A woman in her early twenties, gracing a floral, short sleeved dress and a curled, mid-length bob moved around her humble home. Blues, whites, and browns of furniture placed here in there, making the living room look homey, simple and earthy.

She swayed her body to the melody of Snap’s Rhythm is a dancer, dusting the frames on the middle shelf with the small, white cloth in her hands. She kept a smile on her face as her eyes went through the pictures hugged in the brown and white frames.

Her eyes scanned a picture of three individuals. A man with a chiselled face, prominent ears, warm brown eyes, flecked with gold, and a sweet smile, showing a perfect row of pearly white teeth. He had his arms wrapped around a woman, looking as happy as he was, with big, doe, bright brown eyes, and a button nose. Her silky, black hair fell gracefully on her shoulder.

The woman held a round faced, fair skinned baby. He had his mother’s eyes, and his dad’s ears. His nose was small and buttoned, his mouth was like a tiny rosebud. He looked perfect in her eyes, the whole family did.

A sigh escaped as she straightened the frame and corrected its placement, before she could move to another, the sound of the front door closing startled her.

The same man in the pictures walks in the house, placing his black, leather briefcase against the wall, as he took off his jacket and shoes. He slipped on a pair of white slippers and walked to the woman, slinging his arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace, and burying his face into the crook of her neck.

Warmth rushed through her body as she felt his hot breaths brushing her skin, but soon it turned rigid and cold when she felt him tighten his hold on her desperately. She pulled away immediately and stared at his flushed face in worry, biting on her lower lip in concern. He fumbled with his fingers and avoided looking back at her, keeping his eyes focused on his hands or slippers instead of hers.

“Joon ho?” She whispered to him but he didn’t look up or respond. Her fingers brushed through his hair before her hand rested on his nape. “It’s your son’s birthday for crying out loud, what’s with the grim face?” She chuckled in a joking manner, trying to push the uncomfortable feeling that was seeping into her heart away.

He pulled her closer to his body, her face falls as she notices how red his eyes are when they finally raise to meet hers. He only stared back for a second before he looked away, eyes landing on Chanyeol’s, his son, room door. She followed his line of sight, and opened slightly, hands started trembling as she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She needn’t ask or argue. She wouldn’t get anything from him, she knew.

 “He got his power…” He whispered shortly and her eyes started to sting with the forming tears. “… I’ve just been informed on my way back.” He said shortly and she feels weak in the knees, ready to fall. A surge of fear ran through her veins like electricity, bringing her back to her sanity, and she managed to hurry to her son’s room.

Still holding the door knob, with the door wide open, she collapsed on the ground, her free hand covering as loud sobs escaped , tears falling on her now flushed, crimson face. Her son, a one year-old baby, in his cradle, laughing joyously as his mother came to view, oblivious of her devastated and horrified state.

She moved her hand from to her chest, her shirt. Her boy was staring back at her with his wide, semi-toothless smile, and bright, red eyes.

She flinched when a hand touched her shoulder, and turned to look up at her husband whose eyes showed sorrow and sadness. She stood up slowly, turned away and walked to the boy. When she looked directly into his eyes, she could feel tighten, because the boy’s eyes weren’t just red, they looked like flames, flames that were actually burning. Her hand moved back to cover , and she didn’t turn to her husband even though she felt his presence beside her.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, more like whispered to herself as silent tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“No, it looks worse than it is, really…” He answered with a soft tone, caressing his son’s face as the boy giggled happily.

“When does it start to hurt?” She smiled with sorrow at the boy when she felt his small, tiny hands griping two of her fingers, his eyes staring at them in awe.

“When he is fit to take it.”

Upon his answer, she bit down on her lip and closed his eyes, the last tear making its way down.

“What did they name him?” She opened her eyes to finally look at him, and watched him as he dug his hand in his pocket, then moved closer to the boy and placed a red pendant, circling around the little boy’s small neck. Joon ho closed his eyes and sighed before turning to her for a second then looking back at his son, who was now looking between them in awe and innocence.

“Chanyeol.”

“What does it mean? His name?” She was over the shock by now, calming herself down with rhythmic breathing as she knew panic and hysteria had no power to change her son’s fate. His powers were chosen by a higher power, far higher than hers or her husband’s. She busied herself with watching the red gem turn to bright red as the boy chuckled.

