Chapter Text
“Jeongguk, come out.” A fist bangs on the pantry door.
Jeongguk doesn't move. Perhaps if he is quiet enough, his aunt will give up and look elsewhere.
“I know you're in there. I saw you come into the kitchen.”
Jeongguk shifts, hiding himself behind one of the enormous wholesale sacks of rice. He doesn't want to come out and greet guests and play the tragic half-orphan. He doesn't want to be shown off and photographed and published in news articles. He doesn't want his father's insincere comfort.
He wants his mother, but she's gone now, and Jeongguk doesn't want to sit around at her funeral party and cry. He wants to be alone.
“Jeon Jeongguk!” his aunt thunders. “If you don't come out here by the count of ten, I promise you it won't be pretty.”
I'm not a child, Jeongguk thinks petulantly. He's eleven, too old to be counted at. He's a little scared of his aunt, though, so he moves further behind the rice. She's not a blood relation, just his father's brother's widow, but ever since his mother fell ill she's been around to help run things. Jeongguk doesn't like her very much. She generally means well, but she's short-tempered and bossy.
There's also the fact that his aunt isn't human, either; she's a fairy, which frankly terrifies Jeongguk.
“Ten,” she says from outside. Jeongguk balls his hands into fists. He's not coming out.
“Nine. Eight. I'm serious, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk doesn't move.
“Seven. Six.”
He bites his lip.
“Five. Four. Three. Two. Last chance!”
Jeongguk remains silent. He locked the door from the inside and he's holding the key. She's not getting in.
“One! Fine, have it your way.”
Then Jeongguk's eyes are blown wide because the doorknob is glowing an unearthly green, and then it's turning and the door is pushing open to reveal his slightly-frazzled aunt. Jeongguk whimpers, shaking. He's afraid.
“You naughty boy,” his aunt says, oblivious to his terror. “Really, you have to pick today of all days to misbehave? Why are you such a stubborn child?”
“I-I want Hoseok,” Jeongguk protests as she approaches, drawing back.
“Don't be silly. He's busy helping the staff. Your father needs you.”
“No!” Jeongguk screams, wrapping his hands around the rice bag as his aunt tries to drag him out of the closet by his feet. “Leave me alone!”
Grunting, his aunt pulls him into the light of the kitchen, rice and all. If she was frustrated earlier, she's furious now.
“Jeon Jeongguk,” she says, voice low and dangerous as she looms over him, her hands on her hips. “It is not the time for a tantrum. Stop it, now.”
Jeongguk's lips tremble. He hesitates, still slightly scared of her, but his defiance isn't quite gone. “No,” he says, and that does it.
“Damn it,” his aunt groans. “Fine. This is for the best.”
And then she's reaching for Jeongguk, wrapping her hands around his small shoulders. There's a frightening purple flash and Jeongguk is hot all over for a second.
When it dies down, Jeongguk has let go of the rice, trembling. “W-what are you doing?” he asks.
“Making you obedient,” his aunt says, frowning. “You'll thank me eventually. Now run along and find your father.”
Jeongguk is going to refuse again, protest that he's not going anywhere till Hoseok comes to soothe him, but to his utter horror, his body is moving without his permission. He walks to the door of the kitchen before he manages to stop himself, but it has him sweating, nausea setting into his stomach the longer he waits. He can only hold it for a few moments before he moves again, setting off down the hall as relief bleeds into his muscles.
Jeongguk doesn't understand what's happening, but he's making a beeline for the drawing room, barely pausing as he enters. He doesn't know why, but he has to find his father, urgently.
The room is a sea of guests, and they descend upon him as he enters.
“Poor darling,” one woman coos, patting his shoulder. He vaguely recognizes her as one of his father's coworkers. “What a tragic loss.”
“He's so young,” says another sympathetically. “Do you want a cookie, dear?”
“Where's my dad?” Jeongguk asks, not because he wants to know but because he somehow has to.
“Sweet boy!” another woman exclaims. “Of course he wants his father. I can take you to him, he's just over by the refreshments. Don't worry.”
The tension in his body relaxes as he draws near to his father and dissipates entirely as he grips at the sleeve of his suit. “Dad,” he says, and like magic, the sensation is gone. Jeongguk is free.
“Jeongguk?” His father turns from cutting a slice of cake. “Good god, have you been playing in the yard?”
Jeongguk glances down at his suit and realizes that he's dusty from the pantry floor. “No,” he says honestly.
Leaning towards him, his father hisses, “I brought you up to be better behaved than this. You're embarrassing us.” With sharp movements, he brushes at Jeongguk's clothing, swatting the marks off until he looks presentable. “There. You're coming with me. Smile.”
