Ricky jolted awake from his sleep, instinctively throwing his bear plushie off the bed, shivering as the cold winter air brushed against his skin. The day had only just begun, but he felt as if the world was crashing down on him already. Preparing for the worst, he reluctantly tilted his head to look at the wall clock, all signs of sleep gone the moment he realized.

"Shoot! I'm late!"

Jumping off the bed, he threw on the outfit he prepared earlier and glanced himself in the mirror. He felt terribly unsatisfied with his messy locks, but left it in a rush to get to work. He shoved whatever pieces of paper on his desk into his briefcase - afraid that he might forget something since his notes were unorganized - and packed his laptop along with them.

Ricky's finger tips came in contact with the doorknob, aching to exit the house. It was also then, he remembered.

"My babies!"

He scrambled into the nearby pastel coloured room, hands shaking due to anxiousness, mind blank with only one goal in mind. He chucked the tiny blankets and pillows aside, ignoring the loud thuds as they hit the hard wood floor, frantically searching for his beloved children.

"Oh my gosh!" he shrieked. "Someone stole my babies! My poor, lovely babies!"

Ricky's stomach shrivelled with a queasy twist . He could sense it churning with butterflies, which caused him to pace about the house nervously. There were no babies to be seen in any nook and cranny of the homeplace. Left without a choice, Ricky headed towards the telephone with tears b in his eyes. He hiccupped, dialed the familar number and shakily pressed the speaker against his ear. 

"The person you are calling is not available, please leave a message...." 

Ricky tried again, and again, and again, giving up on the twentieth attempt. The phone fell onto the nearby table when he slumped down the wall, bawling his eyes out, fearing for his children's lives. Suddenly, it dawned upon him.

"Police! I have to call the police!"

He jumped upright and snatched the plastic technology off the table top. This time, from his peripheral vision, he saw something pink stuck on the cabinet. Leaning closer, he peeled off the sticky note and read it.

Ricky-ya~

Did you have a good sleep?

You shouldn't overwork yourself... 

Get enough rest, please. I don't want you sleeping on the table anymore. Let me help out with the chores, please.

See? I bet you're late for work now since you pulled an all-nighter.

I took the kids to your mother's house, no worries.

Love you,

Changjo.

Late.

Work.

He repeated those words in his head again, reminding himself of his planned schedule.

"Damn it! I forgot!"

"I am so sorry!" Ricky squeaked. "The roads were blocked and the traffic was heavy too. Did you know that it was raining where I came from so everyone was driving..."

"Mr Choi," The teacher tried grabbing his attention.

"I mean, how could anyone possibly decide to change the underground cables without notice? That's just very unprofessional of them to do so. A note published prior to the construction work should suffice but yet..."

"Mr Choi!" The teacher raised his voice as he tried the second time. 

"What?!" Ricky asked, equally as loud. 

"You've got a whole thirty minutes to prepare for the speech. Please follow me immediately."

"Thirthy minutes? But the clock... it said.."

"Clock? What about it?"

"I'm late!" Ricky insisted.

"No, you're not." The teacher shoved a watch up his face. "You're not late. Now please follow me. We'll be having a discussion with the principal before the speech. She's eager to meet you after all those rumours she's heard."

Ricky frowned. 

He definitely had to stop by seven-eleven for some sprare batteries on the way back home.

The principal was a nice lady - friendly and accepting - yet Ricky couldn't quite take it when she started bragging about her students. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but which principal wouldn't think highly of their school? He's seen plenty of kids in his entire career, hence, this batch shouldn't be any different.

Footsteps echoed the hallways as Ricky made his way to the assigned room. He'd done this a million times, and still, the nervousness never seemed to wear off.

About a hundred students sat on the carpeted floor, boredly waiting for his arrival in the confined space. He scrunched his chubby face in disgust upon entry; Green everywhere.

Yuck.

Uniforms, carpets, hair bands, diaries, even the curtains were soaked in leafy green!

Studying in unrefined classrooms like such horrified him, even more so teaching in one. But, business is business; he couldn't let colour preferences ruin a job opportunity, not when he sincerely held passion for it. 

"Good morning, kiddos!" A smile immediately took place as he began the speech. "The name's Choi Ricky, and I'll be speaking to you today."

He scanned the classroom. "Any questions?"

Now everyone had their attention on him, utterly confused since he hadn't given them a topic to question. Low murmurs emitted from his crowd.

He cleared his throat, "If that's the case, let me tell you a story." And so he proceeded without hesitation.

"There once lived a young boy. He was a little clueless, you know, that oblivious friend you'd have during high school who never understood the dirty jokes." 

The students sneaked in a snigger, completely agreeable with his statement. 

"Living in this mean cruel world, many took advantage of his kindness and used him as they pleased. Regrettably, his good natured self allowed himself to become a victim of bullying rather easily. No one knew of his sufferings; he did not inform his parents, and never did bother getting help from another source."

"The boy had his first boyfriend when he was fourteen. You'd expect him to be happy to be in a loving relationship, but that definitely wasn't the case. The seemingly harmless boyfriend had many sinister sides, leaving the young boy vulnerable, unable to defend himself."

"It wasn't before long the abuse began; he would lash out at the young boy when he struggled to keep up with life, blaming him for all the downs that occurred. Apparently, the boyfriend was also an alcoholic, which made the situation worse because he would ually assault the young boy when he felt stressed. These happened more often as time passed. The young boy dared not break up with the older man; what would happen after? Just the mere thought of it scared him to death. Soon, two years went by."

