What Can I Do

Chapter 6 ~You ask what I'm running from but I'm running from life

Dowoon had woken to a soft bed and an even softer hand rubbing his bruising cheek.

He blinked his eyes open, and the hand quickly drew back. He was disoriented as to where he was. He was not in his room or the roof top where he last remembered he was.

He remembered the feeling of wind on his face and the freedom of almost flying, until someone had yanked him back and all he felt, briefly, was warmth and safety. He opened his eyes fully this time, and saw someone's face close to his own.

"Dowoon?"

He panicked, swinging his hands upward, almost hitting Wonpil in the face. He was breathing hard, finally recollecting what had happened yesterday and the fight with his father. Tears began streaming down his face, thinking about what he was going to do and what would happen to him.

Whatever happened, he vowed to never go back to that wretched house. He would rather starve on the streets than ever go back to his father. His breathing increased at an alarming rate, quickening with the anxiety of his situation. His hands clenched unconsciously.

"Dowoon!" Wonpil shouted, surprised and fearful that the boy would hurt himself.

Wonpil immediately grabbed his hands and linked their fingers together to stop Dowoon's hands from forming fists.

"Shhh... You're okay. You're okay." He repeated, lowering their clasped hands to the blanket.

Dowoon didn't know how, but those words made him feel safe and reassured. His breathing evened out a bit as he looked around the room. What was he doing here, in what he supposed was Wonpil's room. Why was he even in Wonpil's house?

Suddenly, he frantically sat up, looking around for his duffle bag. If he had left it on the roof top, he would have nothing. No money, clothes, anything to keep him from going back to his father's house. He panicked at the thought of losing it, until he spotted it in a corner of the room and sighed inaudibly with relief.

He was very confused and turned his eyes towards the boy hovering over him.

Wonpil had been studying Dowoon for the past ten minutes as he slept, and was momentarily started when he awoke. The boy had cuts all over his left arm and a purplish bruise forming on his right cheek. Wonpil furrowed his eyebrows as he saw the injuries littered all around the boy's body.

When Dowoon awoke, it was clear he was close to having a panic attack. Wonpil did the only thing he could, which was try to calm him down, repeating the words he said to him on the rooftop. This seemed to work, as Dowoon's breathing slowed and his eyes flicked across the room and focused on his bag, before landing on Wonpil.

Dowoon's eyes were a deep brown, bordering on the jet black of his hair. They were wide open while looking at him, almost making Wonpil drown in their hurt and pain. Tears began pooling in Dowoon's eyes making Wonpil begin to panic.

Instinctively, he pulled the boy into his arms, rubbing his back and letting him cry into his shoulder. He repeated the last words he said over and over into Dowoon's ear, attempting to comfort him in any way he could. His heart hurt for the boy who he never interacted with or paid any attention to, until today. Seeing the boy so vulnerable and broken sent multiple pangs of pain into his heart and he only hugged him tighter.

Dowoon was so overwhelmed with the day that he didn't even notice when he began to cry. Thoughts were constantly running through his head. Mostly featuring his father, his current situation, how messed up he was, and how he should have died.

A small occupancy of those thoughts were also about the boy in front of him. He wondered why Wonpil would even comfort him, but he didn't complain. His father had never touched him again since he announced he was gay, and yesterday was the first time he had ever hit him again.