun grew startled by the voice. He turned around, nonchalantly, meeting eyes with a girl. The girl carelessly slung her satchel to the side. She didn’t budge, staring at him with confidence. Not the kind of confidence, worn by the upper class. The kind of voice, saying things to protect themselves or to provoke. The type of voice, laced with an air of defiance.
“You’re mute, pretty boy?” She tore the silence, pouring her heart out. She was smirking.
She didn’t give a damn even when Byunghun has thrown in a piercing glare.
“What?” Byunghun retaliated with his words, seething in rage. “I’m not going in.”
“Just as I thought.” The girl briefly replied, checking her watch. “Are you a student here or-" She was kind of suppressing her laugh, lips shaped into a slight smirk. “You’re kind of lost?”
“New student,” Byunghun replied, sounding monotonous, eyes meeting her collected self.
“And you’re late.”
“You’re too.” Byunghun thought that she was rather queer. She did something that Byunghun never expected her to do. She pulled him by the arm, heading for the tall wired wall. Dangerous. Out of bounds.
“What the hell are you doing?” Byunghun hissed. His words came out harsh, retracting his hands away from her. He didn’t get why the girl had hidden herself against the wall, straying from the main entrance. He had his eyes locked to the girl, trying to reach out to her intentions.
“We’re ing late, pretty boy. Follow my way or we’re going to get busted by the disciplinary.” The girl entwined her legs in between the wired frame, pulling herself up the wall. She retorted, simply not giving a care.
Byunghun’s lips were agape, unexpected by the girl’s way of speech. Her actions made him think twice. He wasn't going to judge her further. She successfully crossed over, handing her palm out to help him. His lips lifted into a snicker. He rested his hand on her palm, trying to get over the obstacle.
She smirked yet again, delighted that he had followed her.
Byunghun secretly glanced over, his mind whirled with curiosity. He cleared his throat, still perplexed by the girl’s mannerism. “What’s your name?”
She glanced, wearing a smug smile.
“Park In-Na. In-Na. We can be friends, pretty boy?”
He whispered her name in his heart, thinking that this place might not be as ed up after all.
In-Na walked to the front, not once turning back, leading him to the allocated classroom. She didn't speak a word, seemingly making Byunghun feel like he never even existed. The help she gave was just a regular act. An act alike to watching people come and go.
Byunghun didn’t mind. He preferred the quiet space. Their eyes briefly met and Byunghun looked away. There was something about In-Na’s eyes. Her eyes glinted with teenage rebellion. He couldn’t capture the color of her eyes because she had avoided his gaze. Almost too quickly. Their eyes met, yet again, stolen glances were made. Byunghun, however, pretended to stare at the lockers as they walked. Lockers plastered with neatly labeled names. The school hallway rustled in silence, all that his ears could capture were their footsteps, matched in rhythm against the grey flooring.
“Here,” In-Na muttered. Her voice sounded cool and collected. “Pretty boy, here’s your class.” She crouched low, peering through the small window. Byunghun didn’t know what planet had knocked over his skull. He followed her actions, crouched to the cold cement. His head dangled to his feet, palm pressed to the ground, supporting his body weight. He was waiting. Waiting for a certain something. Instructions. Miracle.
Or possibly, her call.
“What the hell are you doing?” In-Na cracked in bewilderment, staring right through Byunghun’s eyes. “Get inside.” She didn’t budge, tapping her feet impatiently. They were strangers. Regardless of which, both were equally stubborn-headed.
Byunghun quickly brushed off her sharp remark, collecting his voice. “Hell. You should go right in.”
“Your class.” In-Na hissed back, unsatisfied. Her lips cowered to a thin line. “I said - it’s your class.”
“ this.” Byunghun slipped off profanities, throwing his bag to the floor. “Where’s your class?”
“Mind your own. There isn't a need for you to know.”
Byunghun’s eyebrows creased, straining to think straight. The both of them were able to hear the lesson happening inside the classroom. He picked up the bits and pieces of words spouted, stringing it at the back of his head. “Importance of punctuality.” “Academics.” “Aim high.” “Valuable.”
