Forget about violet

Chapter 2

Hi guys! I just wanted to apologize it took me way too long. It was hell to write this chapter and I was pretty much struggling.

 I hope you guys gonna enjoy it!

~WillowHollow

...

I met Young-su's father one late evening when he was picking him up from our piano lessons. He looked me up and down through the window. By that time, the boy had already gotten into the car, and I was waiting for them to leave. However, instead of driving off, the man, as if deeming me worthy, asked if I would like to join them for dinner. Not wanting to be rude and decline, I agreed. I was unsure what Young-su thought about it, but I didn't have a chance to ask him. So, I got into the back seat of the expensive black car, whose seats were upholstered in leather.

'Young-su, show some respect to Hiroshi and sit with him at the back,' scolded the father.

My friend indeed joined me in the back seats. I smiled slightly at him, but he didn't look at me nor say a word, which was unusual for him because he always found new topics to talk about when we were alone.

The drive was long, so long that we left the built-up areas of the city. We entered a more expensive neighborhood where huge houses stood side by side. We passed them one by one until the car turned into the gate of a nice white house with a well-kept sidewalk. When I crossed the threshold, a woman, presumably the boy's mother, came out of the adjacent room. She looked at me disoriented. I greeted her and apologized for the intrusion, trying to explain why I was there, but she waved dismissively and said she was glad her son had such a handsome and polite friend. I tried to hide my embarrassment. She laughed, and for a moment, I saw a resemblance between her and Young-su. They had the same smile. Gummy and a bit lazy. She then turned to me and Young-su, who was standing behind me, saying that dinner would be ready in a moment.

...

Young-su grabbed my wrist uncomfortably and pulled me into his room. I didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what I found. The room was sad, and soulless. Like rooms in Ikea. They're supposed to represent the decor of rooms taken straight out of a happy family's home, but they lack those small personal touches. The mirror doesn't have traces of water splashed by dad, who accidentally spilled it while washing his face. The pillows don't bear the tears shed by the daughter after a hard day, and there are no used tissues on the living room table that nobody wants to clean up. My friend's room was just as sterile. The room was large but had few pieces of furniture. In the right corner was a bed, and a huge wardrobe stretched along the left wall. And right by the door was a desk. The room was decorated only in shades of white and black. At that moment, I thought that the studio on the top floor was more of a resemblance to what should Young-su's room look like, and when I was first imagining his room I always saw the studio. It was just Young-su's soul.

Only when we sat down on the bed did Young-su speak. He apologized to me for the sudden invitation and admitted between the lines that I was quite a popular topic in his house as if I were the third son (because Young-su had two other siblings). But right after that statement, he awkwardly laughed, tinged with regret or perhaps even mockery. I had nothing to say to him. What could I say? 'I'm sorry your parents talk about me'? Besides his mother, Young-su was the closest person to me, and maybe that's why I couldn't comfort him because I had never done it before.

Looking back on it all, I have to admit that I was a terrible friend, and I don't know what Young-su saw in me. He deserved the world and someone who would care for him, but I was selfish, like a parasite feeding on his kindness. Although I'm grateful he never left me because I don't know where I would end up without him.