Immediately Jeongguk's face melts into a bright grin. He can't help it.
His father shakes his head, frustrated. “Don't look so delighted! This is a funeral! Just act appropriate.”
The smile disappears. Jeongguk is really worried now, so worried that he just lets his father pull him along by his sleeve. He barely registers anyone else until his father is pinching his arm.
“Jeongguk,” he urges. “Say hello. This is one of my new business partners, Mr. Kim.”
“Hello,” Jeongguk says flatly, because for some reason he has to.
“Hi there, young man,” his father's guest says. “How are you holding up?”
Terribly, Jeongguk thinks, but he stubbornly says nothing.
His father reaches the end of his patience. “Great sakes, Jeongguk, you're impossible. Run along and make yourself useful until you can display a better attitude.”
Jeongguk has no problem following that order. As he leaves, he hears Mr. Kim telling his father, he's just a child. It must be hard on him.
Jeongguk runs from the room and down the hall, slipping into the dining hall where he knows he'll find Hoseok clearing the lunch dishes.
“Jeongguk,” Hoseok says, surprised, as he enters the room. He sets down a tray of dirty plates just in time for Jeongguk to barrel into his arms with a broken sob. “What's going on?”
He kneels, holding Jeongguk's face between his hands and brushing his tears away with his thumb. “Is the funeral too much for you?”
Jeongguk nods, clinging to Hoseok's shirt.
“Oh, Jeongguk.” Hoseok's lips press into a thin line, concerned. “It'll be okay. Stop crying, sweet.”
Jeongguk's tears cut off immediately with a choked gasp. It wasn't voluntary. He looks up at Hoseok, eyes round with fear. Something's wrong. He knows it is, ever since his aunt did that weird thing.
What are you doing?
Making you obedient.
Jeongguk isn't stupid. The truth dawns on him.
“H-hoseok,” he whimpers. “My aunt… she… she made me obedient.”
“What?” Hoseok blinks, not understanding. “Hyunju? Your fairy aunt? Did she yell at you?”
Lip trembling, Jeongguk shakes his head. “N-no, you don't understand, she used magic and now I'm obedient.”
Hoseok looks worried. “She shouldn't be doing magic on you. What do you mean, obedient?”
“I mean, I have to do everything I'm told,” Jeongguk said. He tugs on Hoseok's sleeve, anxious. “I can't not do it. I'm scared.”
Suddenly Hoseok understands. “Are you sure?”
“T-tell me to do something,” Jeongguk says. “I'll try not to.”
Hoseok looks like he's debating it for a minute, but his eyebrows set in a firm line. “Touch your toes.”
Jeongguk tries not to. He really does, his face screwing up and turning red with the painful effort of ignoring the pull. It only takes about five seconds before he breaks down and touches his toes.
Hoseok steps back, rubs the bridge of his nose like he's trying to figure out what to do. “Okay. Come with me.”
Hiding himself behind Hoseok's tall frame, Jeongguk follows him into the hall, up the stairs, down the corridors to his aunt's room. He trusts that Hoseok is going to fix it, knows that Hoseok can stand up to his aunt.
To Jeongguk, Hoseok falls somewhere in between a parent, a brother, and a best friend. He's technically his father's live-in assistant but he's often also taken on the role of Jeongguk's nanny whenever his mother wasn't available.
He's powerful, too; he's got some witch blood, though that's a secret between Jeongguk and his mother. Magic people don't like to expose themselves, unless they're Jeongguk's aunt.
“Hyunju,” Hoseok calls, banging on her door. Jeongguk cowers behind his legs.
The door swings open. “Can I help you?” Jeongguk's aunt says, obviously irritated.
“How dare you curse Jeongguk!” Hoseok is seething. “It's completely unethical. Have you no conscience?”
“It's not a curse,” she insists. “It's a blessing. He's an impudent child and it will help him know his place.”
“He's not impudent,” Hoseok fumes. “He's an eleven year old who just lost his mother, for fuck's sake!”
“Well, let his good behavior be a comfort to her departed soul,” Hyunju huffs. “I'm not changing it.”
“Yes you are, this instant.”
His aunt's eyes narrow, her patience at an end. “I came from my extremely busy life to this home to nurse my late husband's sister-in-law and I've gotten nothing in return so far except complaints, tantrums, and complete ingratitude.” She snorts. “It's clear my talents aren't appreciated. I've had enough. I'm leaving.”
“Don't you dare,” Hoseok says, rushing to grab her wrist. “You're not going anywhere until--”
“Goodbye,” she says, vanishing in a puff of orange smoke.
