A/N: Yay for update! Haha! I’m sorry if it had been a long time since I’ve updated this story. I wrote this chapter before but with different contents. And it was unfinished, so I couldn’t continue it because well, the feeling was gone long time ago. And it rained yesterday! It was inspiring so I wrote this. <3 (I’m not saying I can only write if it rains. There were times that it rained but it took me some time to be inspired.)

 

It didn’t help that Dongseob was my unpopular opinion. Dongwoon could be added to that. :3 But I’m glad that I came up with this chapter. I don’t really know Dongwoon’s character so he might be OOC, but meh. I like him better this way.  I also didn’t put that much description unlike before, like Yoseob was this; he was cute, blah, blah, because well, I don’t need to put it every single time.

 

I dedicate this to Bohyemi, who had been bothering me to update. Thank you. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

 

Oh, one more thing. Help me decide who would be the bullies, by answering the poll down there. Xie xie!

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Chapter 3 – The Sun after a Storm

 

It had been a rough night for someone like Son Dongwoon.

 

The night had begun exposing its own colors: dark, cruel and cold; Dongwoon wouldn't have minded it; if it weren't for the rumbling of thunders and flashes of lightning he could hear and see from a distance.

 

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, punk!" A man around his age yelled at him, giving him a heavy kick on his stomach. Dongwoon's back came across the wall behind him; he gave a groan of pain that made his bully smirk. He fell down to his knees.

 

He could hear the cruel mirth in the background. He must have forgotten that they were others who enjoyed seeing him in pain.

 

His pained expression quickly went away as it was replaced by apathy. The man immediately stopped smirking. It was soon overcome with a frown, then turned anger.

 

Dongwoon knew he had pissed the hell out of him; after all, it wasn't fun beating up someone who wouldn't even bat an eyelash. And even though he knew he would get more beatings than his usual ones, he didn't care. It was better for him not to give them pleasure of beating the lights out of him. Besides, it was fun riling them further.

If they enjoyed him being in pain, Dongwoon enjoyed their outbursts and bemused expressions. It only made them look like morons, and to Dongwoon, it was an actual fact.

 

Dongwoon had his head down, his hand clenching his stomach. He was shaking. His bully got even more confused! Oh, stupidity!

 

"What's wrong with this kid," he uttered, frowning. He glanced at the others for some reaction; they shrugged.

He tried to stifle his laughter, but failing when doing so. Dongwoon then burst laughing, an amused yet at the same time hollow, making his opponents a little puzzled but then turned to anger.

 

He had tears around his eyes as he looked up. "You guys are so stupid," he insulted them. He wasn't in any position to give insults, but he just couldn't help it. It was his own way of getting back at them; he wasn't one to resort in violence anyway.

 

The smell of the rain reached his nose as well as the flashes of lightning. Soon, it would rain --scratch that-- a storm was coming.

 

Dongwoon failed to hear the clamor as he was too focused at the sound of the thunder and the occasional lightning. They were yelling obscenities at him, some of them shouting to beat him up. He was caught off guard when a fist came in contact with his jaw. It was heavy and meant to inflict pain in that certain part. He sputtered blood.

 

He was then subjected to a series of kicks and punches; they beat him black and blue. He began to shut his dangerous mouth, after all, he still wanted to go home, and he got better ways to die than dying here in the hands of stupid morons.

 

The rain then descended, a bit harsh and cold, not to mention heavy. It pelted on his skin. He wasn't fazed, but his bullies were.

 

The man taunted hin, "Not so tough now huh, wangdda?"

 

There was no reaction as Dongwoon continued to lay his head low. He didn't need to see that his beater had this condescending smile as if he broke Dongwoon's spirit. But he was wrong. No one had broken him before. Not even when he was announced as the school's outcast or wanggda, he never cried.

Or at least that was what he thought.

 

Not too far from them, they began to hear the wailings of a police car. ", someone called the police! C'mon, let's go!"

 

It was funny seeing them tucking their tails between their legs as they flee from the scene. How could they be scared of sounds when one minute they were acting so tough?

 

He scoffed. "Pathetic," he muttered, not really knowing if it pertained to those bullies or him. He guessed it was more for the former, and partly for him.

