DEEP

9. ΔΙΚΟΣ ΜΟΥ

11 and 11.

Donghyuk hums happily as he licks the cone. "I love strawberry." He thinks of her, thinks of how the girl loves the flavor. He licks his lips clean, grips the cone with both hands and stares at a piece of frozen fruit peeking out of the pink cream. "(Y/N) loves strawberry, too."

The man sits down in front of him, sets napkins down on the table. "Donghyuk, what did I tell you about hanging around that boy?"

Donghyuk stills.

"If you want to be strong, to be powerful one day, nothing can hold you back."

The boy stares at the man. "Nothing can hold me back?"

"You want to leave this place, don't you?"

Donghyuk looks down, sees himself in the metal table. He thinks of Ms. Choi's warm hugs, the taste of seaweed soup and chicken falling of the bone. He thinks of skipping rocks and jumping in puddles; water seeping into his socks and in between his toes. He thinks of drawing in the garden and picking flowers. He thinks of laughing and singing and shouting into the wind. He thinks of a cross eyed girl trying to lick the scar on her nose.

The man frowns. "You don't want to go back to how it was before the Home do you?"

Suddenly he sees it, a face, a frightening ghost, flicker over his reflection. He gasps, looks up at the man quickly. "N-no."

The man's face relaxes. "Donghyuk, I'll make sure you never have to go back to that life. I can teach you to not be afraid."

The boy looks up again, his eyes wide and his chest wrestling with emotion, his mind fighting to understand. "C-can you teach me not to be afraid of my father?"

The man's voice is hard, resolute. "Donghyuk , I can help you become something so great your father will be afraid of you."

---

Present.

You stand defensive despite your nudity, arms raised and gun pointed. Moonlight hits the right side of your face, and Donghyuk makes out wet tracks down your cheek. The detective's lips part. "Haechan," you whisper.

Donghyuk thinks of a little girl, sees her age before his eyes. Soft locks grow longer and lighten; scrawny frame becoming taut with muscle and small shoulders setting back strong. Limbs lengthen and she grows tall, jaw tightening sharply and cheek bones defining. Her eyes sit round, still wide with questions. That same tongue, pink and wet, swipes along her bottom lip.

Donghyuk looks at you. Let's himself really look. He lets himself feel.

"(Y/N)," he breathes.

          

---

11 and 11.

She walks, barefoot on the grass. There's a breeze. It ruffles her hair back. She lets her hand run through the tall, swaying ferns. She watches the children in the distance, swinging on swings and running free.

A car pulls up to the curb across the street, sleek and black and quiet. The door swings open, and Donghyuk steps out. He bows, and the door slams shut. The car pulls away and Donghyuk catches sight of the girl across the street.

She raises a hand, waves.

Donghyuk looks at her, lips pursing resolutely before he turns away. He tries to remember what the man has told him, what he needs to do. He repeats it silently; quick and dutiful as a mantra, silent and steadfast as a prayer.