Jeongguk and Hoseok stare into the empty space she had occupied. She was gone, and, knowing her, not likely to return for the years it took to calm her temper.
“Y-you can take it off, right, Hoseok?” Jeongguk whispers after a moment. “You're going to make it better. Right?”
Hoseok looks pained. He kneels in front of Jeongguk. “I'm sorry,” he says. “The only magic that can undo a curse comes from the person who cast it.”
Jeongguk's chin wobbles. “There's some other way, then?”
“I don't know.” Hoseok takes his hand, squeezes it. “I don't know. Maybe she cast a spell that only lasts till morning. Let's hope for that.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk says, but he's frightened.
For the rest of the day, Jeongguk hides in his room, safe from the prying eyes of his father, the funeral guests, anybody. He goes to bed early, hoping, praying, that Hoseok is right, and that the spell will dissipate by the time he wakes up.
Jeongguk hardly sleeps. When he finally wakes up, the first thing he does is seek out Hoseok.
“Tell me to do something,” he says, catching Hoseok's arm as he's walking out of his father's office.
Hoseok looks both ways down the hall and pulls him into the empty office. He bites his lip, worried. “Give me a hug.”
Jeongguk hugs him, and then he cries.
“It'll be okay,” Hoseok says into his hair, patting his back. “We'll take care of you. Don't cry.”
Jeongguk stops crying.
“I mean, cry if you want,” Hoseok amends, mortified. “Shit. I'll need to be more careful.”
Distraught, Jeongguk chokes on a sob.
Later, when he's calmed down, he and Hoseok make a promise never to tell Jeongguk's father.
Jeongguk's father is nothing like his mother was. Whereas she was prudent and fun-loving, Jeongguk's father is serious, no-nonsense, and hungry. He snatches power and money and connections wherever he can.
Jeongguk knows as well as Hoseok does that if his father learned about the curse he wouldn't hesitate to exploit it. They can't take that chance.
Adjusting to life in the wake of the funeral is doubly awful. Jeongguk isn't quite sure how to function without his mother and has no idea what to do about the curse. He's lost two things in one blow; his comfort and his freedom. Part of it is thanks to his aunt.
How he hates her.
They try ordering the curse to stop working, but that seems to be the only order Jeongguk won't follow.
Slowly, Jeongguk learns the limits of his obedience. He must obey any direct order—he never can delay more than a minute or two before eventually his muscles simply give in. He can avoid any orders phrased as questions, though; he can choose whether or not he wants to respond when their cook says, “will you help me carry that platter, pumpkin?”
He finds that there are ways of subverting orders. Hoseok gives them mindlessly sometimes, little things like “eat up” and “come here.” If Jeongguk knows it's an accident, he'll say, “do I have to?” and Hoseok will amend his mistake.
But even precautions can't save him from everything.
Jeongguk is tutored at home instead of school—his father insists the education is better—so he doesn't have many friends his age. However, a few months later, his father hires a new cleaning lady and with her comes her fourteen-year-old daughter, Haejin.
Jeongguk is shy of her at first, but after a few weeks they grow comfortable with each other. When Haejin isn't at school, they hang out and play board games or soccer in Jeongguk's backyard.
“Your life is pretty boring,” Haejin tells him one day. “You just sit at home all day and hang out with your servants.”
“I'm not bored,” Jeongguk says, surprised. “I like it here.”
“I don't mean that.” Haejin flips her hair, yawning. “I mean you're boring. Don't you have any interesting hobbies? Anything special about you at all?”
“I do,” Jeongguk retorts, and then immediately draws a blank. “I… I like drawing.”
Haejin makes a face. “Everyone likes drawing. That's basic.”
Jeongguk's face falls—that's not true, is it? He's not boring. Then he thinks of something. “I'm cursed,” he blurts.
“Really?” Haejin's eyes widen in interest before she schools her features. “You must be lying. There's no way someone like you has gotten close to a magical creature.”
“No, really,” Jeongguk insists, eager to please. “I'm cursed with obedience.”
“Prove it, then.”
“Tell me to do something,” Jeongguk says. “I'll have to do it.”
Haejin orders him to do a cartwheel, which he executes perfectly. “See?” he says.
“How do I know you're not pretending?”
“I'm not!” Jeongguk's lower lip juts out.
“Hmm.” Haejin looks him over. “Then… I order you to steal that statue.” She points over the fence to his neighbor's garden at a decorative stone carving of an angel.
“No, that's bad,” Jeongguk gasps, immediately resisting, but Haejin simply sits back, watching.
