Choi Jeong-su - known as Leeteuk to friends and family- sat in his office looking over his books yet again. No matter how he looked at it 1 and 1 would never equal three. His books were in the red this month, yet again, another three months of this and the creditors would start gathering. Six months ago, when he had started, he had been filled with excitement, certain that the shop would succeed. He had staked everything on that, everything including the futures of his wife and daughter. As he lifted his pen to work through the chequebook again he heard a bell sound from the shop area letting him know that someone had entered. He stood up and tried to muster up a confident and happy expression for this customer. Unfortunately, unless this man or woman was as rich as Croesus no purchases they could make today would be enough to bring the bottom line into the positives.

“Afternoon, mam” looking at her his smile grew, “How may I help you?” she looked around the shop, taking in her surroundings as he took her in, maybe Croesus had competition. Finally, once she was sure that this was where she needed to be, she looked at him earnestly before proclaiming, “I need a wedding dress.” He was tempted to say no, he almost did but bills needed to be paid. He had never made a wedding dress, and had never made anything for anyone who looked like her; such an undertaking was at best daunting. She stood tall in what could only be Jimmy Choo calibre shoes, not a stitch of jewellery was on her but she still glittered like diamonds. It wasn’t just the million dollar attitude that made her striking; her beauty would have struck out to any live man even if she wore nothing but sacks. She had long dark hair which framed her face in large loose curls. Her face had a classical beauty to it, rosebud lips, large wide set blue eyes and a small pert nose in the centre. He didn’t let his eyes wonder down her body lest he be accused of leering and lose his pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Finally, having gathered his senses, he told her the truth, “I don’t know if I can do it.” she shook her head. “You can do it; I need it in a month. You will design and make it. Name your prize, anything, all I want in return is a dress that amazes me.” he looked at her and he knew, he was going to do it. Somehow, he was going to make her, who he didn’t even really know, a dress she would never forget. How did he know, because there and then, having only just met her, he was already a little bit in love with her. That goes a little way in explaining the final request he granted her.

She didn’t stay long after that, and within an hour of her departure his fingers were tingling with the beginnings of her dress. It wouldn’t be white; no champagne is what she needed. Sweetheart neckline and mermaid skirt. This dress wouldn’t wear her, instead it would draw attention to her best features, her traditional good looks and her confident and unconventional aura, somehow it would convey to the world that this is a dress made and infused with a strange adulation. 

She came in twice a week for that month, and every Monday and Wednesday he ceased to be a responsible man, a respectable father and husband. He became instead, a young confident man who could take on the world and more. She made him want more from life than the shop and little family. Only when she was gone did he come back to his senses and even then enough of the spell remained so that he looked forward to her next fitting. If that month could have lasted a year he would have made it last two. Every time she came they talked. He told her his fears, how worried he was about the shop and his family. How he felt that this gamble he had made based on whatever talent he thought he had might cost his wife and child their comfort and security. She, in turn, told him that if she was a gambling girl she would gamble the entire world on his talent and that made him smile. She did that a lot; made him smile a lot. She told him about her life, how she had grown up watched by everyone, sheltered by everyone and yet had never really had any real human contact. How she had never really lived and now she was being sold into , a marriage of convenience, convenient for everyone else except her. They talked about this and less than this, anything, everything and nothing. If he had to identify when they started feeling comfortable enough to talk in this manner he wouldn’t be able to, it just felt like she walked in for the first fitting and they immediately started talking.

