Wonwoo knew he'd fucked up.
The day had started normally; the bus ride went by as usual with Wonwoo doing his thing with his diary, and then getting off at his stop. He walked home like everyday from the stop, produced his set of keys from his backpack, and unlocked the house. This was when he realised his grave mistake – not being careful enough.
His diary was still in his hand, quite noticeable, with its vibrant paint-splotched cover, and golden, intricate details on the black-painted spine. It would take a seriously colour blind person to not notice something like it.
Quite unexpectedly, his mum was sitting at the dining table, again, and Wonwoo felt it was Deja Vu, except for the difference in her outfit. She looked up, and Wonwoo got the strong idea that she had been waiting for him. He ignored her, like most times, toeing his shoes off and placing them on the shoe-stand near the door.
Now, Wonwoo would have made his way upstairs without another argument, only if it weren't for the diary clutched in his hand. "Stop right there, Wonwoo," his mum's voice bounced off the walls.
Wonwoo rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath, before turning back on the stairway to look at his mum. "What?" he spat. When his mum's finger travelled to point at the book, and when Wonwoo's eyes followed the path that her finger took, he felt like vanishing. Preferably dig a hole six feet deep, and bury himself in it. He realised he'd been holding his diary like a prize, and his mum had noticed it. Realisation dawned upon him like the weight of the earth being dumped on his head, and Wonwoo remained unmoving on the bottom steps of the stairway.
"I said, get your ass here, Wonwoo," Hyeri demanded, annoyed, which made Wonwoo think he might not have heard her the first time. Not that he could really tell, since his mum never really spoke nicely to anyone in the house. He fearfully walked down, till the dining table, his head hung low so as to not meet his mum's gaze, and hopefully protect his diary.
"What's that?" she asked calmly, an underlying threat as clear as day in her voice.
"It's just a book."
"I can fucking see it is, what book is it?!" Hyeri stood up, scraping the chair against the tiles. Wonwoo caught a glimpse of her arm being raised, making him wince before the contact.
His glasses went askew on his face, and he noticed one of its arms broken away from the frame, about to tip off his ear. He'd have to get them repaired on his own, or use his old pair – buried somewhere deep in his room.
Wonwoo didn't notice the familiar burn of his mum's calloused palm on his face, over the shock of the diary being pulled from his hand. She began flipping through it, all in front of Wonwoo, as he watched her in fear.
Wonwoo could actually kill himself at that very moment. It would save him a major beating, and the devastating feeling of the remainder of the cherished memories he once shared with Somi being presented to his mum. It never really seemed Somi had mattered to his parents, making Wonwoo recoil on the inside even further. "They've never cared, Wonwoo," a voice told him.
It wasn't a nice reminder. It fucking hurt. It was his parents his brain talked about, and Wonwoo couldn't feel any less unimportant, as he saw for himself, yet again, that his own parents couldn't care less. They were probably just sticking around until Wonwoo was ready to leave, and fend for himself.
"Jokes on them, I could do that right now as well,"
"I'll wait until your dad gets back home," his mum declared, after making a show of reading each and every one of Wonwoo's deepest feelings. Not even a minute later, the door of the house opened, and his dad stepped inside.
Hyeri didn't let the man breathe, immediately bombarding him with the newfound information. Needless to say, Jisoo went livid, and snatched Wonwoo's precious diary from his mum's hands. "Burn it," he said slowly.
Wonwoo felt as though his ears were bleeding. "What?"
"Burn it," Jisoo repeated, loud and clear.
Hyeri immediately disappeared into the kitchen, bringing out a box of matches. The man tossed the diary in the fireplace without wasting another second, and she threw a lit matchstick over it.
"That's done then. You'd wish you were an orphan next time you try to hide things from us. I'm warning you already," his dad announced, while Wonwoo miserably looked at his prized possession going up in flames.
There wasn't a single spot on his body that didn't ache, as Wonwoo lay motionless on his bed that night, assignments and studies long forgotten.
He'd eventually gotten the worst beating of his life after the whole diary fiasco, and Wonwoo almost didn't recognise himself when he was free to leave and take care of his bruised face. He looked ridiculous – humiliating enough to even look in the mirror. His lip was busted, with a side of several cuts all over his arms and neck, and his face burned pink.
He didn't think much about it. He was more wrecked about the fact that his diary – the only thing he cared about – wasn't with him anymore. It was gone, mixed with the firewood ashes in the fireplace downstairs. Wonwoo was numbed, not being able to bring himself to cry.
And he felt like running away, just for a while.
He did, eventually, lifting himself off the bed with much difficulty, since his limbs fucking hurt, and grabbed a hoodie to cover his ugly arms. He pulled it on, tiptoeing his way out of his room after checking for any signs of his parents being awake.
The moment he stepped outside the door, closing it carefully to not make any noise, Wonwoo felt a gush of chilly, refreshing air wash him over. He felt at peace for a brief moment.
But being at peace, he would've never thought about Somi, neither his diary – the only two hooks in his life, that had once been his only solace. It was his fucked up fate that had snatched both of them from him.
