WELCOME TO JUKJEON, LIN HUAYU !
your place at dasol apartments 4B is all ready for you, we hope you enjoy your stay. citizens, let’s welcome our new neighborhood student and wedding planner intern !
HOW HAS JUKJEON BEEN TREATING YOU THE PAST 3 YEARS ?
jukjeon, as it is, isn’t what huayu’s expected.
that should go unsaid, especially mostly because the only reason he’s here is because of a stupid incident that’s inflicted permanent harm on him. otherwise, he would have remained amongst the bustling metropolis of china—but instead, he’s, well. here.
rendered useless.
it’s a bit bleak, he supposes. but despite the fact that some days it gets so bad to the point that he doesn’t want to get out of bed (doesn’t see the point in living) the days go on.
(time waits for no man.)
and that fact alone makes him push on, just that this time, not physically. fate always has a plan though, whether it takes a year or ten, and he believes it’ll get better. it needs to. but while he’s stuck here in an apartment that’s too big for his body, and left to his own devices to pursue his dreams in another manner, he figures—
why not make the most out of it while it lasts?
TELL US MORE ABOUT YOURSELF !
tw: homophobia, violence, bodily harm
“mr. lin.”
the shuffle of paper, and a piece is turned around for him to see.
“may i just ask—do you know why huayu… chose to depict his family in this way when he was asked to?”
it’s in red crayon, the typical jagged grass and stick figures in front of a house that every kid draws: there’s himself, his dog, his father…
and his other… father?
“i—“
they’re not smiling. stick-boy huayu’s face is scrunched into a frown, a big red cross drawn across their whole family.
伤心伤心伤心. (unhappy unhappy unhappy.)
为什么他们都这么讨厌我们? (why do they all hate us so much?)
“i-i don’t know.”
i don’t know either, huayu.
ON YOUR MARKS,
“hey.”
he keeps his head ducked down.
“hey, fucker, we’re talking to you.”
brisk, brisk, brisk, arms clamped stiffly by his sides in an attempt to get away.
he fights the urge to sprint away.
“hasn’t your father taught you any respect?”
(away away away away away)
“oh, oops. probably not. especially since he’s fucking that other man—your diedie, is he? every other night.”
freeze.
and he sees red.
/
“i expected better of you, huayu.” his voice is disappointed, heavy. it weighs down on his tiny shoulders, an act done that’s beyond than his understanding (for now). all that’s keeping him from collapsing is his father’s gaze that pins his feet to the ground. “i can’t believe you did that.”
(which is worse: the fact that he doesn’t feel remorse or that he should?)
“but- baba, they said…”
“i don’t care what they said. huayu, you can’t just. go around hitting people because they said something you didn’t like! do you know how angry that boy’s parents and your teacher were? they told me that—“ silence. his father breaks off abruptly and swallows, words snagging on his teeth. “well. they told me- they told me some things.”
(this is no way to bring your child up, mr. lin. i’m sure your… lifestyle, is impacting your son negatively, whether you realise it or not.)
the fight drains out of him, and only exhaustion stays as a residue. “the point is, huayu, just. don’t engage in violence, okay? no matter what people tell you. they don’t understand… us.”
(but baba, that’s not true. we’re as normal as anybody else.)
that night, huayu laces up his shoes, and runs.
/
running is all he seems to do these days, apparently.
figuratively and physically.
it doesn’t matter though, because it lands him a place somewhere, even if it’s just a place on his middle school’s track team. it’s a step up from his usual reputation as a hidden shadow, at least.
it allows him to be seen.
/
left, right, left, inhale.
here comes the blinding gold of medals and trophies that huayu’s showered with, recognition after recognition after recognition.
it’s already a steady pattern that he’s used to, a constant thrum of energy that settles in his bones and serves to push him further. (the only rhythm he’ll allow himself to settle into.) his limbs burn and his lungs are desperate, but he thinks that it’s worth it. it’ll always be.
(“you ever thought about going pro, kid?”
“…no?”
“well, you should. you’re still young, but with the way you run—it’ll take you places.”)
for the first time, huayu lets himself fall in love.
