"You could have kept up, if not for that foolish club."
Wonwoo winced as his mum spat at him from the dining table, sipping on something from a cup. His day would have been bearable had he not looked at her; acting non-existent like he usually did. Talking to Mingyu simply exhausted him, and dealing with his mum, made matters worse.
Wonwoo knew well enough what his mum jabbed at. No matter how hard he tried, his grades had eventually stooped the slightest bit – all because of Kim fucking Mingyu – and news seemed to have reached his mum. How the fuck it had happened, Wonwoo didn't have a single clue. All he knew was that he was about to sit through yet another session of being taunted, mocked and reprimanded by his mum. Worst case scenario, his dad would come back home just then, and Wonwoo might end up getting a serious beating.
It wasn't the first time this was happening, clearly, and Wonwoo despised that this wasn't the last either.
"I'm sorry mum, I'm trying."
"It sure doesn't seem like it. Don't follow your sister's footsteps. You can do way better."
Wonwoo burned in fury, quite literally, as his mum accused Somi. His ears and neck raged red, and it took everything in him to bravely lift his head in front of his mum to look her dead in the eye. "Don't fucking bring her in this. You don't know half the truth," he spat, barely managing to go through his sentence, while his mum gave him a look he knew well enough.
Shit. The way his mum's eyebrows quirked up, Wonwoo knew he'd fucked up. Forget his dad, he might not be able to lift his arm tomorrow if his mum sprang into action.
"What did you just say, hm?" Hyeri stood from the chair, walking agonisingly slowly towards Wonwoo. His head dropped in an instant, and his fists clenched behind his back. His head was pulled upwards quite roughly by the hair, and he was forced to make eye contact with his mum – who wore a wild look in her eyes.
Wonwoo's head helplessly flopped to the side, as his cheek stung with the contact. "Watch. Your. Language," said Hyeri, a threatening hardness to her voice, which still made Wonwoo tremble, in spite of how many times he'd heard it.
"And what do I care about the truth? She's dead, you moron, learn to move on and stop moping like a helpless animal," she landed another resonating slap to the same cheek, her wedding ring scraping painfully against the battered skin. Hyeri harshly let go of his hair, and went back to her cup on the dining table, like nothing had happened.
"Don't be so fucking sensitive. Leave. And try to work harder, I didn't raise a slacker."
"Bold of you to assume you ever raised me. Somi did," Wonwoo muttered, padding away to the stairway as fast as he could.
Wonwoo cried into his pillow the moment he reached his room, after bolting the door and throwing his bag away somewhere; he didn't bother changing out of his uniform. He was too busy powerlessly shedding tears.
At times Wonwoo felt it would have been nice to have somebody who could relate to him, and someone with whom he could talk to. Sure, to the outside world, Wonwoo was the life-of-the-party, somebody who was everywhere and with everyone. It may seem he had a bit too many friends, but Wonwoo was fully aware they weren't even close to the definition of a friend. They were simply people who came and went on their own whim, while being incredibly good at pretending to be Wonwoo's doormats.
Wonwoo would just like to have someone who listened, without judging, without providing solutions he didn't ask for. Just somebody who would readily listen.
He scoffed, chiding himself, for he even managed to imagine what having someone like that would be. It was a sick joke his brain played on him – giving him hope.
Wonwoo hated hope. He often wondered why, and how, people could rely on something as absolutely ridiculous as hope. It did nothing, except leave disappointment in its wake.
It only convinced him further that there was no other way to survive in this world, other than fending for yourself, and all expectations and wishes should be forgotten. They sounded horrible even in dreams, since they made waking up a painful task.
It angered Wonwoo to no extent when he saw people living their life to the fullest – when they didn't feel the need to hope for something. Their lives were so fucking golden that they didn't need anything else. They just left Wonwoo feeling more miserable than ever, while he desperately tried not to think about them too much.
But he couldn't help it; looking at everyone but him, having perfect lives. It made him greedy, it made him hope. The more people he witnessed with such lives, the more frequently he fell into the vicious cycle of hoping, and then regretting for ever doing so. Even if he had moments of silence in the house, Wonwoo would consider himself God's favourite.
That was all Wonwoo wanted, but unfortunately, he didn't see himself ever getting that luxury.
--
The day was just as terrible as any other day, but Wonwoo tried to ignore it, focusing on the class he sat in, trying hard like he'd told his mum last evening. He tried to not let his hand travel inside the depths of his backpack to pull out his diary and scribble away in it.
He didn't really need to pay attention in this class, Wonwoo decided. He was a natural at it. Plus, Mingyu wasn't in it, so Wonwoo didn't feel the need to worry much about competition.
He finally ended up grabbing his diary, and began writing to Somi, like most times. The only occasions he didn't address his entries to her, were when things at home got unbearably gruesome. Wonwoo let Somi have her peace.
He wrote about his encounter with his mum yesterday, skimping on the details about the conversation, and then proceeded to narrate the amount of university work he did; Wonwoo was quite proud of it. He usually was, until either of his parents had to point it out.
Class was dismissed, and Wonwoo stuffed the diary back in his backpack, waiting for everyone to leave before him.
The sight of nearly everyone in the hallways grinning, or engaged in conversation with their friends, repulsed Wonwoo, and he decided to spend lunch alone again, but on the deck this time.
