boys like boys ✔ luwoo

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|| Kim Jungwoo ||

I massaged my temples as the screaming of a mother and her daughter stopped abruptly. The result was the daughter storming off the bus at the wrong stop making her mother scold her even more. Their drama drifted with them as they continued their conversation outside. I watched out the window with little care as her mother whacked her upside the head in front of everyone. The bus then continued its route and I turned the music on my phone up just the slightest.

Less than half the people on this bus were sleeping yet I waited patiently to be one of them. My head rested on the pole as I fought desperately to keep my eyes open. An old woman fumbling to take off her phone case eventually caught my attention. Her small, veiny hands reminded me of my mother's when she would be too drunk to tie my shoes before primary school in the mornings. Her thinning black hair was short and loosely tucked behind her ear. I wanted to hold it back for her so she wouldn't get puke in the strands.

The struggle intensified when she thought she broke one of her bright red nails. It got sad to watch knowing her muscles were visibly weak. I hesitate briefly but eventually step forward to help her. My actions were cut short when another young male kneeled down and insisted on helping her. The woman's pale yellow teeth flashed through the pink lipstick when he took the phone off the case with ease.

I stepped back to my original position and watched the scene take place before me. In my mind I was annoyed; for a brief moment, I figured he knew what I was about to do so he jumped to beat me. But when he took a seat, I realized he couldn't even glance at me with his back turned like that. I just knew he was watching her as tough as I was.

My focus was now on him. I knew we were the same age. I've seen his hairstyle around my school before especially that posture. Although half the guys on campus rock the mid-part hairstyle, he wore his differently. How different could it get? Well because his hair stayed well kept throughout the day. Everyone else runs their hands through it or gets it ruffled from their friends. But his was just as it looked if he were to have just left the house this morning.

From the way his hands lay folded on his knee and his shoelaces stay evenly stiff on either side of the shoe. That was none other than the Qian Kun. A junior who often gets picked on from having mild or severe OCD. He thought no one picked up on him squeezing a large amount of hand sanitizer on his hand after touching the old lady's property, but I saw it. Another thing that gave up his identity.

Maybe I should be wondering why he's on the crowded city bus and not driving off into the sunset with his high-class friends. There would be fewer germs and fuss floating around. I could only imagine how absurd his mind is; making his pinky twitch like that.

And before I knew it, the large vehicle rolled to a stop... my stop. I got off with caution just so I can get a good look at Kun. He was engulfed in the bright screen his phone projected. The sight almost made me miss a step but I looked just in time to save me the embarrassment.

After a ten minute walk, I made it to my apartment. Greeting the doorman was dreadful as always along with the quiet trip up three flights of stairs. The spark of happiness still didn't light even when I was standing in front of the doorway.

"Well, then how about you get the fuck out of my house!" I throw my head back and groan calmly at the sound of her voice. One of the pictures crashing to the wooden floor made me force the key into the lock. The sound so familiar I could spell it out. "Fuck you and that bitch!"

I step into the room, my black shoes instantly feeling the crunching of glass beneath them. I look down to see it was a picture of both my parents on their wedding day. The two of them clinging to each other like first loves and me at the age of three standing right in the middle of them. It's the fifth time this month I had to clean the glass that surrounds the fading photo.

My feet forced me forward until I could see around the corner of the loud house. The first person I see is my mother or the back of her that is. She's blowing a cloud of smoke into the air as my father burst out of his room with his jacket in hand. He stopped abruptly when he saw me. I didn't need to freeze. I've been this way the moment I told myself to stop walking.

"I'm sorry, Son," he says while sliding his arm through one of the sleeves. My mother turned halfway around, another gust of white smoke swirling out of her nose. "Clean this up for your mother will you?" He stepped past me while patting my back to slightly push me out the way. I stumbled for a second then caught my balance.

That physical contact made my mother lose it all over again. The ashes from her cigarette dissolved into the air when she rushed over to grab me. "And don't touch my son! My son!" He slammed the door causing the floor beneath us to shake. My eyes darted to the picture frame and stayed there. The stench of smoke lingered on her hands as she rubbed my hair out of my face. "How was school love?" Her breath invading my nostrils. She's drunk on a Wednesday, not a surprise.

"Am I cleaning that?" I mutter faintly hoping I can make my own mind on whether to run to my room or buckle down and fix this mess. I then look up into her bloodshot eyes and suddenly to her twisted closed mouth smile. "Am I?"

"Sorry, what Jungwoo my baby? My left ear..." she twisted her pinky around in her ear canal as far as it would go before rubbing the secretion out on her dingy white top. "Maybe from all your father's yelling. But can you clean this for me, be sweet?" I look away from her as she walked away from me.

My glass impaled shoes were left at the door and my slippers were at the foot of my bed. The picture I once saw smothered into the flooring was now being twisted around in my fingertips. It would be the last time I leave it out there for them. So I put it in my drawer and turned out the lights. The darkness hugged me tighter than anyone has in a long time. I kind of sunk into it and allowed it's emptiness to get used to me. It treated me like a friend when my other ones weren't around.

My eyes got heavy enough to shut down my mind. The moment I've been waiting for since I walked into the once tragedy of an apartment. Then just as fast as my mind went blank, the thoughts came back when a sliver of light flickered on from under my bedroom door. Flat feet stomping their way down the hall until I saw their shadow at the foot of my door. Drowning in complete fear, I turn over to where my back is facing the wall. My door swung open loud enough for it to hit the wall.

"He's sleep." My mother's voice made my ears hurt. "Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you."

My eyelids clench tightly shut when an obvious presence nears me. Their usual scent sent shivers down my spine. Their hand on my arm only made me shake inside. My breathing completely stopped and my heart rate went up to unreasonable levels. "He grew a lot from last year." The deep voice could make me choke if I was actually trying to use oxygen right now. "Got any pictures I can take?"

"Get out of the room, Siwoo." My floor creaked as the stranger left slowly but finally. "I have some in the kitchen. Next time call..." her voice faded down the hall.

I gasped in as much oxygen as I could once I heard her click the hall light off. With each given breath my body shook violently and my arms squeezed my body tighter. Third night in a row and I was safe.