Her last fitting came around and he waited nervously for her to arrive. The world’s most committed family man was about to ask a strangely compelling heiress to run away with him. The second she arrived he led her to the couch. Sitting beside her he prepared himself to start this unexpected conversation when she got a word in first, “Leeteuk, I... I need to ask you something.” He sat up straighter even more tense than he had been before; she never stuttered she was always so sure of what needed to be said. “Leeteuk I, I’ve decided not to get married.” He smiled, waiting for her to ask him the very thing that he had been worried about asking of her. “But the problem is, I’m pregnant.” That threw him a little. Running away with just her was going to take quite a bit of courage but add a baby in the mix and this was a whole new ball game. “you see Leeteuk,” she continued, “I can’t take care of a baby, I thought that if I got married and gave it it’s father’s name everything would be fine but I can’t. I’m not fit to be a mother.” He waited for her to continue, he had no idea where this could possibly lead. “I’m going to leave today but I want to come back when it’s born, I want to come back and leave it with you and your wife. You already have a daughter; clearly you’re a good parent. You could give it everything I can’t, a mother and father who know what love is, teach it how to live a real life. You can do that, I can’t.” At this she looked at him expectantly and he just sat there not sure how to proceed. You don’t agree to take a child the same way you accept a Christmas gift. It had taken his wife and him a year of discussions before they felt they were ready to have their daughter Jessica and here he was expected to take in a child at a moment’s notice. Looking at her he started to form the words to say no “Well of course I... yes.” The word came out on its own and he didn’t have a chance to take it back all of that day. She wasn’t going to need the dress and he agreed to keep it for her child when it was born. She paid ten times what the dress was worth and then left.

He went home and somehow tried to explain to his wife how he had agreed to raise another child without consulting her. They fought about it for months and right up until the baby was left in his shop he didn’t know if it would have a home in his house. She must have come into the shop when he was deeply engrossed in the books because one moment everything was fine and the next he heard a baby cry and walked into the showroom to find a swaddled baby in a basket. There was a check on top of the basket. He immediately closed shop and went home with both the baby and the cheque. His wife looked at the baby and as she got ready to start protesting he handed her the cheque. He watched her eyes grow as she took in the zeros; this would be enough to open a whole new shop and run both it and the one he had already without making a single cent for a year. With that she started bustling around looking for a bottle and some instant milk to feed the baby.

He went back to the shop and closed up properly. When he got back home he went to look in on the child as it lay asleep in the nursery that had once belonged to Jessica. It had the same dark hair that the woman had but he couldn’t tell how much like her it was going to look. All he knew was that somehow he was glad that this little boy was here, glad that a part of her was here. After a few minutes he turned to leave the room and saw his wife watching him strangely. “I didn’t want to believe it.” she said, “I told myself that there’s no way you could possibly care for someone else the way you care for me. But I guess I was wrong in the wrongest way ha, you love her.” He looked at her, ready to deny, deny, deny but she cut me off before he even started, “I’ve never seen you look at Jessica, your own child, the way you’ve just looked at that baby.” With that she turned and left the room whilst he just stood there not sure how to go on. What came next?

Choi Kyuhyun sat at the bus stop waiting for his mother to arrive. He knew that she wasn’t going to come but still he waited hopeful. His little brother Siwon was home sick and so his mom had no reason to come, if his sister Jessica went to the same school then maybe she would have come but then again mom was strange... there were times it felt as though he were an interloper in the family, there to be tolerated but certainly not loved, but that couldn’t be true. He shook his head, of course she loved him, she just couldn’t show it the way dad could. Still, he couldn’t suppress the anger that came with the sadness; it wouldn’t hurt her to try would it. It was the little things, like forgetting him at school that often hurt the most; she never once forgot Siwon, never.

He started to walk home; if she decided to come after all then they would meet along the way. He couldn’t remember when he started to feel different or separate from the rest of his family, all he knew is that it was mum, dad, Siwon and Jessica on one side and then on the other it was him, Kyuhyun on his own. Not that he needed a pity party, it was fine like that, he didn’t need anyone. The only reason he stayed was because he was sure it would hurt at least dad’s feelings if he left. So he stayed for him but as soon as he was old enough to he would... he would... he had no idea what he would do, but he would definitely do something, something big, something that would change the way things were.

He must have been walking for about twenty minutes when he stopped short in his tracks. He closed his eyes, counted to twenty and then opened them again to make sure that what he had seen was really there. Right ahead of him on the other side of the street was mom’s car. She stood in front of her car in the empty street looking at the little boy whose blood was probably the very same blood that was there in a full spray on the hood of the car. Mom looked around as he took in what the picture had to mean. Her gaze found his and held it for what felt like hours before she looked back at the unconscious boy in front of her and then hurriedly got into the car and drove away. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do and so he just stood and stared at the still boy across the road from him. “If there’s ever an emergency, a medical emergency, call the second number on your speed dial.” Dad’s voice rang out to him from his memory. He reached for his phone subconsciously and rang it. He somehow managed to tell them where he was and describe the state of the boy as he could see it from his vantage point. In all that time he couldn’t find it in himself to cross the street and touch him, feel his pulse, and do something, anything. His mind just kept stumbling over one detail, what had mum been doing there? How had the boy’s blood wound up on the hood of the car? It didn’t make sense.

