Don't Ask Don't Tell

Chapter 8: A thousand times over

After having his nose painfully fixed back into place and getting dosed on more painkillers than he could count, Suga was carried up to V's bed and tucked in gently. It didn't take him long to completely pass out with V running his hands through his hair.
Even so, Suga didn't sleep particularly well. He kept having strange nightmares that didn't make any sense. They were all memories, coming back to haunt him.
"I'm not being too hard on him."
"Yes, you are. He's a child, Eunhyuk! Do you expect him to get up with a 101-degree fever and go to school? You shouldn't even be working in your condition."
"Shut the fuck up, Seulgi."
"Don't talk to me like I'm being unreasonable. It was worse last night, you know this."
"How much worse?"
"104. He could have died, Eunhyuk."
Yoongi could hear his father pacing the floor, the clack of dress shoes on ageing hardwood. That sound always scared Yoongi, because it usually meant something bad was going to happen.
"Ever since we had a kid, you've changed, you know that?"
"Of course I changed. You should have too."
"All you care about is Yoongi."
"He's my son. Eunhyuk. He's your child, too."
"Are you sure about that? Because he doesn't look anything like me."
Yoongi didn't like the silence that settled between his parents.
The timeline changes and Yoongi is twelve, and Jihoon has just turned five. His father has been spending even more time away at work, and Yoongi has been home off of school for a while. It's summer break, of course, he's home. None of the other kids seem to like him very much, and nobody has invited him to hang out, but he's okay with it. He thinks that spending time with Jihoon is better anyway, because Jihoon doesn't tell him he's stupid, and Jihoon doesn't make fun of him for being short, or weird, or ugly, or any of the other shit that gets flung his way on the schoolyard. Jihoon likes him. Jihoon is all he has.
Yoongi hears the door open and shut, in only the way that means that his father is home. Finally, Yoongi thinks, because he's spent the last few hours making paper cranes, and he's taken his time to model each of them after a member of his family.
Jihoon's is the smallest, because he's the youngest, and it's a pale green colour — Jihoon's favourite. His father's is the largest, and a pale blue. His mother's is pink. He's taken the time to neatly write "mummy," "daddy," and "Jihoon" in his childish writing on one of the wings of each. Yoongi wants his father to see them. Wants his father to be proud of him, for once in his life. He thinks he's done a good job.
He can hear his father talking to his mom and Jihoon in the other room. He carefully presses his little ear to the door to hear. He knows eavesdropping is a bad thing to do, but he does it anyway.
"-and hire a sitter for Yoongi." He hears his father say.
"Why leave him here? Why not take him with us?"
"I just think it would be better if he was here."
Yoongi feels his little heart break. Was his father saying what he thought he was saying?
"I don't want to take him with us."
Jihoon babbles a reply, but Yoongi is too upset to bother with remembering what it is. So that's what his father thinks of him, that he's better off on his own.
Yoongi crawls into bed and pretends to be asleep when his father comes in to check on him. He leaves the paper cranes on his desk, with the names visible. Just so that maybe, his father will see them.
As the door clicks shut, Yoongi is sure he hasn't. He doesn't know what hurts more, his father ignoring him, or his father leaving him behind.
The timeline changes again, and Yoongi is eight, and he's getting yelled at for not doing well enough in science. It's the first time his father has ever yelled at him. He has his report card in hand. He got a B. The sharp smack of his father's hand across his face is enough to remind him to do better next time. He doesn't. He gets a B- next semester and also gets gifted with a black eye. For the next week and a half, it feels like he's been hit with a tire iron. His mother doesn't' notice because his mother is never home anymore.
The timeline changes again. Yoongi is thirteen and he hears his parents arguing downstairs. There's a loud thud and Yoongi doesn't know what hit the floor but he knows it isn't anything good. Whenever there's a slam like that when his parents fight it means something very, very bad is about to happen, so he picks up his phone and texts Namjoon. Namjoon texts when he's outside and Yoongi bails out his bedroom window. Namjoon throws one of his old jackets around Yoongi's tiny shoulders and it engulfs him completely, but it smells like laundry detergent and Namjoon's cologne, and that's better than the three days worth of sweat Yoongi reeks of. Namjoon is Yoongi's only friend, and he even thinks that maybe it won't end up lasting because he's eventually going to realize what an annoying nuisance he is.
No matter what Yoongi seems to do, he seems to do it wrong.
"Hey."
Suga blinked, still hazy from pain meds, and saw V's smiling face.
"Are you alright?" V asked, a look of mild concern passing over his face momentarily. He hides it well.
"Why?"
"You were crying."
"I was not," Suga said, reaching up to touch his face, finding that he was clearly full of shit. His cheeks were wet. He was crying. Suga never cried.
Suga. He hated being called that now. He could hear Bogum's voice in his head. "Didn't I tell you..."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything. What is it?"
"Can you not call me Suga anymore?"
"What should I call you?"
"My name."
"Which is?"
"Yoongi."
"I can do that," V answered, smiling, holding onto his hand.
"Thank you."
"Anything to make you happy."
"Aw, really? For me?"
"For you, a thousand times over."
V kissed Yoongi's forehead. "Are you still in pain?"
"Yeah."
"I'll get you some more medication. You should get some sleep though, you've only been out a couple hours."
Yoongi nodded weakly. V pulled the covers back up around him and left.