Jeongguk really doesn't want to do it—he likes the neighbor lady; she's sweet and gives him peppermints every once in a while—but he can't hold out forever. Teary, he starts off toward the fence, struggling to climb over it. He scrapes his ribs hard as he clamors over, but eventually he makes it, grabs the statue—careful not to step on any flowers—and returns over the fence.
“I did it,” he tells Haejin forlornly as he stands in front of her holding the statue.
She nods lightly, as if she's pleased. “Well. I guess that's kind of cool.”
Jeongguk tries to vault himself over the fence again to return the statue, but he finds that he can't. The curse won't let him. He realizes with dread that the statue has to stay stolen if it's going to honor the order.
“Jeongguk,” Haejin calls from the lawnchair. “Go get me a snack from the kitchen. And a glass of lemonade.”
By the end of the afternoon, Jeongguk really regrets telling Haejin about his curse. She stops playing with him, instead simply ordering him around—everything from “go fetch my jacket” to “play checkers with me, but you have to lose.”
He comes to Hoseok that night in tears.
“You shouldn't have told her,” Hoseok scolds him, handing him a tissue. “That's dangerous.”
Jeongguk realizes that now. “I wish I hadn't.”
The corners of Hoseok's mouth turn down. “I'm going to give you an order, Jeongguk. I'm sorry, but it's for your own good.” He looks sad. “Never tell anyone about your curse.”
“I won't want to,” Jeongguk insists, but he doesn't protest. He might as well stay safe.
The next day, Hoseok arranges for Haejin's mother to take a position elsewhere and hires a new servant. It turns out that half-witches can be very persuasive.
Jeongguk doesn't tell anyone else about the curse. He can't, of course. But he wouldn't want to.
When Jeongguk is twelve his father decides it's time for him to start joining his social circle. He tells Jeongguk that he's going to accompany him to a dinner event, and Jeongguk has no choice.
That's why Jeongguk is sitting here in the party hall of a private resort, fiddling with his tie—he doesn't like the way it cinches around his neck.
It's a party of sorts, hosted by the one of Jeongguk's father's business partners, the Min Corporation. His father isn't associated with any companies; he's a middle-man specializing in dealings with foreign nations and magical cultures, but he makes any and all connections he can. Right now he's talking with the woman on his left. Flirting, really, because his hand is resting on her shoulder far longer than is appropriate for a friendly touch.
Jeongguk tries not to look.
It's all supposed to be a birthday party for the company heir. Prince Min Yoongi, they call him jokingly, but it's not too far from the truth. They boy is on track to inherit a corporate empire large enough to qualify as a small kingdom. Despite the party being for him, Jeongguk hasn't caught sight of the birthday boy yet, though to be fair they aren't sitting very close to the “important” tables.
Jeongguk feels suffocated by the crowd of people and the stiflingly formal atmosphere and his stupid suit. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he tells his father, who simply waves him off.
He doesn't know where the restrooms are but he doesn't stop to ask anyone, content to wander around rather than expedite his return to the table. Making his way to the edge of the vast dining hall, he slips out of one of the doors.
Jeongguk meanders down one of the hallways, stopping to admire a bouquet of flowers, a pretty table, the view from one of the windows. After a few minutes, he finds a flight of stairs and makes his way up them, eager to explore and rid himself of the sensation of too many people in one place.
The stairs lead to another hallway. There are less doors on this one, Jeongguk wonders what they might be. It's apparently empty, and Jeongguk's footsteps echo on the carpeted floor as he makes his way toward the large, ornate window at the end of the corridor.
It's a beautiful window, the edges shaped with lacy cut glass and the sill furnished with a plush window seat. Jeongguk sinks down onto it, pressing his hands to the cold glass as he peers outside. It's peaceful here. Jeongguk entertains the idea of hiding out by this window for the rest of the event.
Jeongguk jumps when he hears a door opening nearby, spinning around to find himself face to face with another person.
It's a boy, also dressed for the event. He must be around Jeongguk's age, perhaps a little older. He looks as surprised to see Jeongguk as Jeongguk is to see him.
“Hello,” the stranger says.
Jeongguk is paralyzed for a second, then hops down from the seat. “Hi. Sorry to intrude.” He's nervous—he doesn't actually know if he's allowed in this part of the building—but the other boy is shaking his head.
“No, it's okay. Are you escaping the party?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk admits. “Are you?”
The boy's lips twist into a wry smile. “Maybe. It's all kind of suffocating.”
Jeongguk gives him a sympathetic look. “Is it your first? It is for me.”
“Nah. I get dragged to these all the time.” The boy moves closer, plopping down on the cushions. “I don't see people my age, usually. It's a nice surprise.”