When the paramedics arrived they packed him in the ambulance with the boy, he needed to be treated for shock, they said. He didn’t care. Along the way to the hospital the little boy opened his eyes and looked at him. He held his gaze in the same way that mother had, but instead of looking away he smiled at him and then closed his eyes again. That’s when he pulled himself out of the detached state he had been in. He smiled at him and he felt responsible for him. If his mother had done something to put the boy in the state that he was in, then it was his responsibility to make things right, wasn’t it?

At the hospital the police were waiting. They asked him what happened but he told them that he didn’t know, by the time he arrived on the scene, the boy was already unconscious on the road. That was the truth, in a way. As soon as they finished he made his way to the boy’s room and waited for him to be wheeled out of surgery. As he waited he thought of how happy mother would be when she found out that he had risked imprisonment to protect her. She would be proud of him, proud that he made sure the boy was okay and made things right.

The boy’s surgery was done within an hour and Kyuhyun was still waiting excitedly when they wheeled him in. The nurses told him to leave the room but when they were informed by the doctor that he had called paramedics and probably saved the boy’s life, they let him stay. It didn’t take long to find out who the boy was and while his parents drove in from across the country Kyuhyun kept guard over him. When the boy woke up in the night he was there.

*

Kyu P.O.V.

“Hie,” I looked up from my chair at him; so small and pale against the blue hospital sheets, his hair fanned out around him in a dark brown halo. “I... uh, I...” his voice came out as a rough scratch, listening to it hurt. “Don’t talk, what do you need? Are you in pain?” he shook his head. I stood up and went closer to where he lay. “Do you need the bathroom/” a pale crimson washed over his face before he shook his head again. “Are you hungry?” He spent a few minutes considering the question before shaking his head. I was close, “Thirsty?” finally he nodded. I went to the table by the window and poured out a class of water for him. I got a straw and helped him to sit up while he drank. “Aah...”/“ssh..” I silenced him, we didn’t need to play twenty questions for me figure out that he was thankful; his eyes said it clearly this time. “You’re welcome.” Besides I was the one that was thankful, if he had died I would have never been able to forgive myself for my part in all this.

He went to sleep after that and I watched over him for the rest of the night. When he woke up he was bored, so I got a pack of cards from the nurses and we played a few games. His voice was a lot better so he even managed to say a word or two, including his name: Lee Sungmin. He had come to the city on a school trip, crossing the road to get back to where everyone else had been he had been hit by a car that literally came out from nowhere. He wanted to be an artist when he grew up, my drawings aren’t too bad so when the card games grew old I got a pencil and a drawing pad and he drew out a picture of me. I showed him how he could make the picture better, not because it was bad or anything but because I wanted him to like me it was actually surprisingly good, especially considering his hand was shaking the entire time. After that the nurses ordered him to eat his breakfast and take a nap. I was ordered home.

Mum and dad were in the lounge when I got back; mum had her face in her hands whilst dad was pacing up and down. “Where have you been!” he blasted out the second he saw me. I sat down next to mum before telling them the whole story, excluding mum’s part in the whole ordeal; I don’t think I would have been able to say her part even if I had wanted to; not with her glare on me the entire time I was telling my story. After dad got over his initial shock he was actually very proud, “You should have called us to tell us where you were and that you were fine but I am... we are very proud of you. Now go get ready for school and we’ll talk about all this when you get back, on time this time.”/ “Dad, can’t I go visit him after school, then I’ll come straight back after that?” he looked sceptical before finally conceding “I suppose you have to make sure he’s alright right to the end. Why don’t I pick you up from there then?” I nodded before heading off to get ready. Mum didn’t say a single word throughout the whole exchange.

