Title: Koe Kikasete
Author: FallenSpirit010
Summary: Six Students. Six stories. One death. No one knows what really happened that day at McAllenHigh School, except for the ones who were there. But the stories don’t match up. What really happened that faithful April morning and why isn't anyone talking?
"We're all in this together. Six of us, six stories, one voice."

A/N: I don't own Big Bang (YG) or Hyun Seung (Cube) I do own the plot and the OC, but i don't own the title (Big Bang-YG D;)

A/N2: Sorry for the long update. Lack of inspiration and school work. I'm a sophomore which means i need to focus on Chem and my GPA if i want to get into a good college D;. Also my hands been acting up lately, so it hurts to type for too long. After i finish the introductions, chapters will be longer!

Chapter 3: Kwon Jiyong

Jiyong had never seen snow before. Never in his seventeen, eighteen years of life, has he seen one snowflake. When he was younger, he used to stay up all night during winter just to see one snowflake, that’s all he wanted one little snowflake. His appa always said that some people came back and visited their loved ones when it snowed. After he died, Jiyong wished for snow even harder. And when his mom left him at twelve to care for his self, Jiyong began to stay up all day and night to see a snowflake. And when spring came, and the air became warmer, Jiyong would sit in his bed and cry.

Jiyong lost his father when he was eight. He had committed suicide at work, jumping from the twelfth story at his job. No, he was dead before then or dying. He had poisoned himself and then he jumped.

Jiyong was at recess when his aunt came running up to him, screaming in a frantic mix of Chinese, Korean and English. Jiyong was confused as to why his aunt was pulling him from the playground and when he saw his three uncles and two aunts in the van, he knew. Something bad had happened. Something bad had happened to not just anyone, but his umma or his appa. Jiyong remembered praying that it was nothing serious. When they stopped in front of the house, Jiyong felt relief. It couldn’t be too serious, he thought, if they were at the house and not at the hospital. He hopped out of the car, running towards his waiting parents.

But when he got inside all he could see was his mom slung over a plastic bag that had something in it. She was wailing and saying bad words in Korean and English, threatening to cut two men’s precious jewels from them if they didn’t stop telling lies. His eldest cousin, Kim Joo, was trying to pry his mom off the bag.

”NO! NO! I won’t let go! He’s not dead! He’s alive! You all are liars, I say, LIARS!” Jiyong’s oldest cousin from his mom’s side ushered Jiyong to the other room, but she wasn’t quick enough. Kim Joo had managed to pry off his umma off the plastic bag, but his mom was strong and when she was pulled off, she ripped the bag open at the top. Jiyong’s eyes widened and he began to kick and scream. His aunts and cousins were trying to restrain him and there was shouting. But Jiyong didn’t care; all he cared about was why his appa was in the bag.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Jiyong’s umma didn’t go to the funeral, still in denial about her husband’s death, so Jiyong went with his aunts and uncles. He had to sit there, and listen to people drone on in Korean, Chinese and English about how great of a man his father was and how he would be greatly missed. Jiyong wanted to scream that if they missed him so much, why couldn’t they bring him back, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Jiyong was still traumatized from when he had first arrived, and the first thing he had to see was his father’s lifeless body. He had stared and stared until the coffin was closed thanks to his aunts’ loud yelling and cursing. Jiyong just sat in the same spot he had been seated in, staring at the coffin. Even as people came by and gave him their condolence, their sympathy, and their pity, Jiyong sat and stared.

He screamed when they tried to pry him away from the gravesite, he used words that he had heard his mom yell. His aunts had been appalled and devastated, but his uncles had understood. They left him alone for awhile. Jiyong sat at his father’s gravesite, neither crying nor shouting, he just stared for three days straight. Sure he slept, and he nibbled on the food his family left. But he did nothing else, even when it rained for two days, he didn’t move. Finally, his father’s oldest brother came, picked him up, put him in the truck, and took him home.

Jiyong went through the next three years growing up in a daze. His umma had quit her job and all she did was stay out all night and drink and smoke. Somehow, she made enough money to pay all the bills and buy expensive things. Jiyong wouldn’t understand why his mom brought home different men every night, keeping most for a maximum of four weeks. He wouldn’t understand till he began to follow in her footsteps.