Jeongguk thinks about that. The boy is right, he'd only seen adults at the party. He wrinkles his nose. “That's no fun.”
“No,” the stranger agrees. “It's not.” He tilts his head. “What's your name?”
“Jeon Jeongguk.”
The boy's eyebrows shoot up. “Jeon Suyoung's son?”
“You knew my mom?”
They stare at each other.
“I did,” the boy says finally. “She was nice. I haven't met very many people who could make my father laugh during a contract meeting.”
He must be the son of one of Jeongguk's father's business partners, then. Jeongguk blinks, thinking. “That sounds like her.”
“One of the times I met her, she was taking notes furiously on this legal pad while the meeting was going on. When I got up to get a cup of water, I caught a glimpse of the paper. She'd done an excellent caricature of my uncle—she even got the wart on his nose.”
Jeongguk stares for a second, then chortles, holding his stomach. “Oh my god,” he gasps. “She did like to do that. She taught me how to draw, too.”
“She was a great woman,” the boy says solemnly. “The world is a worse place without her.”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk says. “I agree.”
They're quiet for a moment, as if out of respect for the dead. Then the other boy speaks up. “Are you hungry? I know one of the cooks. We could sneak down to the kitchens, steal a snack, and go bowling.”
Jeongguk's eyes go wide. “There's a bowling alley here?”
“Yep, at the west side of the resort.”
“Are we allowed to use it?”
He shrugs. “Why not?”
Jeongguk hesitates. He's rarely rebellious, but something about this boy's attitude is contagious.
“I'm in.”
He follows as they traipse down the stairs, through a tiny corridor and into a back entrance of the kitchen. The cook seems to recognize this boy, smiling and patting him on the head. He scoops several spoonfuls of what look like gourmet tater tots into a cardboard carton and shoos them on their way.
The bowling alley is deserted but fully functional, so the two of them kick off their shoes and remove their blazers and ties. They fiddle around with the little kiosk until they get the scoreboard to work correctly.
Jeongguk learns that he's pretty good at bowling. The other boy is terrible. Jeongguk practically destroys him. They talk a lot of crap at each other but none of it is mean-spirited; in the end neither of them care who wins or who loses because it's simply sheer fun. They eat the fancy tater tots and throw bowling balls and thoroughly enjoy themselves.
When Jeongguk throws his sixth strike, the other boy flops across the bench dramatically. “I'm done for. I can't beat you. You should have warned me that you're practically Olympic level.”
Jeongguk laughs, high and pleased. “You're really not that bad,” he says.
“You say as you beat me by 100 points.”
“Don't feel bad. I just have an affinity for picking stuff up.”
His new friend sits up. “You mean to tell me you've never bowled before,” he says in disbelief.
“Nope…?”
“Lies.”
“It's true,” Jeongguk insists. “I don't really get to go out and play much.”
“Really? Your dad never drove you out to the bowling alley and promised he was going to show you his famed 'lethal strike tactic'? I thought that was basically a dad requirement.”
Jeongguk can't imagine his father doing anything of the sort. “Uh. No.”
“Well.” The boy has a strange expression on his face. “You're a prodigy. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
After a while they decide they've stayed away from the party long enough, so they clean up and put everything away and sneak back to the dining hall. They part ways at the door.
“I had fun. Thanks,” Jeongguk says.
The other boy waves happily. “See you around,” he says.
Jeongguk makes his way back to his father's table. He's ten steps inside when he realizes that he's actually the world's dumbest creature and he never even asked for the boy's name.
He turns around to ask, but he's disappeared, just like that.
It's a shame.
Jeongguk's father is furious. He pulls him aside once he returns and shakes him. “Where have you been? It's been almost two hours!”
“Just… around,” Jeongguk replies meekly. He feels small. Afraid.
“Damn it,” his father curses. “Can't you do anything properly? Stay right with me for the rest of the night.”
Jeongguk wants to scream. Now he has no choice.
It seems that he arrived at an opportune moment, because the conversation dies down as they return to their seats. Someone approaches the podium at the front of the hall; a middle aged woman. She's tall and well-dressed.
“Hello everyone,” she says. “Thank you for coming tonight to celebrate my eldest son's birthday. As this party is in honor of him, I'd like to have him say a few words. Please welcome the birthday boy, Min Yoongi!”
Jeongguk leans forward in his seat. He may not be enjoying himself, but he has to admit that he's curious about the mysterious Min heir.
He watches, along with everyone else in the room, as Min Yoongi walks up into the little stage and to the microphone.
Except Jeongguk can barely believe his eyes.
