[Kiseop's P.O.V.]
It's the first day of school and I groan as I get out of bed. "Morning dad," I say aloud. No response. With a sigh, I get up to get ready and start the day like any other.
After changing, I grab my backpack as I head downstairs. "Dad?" I interrogate as I look around the living room. No sign, as expected. Isn't this great? he left for work before even wishing me. This is the third time this week.
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I climb aboard the bus as I find a seat closest to the entrance slash exit. Sitting there with a frown and drowned in my own thoughts, I do not notice that my friend has come to sit beside me. "Kiseop!" he says as he waves a hand in front of my face. "Yoohoo! You there?"
"Hello, Hoon," I say with a small smile. "What's up?"
"Nothing much. How was summer?"
"It was okay," I shrug. "Yours?"
"Oh...mine..was..okay too, I suppose. Oh my gosh, look!" he says as he excitedly points outside the window. "Don't the skyscrapers look magnificent?"
Geez this kid has a short attention span. "Oh, yeah, that's nice," I say as I don't bother to look in the direction he's pointing in.
"Well, aren't you a bore," he says as he drills his finger into my shoulder. "What's wrong?" he frowns.
"Nothing," I say as I rub the spot he attacked.
"Father wasn't there, was he?"
"No," I mumble. "Can we please not discuss this?"
Nodding slightly, Hoon places his backpack in between his legs, "Gosh, this is uncomfortable."
I laugh lightly. He's such a dork.
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The day is over and I make my way over to the sofa. "I should read what's in today's newspaper," I say as I grab hold of the daily paper. Finally, some alone time. "What's this?" I mutter as I go through an article. It's on some members of the government that have the same last name as I do. Strange. It could be a coincidence, I suppose.
"Father!" I yell as I march up to him, clutching the newspaper to my chest. "What is the meaning of this?" I say as I slap it down on his study table. He looks up and rubs his eyes tiredly. "Why are you in such a bad mood?" he scoffs. I cross my arms as I wait for a reply.
Beads of perspiration form on his forehead as he slowly goes through the article, "Oh, this? It's nothing. Just some remembrance article or something," he says as he throws the newspaper into the shredder. "Go to your room, son."
"But, dad, I-" I find myself shouting but end up being cut off.
"I said go to your room!" he shouts back louder.
Tears form as I escape his office and close my bedroom door with a loud slam. There is something not right going on, and I am going to find out what it is.