He ignored the harsh beating of the rain against his skin, in fact, he welcomed it, because it caressed and washed his wounds, like an antiseptic. Dongwoon was drenched by now. He closed his eyes, feeling the rain, appreciating it. It goes that some people really feel the rain, since most of them just get wet.

 

Spending a few minutes for the free shower, he straightened up, in pain at the jolt of sensation on his stomach and every part of his body. He went too far this time. Dongwoon began look for his bag, a little part of him hoping that they hadn't wrecked it. He d around because of the darkness that the back alley provided. The moon could have been helpful, if it weren't for the dark clouds covering it.

 

Touching some kind of leather, his eyes lit, despite the nagging at the back of his mind that it was wet. His books must have been soaked also.

He frowned at the realization.

 

Dongwoon grabbed his bag, dusting it though pointless, and searched for an umbrella. He was soaked to the bone, and even though he liked the rain, he'd get sick and Key would scold him for it. It wasn't like Key would ignore his bruises though. He needed to prepare his ears tonight.

 

The beaten-up man hoisted himself up; pain all over his body gave him a hard time. Nonetheless, he succeeded standing up. The challenge now was walking. He could crawl too, but that was unlikely for him to do.

 

He leaned against the wall, his breathing inconstant because of the pain. Maybe he needed to shut his mouth more often, otherwise, he would get more than this. He opened his umbrella and trudged towards his home.

 

A lot of thoughts rushed over him as he trudged on the water-clad road. His shoes were beginning to have water in them. This kind of weather always seemed to be the ideal moment for him to reminisce or to think about few things. He didn't want to think about these things.

 

Son Dongwoon was tall. He had brown hair, long bangs that sometimes hid his brown eyes, and a little tan on his skin. His face called foreign, that was why he was often deemed as one. It didn't help that it was his source of predicament either.

 

He was Korean actually. His father was Korean and everything. He just lived in a different country which only added to the proofs of other people that he wasn't Korean. This kind of news eventually spread to the whole school. He didn't know why, but his classmates began to ignore him. Every time he would speak, they'd shut him up or pretended they didn't hear him. They treated him as if he was non-existent; when he passed a busy and noisy corridor, it became quiet and filled with hushed whispers. It wasn't like he couldn't hear them.

 

For most reasons, he didn't understand. Where'd he gone wrong? What did he do? He just studied abroad, what's wrong with that?

 

The answer was discrimination. He did understand later. After all, the hints were all over his face. When he tried to speak, they mocked him, saying something about, "Oh, he speaks Korean!" And though it was a fact that turned mockery, the ways of excluding him became stronger. They would judge what he was doing and he would hear it. They would say that he shouldn't do what they do, 'cause he wasn't at all Korean. And his foreign look only seemed to add fuel to the fire.

 

He then was announced as a wanggda later. If it wasn't that bad, they bullied him, like what happened ago. They ordered him around, doing this and that. But Dongwoon wasn't an easy slave; he wasn't the type who would bow down to others. Maybe he got that from Key.

 

Key. Key was his step-brother. He was kind, a bit motherly and protective, but could handle himself better. He would not forgive himself if anything happened to Key. They say that the status of "wanggda" can influence somebody, and they would treat that person as a wanggda too. It would follow their lives forever. That wasn’t right. Key liked people around him. He shook his head.

 

Everyone was just stupid to be scared of something like this. That was also the reason why nobody bothered with Dongwoon, in spite having nothing against him. They were pretentious. And they couldn't take the mental breakdown of being non-existent. Dongwoon got used to it after all. But it didn't mean that he didn't long for companion. Of course, having a friend outside the school occurred to him before. But news dissipated faster than he thought it could, those guys fled too.

How he wished he had someone, someone to smile, laugh and joke with, he wanted to be needed by somebody. For someone to like him, for someone to say they were glad that he existed and came to their lives, but that was only wishful thinking. Maybe if he left Korea, there would be some hope.