School dragged, and it felt like forever till I was able to see him. He looked much better when I finally did. He was asleep when I arrived and his parents were asleep in the room with him. I just snuck in and found my own chair on the other side of his bed. He woke up soon after I arrived and we whispered quietly so as to not wake his parents. As his voice started showing signs of strain I got out a drawing pad and we drew a picture of his parents as they slept. 

Dad came as it was starting to get late. He met Sungmin and his parents who were very grateful to me and my family. If only they knew the whole story. He took me home and this was my daily routine for the next two weeks. I went to school, went to the hospital and then went home with dad. I can’t remember ever being so happy in my life.Sungmin and his family were like the family I always wanted. Especially his mom, I had a sister and I had a Dad but although I had a mom as well I had never felt the love of a mum. She looked over my pictures and fawned over me, called them the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, second only to the sun. She did those little things that mom did for Siwon and Jessica, like patting down a wayward hair on my head or brushing away a stray strand on my shirt. She forced the fruit that Sungmin was unable to eat on me, and made me tell her about my day the second I walked into the hospital room each day after school. She was beautiful as well; just like Sungmin. She had big beautiful brown eyes, like Sungmin’s and short curly black hair to crown her beauty. She was short and gave soft, warm, lavender scented hugs. I think I was a little bit in love with her, just a little. Those two weeks felt like I was living a double life, with two families, one at home and one hidden in hospital room 323.

Two weeks couldn’t last forever and one day it ended. I got to the hospital and they were packed up in their car. They waited I guess, at least they waited to say goodbye, I’ll give them that. That day was the first time mom made it the hospital; she stood with me as I waved to the car tears locked in my eyes whilst they flowed freely down Sungmin’s face. I knew then that as much as I might have fantasised there was no way I was going to be allowed to go visit the Lees, this was it. The last time I would see my hospital family. Mum got their contact details, numbers and addresses that I could see from her expression that I was never going to be allowed to use. She drove me home after that and that’s when I found out how this whole thing was more my fault than I could have ever known.

“You did this you know?” she said after we had been driving for about five minutes. “Everything was fine before your mother came into our lives. She stole his heart from me and left you as a reminder of that.” at this she laughed and I looked at  her, confused, unsure of what was going on or how I played a part in all of it. “He didn’t want me to tell you, ‘you’re our child’ he says. That’s not true, I’ve never seen her but you look like her, the that had a baby she didn’t want and then paid off a struggling couple to get rid of her mistake. Now you’re our mistake I guess ha? If it weren’t for you my family would be perfect, I wouldn’t have to look through a wine bottle to find my perfect family.” at this she looked at me before turning her eyes back to the road. “We don’t know who your father is; guess he didn’t want you either ha? If it weren’t for that money I would have... I would have..,” she parked the car on the side of the road and then dropped her face on the steering wheel as her body shook with tears. Finally she lifted her head and turned to me, shaking her finger at me accusingly, “He still loves her; to this day he loves her. Your mother must have been a witch in a past life, a witch I tell you! I even gave him a son and still he looks at you like you’re something out of this world, don’t get me wrong, he loves them but you, you’re a part of her and that’s something they’ll never be.” At this she hid her face in her hands and let the tears take over. After about half an hour it was over. She was all cried out and dry faced and I was lost. What did mom... what did she mean? I let everything she had said wash over me and sink in as she drove in silence. My mother? My father? Money? What was I? Who was I? We got home and she walked out of the car and went into the kitchen to start on dinner as if nothing were wrong. 

I just sat in the car and let the fact that my whole world had just been shaken to its foundations get into my head. I couldn’t cry I couldn’t get angry; I couldn’t get mad all I could do was sit there. Finally I stepped out of the car and headed into the house, as I walked through the kitchen she called out to me, “Wait!” I turned to look at her, “You do realise that if it weren’t for you I would have never hit him; I would have never been drunk, driving to pick up some ’s child from school.” At that she turned back to the vegetables that she was cutting and I walked on to my room, their room. What did I have in this house that I could claim as my own, not mother or father, not sister or brother. The house and room was theirs, the very clothes I had on were theirs, I had nothing, I was nothing. With that I got on the bed and shed my first tears of the day, the last tears I would shed as a boy. Now that I think about it, that was the day I gave up my childhood, at age twelve, I became a man.