"One day, the young boy picked up the courage to boldly face his boyfriend. He decided that he could no longer live as someone else's puppet, anything was better than constantly having to live under the reign of a master."

"Surprisingly, the boyfriend agreed. Except for the string of rude words that followed, the conversation was unexpectedly uneventful."

"The young boy should've known better than to believe that things could resolve with a snap of the finger. The next morning, he arrived in school only to be bombarded by sniggers and nasty glares. It was then he was fully aware that he wouldn't survive through high school alive. Regardless of the path he chose, it was only filled with darkness and pain."

"Insults, ceaseless teasings, senseless beatings; he got them all. To make matters worse, his ex-boyfriend approached him once more, demanding he return to his side immediately. How could he refuse?"

"The ual assaults from then on consisted of his boyfriend's mates him altogether. It was utterly disgusting, a terrifying feeling for those who experienced it, but a running joke for those who do it. The gang grew more intense with time. He would receive cuts and bruises all over his body, headaches that never ceased, and of course the stinging pain in the , literally." 

The whole room was solemn; tense expressions stared right back at Ricky with mouths agape in shock. Ricky himself was out of it, staring blankly into space as he recalled the story. 

"At the age of seventeen, the young boy attempted suicide. His theory was simple, really; if there was no way out, he'd make a way out. He had already been self harming prior, making the process much more pleasant to conduct. The pain was numbing as the thin kitchen blade sliced through his flesh, tearing apart the poorly concealed wounds and making fresh cuts. He laid surrounded by a bloody pool, finally feeling a sense of tranquility in his life."

"As soon as his mother found him, he was sent to the emergency room and operated upon."

"Life grasped no meaning in his eyes. He was practically praying for death, begging God to take him away."

"He awoke from his long slumber three days later. When he realized that he remained alive, tears brimmed and spilled uncontrollably. He bawled his eyes out, desperately yelling at anyone who came close, trashing and kicking like a mad person. He would shriek and scream during the sleepless nights, suffocate himself whenever he could, resulting with a detention."

"The doctors were so very afraid, hence, a psychiatrist was appointed regularly to provide treatment. Eventually, the old lady managed to coax some information out of the fragile being and informed his mother of the severity of the case, not forgetting to mention those who were involved."

"The day after, he awoke to a haven filled with flowers and gifts. Trembling, he picked up a card that laid on his bedside and read it. Instantly, he recognized the handwritting. How could he not, when the owner was the reason to the nightmares in his sleep?"

"Shrieking, he smashed and stomped on the gifts, going berserk to the point where he lit up the gifts and stood amongst the fire, laughing as he screamed, to hell we burn!"

"Luckily, the nurses managed to drag him out of the situation before the chamber collapsed. Strict commands were made to ensure he was guarded twentyfour-seven, tracing every movement of his and reporting to the higher-ups when suspicious activity was spotted."

"Time passed, and he recovered, albeit not wholly. He wouldn't freak out ever so often, but the memories could be triggered if not careful. He was also ten times more reserved than before, keeping to his studies and avoiding bodily contact. He tried working on maintaining eye-contact, but to no avail. Family members were worried for him eventhough he clearly stated that he could fend for himself. Really, how could one believe such a blatant lie?"

Ricky finally broke out of his trance, facing the students, looking awfully delighted instantaneously. In a chirpy voice, he asked, "Are you interested to know what happens next?"

The audience nodded fiercely, to which he chuckled at. 

"He lived life no different from any other normal person." Ricky stated simply.

The crowd scoffed, disappointed at the less than satisfactory resolution. Naturally, a wave of complaints sounded. He shushed them hurriedly.

"I'm not done with the story." He claimed, garnering attention, causing anticipation to increase rapidly. 

"Somewhere along the way, the boy discovered a new reason to live. He'd found a bunch of idiotic, nonsensical, freaks who accepted him for who he was, yet at the same time, they encouraged him to move forward a step at a time. They knew when to push and force him out of his comfort zone, and also allowed time for him to retreat into his shell. They made him a stronger person."

"Furthermore, one of those ignorant imbeciles actually got him a boyfriend along the way. He's one of a kind, I've got to say; so very romantic, lovely, caring, kind, macho, handsome, hardworking, the list goes on, but that's going to take forever to finish. Simply saying, the boyfriend was not a useless, pathetic , but someone who truly treasured him." The entire room gasped, shocked by the news. "Hey, that's mean."

The year group giggled when he pouted. 

"The interval between the discharge from the hospital and starting anew is pretty boring, I've got to say. Full of misery and , so let's skip the details. We're going to fast forward to now, the present." Ricky's agile fingers flitted over the keyboard, looking for a certain image.

"Here," He double clicked the file and it appeared on the screen. "This is a picture of him taken last week. The one on the left is his husband, and the little children belong to them."

"The one on the right-" 

Ricky finished the sentence on behalf of the little boy, "Is a victim of ual abuse, has attempted suicide, and was also diagnosed with depression after. There would be days where he'd throw tantrums due to petty trust issues, otherwise, he's exactly the same person, just changed for the better."

"But-" Some girl in pigtails spoke up from the corner of the room. shivered like a fish out of water, unable to complete the sentence, totally mindblown by the fact.

"Yeah," Ricky smiled. "I know."