 

His train of thoughts was interrupted when a guy tapped his shoulder. He looked over—more like, bent his head down-- and saw a small and white-hooded figure, the hood casting shadows on his face as the street lamp shed some help. The boy raised his head, smiling at Dongwoon. The first thing he noticed was his twinkling brown eyes.

 

"May I take cover?"

 

The question was random, like the words' owner. He appeared out of nowhere, or maybe Dongwoon didn't hear him sneaking at him. Dongwoon contemplated about the man's request. He then turned his back away from him, walking and leaving the boy frowning.

 

"No," Dongwoon replied coldly.

 

"But I'm getting wet," the man reasoned as Dongwoon stopped on his tracks.

 

"So? If you're wet, then might as well be wetter. Think of it as a free shower, ahjusshi." Dongwoon replied, now sparing a glance on the eccentric man. He was white all over, Dongwoon thought.

 

"I'm not an ahjusshi! I'm way, way too cute for that. Besides, you're also wet! What makes you any better to seek refuge under an umbrella?" the man complained. Dongwoon felt like he was having an argument with a child, a cute one at that.

 

Dongwoon sighed and said to him, "Because it's my umbrella."

 

"It could be, but it doesn't have your name on it!"

 

"I got it from my bag; how could it not be mine?'

 

"Can I just please, seek cover in your umbrella,” he pleaded, "I lent my own to someone. Besides, I could treat your wounds also."

 

The last word caught him off guard. The fact that someone would care for his wounds, he never really expected someone would even offer to help him, much less, didn't try to strike conversation on how he got it in the first place. Then again, he was giving some cover for the boy under his umbrella; it was only natural that the boy would scratch his back also.

 

He paused and swallowed a lump. "Fine," he said, making the boy elate as he yelled a happy 'Yay'.

 

*

 

"So what's your name," the smaller boy chirped beside him as Dongwoon held the umbrella between them. Dongwoon looked around.

 

"Son Dongwoon."

 

"I'm Yang Yoseob."

 

"So? I didn't really ask."

 

Yoseob pouted. "You're so rude!"

 

And silence washed over them as Dongwoon realized he was shunning the boy away from him. It didn't help that it was his first conversation after some time. But the boy didn't know he was a wanggda, if he knew, he would just go away like others. Dongwoon couldn't risk getting the boy close to him.

 

"I'm a wanggda, do you know that," he asked quietly.

 

"Not at all."

 

Dongwoon waited for a response as they walked on the pavement. Unable to contain the silence any further, he nudged, "Well?"

 

"What 'well'?" Yoseob asked looking at Dongwoon. He was confused.

 

"I'm a wanggda."

 

"Yeah, you’ve told me."

 

Dongwoon stopped, making the boy stopped also.

 

"I'm a wanggda."

 

"I'm cold, nice to meet you," the boy joked, extending his hand.

 

"Shouldn't you avoid me? Talk to me? Better yet, pretend that I don't exist?" Dongwoon demanded, his voice getting a little desperate.

 

"Do you want me too?"

 

"No! I mean yes! I mean.. Agh! This is so complicated!" Dongwoon ran his hands through his hair, pulling them of frustration.

 

"Look here, just because you're a wanggda or whatsoever, I don’t have to ignore you like everybody does. Besides, you gave cover to a stranger who you didn't even know, and that was nice. All I know is, I'm sticking at the end of our deal. I'm gonna clean those wounds and hope that the next time I'll see you, you won't have those bruises again."

 

Dongwoon pursued his lips. "Tough luck," he muttered.

 

The conversation stopped as they arrived to what Dongwoon deemed as the boy's home. It was a close shop; the name was "Yang Cafe". That explained the surname.

 

Yoseob led Dongwoon at the back, where there was a flight of stairs. They ascended the stairs, Yoseob was looking for the key under the potted plant beside the door. He inserted it in, the lock clicking open as the door opened.

It smelled like a room you hadn't visited before or ignored for a long time. Yoseob reached for the switch, opening the lights. Dongwoon took the time to observe.

 

Everything was clothed in white. White cloths draped over the furniture like it was old or unused. "Sorry about the place," he said, his tone was doleful," I don't live here anymore."

 

"Oh. It's.. okay."