"You don't look very good."
Yoongi returned home, and the very first thing he gets greeted with is that from his mother.
"I know I don't look very good, Mum."
"Did you get into a fight? What happened?" She asked, walking over and examining his face with the careful scan only a mother can achieve.
"I'm fine, mum. Really. Just a couple of kids from school."
Yoongi was concerned he could lie so smoothly, even to his own mother. It wasn't like he was going to tell her the truth, because that would involve telling her about what he did for a living, and where he was, and how he could keep the apartment afloat with just one job.
"That's not good, but there isn't much you can do about that."
"True."
"Next time, you beat them up twice as bad, alright?"
"Why so concerned all the sudden, Mum?"
His mom sighed. "I have some important news to tell you."
"Is it good news or bad news?"
"It's the kind you might want to sit down for."
Yoongi pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and prepared himself for what his mother was about to tell him. It was bad. He already knew. He could smell it.
"You know how your father has been sick ever since you were small?"
"Right. It's why he left work. I know. What about it?"
Yoongi's mom took in a deep breath. "It's a long story, but in short, for a brief time after you and Jihoon were born, your father was cheating on me with another woman."
"That's-"
"And he has AIDS." His mother said, in a rush of breath so fast Yoongi barely caught it.
"What?"
"He's dying, Yoongi. I couldn't keep it from you any longer. His condition is getting worse, and he refuses to do anything about it."
"Mum, that's fucking insane."
Yoongi couldn't fucking believe what he had heard. His father was dying of AIDS? That didn't fucking happen anymore, it couldn't happen.
The puzzle pieces were beginning to click together, That was why nobody mentioned what was wrong with his father. That was why his father was always sick. That explained the fights late at night when he would use that to his advantage.
It all made sense.
"I know it's a lot to process, honey, but-"
"No. It's..."
Yoongi trailed off.
"Do you mind if I go and make a phone call?"

"Are you serious?" Namjoon admonished, tossing a rock down the railroad track he was balancing on.
"Dead serious."
"So your father is dying of AIDS, and your mother didn't tell you for how many years?"
"Eight."
"That's fucked."
"I know," Yoongi said, sitting on the tracks, sighing deeply. He picked up a pebble and flung it down the tracks, hearing it bounce off the wood until it hits the metal and flies off the trail.
"There's... there's something else." Yoongi said before he can stop himself from opening his big, fat, stupid mouth.
"Like what?" Namjoon asked, sitting down on the track beside Yoongi.
"It's a really long story but..." Yoongi said, trailing off and looking down at the gravel under his feet.
"Is it about what you're-"
"There's this guy at work." Yoongi started. Namjoon looked like he was listening intently.
"He's really creepy, right? And he had made a few weird passes at me before, but I completely brushed it off, but last night..." Yoongi said, and he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He was omitting the truth about something so fucking horrible that he couldn't form the words to describe it.
Namjoon's hand on his shoulder made him feel a little better. His reassuring look was the best. Somehow, when Namjoon looked at Yoongi like that, he was certain that everything would end up okay.
"What happened?" Namjoon asked, softly. "You can talk to me, you know."
Yoongi took in a sharp breath. "Let's just say there's a reason why my face is fucked up."
Namjoon pulled him into a hug. Yoongi lost it.
Yoongi couldn't believe that he once thought that Namjoon would get tired of him and leave. They were a unified front. Namjoon seemed to know that Yoongi needed him, and he didn't begrudge him for it.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you."
"You're the only person I've told."
"You should leave that job if he's going to be there. It's only going to get worse if you stay."
"I can't afford to leave it, Namjoon," Yoongi said. "My family is flat fucking broke."
"Is this what you were keeping from me all these years?"
Yoongi nodded.
"I could have helped. I still can."
Yoongi gasped for air.
"Please?"
"For you, a thousand times over."