It's his new friend. The boy he met in the hallway.
He just went bowling with Min Yoongi.
Jeongguk gapes until his father hisses shut your mouth, you look like a fish in his ear. He blinks, trying to register what Yoongi is saying, but he only catches the typical “thank you for the birthday wishes” and “have a good night.” Everything feels like a blur. Can it really have happened?
He doesn't know what to think.
Hoseok picks Jeongguk up instead of his father driving him home—apparently he had 'private business' to attend to. From the way his hand was resting on the thigh of the lady he had been talking to earlier, Jeongguk understands exactly what kind business he means. He tries not to think about it.
“How was the party?” Hoseok asks him in the car.
The events of the afternoon swirl around in Jeongguk's head. “Hoseok,” he says slowly. “I think I made a friend.”
Three days later, Jeongguk's father brings the same woman to dinner. Jeongguk is forced to dress nicely and call her “Ms. Jung.” She brings her son Hunchul with her; her husband is deceased, just like Jeongguk's mother.
Jeongguk feels uncomfortable with where this is going.
He doesn't particularly like Ms. Jung. She's too shallow, simpering, clinging to his father's arm. Jeongguk doesn't like the way her hands are all over everyone, the way she pulls him into a hug the moment she walks in the door. She smells suffocatingly of perfume and Jeongguk feels like choking.
If he dislikes her, though, her son is an entirely different story. Jeongguk knows from the moment that he sets eyes on Hunchul that he's cruel.
When they sit down to dinner, Ms. Jung sits on his father's left and Jeongguk sits next to Hunchul on his right. Hunchul is just one year older, but he's a lot taller. Jeongguk makes a point of not looking at him the entire meal.
Ms. Jung exclaims over everything from how cute Jeongguk is to the flowers on the table to the expensive carpeting. Jeongguk finds he doesn't have much of an appetite.
“Jeongguk, I'm sure you'd like to show Hunchul around, wouldn't you?” his father suggests after dinner.
“Not really,” Jeongguk mumbles, because he has the freedom to refuse.
“Jeongguk.” His father's eyes narrow. “Run along and take Hunchul with you.”
Well, he saw that coming. Painfully obedient, he leads Hunchul out of the room and into the front hallway. “This is the entrance,” Jeongguk says dryly. He steps into the main corridor. “Here's the hallway.”
Hunchul raises an eyebrow, amused. “Do you do everything everyone tells you to do?”
“No,” Jeongguk lies. He doesn't like Hunchul's tone of voice.
“Really? Because you seem kinda like a pushover to me. You look like the kind of kid people would shut into lockers at school.”
Do kids really do that? Jeongguk is suddenly grateful to be home-schooled. “Leave me alone,” he says, wanting to storm off but unable to due to his father's stupid directions.
“Pansy.” Hunchul grins and elbows him in the ribs. “You got any video games?”
“No,” Jeongguk says, frowning. “I play outside. Or I read.”
“Jesus, what are you, eight? Do you play dress up in your room or something?” Hunchul snorts. “What kind of man are you?”
Jeongguk closes his eyes and sighs. He can't wait until Hunchul goes home.
Instead, he grits his teeth and suggests they watch a movie on the living room TV because the less he has to talk to Hunchul, the better.
Hunchul picks something gory that Jeongguk hates, but he closes his eyes during the scary parts and makes it through the whole thing because he has no choice.
Hunchul is right. He's a pushover, and there's not a thing he can do to change that.
Jeongguk loves going shopping with Hoseok. He doesn't get out of the house much, so even grocery shopping feels like a treat. Often, Hoseok will take him out to see a movie or to get ice cream, too. Those are some of Jeongguk's favorite days.
Today they're stopped at a bookstore. Hoseok told Jeongguk he can pick out a new book, his gift, and Jeongguk is delighted. He's perusing the books on magical creatures—magic fascinates him, partly because of the hope that he'll discover something to help him and partly because it's just so interesting—when he pushes a book aside and sees a pair of eyes peeking through the shelf from the other side.
Jeongguk recognizes those eyes, and if their delighted expression is anything to go by, they recognize him, too.
“Min Yoongi?”
“Jeongguk,” Yoongi says. “What a nice surprise!”
Jeongguk is a little stunned, but he returns Yoongi's smile.
Footsteps patter along in the other aisle, and then Yoongi rounds the corner. “What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Jeongguk says. “I'm here with my father's assistant. He's looking for a new cookbook.”
Yoongi laughs. “Me too, sort of. My father is publishing a book on his business strategies in the spring and I'm here waiting while his agent sets up a signing event.”
