Chapter 26.
 

Kim Jongin was a person who didn’t know how to care for someone he treasured.

In fact, it was more a matter of not knowing how to treasure someone in the first place, full stop.

Jongin had grown up in two different households of cruelty and mistreatment – caring for people wasn’t something that came naturally to him, not when he had spent half his life trying to gain love, then the other half refusing the mere concept. Care, in Jongin eyes, was an emotion that he was unfamiliar with. He had no idea what caring for a person encompassed – the words, the gestures, the thoughts – it was all uncharted water to him.

It was for this reason that Jongin found himself so terribly conflicted when he saw Mr. Do – no, Kyungsoo – with an arm over his half-brothers shoulder as they boarded the bus together. He wasn’t sure how to describe what he felt – something akin to anger towards his brother combined with a foreign sense of concern towards his dark haired English teacher. It was bewildering, to say the least.

For at least the first hour of several-hour-long bus trip back to the town of Malhana, Jongin had sat with his eyes glued to the back of two separate people’s heads – his half-brother Joonmyeon, whom he glared at distastefully, and his gentle English teacher, who he worried over with furrowed brow. It was emotionally taxing swapping from two entirely opposite types of desires – the desire to yank his brother from his seat beside Kyungsoo, to the desire to go and check up on the object of his recent fixation. He probably would have continued to brood if it weren’t for the interruption provided by Oh Sehun (who was seated beside a sleeping Huang Zitao), the two who, much to Jongin’s disgust, had appeared to begin thinking of him as something akin to friend over the duration of their week long school trip.

“What you glaring at?” Sehun said, leaning over in an attempt to gain view of whatever it was that appeared to be causing Jongin such ire.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.” Jongin responded sharply, quickly adverting his gaze instead to his rainbow haired classmate, who, to Jongin’s initial horror when boarding the bus, had sat in the chair directly across from him, Zitao having chosen the window side seat. They were separated only by the aisle – Jongin would have sat on the window seat too, but being nearer to the aisle had given him a better view of the front of the bus (where his half-brother and Mr. Do sat). He had swallowed his pride in that regard – he had weighed up the choice of putting an additional empty seat between himself and his two classmates in an attempt to make his distaste clear, or sit in the seat closer to them (and give the impression he didn’t actually mind being around them) in order to be able to see the two teachers. In the end, the second option had been decided on, even though he wasn’t particularly pleased with it.

“Right…” Sehun’s tone made it clear he wasn’t buying Jongin’s explanation. “Either you’re a bad liar, or you just aren’t trying to come up with something half believable.”

Sehun was right, of course. Jongin was more than confident in his ability to lie his way out of just about any possible situation – for some reason, however, he simply couldn’t bring himself to care about being caught staring at his English teacher. The only reason he had said otherwise initially was because of his natural deny reflex – he had conditioned himself to be defensive.

“You’ve been looking sour ever since we got on the bus, Jongin. You may as well get it off your chest and move on.” Sehun continued, much to Jongin’s annoyance.

“Will you shut up?”

Sehun sniffed in apparent irritation, leaning back in his chair. “You can’t keep pushing people away, you know. It’s not healthy.”

Jongin glared at the rainbow haired teen beside him. “What would you know?”

Sehun shrugged. “I used to do the same. I had no friends at school until recently, you know. I mean, I’ve always known Luhan and he’s treated me like family for as long as I can remember… but other than him, I was always alone. He’s older though, so it’s not like we ever hung out at school, plus the fact that he’s popular. He was always encouraging me to open up though. That’s why I’m friends with Tao now.” Sehun glanced at the sleeping Zitao, his expression warm. “I was always scared that there was no point to making friends because of my father. He’s constantly threatening to send me away, you know. Also, I’m a naturally anxious person. I’ve always been shy and prone to over reacting and I got bullied a lot for that. I was always left out and ignored on purpose, and that really impacted my confidence level.”

So what? Jongin wanted to say. We’re nothing alike at all. You’re timid, weak and easily hurt. I’m not like that. I’m not a coward like you.

But for some reason, the words he would normally say without a care remained nothing but thoughts in his head as Sehun continued.

“I’m probably always going to be shy and struggle a bit because of past failures, but I’m not going to purposely avoid relationships anymore as well. What I guess I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t either, not when people are willing to care for you.”

Jongin felt his resolve buckle. He hated this aspect of himself – no matter how hard he tried to quell his insecurities, they always reared their ugly heads and made him falter. He was more like Sehun than he would ever admit, really. “But I don’t know when someone cares for me. I don’t know how to treat someone I care for” his voice was weak.

Sehun frowned. “I don’t know… it’s like that saying that you always get taught as a little kid… “treat people as you wish to be treated” you know that one?” he shrugged.

It was all good and fine when merely said in verbal form, Jongin thought to himself darkly. The problem was acting on the saying – Jongin didn’t know how he wanted to be treated.

With love?

“I’m doing this because I love you, Jongin” his mother had said when he was nine years old as she dug her manicured nails into his face, her other hand gripping his wrist tightly, twisting his arm behind his back. His shoulder was screaming in agony, but he remained quiet.

This was love.

With kindness?

Jongin could remember being locked in the closet in the hallway at age twelve after bringing home a math test with a score below ninety – the dark, the cramped space, the musty air – claustrophobic, panting for air as he pleaded to his mother to let him out. He could remember the sound of her shoes on the floor as she walked away – “How do you expect your father to accept you with a score like this? Stay in there awhile and reflect, Jongin. This is barely even a punishment. I’m being kind compared to other parents.”

This was kindness.

With care?

“I don’t have time to baby you, Jongin” the printed