Howon was lucky because he knew his parents loved him.

He wasn’t like those people you hear about whose parents yell at them all the time or hit them for no reason or wish they’d never been born.

No, Howon knew beyond a doubt that all his parents wanted was the best for him. And he really did try his best to live up to their expectations. To prove himself worthy of being the son of such wonderful people.

When he got sick at age twelve, he could see how scared his parents were. Could see how much they cared about him and the lengths they would go to to have him cured.

He heard their whispered conversations at night when he sat outside their closed bedroom door and wished that there was nothing wrong with him. Wished that somehow he could make the sickness go away so that they didn’t have to worry about him all the time.

“But what if he doesn’t get better, dear?! What if there is no cure?! What if we lose our little boy forever…”

His mother had cried a lot at that time, but Howon had thought that his father was the one taking things hardest.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s going to be okay. I won’t ever let that happen. I’ll find a cure no matter what. He’s our son and we can overcome this.”

Howon knew that his father was telling the truth; he would never give up. But it didn’t make him feel any better.

Howon didn’t mean to cry when he was left alone, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be the same son that his parents had always had before this illness had struck. He hated knowing that the shadow that had fallen over their household was his fault.

His parents didn’t blame him though.

“It’s not your fault, Howon.” His father had said firmly as they drove towards the hospital where he was finally going to be cured. “It’s not your fault that you’re sick. You’re going to get better.”

His mother was trying not to cry in the passenger seat.

“This disease, we can overcome it. Just do what the doctors say and you’ll be home again in no time.”

Howon nodded. He felt nervous; he’d never much liked hospitals.

“You’re my son and you’re going to get better.” Howon thought that maybe his father wasn’t really talking to him anymore. He nodded anyway. “It’s just a disease. It’ll go away…It’s that Ee-Jung boy’s fault, we should have realised. We shouldn’t have let you be exposed.”

“My little baby.” His mother had said, hugging him goodbye at the entrance of the hospital as two doctors walked down the steps to lead him inside. “You have to understand that this illness, it doesn’t define you. Soon you’ll be yourself again.”

“I know, mother.” Howon had said softly, feeling the firm hand of one of the doctor’s land on his shoulder. “I love you.”

She didn’t say it back, but she didn’t have to. Howon knew. He could tell by the tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly as his father opened the car door, but the man just shook his head.

“You’ll be better soon, son. This will all be over. Don’t worry.”

And then they drove away.

The hospital was different to the hospitals Howon had been in before, but there were still pills and machines and other patients.

Howon didn’t get to see them much. He had a room of his own and even some books to read. Howon knew that he should be grateful, so he was.

Howon did everything the doctors told him to as well as he could. He tried really hard, but sometimes that wasn’t enough. Sometimes the illness was too strong. Most days Howon felt exhausted.

The pills made him feel ill just looking at them. Whenever he swallowed them he ended up throwing them back up again along with whatever he had eaten that day. The doctors were nice though, they let him have a bucket on his lap and didn’t get angry with him for making a mess. They told him that the pills were helping him get better.

“We have to get everything that’s dirty out of you before you can get better.” One of them said with a smile, pausing the tape they were watching and taking the bucket away.

Howon thought he understood that. Vomit was a dirty thing, after all.

Howon began to feel as though he was going to be stuck in the hospital forever. He didn’t feel like he was getting any better; he felt more ill than he ever had before in his life.

His stomach muscles ached all the time and he had gone down two clothing sizes. When the doctors took him from his bed and down to the viewing room, his mind had begun to buzz before they even tied his wrists to the chair and the movies, waves of nausea rising inside him. He didn’t feel the same anymore. He didn’t feel like Howon. He was worried that his parents were going to be disappointed.

“Soon you’ll be yourself again.”

But he wasn’t. He had changed. Maybe his parents would finally give up and stop loving him. He had tried so hard…

Howon lay on his mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. He heard the doctor enter the room but didn’t react. He didn’t want to go down to the viewing room. He didn’t want to watch those disgusting films anymore…they made him sick. He hated them.

“Howon…” The doctor called gently and Howon looked over to him obediently.

