A Place to Belong

“Tao? Tao, please, open up!”

Jiyoon pounded her fist on the wooden door of Apartment 12, exactly where Tao had said he was living. She backed away when she heard the lock click, hoping in her heart of hearts that Tao would be the one to open the door.

Instead, Minseok poked his head out. “Yes, who is it?” he asked, looking to see just who was causing such a racket on a lazy Saturday afternoon. His eyes landed on Jiyoon. “Oh! Jiji, hey! I expected to be seeing you sooner.”

She bowed in apology. “Sorry to bother you, Minseok, but, um, is Tao here?” Her voice was filled with hope as she tried to peer around Minseok and into the apartment. She didn’t see any movement.

A frown came over Minseok’s lips. He shook his head. His voice was low as he replied, “No, he’s not. I think he went out yesterday and never came home.” His frown grew even deeper as Jiyoon’s face fell “But I think I know where he might be going. I’ll give you the address,” he amended, not wanting to see her sad anymore.

Jiyoon beamed in reply. “Thank you.” She bowed gratefully, causing Minseok to try smiling for the younger female.

He asked her to come in, offering her tea or coffee. She declined, taking a seat politely on the couch. Minseok quickly scribbled down the address on a piece of paper, accompanied by directions.

“Thank you,” she said once more. “Thank you.”

He ruffled her hair softly. “Please make sure that he’s not getting himself into any trouble. At least, not like he was,” Minseok requested, his voice so quiet that she almost couldn’t hear his caring words.

But she caught them, and suddenly wondered why Minseok, the ever kind, ever happy Minseok, was asking her to help keep Tao out of trouble.

“Minseok,” she began, “can you tell me how Tao broke his ribs?”

Tao shifted on the couch, his foot tapping the armrest of the couch in boredom while his head rested upon a pillow that rested upon the other armrest. The television remote lay in one hand while a bottle of banana milk rested in the other.

He sighed.

It’d been weeks since he last saw Jiyoon. He missed her, wondered how she was doing.

“You’re thinking about her again.”

Looking up, Tao’s gaze fell upon Andi. The blonde woman had brought in a plate of cookies for the younger. She smiled knowingly, like she could read his mind.

Tao sniffed indignantly, sitting up on the couch and snatching a cookie from the plate before she could say anything. “I never said that. Besides, I’m sure that Jiyoon is doing just fine without me. She’s probably happy to be with her brother and her best friend again,” he protested snobbishly, not wanting to admit just how dependent he’d become on the daily talks he had with Jiyoon before she was discharged.

At his words, Andi’s knowing, mischievous smile only grew. “I never said that it was Jiyoon you were thinking of,” she pointed out. She sat next to Tao, nibbling on her own cookie.

The younger sputtered a little, not knowing how to respond to his best friend’s girlfriend. “You tricked me,” he finally settled on, whining adorably with a pout.

Andi laughed softly, ruffling his hair gently to Tao’s protests. “You miss her, don’t you? Jiyoon?” she asked. Tao just nodded, his face flushing a light pink. “I need to thank her again.” Andi leaned back and looked up, taking another cookie with her.

“Why?”

The blonde quirked an eyebrow with a slight smirk. “She saved your life,” she replied easily.

Tao’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” he muttered.

“You haven’t been getting into fights in the past three weeks. Just a few months ago, you’d have already broken your leg twice within three weeks, gotten bruised and beaten, and maybe some bruised knuckles from beating the out of those annoying kids who keep picking on you,” Andi rattled off, not taking her eyes off of the ceiling above her as she spoke.

“I… I did?”

Tao barely remembered what he did before being in the hospital, only that he’d ended up with broken ribs because of something reckless he did.

He remembered that he used to be filled with anger, not at anyone but himself. He hated himself so much that he lost himself. He wanted everyone else to hate him the same way he did.

He wanted to be hated so no one would miss him when he died.

Tao hunched over on the couch, his face resting in his hands as his mind went over all of the fights, everything he’d done before he’d been put in the hospital. “I caused so much trouble for you, didn’t I?” he muttered disbelievingly.

Who had he been before his month in the hospital?

Honestly, Tao didn’t know.

He didn’t know the boy in the mirror, the one he’d been only a few months prior. The one with broken bones and bandaged fists from all the fights. The one who skipped school and didn’t care about anything except freedom.

In those months, in that tiny blip of time, he’d had a taste of all the freedom he could handle.

But he’d traded love and warmth for freedom, and he’d found that it wasn’t worth it. He wanted the love that he’d once had back.

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