There was something odd about the way the mirror was. It glittered and shined, showing what a person looked like. But isn’t the way you look just a mask? Isn’t everything fake? Doesn’t everyone feel like they have to lie to someone that they love so that they don’t feel more pain from something else?
This is what I believe: Everyone has a mask. It does not matter what they think or do. There is something that someone fears; does not matter what it is. And something that we may believe in can be completely unreal.
This is my take on the world, on my life. Sadly, it is not a fun or happy story. My story is a little on the more depressing side; the darker and demeaning side where nothing is ever right in my life; that’s how it has always been.
Now let me tell you about the sad story of my life. Everything went downhill when I was seven..
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
I remember standing on the stairs, frozen, as I stared. I started really hard; almost forgetting what I was coming downstairs for. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real; a mantra in my head. She couldn’t be...
A dead body laid on the floor, limbs tangling into each other. The floor was bloody, and the lights were dimmed. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t just run downstairs and shake her; I knew that was fake since it only happens in movies. I just thought that maybe, if I stood long enough, she would come back alive, joyful that I was looking for her.
But she stayed, sprawled in the ground, never to move or breathe again. My mother was dead and I could never have her sing me songs or read me books anymore.
I could never have her open her arms again, for when I came back from school. I could never have her love again. I blinked, not wanting to think like an adult anymore, and ran down the stairs. But before I could touch my mom, before feeling her cold body, someone grabbed me. Rough hands were all I felt. I looked up, being forced by one of these invading hands; seeing my other parent. My father coldly glared at me, without realizing that I could see the blood on him.
The blood which wasn’t his; the blood that belonged to my kind-hearted mother. The blood that should still be in her body and making her precious heart beat. But it wasn’t in her body anymore because my father killed her; as the weapon was laying down on the kitchen counter behind him.
I looked back into his eyes, the eyes of a demon. I knew right then and there that I was going to have a terrible life.
Funny right? I knew all of this when I was seven. A person shouldn’t know that until they become an angst teen who wants the world to burn. But I knew that only because I was going to live with a monster, a demon, in the shape of my father...
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
I remember falling in love; made me go on an emotional rollercoaster. And no, I did not fall in love with some girl at school. I fell in love with a boy actually; a sweet one. He was also shy and timid at times, but I liked him. His name was Namjoon, Kim Namjoon.
He was the smartest person in our class, which a lot of people took advantage of. They were only able to do that because Namjoon was the type of person to just do what you asked. It was saddening; Namjoon working on at least twelve people's homework.
You know what was also upsetting at my school? Myself; I was an antisocial person who hid every time someone asked me something. I was so antisocial that I stopped caring how well I did in school. Then my teacher decided that I was going to have a tutor, to bring my grades up.
“I can’t just sit here and watch you lose everything that you worked for, Hoseok.” She has said.
“I understand,” I replied. “I just want to know who my tutor is.”
“Oh, you’re in good hands. You're going to be tutored by Namjoon.” She smiled, probably proud of pairing me up with someone who might actually be able to help me.
I tried to smile back but to no avail. I was too tired for school, even though I should be happy that I even attend still. I think that’s the one thing my father decided to do that was even parenting.
But sometimes, I don’t like coming to school. I get bullied by people because I look like a “whiny bitch”. Which is odd, since I don’t talk to people. There is only one person that I chat with sometimes, but that’s only because he eats lunch on the roof also. It is Jimin, THE Park Jimin. The dancer, the styler, the trend maker; he’s everything. But he never actually liked the attention that he got from people; plus I was the only person he paid attention to anyway for just being around.
But, that is not the point of anything right now. We need to talk about Namjoon; the boy who had my heart in his hands. I remember that our tutoring sessions took place in the library, the most professional place to be when you're failing at everything.
I walked slowly to see that Namjoon already had all his textbooks out, with notes to help me in the places that I need help with.
“Um... h-hi?” I brought my hand up to attempt a handshake, but that didn’t even happen. My hand just stayed in the air, deciding that it didn’t want to move.
Namjoon simply stared at me as I sat down across from him. I wondered what he thought of me.
“Have you been sleeping?” He asked.
“Hmm?!” I was startled by the question, especially since it was the first question since forever asked about my well-being.
“Have you been sleeping? There are dark circles under your eyes...” Namjoon tilted his head, probably trying to get a better look at me.
“No, I have not been sleeping. This has been going on for a few weeks now.” I said while simply shrugging.