“Just do what the doctors say…”

“Howon, you’re very handsome.” The doctor was moving towards him with a smile on his face, but Howon didn’t feel like smiling. His head was starting to buzz. “Howon, do you mind if I…?”

The hand that reached out and gently his upper thigh was like a trigger being pulled. Howon flinched back so abruptly that he fell from the bed and onto the floor, retching violently until he was sprawled in a puddle of his own vomit; his head reeling, his insides twisting.

“Howon.” That gentle voice again. A wet towel wiping at his face. “It’s time for you to go home. You’re better now.”

Better.

His parents were waiting for him when he stepped out of the taxi, his overnight bag in hand. The clothes inside it didn’t even fit him anymore.

They smiled and laughed and were so happy that he was home again. His mother had cooked a special dinner. His father had bought him a new bicycle.

His mother hugged him but his father didn’t touch him. Maybe he knew. Maybe he could tell that Howon didn’t like boys to touch him anymore.

Howon’s younger brother kept staring at him and it made Howon’s skin shift. He sat on the chair beside Howon in the lounge room after dinner but didn’t seem to know what to say to him. Howon saw the way his eyes lingered on the protruding bones of his wrist where they lay in his lap.

Howon’s older brother didn’t even stay to eat with them. He had only stayed long enough to let out a short bark of laughter before retreating to his room and slamming the door. Howon didn’t know what was funny. Maybe it was because of how big his eyes were compared to the rest of his face now? That probably looked funny.

Two days after Howon got better he went for a walk in the park nearby.

He was wearing his little brother’s clothes. His mother had brought some to his room the day before.

“Now, we’ll go shopping on the weekend and buy you a whole new set of clothes. How about that?”

Howon had smiled; his mother liked it when he smiled. Even though Howon’s little brother had said that it made him look like a skeleton.

His mother had pulled him in for a hug, his hair gently. “Your father and I are just so happy to have you back again. You’ve been so brave. We love you so much.”

Howon was glad that his parents still loved him.

Sometimes, when he thought about that fact, he felt…happy. Sometimes.

“Howon!”

He jerked his head up stiffly. There was a boy walking towards him across the grass. Ee-Jung.

“Howon! Where have yo-” Ee-Jung’s voice broke off abruptly and Howon could feel the tension in his own body as the boy looked him over. “Howon, what’s happened to you?”

“I’ve been ill.” He said softly, his muscles bunched and poised for flight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ee-Jung asked and he looked stricken. “I would have visited. I could have told you stories. I’ve missed you so much…”

Howon didn’t answer. He couldn’t keep looking at Ee-Jung; it was making him disgusted. He looked at the ground instead.

“Didn’t you miss me?” Ee-Jung’s voice was wavering slightly now. ”I finished building our tree house while you were gone. I wrote more of our story, ready for when you came back. I found you that CD you wanted. It’s at my home.”

Howon remained silent. Ee-Jung’s voice, it was reminding him of things. Things that were disgusting. Things that he hated.

“Howon…I really like you…”

“You could come over…”

“Howon…can I hold your hand...?”

“If you wanted to…”

“Howon…you smell really good…”

“I really have missed you.”

“Howon…would it be weird…if I kissed you…?”

Howon looked up suddenly and straight into Ee-Jung’s eyes. “You’re sick.” He said softly. Almost whispered. “You’re sick and you need help.”

He had already turned to go when he felt Ee-Jung’s warm hand closing around his thin wrist. The reaction was instinctual. Ee-Jung fell to the ground with a hard thud, eyes huge as he stared up into Howon’s face.

“Don’t touch me!” Howon spat. “Don’t ever touch me again! It disgusts me!” And the look in Ee-Jung’s eyes as he jumped to his feet and ran from the park sent some emotion flooding through Howon and in the next moment he was doubled over and expelling the contents of his stomach onto the grass below.

When he finally straightened up his eyes felt a little wet and his heart felt a little sick and his mind felt nothing but disgust.

“Well done, son.” Said a voice off to his right and when he turned his father was striding towards him. “Well done, my boy.”

Howon’s parents had loved him too much.