Jiyong came home one day from school to an empty home. It was his last year in elementary school and Jiyong was glad. It wasn’t unusual to not have his umma home, so he went to a friend’s house, went to a pizzeria, went home and slept and repeated for two weeks. And his umma never showed up. A month after his mom had disappeared did he find a note, attached to her bedroom mirror stating that she was sorry and that she couldn’t stand to be around him because he was so much like his father. Jiyong knew that was a lie. His family, his umma included, always joked that his mom had made a baby by herself because Jiyong looked nothing like his father. He had all of his umma’s looks, from her nose to her chin. He was the male version of his mom and she knew this. Jiyong didn’t bothering informing his family. His aunts were living in California, Colorado and one was in Brazil, his cousins were either children younger than him, or students in universities. Their was one cousin close to his age, she was only a couple years older than him, but she was living with a foster family until her family could get it together, financially wise.

He should’ve felt all the things that came with losing both of your parents in less than a five year span. He should be feeling guilty, depressed, and a whole bunch of other things. But Jiyong felt none of those things. He felt angry, angry at his father for not solving his problems and angry at his mother for not caring about him or his deceased father. Jiyong would close his eyes, take a deep breath, only to open them seconds later to find the house dark and everything smashed and broken; his knuckles bleeding.

Jiyong stayed in their old apartment for three weeks before being kicked out for overdue rent. He spent a good part of his middle school year sleeping under bridges or with his friends. That was another thing, after his umma had left; Jiyong had fallen in with the wrong crowd. He had wanted people who would understand him in a way, so Jiyong began to drink and smoke. He even decided to be a playboy and lost his ity at thirteen. He kept that girl around for a year and a half, using her for his own pleasure. Until she became pregnant. Jiyong borrowed money from his friends, who were understanding, and gave it to her for an abortion; never looking back at her again. She eventually moved back to Tennessee with her mom.

*@*@*@*@*@*@*@

Jiyong hates seeing that Choi Seunghyun all cuddled up with Young Bae. Young Bae was his, not that burly fool’s. He had known Young Bae before he had moved to America and his life had gone and spiraled out of his control. He and Young Bae had known each other since they were toddlers in pampers. They used to meet together and sing, dance and attempt to rap. But then Jiyong moved to America, his dad died and his mom disappeared and Jiyong forgot bout his Bae. And then in the middle of Jiyong’s first year in middle school, he came back into his life. Jiyong couldn’t have been happier, but with all that he had gone thru in the past couple of years he was indifferent to his friend’s arrival. Sure Young Bae still hung out with him, but Jiyong had changed. And Bae would too, sometime during the summer of eighth grade year.

“Jiyong oppa, is everything okay?” Jiyong glanced at his co-worker who was aimlessly flirting with him.

“Hn.” He got up from his seat and went to the front of the restaurant where few humans dwelled. Females all older than sixty, perfect he thought.

”I told you I hate it when you do that!” Jiyong froze at the familiar voice.

Please, God, don’t let it be who I think it is, he prayed silently.

”Jiyong? Is that you?” Jiyong cracked one eye opened and internally groaned. There was Kim Joo, a woman, three kids and Joo’s sister.

”Hey, howzit going?” He managed a small smile, cursing himself on the inside. He had hoped by dying his hair a blonde, he had become inconspicuous (yeah right Jiyong!).

”Wow, so you went blonde? Look good on you.” Eun smiled at him gracefully and patted his head. Jiyong cringed and withdrew from his cousin’s touch. “So,” Eun continued, ignoring his previous action. Jiyong felt guilty and shame. Eun had always been his favorite female cousin from his father’s side, Jiyong used to let her dress him up and he would be her baby. “What brings you here? You work here?”

”Um…” he swallowed, his throat dry. “Nah, just came to pick up some food for umma.” He said after a moment of hesitating. He smiled and clicked his tongue. “Service here stinks. What brings you here?”

”Today’s my son’s birthday. He insisted on coming here.” A little boy no older than four peeked from behind his cousin. “Say hi Sam.”

”Hello.” Jiyong smiled and waved to the boy.

”So, how is that Umma of yours?” The accursed question he had wanted to avoid.

”Well…she’s-“

”Oi, Kwon, your orders ready! Make sure you give your mother those extra fries and don’t keep them for yourself you here!” Jiyong mumbled a quick goodbye and rushed off. His co-worker, Tom, winked and handed him a bag.

”Thanks, I owe you one.” Tom shook his head and pushed a roll of twenties in his hand.

”Nah bra, you don’t owe me anything. Stay safe and off the streets is all I ask.” Jiyong smiled and hurried off.