 

The boy smiled at him. "Why don't you take a hot shower first? I'm sure it's still functioning. Besides, you'll get sick. I can just clean the wounds later."

 

Dongwoon nodded, despite being in a presence of someone he didn't know except the name. It wasn't malevolent, it felt... a bit right. It was like friends who weren't able to catch the last minute train, it felt like they were friends on his past life.

 

*

 

After Dongwoon had a hot shower, something he enjoyed in fact, Yoseob lent him clothes to be able to dry his wet ones. But of course it wasn't his; his clothes were far too small for him. He said that it was his cousin's. He wore a shirt and some sweat pants.

 

It was still raining outside when Dongwoon sat by the fire. It was warm. It made him feel good. "I have the first aid!" Yoseob announced gleefully, making Dongwoon smile. He sat down beside Dongwoon, returning the smile.

 

He put antiseptic on the cotton, and jabbed on Dongwoon's stomach. "You know you should smile often. It looks good on you."

 

Dongwoon winced despite the gentle treatment. “I have no use for it."

"You do now."

 

"..yeah.'

 

Yoseob treated his wounds and didn't say a word. Dongwoon appreciated the silence, and the occasional cackle of wood in the fireplace. He was now lying in his stomach as Yoseob treated his wounds on the back.

 

"I got them from bullies or racists. Everyday.. I was bullied." He said as if in a drunken state. Dongwoon couldn't understand. Right now, it felt right to tell it to Yoseob. Just like his touch on his back, it felt good. Yoseob didn't say anything.

 

He close his eyes as he continued, "The teachers didn't do anything about it. Maybe they were afraid. It's just that it's getting out of hand you know?"

 

"And those racists, how could they even do this to me? I'm not even a foreigner!" He complained. "And then.. Then.."

 

It was then that he spilled his life to Yoseob, his fears for Key being branded as a wanggda, him not having any friends, etc. He fell back to sleep, with a heavy pain in his chest being lifted.

 

Yoseob draped a blanket over him "Good night, Woonie."

 

Outside, the storm was still on its parade.

*

 

When Dongwoon woke up, he felt good, and it was such a long time since he had felt it. He recognized a blanket on him, and he perceived that he fell asleep on a stranger's house, not to mention, he remembered telling him his life last night. He felt heat around his cheeks.

 

The fire had been put out not too long ago. Dongwoon looked around the floor. There was a note.

 

"Woonie," it said. He smiled a little because of the nickname.

 

"The sun rose again, even if a dark storm washed over yesterday. I'd like you to know that it would be the same for you too." Dongwoon stifled his cries. Was it.. Reasonable to cry at human kindness? Not to mention, the first one he received in months?

 

"If ever you need some refuge, treatment, or someone to talk to, you could always go here. You know where the key is! :)

 

And if ever I'm not there by chance, I'm sure we are bound to meet!

 

PS. Your clothes are in the next room. Kekeke.

 

Love, the cutest ahjusshi forever. :3”

 

Dongwoon smiled, realizing it was his first time in months. It was his genuine and happy smile, unlike the usual hollow ones that lied his way through everything. He got up, the pain was still there but no longer hurt, went to the other room and changed his clothes.

 

Before going, he grabbed a paper and a pen. He dashed something on it and laid it over the table.

"Thank you."

 

He went to the door, relinquishing the nostalgic smell of the room, the warmth it had given him yesterday and till now. He smiled as he turned the knob.

 

He'll be alright

 

He stepped outside, the sun's rays immediately greeting him. He welcomed it. Dongwoon smiled again.

 

The sun will always come up, no matter what happens. 

 

A/N: I discovered wanggda after watching one of Simon and Martina’s tl;dr. Wanggda is a term or Korean word for outcast. They’re the object of bullying. Students wouldn’t talk to them; otherwise, they would be branded as a wanggda also. It would also follow their lives forever. For example, if a wanggda transfers to another school, the name won’t cease to exist. It’ll follow him like a shadow. The teachers stopped helping the wanggda, I heard. There was one teacher who helped one, but only got in trouble as the wanggda complained about the teacher helping him, thus parents calling so he ended up without a job or a warning. Bullying is popular in Korea, sadly.