on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter Twenty Six

The man, although not as built as Hulk, who would probably pass Yeosang's high standards with his prominent exaggerated muscles, furrows his thick eyebrows as he shoots his bulging arm to the woman. Wooyoung clicks his tongue when the punch misses as she crouches, instead swiping her long leg on the ground directing a sharp kick at the man. He dodges by kicking off the ground, as though he weighs only a feather.

Everything is so unrealistic, like a burly man 190cm tall hopping so lightly, and a pretty woman with heavy-looking boobs and ass moving so fiercely. Unrealistic as an anime or manga, and a game is no different.

Wooyoung gives out a strangled sound when his man on the screen gets headlocked by the woman with buns on her head, as she plants him down like nothing. Jongho's hands are moving busily next to him, violent words escaping his mouth a little too enthusiastically. Wooyoung sees the chosen character's HP gauge decreasing rapidly, and gives a brief glance at Jongho's face. The man is concentrating on the screen, tasting a near-victory, wearing a lively expression—the man who wanted to kill himself once, is trying to kill someone. Wooyoung considers that a serious character development.

Soon enough, the pre-Hulk character drops on the ground, while the woman places her hands on her hips proudly.

"Hyung, you're paying for the PC bang," Jongho cheers in triumph.

Wooyoung groans, less to the fact that he has to open his wallet but more to the fact that he lost against Jongho, who literally was a bookworm when Hongjoong and Wooyoung picked him up. Wooyoung definitely had a lead in the gaming department, and he remembers all those times he used to pinch Jongho's cheek as a penalty. But he guesses, just like San had said, when you're deprived of it when small, it becomes your passion when you grow older.

They decide to eat before they go another round, this time playing a game as a team. PC bang, although overpriced for the quality, does offer a range of food, and Jongho considers a lot before he decides to order twice the amount of food for an average male consumption, taking advantage of Wooyoung's card. Wooyoung just settles with a simple cup of ramyun like he always does.

Three minutes in, and the instant noodle is served. He takes a bite of the most basic ramyun in the whole of South Korea, which Wooyoung's all too familiar with, and feels like something is wrong with it. Like something is missing. Like chopped up sausages, cheese, dumplings and sodden crisps—and perhaps, a marshmallow for sweetness.　

When he realises where he's exactly tasted that, he shuts down his train of thoughts.

"Why were you late today?"

While Wooyoung is almost always late for appointments, Jongho was hardly ever. Because he's brought up decent unlike Wooyoung, thinks every minute of his life counts, and he is never held back from work because, well, no one waits for their cars to be scrapped. But today, for some reason Jongho arrived at the PC bang later than him, looking like he'd been through turbulence.

"I was caught by Jasmine noona," Jongho answers, taking a bite of his yangnyeom chicken.

That is turbulence.

"Did her ex boyfriend officially end things with her?"

"No, she lost a big fish."

The Kahuna. Wooyoung always thought it was a risk to rely on one big customer instead of numerous small ones. He did lose one recently, the one that attacked him, and Wooyoung can guess what happened to him—or them—but doesn't dwell on it.

"That must have been a scene," Wooyoung tells Jongho, a voice laced with much needed condolence.

"I wasn't paid for this." Jongho huffs, dipping his kimbap in Wooyoung's ramyun soup.

"You can quit, you know," Wooyoung tries. "Unlike me or Jasmine, you have a brain. You're wasting your time in that junkyard."

Is this how Hongjoong feels? If Jongho hadn't met Hongjoong and Wooyoung that night, he wouldn't have been stuck at the lowly job. But if they hadn't met, Jongho might not have been in this world at all, and for that, Wooyoung is glad.

"Are you going to quit?" Jongho stuffs his mouth with kimbap, but Wooyoung catches a sound of hope in his voice.

Wooyoung pauses for a second, before he answers, "This isn't about me."

"But it is," Jongho says. "And you know it."

Wooyoung inhales once, and the stuffed air of the PC bang fills his lungs.

Among many things Wooyoung forgets, because everyday is just a repeat of the other, he still remembers that day like yesterday. The day they had to stand outside the room, hearing Hongjoong's piercing wail from the other side of the wall. The day they found Hongjoong grovelling half unconscious on the floor, planting his forehead on the puddle of blood, as he'd fought a war—and he did.

They took him to his home, Jongho treating his incomplete fingers with crestfallen face, Wooyoung hugging him from behind as he writhed in pain, everytime antiseptic touched his bare flesh.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said. "I'm so fucking sorry."

He sounded like he wanted to cry. Not from the pain, but from the guilt, how sorry he felt from something he shouldn't have. But he held it back, probably because he thought he didn't have the right to.

"I know I sound like a hypocrite, but I want you to live, Wooyoung-ah," he said as he palmed Wooyoung's cheek, with a nailless hand. "And I want you to look after him, Jongho. Will you do that for me?"

Jongho nodded with a solemn face, and the deal was made.

Wooyoung still remembers that day like yesterday. The day Hongjoong cursed Jongho.

"Since when do you listen to hyungs?" Wooyoung mocks. "I advised you to try it with Yeosang, but you still haven't."

"Hyung."

"Look, don't count on me. It's your life, you do your shit Jongho."

"But I wouldn't have had a life if it weren't for you and Hongjoong hyung."

A fucking touche.

Wooyoung ignores everything, and swallows the rest of his ramyun. It tastes like shit.