Just Friends

Chapter 14

(Years ago)

"Jeongguk, come down here!"

Jeongguk hears the command loud and clear all the way from down stairs. He drops his pencil on his workbook and sighs, though truthfully, he could use the break. He's skipped math class too many times this week and is paying for it dearly by having to spend the rest of his night staring hopelessly at the formulas in front of him, frustrated and lost as to what they even mean.

He can succeed at damn near anything else he tries at school—but math? Math gives him headaches.

"What." He huffs out too offhandedly when he reaches the banister at the top of the stairs. Down below at the pristine, white marbled-floor foyer is his father, hands on hips, glaring back up at him.

Shit. Jeongguk knows that look.

"Uh—Y-yes, sir?" He tries again, straightening his posture. 

"I need you to come to my office. Now, please."

Jeongguk's stomach drops at the request.

He flies down the stairs, chasing the fading sound of his father's expensive leather shoes clacking against the floor as he walks away.

Faster than his bare feet pattering down each and every wooden step is his heartbeat, pounding with the fear that the school has finally made good on their threats and called to complain about his missed classes. Or perhaps they've informed his father that he's been given weekend detention for getting caught with that girl behind the cafeteria yesterday.

Shit! Shit! Shit! She kissed him! Jeongguk didn't want to hurt her feelings or embarrass her in front of her friends, what else was he supposed to do??

Not that the truth would matter anyway, considering how undeservedly strict his father is with Jeongguk in regards to his appearance, behavior, friends, school—everything. He can't go anywhere, do anything, with anyone that isn't the perfect clone of one of his father's colleagues. Sneaking out at night for a couple of hours has been Jeongguk's only way of maintaining any sort of real social life with the very few people he can tolerate.

Nevertheless, since Jeongguk's already on thin ice for his less than perfect grades, whatever he's in trouble for now will be the final nail to his coffin. It's a guessing game to see what it is that's finally gotten him grounded for life.

Here lies Jeon Jeongguk, buried alive in the cold walls of this miserable, lonely mansion.

Unless. . .

"Father, I can explain—" Jeongguk swings open the double doors of his father's office, hoping that now would be the moment that his father's superpower of persuasion--genetically passed down to Jeongguk and hibernating in his DNA until the most critical of situations--finally becomes magically unlocked so that he can make his case about why he's not the biggest failure on the planet like his father thinks he is.

But, because this is the room where Jeongguk must sit through long-winded lectures about why every little mistake he makes will ruin his future and receives punishment sentencing for his adolescent crimes, the second he passes through the doorway he shuts down. He can physically feel what little courage and determination he had weakened and drained by the scent of polished wood and expensive leather. His Kryptonite.

"Explain what?" Mr. Jeon sighs, tone enervated and wearied in a way that makes Jeongguk acutely aware of how unusually disheveled his appearance is as he returns to his chair behind the desk that Jeongguk's mother always swore was far too large and daunting for this room.