another life || kth x jjk

understand

CHAPTER 1

UNDERSTAND

I WASN'T THE TYPE OF PERSON who hated everything; simply, there was just a lot of things I never understood.

Why did people become drug addicts, teenager's runaway, or even commit suicide? I didn't have the answers nor did I feel spite towards the ones who lived that. I just didn't understand. But then again, I didn't want to.

My old friends told me it was because I was boring. Never wanting to take risks or push my limits I was labeled 'dull', but at the same time running around the block in the freezing cold winter in just underwear was idiotic, sticking my tongue onto a frozen pole was even more idiotic, and having sex in the bathroom of a gas station, was purely disgusting. Nothing I could ever get about that.

If there's anything I learned while growing up was, hatred came from those who didn't understand. But I found myself too scared to try, because maybe then I fall into the same horrors other felt. Maybe I'd fall too deep. It seemed frighteningly easy for others. And that's what I hated. The dread of knowing something I couldn't handle, and the downfall it would lead to.

Chong Sik, a friend I had in the sixth grade, ran away from home and stole a hundred dollars from both his parents' wallets. It came unexpected and when the police got involved his parents didn't have any reasons as to why he ran, neither did I.

In eighth grade the day before our school graduation another friend, Jang Il, killed himself. Our school postponed graduation for another two days while police investigated, and I had to attend his funeral. Again, another friend had left me and I didn't know why or even see it coming.

By my first year in high school I was beginning to lose another friend, Jeong Il, but not in the way I'd lost the others. Like me he was sadden with our loss of friends, only he couldn't cope. He didn't understand them, and he didn't want to feel the pain, so he turned to drugs. He'd completely lost himself a year later. And it wasn't the same being around him as it was hard to talk to someone who was never there, at least mentally. After some time, he was kicked out of his parents' house, then ran away to some place with his junkie friends. That last time I heard about his from his parent, which was a rare occurrence, I found out they'd moved him to a rehabilitation center in Seoul.

I visited Jeong Il's house over the weekends, and gave his parents bread and pastries from the coffee shop where I worked. Depending on the time of year I helped them cut their lawn, or organize the things they wanted me to, and as always, they offered to pay.

"You're a grown boy now. You shouldn't be doing all these things for free." Jeong Il's mother, Ji Su said. She'd repeatedly drilled in my head to call her that as did her husband.

"It's okay, it's the least I can do.."

Ji Su sighed and patted my back as I moved some boxes up to their attic. I had a feeling they were filled with more of Jeong Il's things. More pictures, more hidden posters, and more workbooks. All the things that had dusted sitting around in his room/

Even though he wasn't really dead, his parents treated him that way. Saying his name was like saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter, 'He-who-shall-not-be-named.' His parents never said his name, and I was scared that if I did, I'd upset them.

After I finished organizing, Ji Su asked me to stay for dinner. Jeong Il's father, Min Jun, had just come home. Alcohol lingered on his clothes, a smell I'd gotten used to every time I visited during the weekends. Ji Su would scold him for drinking so much while out with his friends, and Min Jun would promise not to continue.