UPSIDE DOWN [TAEGYU] ✔

one ; taehyun

All I’ve ever wanted is for Choi Beomgyu to leave me alone. For him to back off — you know, just give me some space.

It all started the summer before second grade when our moving van pulled into his neighborhood. And since we’re now about done with the eighth grade, that, my friend, makes more than half a decade of strategic avoidance and social discomfort.

He didn’t just barge into my life. He barged and shoved and wedged his way into my life. Did we invite him to get into our moving van and start climbing all over boxes? No! But that’s exactly what he did, taking over and showing off like only Choi Beomgyu can.

My dad tried to stop him. “Hey!” he says as he’s catapulting himself on board. “What are you doing? You’re getting mud everywhere!” So true, too. His shoes were, like, caked with the stuff.

He didn’t hop out, though. Instead, he planted his rear end on the floor and started pushing a big box with his feet. “Don’t you want some help?” He glanced my way. “It sure looks like you need it.”

I didn’t like the implication. And even though my dad had been tossing me the same sort of look all week, I could tell — he didn’t like this boy either. “Hey! Don’t do that,” he warned him. “There are some really valuable things in that box.”

“Oh. Well, how about this one?” He scoots over to a box and looks my way again. “We should push it together!”

“No, no, no!” my dad says, then pulls him up by the arm. “Why don’t you run along home? Your mother’s probably wondering where you are.”

This was the beginning of my soon-to-become-acute awareness that the boy cannot take a hint. Of any kind. Does he zip on home like a kid should when they’ve been invited to leave? No. He says, “Oh, my mom knows where I am. She said it was fine.” Then he points across the street and says, “We just live right over there.”

My father looks to where he’s pointing and mutters, “Oh boy.” Then he looks at me and winks as he says, “Taehyun, isn’t it time for you to go inside and help your mother?”

I knew right off that this was a ditch play. And I didn’t think about it until later, but ditch wasn’t a play I’d run with my dad before. Face it, pulling a ditch is not something discussed with dads. It’s like, against parental law to tell your kid it’s okay to ditch someone, no matter how annoying or muddy they might be.

But there he was, putting the play in motion, and man, he didn’t have to wink twice. I smiled and said, “Sure thing!” then jumped off the liftgate and headed for my new front door.

I heard him coming after me but I couldn’t believe it. Maybe it just sounded like he was chasing me; maybe he was really going the other way. But before I got up the nerve to look, he blasted right past me, grabbing my arm and yanking me along.

This was too much. I planted myself and was about to tell him to get lost when the weirdest thing happened. I was making this big windmill motion to break away from him, but somehow on the downswing my hand wound up tangling into his. I couldn’t believe it. There I was, holding the mud monkey’s hand!

I tried to shake him off, but he just clamped on tight and yanked me along, saying, “C’mon!”

My mom came out of the house and immediately got the world’s sappiest look on his face. “Well, hello,” she says to Beomgyu.

“Hi!”

I’m still trying to pull free, but the boy’s got me in a death grip. My mom’s grinning, looking at our hands and my fiery red face. “And what’s your name, honey?”

“Choi Beomgyu. I live right over there,” he says, pointing with his unoccupied hand.

“Well, I see you’ve met my son,” she says, still grinning away.