“Why haven’t you been sleeping!?” His eyes widened. “Sleep is very important!”
“I know that, but I just can’t because I always have to stri-“ I stopped myself; can’t keep explaining my horrible life.
Namjoon quietly sat across from me, trying to decipher what I said. But I can’t explain it; there’s too much danger in saying it. I also don’t want to ruin whatever image he has of me.
“I won’t tutor you today, but we will start tomorrow AFTER you get some sleep.” He said. “I don’t want your health to be lower than it already is, and I don’t want it to feel like I’m stressing you out.”
“O-Ok...” I looked away, feeling as if I’m being babied. But it was an odd feeling as if there was some care in the world for me.
Namjoon started to pack his things but stopped. He glanced back up at me, curiosity glistening in his eyes.
He then lifted his head and said, “Did you eat lunch today?”
I raised my eyebrows, wondering why he thought of that. Maybe he was making sure that I was actually just missing sleep and I eat on a regular basis. Sadly, I was going to disappoint him.
“No...” I looked away and sighed. I was doing so GREAT. Namjoon simply stood up and stared once more; seems like he likes to stare a lot at people.
“Come with me to my house. Maybe my family could make your food?” Namjoon lifted his arms while shrugging. I stared in shock. No one asked me over to their house before. Ever.
“Uh... um.... I don’t know...” I started to have an anxiety attack. “I don’t think th-that my f-father will allow m-me to go ov-over to your h-house...” I stuttered, unable to focus on one thing.
“Hey, Hey, Hey! Calm down! It’s ok!” He started to wave his hands in my face to stop me from hyperventilating. “Don’t think about what I said; don’t think about coming to my house as I will make sure that you go home. Okay?”
“Uh-huh...” I shook slightly. But once I regained my focus, I swear I was going to panic again.
NAMJOON WAS SO CLOSE TO MY FACE. I didn’t know what to do, but I liked it. I did want to go over to his house and eat an actual meal for once; I just had a problem of travel. My father would not allow me to go over if it was past 3:30 pm. And right now, it was 5:45 pm.
But I started to wonder if Namjoon was asking me out of pity; masking himself. I blinked and almost slapped myself. I knew that Namjoon wouldn’t do that because he was literally the only honest person in our school.
I focused back on Namjoon, who’s face was still close to me. He moved back and smiled sweetly at me.
“Yeah...” I smiled back. We said bye to each other and I watched him leave the library; then I screamed as loud as I could for being so awkward in front of him.
I picked up my bag a minute later and headed home. I always walked the long way, through the park, so that I stayed as far from home as possible for as long as possible.
I saw the door, along with the man at the porch, and a belt in his hands. I knew this was going to happen. I knew and thought that he wouldn’t be home. I sucked in a breathe and silently told myself that it might not hurt as much tonight...
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
Are you still here? That’s amazing. I thought that you would run off because of how terrible-sounding my life was.
But one thing that I can tell you after that day with Namjoon, is that we started to hang out more. For tutoring purposes only, of course.
Seriously, did you think I would think of it as tutoring? I was able to stare at his face for as long as I wanted, but only when he was on a spiel about something I was suppose to be tutored on.
But every time tutoring ended, Namjoon would always ask if I wanted to come over. I would say,
‘I can’t because of my father’.
And he would accept that.... until one day he asked me if HE could come over.
“Huh?!” I stared wide-eyed at Namjoon.
“Yeah! What if I come over and hang out with you? Wouldn’t that be cool?” Namjoon sounded so excited about it.
I wasn’t fond of it because my father... was not a good man. And he didn’t take lightly of me bring friends over. Trust me, you don’t want to know what happened the last time I brought friends over.
“I d-don’t think that you u-understand Namjoon. I can’t come over because of my dad and y-you can’t come over because he doesn’t like p-people in our house.” I said, trying to explain my fear without him knowing I was fearful.
Namjoon stared at me quietly, probably unsure of how to talk to me; based on his expression.
“Is your father like afraid of people?” He asked. “Does he also have anxiety attacks?”
I shook my head. Namjoon stared at me more, lowering the papers that were in his hands. I knew that I shouldn’t have come toda for tutoring. I didn’t feel good and I felt that something was going to go wrong.
“Ok...” Namjoon blinked a few times before asking me something else.
“Why do you always wear the long-sleeve uniform shirt? I’ve never seen you wear the short-sleeve one.”
That was a question I knew how to avoid, which is depressing, to say the least.