Jeongguk gives him a wan smile. “Hey,” he says suddenly. “How come you didn't tell me who you were?”
“You didn't ask,” Yoongi shrugs.
That's fair. Jeongguk blushes slightly. “Yeah, but… still. You could have mentioned it.”
Sighing, Yoongi rubs at his temple. “I didn't think it would matter. And people… tend to treat me differently when they know my name.”
“I wouldn't,” Jeongguk says honestly.
“Yeah.” Yoongi smiles at him. “I believe you.”
Jeongguk steps to the end of the aisle, craning his neck to spot Hoseok in the cooking section. He still looks busy. “Wanna do something while we wait?”
“Why not?” Yoongi's eyes are bright.
“Follow me,” Jeongguk says. He makes his way to the reference section and pulls out a fat dictionary. There's no one around, so he plops down on the floor, gesturing for Yoongi to copy him. He does.
“I'm going to tell you a word,” Jeongguk says. “And then I'm going to read three definitions. You have to guess which one is right.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows, amused. “Okay.”
Jeongguk opens to a random page, flipping around until he finds a good word. “Periapt,” he says. “One. An open sore. Two. An amulet. Three. A special kind of kite.”
Yoongi licks his lips, deliberating. “Three?”
“Wrong,” Jeongguk tells him gleefully. “It's an amulet. One point for me. Your turn.” He hands Yoongi the dictionary.
Yoongi narrows his eyes playfully. “You're just asking for it,” he says. “Fine.” He flips around for a minute, then stares at the page, a grin tugging at his lips. “Spaghettification. One, making pasta. Two, eating spaghetti till you projectile vomit. Three, getting ripped apart in a black hole.”
“Three,” Jeongguk says, doubling over in laughter. “You stink at this! Your definitions have to be better than that.”
Yoongi smacks his foot, laughing. “It's my first time!”
“It was my first time bowling and I still beat you,” Jeongguk points out. “I'll give you another turn. Try again.”
By the time that Hoseok comes looking for Jeongguk, the two of them are dissolved in giggles over the world “winebibbler.” They've both forgotten to keep score. Jeongguk has no idea who won.
When he and Yoongi say goodbye to each other Jeongguk realizes he forgot to pick a book. It's okay, though. There's always next time.
Months pass. Jeongguk turns thirteen. He and Hoseok celebrate with a mini cake in the kitchen and Hoseok surprises him with a book of fairytales. It's a small party, but Jeongguk is happy.
Later that day, Jeongguk's father calls him into his office.
“Ah, Jeongguk,” he says as he enters. “Come sit.” He gestures to the chair in front of his desk.
Jeongguk does, of course. His father looks him over. He reaches over to grasp Jeongguk's chin, turning his face from side to side, examining. It's immensely uncomfortable but what can Jeongguk do, really?
“You look like your mother,” he says finally. “She was gorgeous.”
Jeongguk's stomach churns. Not for the first time, he wonders why someone like his mother chose to marry this man.
“You've got my jaw, though,” he muses, letting go of Jeongguk's face.
Jeongguk holds his tongue and waits for his father to get to the point.
Folding his hands, Jeongguk's father sits back in his chair. “I'm going away,” he says. “For business. I won't be back for almost six months.”
Good, Jeongguk thinks.
“I don't want you to stay here all the time anymore. It's not good for you to be alone.”
Vaguely, Jeongguk wonders why his father is just having that thought now. “I'm happy as I am now.”
“Yes, yes,” his father waves him off. “You want me to think you humble. But I've made a plan.”
“A plan?” Jeongguk's stomach cools with dread.
“Yes. Hunchul's mother has raved about the boarding school that Hunchul attends. I've looked into it, and it looks adequate enough. I want you to attend there at the start of the term.”
Jeongguk's eyes widen in horror. “Father, no!”
“It will be an adjustment,” his father continues as if he hasn't heard him. “Nonetheless it will be good for you. Perhaps you will learn better manners.”
“Father,” Jeongguk tries again. “I'm happy with my tutor now. Isn't that cheaper?”
“It's sweet of you to suggest it, but paying a tutor to live here is actually more expensive than tuition.” His father taps his fingers on the desk impatiently. “You're old enough to be off on your own now.”
“I don't want to,” Jeongguk says. His fingers curl into fists underneath the desk.
“No? Well.” His father smiles. It's a cruel smile. “I don't care. You're attending that school whether you want to or not.”
“I won't,” Jeongguk says weakly.
His father sighs, long and irritated. “This is exactly why you're going. This attitude cannot stay.” He points to the door. “Ms. Jung will pick you up on Tuesday at nine in the morning. You may leave now.”