“Chan means illuminating and bright, Yeol means Fiery and violent.” He explained calmly.

“Fiery and violent?” She scoffed to herself at the irony.

“Fits the boy.” Joon ho commented in pride. “… It’s a name that’d bring him power, immortality, and…”

“Misery…” She cut him off in a hushed tone, the mocking smile from a second ago was replaced with a worried scowl.

“Let’s hope not.” He wrapped his left arm around her and pulled her closer to his side, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, watching as her son tried to move up and out of the cradle with no success.

“Chan, bright indeed…” She smiled as he fell on his bum in defeat, giving up on escaping anytime soon, and just busying himself with his small blue quilt.

“Park Chanyeol…”

A round-faced boy with bright, fair skin, prominent ears, black hair, and tall limbs sat on a park bench under a huge, pink-flowered tree in spring time. The hair blew and touched his skin softly, its breeze light and refreshing, playing tricks in his hair in the most comfortable way.

He felt something touch his right foot lightly, looking down to his the black leather shoes that he topped with his black pants, wine red blazer, and white buttoned-down shirt, he found a bright orange and green football staring back at him. With a smile almost tugging on his lips, he bent to pick it up, only to fall with the ball in his arms, face first.

“Don’t touch my ball with your filthy hand, Park!” A chubby, black haired boy screamed at the tall latter, looking down at him in disgust and anger.

“I swear I didn’t know it was yours!” The boy defended in a squeaky tone. He looked up from the ground to find that he was surrounded by a bunch of older boys from every side, staring down at him like predetors ready to swallow their prey alive.

“What do we have here?” One of the tall, older boys mused. “Park Chanyeol!” He walked to Chanyeol with a smirk, kicking the boy in the leg. Chanyeol screamed out in pain, a couple of tears falling on his face that was now scrunched in pain.

“Yah Nam Joon, check the loser out, he’s crying!” The boys broke into a fit of laughter as the said Nam Joon walked to Chanyeol again with an amused face.

“Does it hurt you freak?!” He spat in Chanyeol face as the boy tried to look away. Nam Joon held his face tightly and made Chanyeol face him. The boy’s face was till red, tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and he was starting to hyperventilate in fear.

“It sure seems so!” One of the other boys answered and they all laughed again, calling him a list of names as Yoda, freak, chicken, girly, and any insulting name you could ever think of.

One of the boys took a chance to kick Chanyeol, his foot landing on Chanyeol’s side as the boy shrieked in pain. Nam Joon turned to glare at the boy with furious eyes.

“What are you doing Taehyung?!” He raised a brow in question and the said latter shrank in his place in fear of his older hyung.

“Hyung, we’re just having fun here!” Another came between the two boys, trying to calm Nam Joon down.

“Yeah, Jimin’s right hyung, let’s have fun with this kid, I’ve been wanting to do that since the time he burned my headphones!” A forth stepped and Nam Joon had a smirk on his lips now, he turned to look at Chanyeol again, before he crouched down next to him. He flicked Chanyeol’s head and the boy cringed in fear, whimpering under his bully’s touch.

“So you burn Jungkook’s headphones, you burn my books, you burn Jimin’s favourite basketball, and now you touch Taehyung’s football to burn it too? Do you think you’re scaring us Park?” Nam Joon spat and the boy whimpered as he shook his head vigorously.

“I swear hyung, it was an accident, I swear, I swear!” He answered in hysteria as more tears fell, making a few of them chuckle mockingly at his weakness. Chanyeol wanted to internally combust, he did it a few times, but he always came out unharmed, and he had to deal with the ‘side effects’ of his actions.

He knew he was strong, power wise of course, but he was never a fighter, and he hated how weak he looked in the eyes of people like Nam Joon and his friends. If he wasn’t cautious of someone finding out about his powers, he would’ve tried burning them right there and then, but no, that wasn’t possible.

Chanyeol had to it up, he had to deal with this bullying daily, to stay a wimp, to get beaten and it up. Because the truth was, without his powers, Chanyeol was a real wimp, a loser, a weak nuisance, h