“Yeah. I don’t like them. So I cover them. Simple solution.” I stared hard at Namjoon, with a blank face. I didn’t want to tell him the real reason, but I knew that I could lie.
Namjoon squinted at me and opened his mouth to ask, “Then why are there blood stains on your sleeves right now?”
I slightly jumped in my chair, completely off guard. Then I immediately looked at my arms to see that blood was staining my sleeves. The bandages weren’t working.
I looked up to see Namjoon’s face filled with worry. I felt like he was masking himself again, but I stopped. I knew that he was honest, so I don’t know why I kept thinking he was masking himself. I knew someone that masked their self all the time; my father.
“Hoseok... are you sure you’re ok?”
“No,” I covered my face. “I’m not ok.”
I felt arms wrap around me and I flinched. I grabbed the arms and pushed them off of me. But I regretted it as soon as I saw Namjoon’s face.
He was surprised, shocked even. Namjoon’s face told me everything. It was weird for a person to shrug someone off when they wrap their arms around you. I was weird. But, Namjoon’s face changes; softened to a more compassionate expression.
Softly, he said, “It’s called a hug, Hoseok.”
Then he wrapped his arms around me again... and hugged me. I haven’t been hugged by anyone since... my mother.
I hugged back. Hugs remind me of my mother; hugging was a mom thing to me.
Then I decided that if someone was willing to hug me and actually care for me, then they were special. Namjoon was special.
And this was the first time when I truly realized that I was in love with him. And I couldn’t stop my heart.
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
Dear lord, please don’t let this happen.
Please, make sure that he is ok.
I ran into my house, terrified of the text that Namjoon sent me.
He came over. But I wasn’t there. I was at the grocery store. My dad is home.
His text didn’t sound like him at all:
‘Hey Seokie! Did you buy any chips? Do you have any video games? What is there to do while I wait for you?’
I never told him that I was buying food.
He knows that everything in the house does not belong to me.
AND HE CALLED ME SEOKIE! HE DOESN’T CALL ME THAT AT ALL!
I’m really hope that he’s messing with me. I really hope that it’s not my father.
Finally, I had reached my house. I saw that the door was open. Meaning that Namjoon just arrived. Meaning that his text message was sent earlier when I arrived at the grocery store. Meaning something was wrong.
I went inside to find that everything was in its place. Nothing was moved or oddly placed, except for Namjoon’s shoes being thrown around on the floor. Namjoon didn’t do that he says it’s disrespectful.
“Why would I throw my shoes around in someone else’s house hyung?”
I ran all over the house, but I couldn’t find Namjoon. I couldn’t find him at all.
When I turned around to the living room again, I saw my father sitting on the couch, staring at me with an expressionless face.
Then he smiled, a smile cynical that it made him look insane. I shuddered, wondering how long he stood there for.
“Well Hoseok, are you looking for something?” He asked.
“No,” I quickly answered; too quickly. He got up and stood in front of me, hovering.
He tilted his head and said, “Really? You’re not looking for someone?”
“No, I’m not.” I looked to the ground.
He found Namjoon; he found Namjoon; he found my boyfriend.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted Namjoon to be safe and far away from here. I wanted Namjoon to be back in his room, reading some random comic while holding his favorite plushie.
I wanted my Namjoon to be safe.
“Why are you lying?” He grabbed my neck and stared hard at me.
I started to choke; not able to answer him. Then I heard a sound; a kick.
A KICK. Namjoon was alive and somewhere in the house.
My father’s grip tighten and I swore that my life was going to end and Namjoon was going to be trapped; he stopped choking me.
I fell, gasping for air. My father walked away and came back, dragging Namjoon behind him.
Everything froze. He smiled once more, before throwing Namjoon at me. I scrambled to hold Namjoon, to make sure he was ok.
Barely breathing. I looked up, terrified of what was going to happen. But I stared straight... into a blank room.
Namjoon wasn’t with me. My father was gone. Everything was white. I didn’t know what was happening.
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
I held a rose, a dark one. It reminded me of him. It reminded me of those years in high school where I would see that he was being tormented at his home.
I placed the rose down; it was small. But that was the purpose. He felt small, but he always wanted to feel loved.
I loved him; still do. I want him to remember that. Please let him know that.
I sat down next to the gravestone. I stared at the tomb. I saw his name; but I saw the engraving that I asked to be placed.
I wanted everyone to know the true Jung Hoseok.
“Masks are vital for a person to hide who they truly are... but without the mask, you can find the most special person”
Date Of Death - March 27, 2029