Jeongguk goes, seething.
“Can't you stop him?” he asks Hoseok as soon as he tracks him down.
“No, I can't,” Hoseok says. “I wish I could. I'm sorry.”
Jeongguk is angry, suddenly. “What is the good of you being magic if you never even use it?” he bursts out. “What am I going to do when I have to go? What am I going to do a-all by my...” His anger is gone as quickly as it came. He bursts into tears.
“Shh,” Hoseok says, winding his arms around him and stroking his back. “It will be okay. Maybe you'll make a friend.”
“I don't want a friend,” Jeongguk chokes into his chest. “I just want to be home, with you. You are my friend.”
“I know,” Hoseok says. “I know.”
Now that Jeongguk is thirteen, he decides he's old enough to be by himself for a while. He takes his bike the next day and bikes his way downtown to the aquarium. It's a huge building—owned by Yoongi's family's company—but it's free and open to the public. Jeongguk locks his bike securely to the rack outside and wanders in.
Jeongguk loves the aquarium. It's like a living art museum where the paintings are flashing glass walls full of coral and trailing plants and fish. This will be his last time here for a long time, so he wanders from tank to tank, silently telling each fish goodbye.
In the twilight zone exhibit, in the darkness, in front of a tank of angler fish, Jeongguk tears up. He figures it's okay, because no one can see him.
When he steps back from the tank after a long time, he slams straight into someone.
“Sorry,” he says, ready to slink away in humiliation, but the person grabs his wrist.
“Jeongguk?”
It's Yoongi, of all people. Or maybe not “of all people,” because his family owns this building. Still, it's a shock.
“Hi,” Jeongguk says, trying hard not to sound like he was crying.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi peers hard at him in the strange colored light that's leaking from the tanks. “You seem upset.”
“I'm leaving,” Jeongguk blurts out.
“Huh?”
“I'm going away to school. It's my father's idea.” Jeongguk doesn't know why he's telling Yoongi all this. He's just there at the wrong time and suddenly everything is spilling out before Jeongguk can stop it.
“Oh.” Yoongi sounds disappointed. Jeongguk wonders if he's imagining it. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
There's a heavy pause. “I wish you weren't,” Yoongi says. “I won't be able to run into you anymore.”
Jeongguk chokes out a laugh. “Yeah. Guess you'll have to write me letters or something.”
“I will,” Yoongi says. “If you want.”
Jeongguk does want. “I'm sorry. I didn't even say hi. How are you?”
“Happy to see you,” Yoongi says. “Sad you're going. I'm losing a friend.”
Jeongguk's heart leaps at the insinuation that Yoongi thinks of him as a friend.
“Do you like the aquarium?” Yoongi asks. “It's one of my favorite places. I come here a lot.”
“Yes,” Jeongguk says, wondering how he hasn't seen Yoongi here before. “Me too.”
“Do you like the dolphins?”
“Yes.” His happiness is returning, slowly but surely.
“Want to come with me to see the dolphin show? There's one in five minutes. Maybe it will help you stop thinking about tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Jeongguk agrees. He rubs at his itchy eyes. “Hey. Were you serious about writing letters?”
“Only if you write back.”
Jeongguk smiles at that.
Yoongi looks at his watch, then gives Jeongguk a gentle push toward the door. “Hurry. We'll be late if we don't get going.”
I don't want to lose this, Jeongguk thinks. And then he stops thinking about it for a while, because the dolphins are beautiful.
At least he has until tomorrow.
Hoseok helps him pack, somehow fitting far more into Jeongguk's suitcase than should be possible. Jeongguk suspects magic. He draws it out as long as possible, dreading the end, because that means he has to go to bed and then wake up. And when he wakes up he has to leave.
He briefly thinks about running away, but he knows he couldn't. He's not brave enough for that.
Eventually they do finish packing, and his suitcase is zipped up and sitting by the door.
Hoseok sits on the edge of his bed. “I have something for you.”
Jeongguk perks up. “Really?”
Hoseok reaches into his pocket and pulls out a heavy silver ring. It's pretty, but masculine at the same time.
“I love it,” Jeongguk says. He lets Hoseok slip it on.
“When you're in trouble, turn it three times.”
“What does it do?” Jeongguk asks, curious.
“You'll see.” Hoseok winks. “Don't worry, Gguk. You'll be okay.”
Even though he's thirteen he lets Hoseok tuck him in and wish him goodnight.
Jeongguk doesn't want to sleep, but the stress of the last few days has gotten to him, and he can't keep his eyes open.
Eventually, he drifts off.
He dreams of dolphins.