Warning: Somewhat detailed mentions of sickness. Cancer. Mentions of death.

Wonshik had a limited amount of people he was willing to be close with. At the very moment his list involved only two people – His dad and his teacher, Mr. Cha – and he saw nothing wrong in that.

Mr. Cha was in Wonshik’s eyes the strangest man he believed he would every meet. As a teacher he had nothing but respect for the man, and he had taken to liking him immediately upon meeting him for the first time. He was bright, kind and most of all; he never judged Wonshik for his actions and poor grades, ever. He had showered him with nothing but care and support from day one, and while it was a bit annoying, he was infinitely grateful. 

His father, actually his stepfather, had earned his respect over a very long amount of time, in which he had treated his mother with utmost respect and care, and by not abandoning him when said mother had given up her fight against the cruel brain tumor that had poisoned her mind. He had come to accept and later respect the man to the point of considering him his real father, and had imagined a long life of them together in the mechanics business.

But life seemed to be extra cruel to the likes of Wonshik.

His father had always had bad lung capacity, often coughing simply from climbing the stairs from his garage to the upstairs apartment, but he had always blamed it on his younger years as a smoker – a habit he had quit in order to be allowed to date Wonshik’s mother. They had never taken the handicap much seriously, until the day Wonshik had returned from school to find his father could no longer climb the stairs to their home. They argued for almost an hour before the man was finally willing to climb into an ambulance and be admitted to the closest hospital.

Wonshik had been sent home at 9 pm in order to be able to attend school the day after. At midnight he received the call.

While he had had plenty of time to prepare for a life without his mother, Wonshik had never imagined he would wake up one day and no longer have anyone to take care of him. Nobody that knocked on his door so hard it rattled in the frame, telling him that he wasn’t stupid enough to skip school.

Instead it was the careful knock of his teacher that had brought him back to reality, Mr. Cha’s kind eyes almost enough to make him crumble right there and then. But he kept himself in place, letting himself stay hollow and unfeeling while the teacher drove him to the funeral home, trying to make him eat the breakfast he had placed in his lap after he sat down in the passenger seat. He couldn’t eat it, no matter how delicious it smelled.

With the promise of returning to wrap up the funeral, Mr. Cha had left for work – full of excuses, the school principal’s hard ‘NO’ the only reason he could not stay for the whole thing – and Wonshik was left to deal with his stepfather’s friends and distant relatives coming to pay their respects.

It was almost all people he had rarely or never met before. His father had spared him the agony of meeting his relatives, who had strongly opposed his marriage to a both divorced and dying woman, and Wonshik understood why when their judging stares met his hollow gaze. He didn’t let it get to him, feeling rather smug in fact – being the one rightful to actually stand here and greet all his father’s visitors, despite his lack of blood relation.

The exceptions were his father’s closer friends, regular customers and Detective Jung. Wonshik had in fact actually never met Detective Jung, but he had heard of him from his father a number of times. His father had great respect for the police detective, and had told Wonshik sternly to treat the detective’s son well after hearing he had transferred to Wonshik’s school. Being told that the same evening as he had actually noticed Jung Taekwoon for the first time from him breaking up his fight with a 12^th year, his interest had been awakened.

Detective Jung was without doubt Taekwoon’s father, his appearance, attitude, hell- even the overall aura resembled his quiet classmate. Taekwoon was in fact slightly taller than his father, but the older man donned a much bigger physique. No doubt engaged in some kind of exercise beside being a detective. His face was similar but much older, and features not as soft as his son’s. The eyes on the other hand were just the same. He had greeted the detective by name without hesitation.

“I’m honored you bothered to come, Detective Jung. My father would be so happy.” He had said with as much joy he could manage. The detective had clearly been moved by it, and greeted Wonshik with a tight handshake and pat to the shoulder.

“You father was a great man, kid, I’m so sorry to see him go like this.” He had answered with sincerity. Wonshik’s chest tightened and he found himself unable to respond, settling with a 90 degree bow instead, which was quickly cut off by the man stopping him before he could bend all the way. “Please, Wonshik.” He huffed with a low voice, trying to make him straighten up again. Wonshik made an effort to not make eye contact.

“Please come see me at the station if there’s anything at all troubling you, kid. This can’t be easy for you, I imagine. Me and the others will help you any way we can, I promise. We owe you that much.” His hand was back on Wonshik’s shoulder as he talked, warm and solid. Comforting. Reminding him of Taekwoon and how it felt safe and calming to sit with him during lunch.

Wonshik nodded in return, looking down. The warm hand disappeared and he watched as the man paid his respect to his father’s shrine and then bowing to him before leaving. He caught himself feeling the same kind of admiration for the man his father had reflected to him when he was alive, as he watched him leave.