Payback AU: What If

Act 3 - MEDICINE

Yoon Jay was born with everything—wealth, genetics, best environment. Everything that people wished for. And he grew up with almost everything too—except for a healthy family and a loving father.

Now, half a year away from adulthood, he still had everything—well, almost everything; wealth, looks, brain, his mother's love. There's just one thing he lacked: emotion—stemmed from one year long of pretending to be mute and brainless when he was left alone in his father's mansion among people that didn't want him to be there after his parent's divorce. When his mother finally took him out of the wretched house, he was already too used to killing his own emotion that it had vanished altogether.

Nine-year-old Yoon Jay was unable to feel anything. His pretend days made him numb to all feelings.

His mother tried to "cure" him, to revert him into the lovely boy he was. He was given pets, told to watch movies and expressed his feelings about it, met with a psychiatrist—and then psychiatrists—weekly, write daily journals ... they tried everything, to no avail.

Yoon Jay managed to at least act like a normal human, to hide his numbness with a fake expression, and live his life normally. But as he grew up even more, being smarter, everything only made him turn into someone with a sharp mind but no compassion, and some people started to call him a psychopath. His tendency to walk down darker paths grew with his violent streak and unforgiving nature.

His mother had given up on most of the treatment except the movie reviewing, because it at least taught her son the way to act within social construct. So even when she went to live in the State and leave her son behind in Korea, she asked Jay's illegitimate uncle, Park Myung-saek, to watch over the boy and kept up with his treatment. She had kept her hope of one day looking at his son's genuine laugh resounding again.

And that son, today, was laughing with his heart reflected on his pale eyes that contained complicated thoughts at the boy in front of him.

Yoon Jay didn't really remember the last time he felt something. It had been more than ten years, probably. And he didn't particularly feel disturbed by it, nor did he feel the need to "fix" himself, as people put it. At this point, he's just doing the treatment because his mother wanted him to, and it kind of became a hobby and interest for him—analyzing movies.

But then, a few days ago, he felt it: his heart was moved. By what exactly, Yoon Jay was not quite sure yet. But by who, he knew.

Lee Yoohan came like a storm, bulldozing his way through an alleyway and two much bigger, weaponized opponents. But his eyes were like a dead night—still, unmoving, full of darkness. He kicked and snapped without remorse, without mercy, and his lips spew out cold spite. All of that was contained in a tiny package inside middle school garb. Yoon Jay was annoyed that someone interrupted his fun at first, but soon grew thrilled looking at a new opponent that potentially would serve him a better challenge.

Yet when he cornered the boy into the wall, the coldness was suddenly gone. The abyss in the boy's eyes was shirking away like a lie. Jay was barraged with a plethora of emotions instead. He saw the boy being confused, annoyed, then bashful all because Jay called him a rabbit. He saw him getting bewildered, irritated, perplexed, and angry when Jay provoked him. He saw the blooming red on the boy's ears and cheeks, not sure because he got so angry or flustered, when Jay whispered in his ear. He saw him cursed and getting irked at the officer that chased them, but there was also excitement on his flushed cheek and sparkling eyes—the starless night on his black orbs morphed into a galaxy.

"Hey, Yoon Jay!"

And then the boy called his name and his heart stopped beating for a moment. It was enough for him to stop walking, and unknowingly released the boy from his hold. His hand felt empty, but it felt warm. The side of his body was burned hotly from the leftover body warmth. His eyes were hot from the glare ablaze inside the boy's eyes. His heart that was stopped before started to beat hard—hard enough to let a rusty cogwheel turn, hard enough to melt something.