Secrets | Woosan

28

"Okay..." Wooyoung whispered as he sat down on San's couch, patting the spot across from him, "now we can talk about whatever you need to talk about."

A sigh fell from San's lips before deciding the faster he got it over with, the better it would be. Folding his hands in his lap, he took a deep breath, trying to convince himself everything would turn out fine.

"Hey," the younger spoke when he saw the pained look on San's face. Wooyoung couldn't decipher what exactly he wanted to talk about, but he could understand the severity of the situation. "Sannie," started Wooyoung as soft as his voice would allow. He placed a hand on the side of San's face, rubbing his thumb over the boy's cheekbone, "it's okay."

San's features expressed unimaginable pain, nothing Wooyoung could ever begin to understand; however, as a partner, he felt as if it was his responsibility to understand and lift that weight off of San.

"Last week," San started finally, "Yunho told me you were looking for something on my computer—which isn't what I need to talk about, you're allowed to look through my stuff...I trust you—but I haven't been honest with you...I've hidden a lot from you, Wooyoung." The elder paused, his words feeling increasingly heavy as he spoke. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes—but he had to push forward. "I'm not just a clean business man...I'm not the good person you think I am."

Wooyoung felt his heart sink. He knew the moment he heard that conversation between San and that bodyguard that things were bound to change, but if San deserved anything, it was somebody to listen. So that's what he did as San started from the beginning.

Twelve years ago

"Happy birthday, Son," San's father spoke as he pushed a wrapped rectangular box towards the small boy.

A wide grin spread across San's face, exposing his  deep-set dimples. He had never received a birthday gift from his father and he assumed it was because it was such a special birthday. He was finally ten.

"Go ahead, open it," said the man, giving San permission the open the present.

Tearing away the wrapping paper as fast as he could, San was met with a cardboard box with a printed picture of a rifle on the exterior. "It's a gun?" He asked quietly, his head falling to the side in confusion. Pointing across the room to the rifle hanging on the wall, he asked, "like the one you use at your jobs?"

The man nodded, "it's the same one I use. You're a man now, San, it's time you start acting like one," he explained.

"Do I have to hurt people like you do?"

"Someday you'll take over for me, son, but before that day I have to make sure you're ready." Picking up the box off the table, he gestured for the boy to follow him, "today, I'll show you how to use this."

San's hands fidgeted nervously at his sides as he followed his father to the basement. He didn't want to learn how to use a gun, he didn't want to be like his father. Although he was to young to understand what his father truly spent his time doing, he knew he hurt a lot of people in the process. The person that got hurt the most was his mother.

His parents loved each other, yet they fought quite often. Mrs Choi was the epitome of melancholy. She had lost her eldest daughter due to the carelessness of her husband, yet she stayed. She stayed for San because she refused to fail him the way she failed her daughter. His mother had always been the happiest woman alive until San's sister passed away then she became distant, always wearing a frown.

"Are you ready?"

San shook away his thought and looked up at his father who was holding the rifle. He showed the boy every step he needed to know in order to use the weapon. He showed San how to hold it, load it, aim it, and shoot it. The earsplitting bang of the bullet parting from the barrel made San jump.