He listened close, pressing his ear to the door, lost into the situation. In-Na bent her knees, staying hidden from onlookers, or at least she tried to. They struggled with speech. Both struggled to make a decent conversation. Byunghun thought of her as a hidden gem. Badass on the surface but what actually lies underneath all of that? He wondered. He wondered deep. He was starting to think of her -
He should run. She should run, too. Staying hidden wouldn’t be of much help. How the hell did he get stuck to this barren vastness? Why did the girl suggested to be his friend? Who does she think she is to call him – the pretty boy? For all his life, he was labeled nothing close to pretty. Handsome, yes. Mysterious – locked to his nickname. Pretty? The streets wouldn’t dare to affiliate him with that humiliating synonym.
Bam. A hand slammed the door. A satchel hit the wooden surface, causing a deafening sound to escape.
Lost in transition. Byunghun realized the situation. His sight probed, pried and before he knew it, the girl had scurried off to the other direction. Profanities departed from his mouth, noticing that the homeroom’s door has sprung open. Byunghun completely frustrated, having cursed words floating in between his tongue. Those words deemed useless as In-Na saluted from a far, mouthing ‘best of luck, pretty boy’ towards his direction. The nerves of her to do that. The least he could discern from the pitiful state he was in. She had the guts to leave him. She actually left him - to face doom on his own.
“Lee Byunghun? What are you doing outside the class? Get in.”
He nodded his head, wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly. He stood up from his crouching position, briefly checking the corridor to see if she has truly left. A part of his heart swore revenge. A part of him however, thought otherwise.
“Class, we’ve a new student here in Seoul High.” The teacher navigated him to the front of the class.
Byunghun fixed his expression, transforming it from annoyed to expressionless. He scanned the classroom; their faces spoke nothing to him. He caught the girls giggling. The boys analysed his attire, snidely glaring at his blonde shade of hair. A couple of girls at the back waved a hand. He focused on the ground instead. He stopped himself from looking ahead of him.
“Byunghun,” Byunghun shrugged, he wasn’t sure if the class heard his voice. “I’m Lee Byunghun.”
When he passed by the rest of his classmates, the girls broke into bigger smiles, some tried to distract him with pointless remarks and compliments. Byunghun felt in a blur between how he was treated. They made him feel uneasy. It was something strange and new.
Byunghun picked a seat closest to the window.
“Everyone’s in.” The girl with black raven hair distracted the class, acknowledging the roll even before it officially begins. The teacher nodded her head, briefly glancing around the class and back to her file. Byunghun sat in his chair, unmoved, eyes inching to his hand. For the first time, in the longest time, he found himself smiling. He smiled as he looked at the surface of his hand, of which she had touched.
“Kim Jae Rin.”
“Present.”
“Kim Min Ji.”
“Here.”
“Lee Ha-Na.”
“Here.”
“Park In-Na.”
The teacher swept her black strand of hair to the back of her ears, pressing her pen to the file in her grasp. Byunghun’s hand clattered to the table surface, startled by the mention of her name.
“Where’s Park In-Na?” the teacher said, shaking her head. “That girl hasn’t been coming into my class. Has anyone seen her? If she refuses to turn up again, I’m putting her in for long-term detention.”
"She's worthless, ssem."
"Useless. Just kick her out of this reputable institution."
"Rebel."
“We can be friends, pretty boy?” “Your class. It’s your class. Get in." "You're ing late." "We can be fr-"
Her voice nudged him in the head. The memories forced themselves. Byunghun shifted in his seat. His lips crooked into a line as he found himself smirking. “Gotcha, Park In-Na.”
He found someone who wanted to be free. He wasn't the only one fighting for an escape. She was special. I'll be your friend, he thought.
"Would you like to join me for lunch?" A girl, pressed with brown coated eyes offered. She wrapped a hand around his wrist, trying her best to win over his attention.
"No."
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