GET SET,
high school comes round in a flurry of glory.
the track is practically his second home, the red gravel a sort of solace in itself. it’s where he runs, runs, and runs, and doesn’t look back.
and take him places, it does. he’s offered a full scholarship for his times, makes the nationals. said that he’s good enough to represent the country, even, if given the time. for a small boy, huayu has big dreams (and for once he lets himself dream).
maybe it’s not a big deal. he’s just running (from his problems, from the track, from life), but it makes him, him. or—he’s afraid to discover who he’d be without this, something he’s actually good at, something he cares about.
he hides it behind a mask of pride, though, withering smile directed at his teammates who only ever offer their graciousness. but huayu is not gracious, or kind, to the world that has never once been that to him. why begin now? and so he wears his medals around his neck, head lifted high, and tries to convinces himself that he is the best.
(he’s not.)
but.
this is the happiest he’s been in a long while, and he hold it close to his heart.
/
“is there something you don’t believe in?”
(Him. for if He existed, huayu’s parents would have had an easier fucking life and they wouldn’t be condemned. He’d have provided the refuge that they sought instead of the constant harsh disapproval they were faced with. huayu would be happy. He would have saved them.
but He didn’t.)
maybe huayu isn’t the nicest—or even remotely decent—human, but who’s to say that of him? (karma) why can’t he get away from being unkind when everyone else can? (because.) is he going to regret being truthful? (yes)
so huayu says, simply:
“god.”
/
“god, you never learn your lesson, do you?”
this time, he has no savior. instead, envy claws at him with extended talons and tries to rip him into shreds. it comes in the form of a group of boys, almost a reflection of the same incident years ago.
this time, envy is armed with sticks that will actually break his bones.
“what makes you fucking think you can just come in here thinking that you’re all that? you think you’re that good, huh? when we’re done, no college will even fucking spare a glance at you.”
six to one, and it’s obvious at a glance that huayu’s as good as finished. give up? notan option. more like,
#1: violence (and disappoint all the people that’s ever mattered to him once again)
#2: back down—pride pride pride
#3: (…run?)
(he’s been running away his whole life.
but maybe, this time he can’t.)
there are no shoes to lace this time, no arguments to sprint away from. all huayu can do is lie there, body curled into himself, as he bleeds,
metal against bone, skin against flesh.
(he feels it on his arms his backs his legs— and oh god his legs—)
crack!
/
his world
crashes
down.
/
he was right. no decent sports university spares a glance at the boy with the crippled leg, previous agility now reduced to a pathetic limp.
a shattered tibial plateau, huayu’s told.
do you want to press charges?
and he should,
he should.
but maybe—he had it coming.
/
“yes, dad, i’m doing fine. no, i’m not dying— i can take care of myself! no i’m an adult—hello, ba—i’ll be alright, jeez. and yes, i’ll visit soon, don’t worry, okay? yeah, see you, love you both. take care.”
he hangs up, and the sudden quiet of his apartment instantly swallows him whole with the absence of his parents’ constant chatter in his ear.
he’s lonely and fuck, he misses them. but guangzhou doesn’t have a place for him anymore, and he’s moved from seoul to jukjeon in search of a quieter place to settle down. maybe planning weddings (even as an intern) is a rather odd job he’s found himself in, especially for someone who doesn’t believe in any sort of happy ending.
(he hates to admit it, but he lies in wait for someone to prove him wrong.)
it still pays him, though, and at least aids him in the cost for his tuition at dankook.
it’s far from what he’d imagined himself at in this point of time—star athlete, rough edges, an infinite youth on hand, but instead here he is—struggling, recovering, and not enough time. never enough time.
he’s coping, though.
there’s still a lot for him to learn, and some days it tires him out. if anything, does he really deserve his situation now? he likes to think he does, as a sort of consolation (not much). and all he wants to do is—
(left, right, left, exhale—?)
and yet, maybe he learns that he can’t always keep running anymore. maybe, maybe all he needs is to be kind to the world before it’s kind to him.
GO!