Yongguk's POV
Society? It sucks. The people? They suck more.
There was another suicide case in town. The news said her name was YooRa. A middle-aged woman. A nice mother. A loving wife. A responsible employee. A genius one, even—the best one you can ever get. But she just ended her life like that, and of all the things she did right, and of the countless good deeds and sacrifices she did for the people she loved, everybody criticized her for the one thing she did wrong. She was called a slut, a coward, a fool. She was called names that held negative meanings and it never stopped even though she had already left the world.
People didn’t know, they didn’t know, the reason why one person kill himself. They didn’t know they were one of the major reasons why a person chooses to end their life.
Because society and its people are ignorant. The people are ignorant and unaware of the hell they are causing others. They are a contagious disease, even worse than cancer, they kill you inside with fake smiles and sweet words that can pierce through your heart and contaminate your mind. They make you believe fantasies and then you will start to drown in them until you find your way back to the cruel reality.
And when you finally snap, when you decided you wanted to escape, when you want everything to stop.
They would just keep on killing you, without you knowing it.
I’m Yongguk. I have no decent job, just a job at the bar. Well, nobody would want to take in a 24 year-old guy who didn’t even finish high school and have no plans on going into college. I live by myself, I’ve always wanted too. I am just a commoner, another citizen of this hateful society.
I don’t really have any goals in life. It’s better to go with the flow. Expecting gives you disappointments, happiness will eventually give you pain, trust will give you more. I live my life the way I want to live it. I was never sure with everything that I’m doing.
But there was only one thing I am sure about.
I never want to be like them.
They disgust me.
I’m never going to be like them.
There are only two types of people in the world. The victims. And the Suspects. They come in different types. There are those who get your trust, and stab you at the back when you are not looking. There are those who will make you feel like they are the best friend you can ever get in your life, and will leave you in thin air when everything goes wrong. And there are those who pretend to be one of the victims. Those who act like the world are on their shoulders, those who will get your pity, those who will beg for sympathy and those who will look at you with watery eyes to ask for your help, and you wouldn’t even know…You won’t know that it’s suppose to be yourself you should be pitying.
My job at the bar ended a few minutes ago. Luck wasn’t on my side, it was raining and I just had to drag my tired body to my apartment. Who cares about me having bad luck anyway? Funny. Why am I even asking?
I walked past the small bakery, the small park and past the middle school building. Everything’s the same. The only thing different is the dark atmosphere surrounding the vicinity because of the weather and the bench that used to be empty at the sidewalk.
The bench was always empty whenever I pass by it. But today was different; a boy wearing a jacket was there. He looked like he’s 18, a high school student. I scoffed. He did nothing though. He just stared into thin air, absorbed in his own little world. It was raining and it was damn cold and yet he is not wearing his hood. He didn’t move, he almost looks like a statue glued on the bench.
He looked pitiful. But I won’t fall for that. He will just be like the others. So I just passed by him, ignoring those dull and empty eyes.
Because they were a trap. A trap I wouldn’t want to fall into.
I tried to forget about him the next day. What if I thought wrong? What if he really needed help? No. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I might be the hopeless prey in the end. I can’t let them have the last laugh. My job ended again at around 1 o’clock in the morning. I wasn’t expecting him to be there anymore. But there he was, with the same expression he had yesterday. And I ignored him again.
I hate pitiful people. I hate them. I hate people like him.
And he never left the bench. Day after day, I passed by the usual route to my apartment, he was still there, not moving and I was starting to think he really was a statue. On the 5th week I passed by the occupied bench, he was no longer there.
Maybe, just maybe, he just got tired and went home. It was raining again today. I sighed, and decided to sit to where he used to sit. I just leaned there, feeling the cool breeze brushing through my face, giving me a sense of fulfilment in this hell I’m living. Then I remembered, the boy always looked there.
I looked at the run-down flower shop situated right in front of the bench where I now sat.
Choi’s…Flower Shop? I never knew there was a flower shop here. I raised a brow in confusion, but my thoughts were interrupted when the bench shook a little. I turned to my right and saw the boy there.
We sat there in silence for a few minutes. I fake coughed, trying to decrease the awkwardness of the situation.
“Yes?” He said. I almost jumped at his voice. It was hoarse and quiet. His answer was barely above a whisper. I reluctantly held out my hand, maybe he is just like me. Maybe he is just as lost as me. Maybe, just maybe, we’re the same.
“Can we be friends?” I started. He slowly turned his head to face me and looked at my hand.
“Friends?” He asked and I nodded. He just laughed a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t know someone would even want to be friends with me.”
I bit my lip and just put my hand back on my lap. “So I guess that’s a no then.”
“It’s not like I don’t want to.” He leaned on the bench and let out a heavy breath. “I really don’t understand how people choose their friends.”
“I don’t know either.” I told him and he gave a small smile, a sad one.
“It’s really funny a stranger wanted to be friends with me.” He looked at me. “What do you want?” His tone became serious and it felt like he was looking through my soul. I’m starting to get scared. Maybe I should’ve just left him alone.
“I’m guessing you’re already regretting why you approached me in the first place.” He said when I didn’t reply to his previous question. And I can’t help but feel surprised. How did he…
“I know that because I know.” Does he read minds? Is he a psycho or what? I opened my mouth to say something but only closed it when I realized I don’t even know what I am about to say. He started staring at the shop again and seeing this, I just did the same. “That’s our shop.”
I looked at him but he was still staring at something in front. “Your family’s?” I asked.
“They left me. I had to live with my aunt and transfer schools.” He said and I was confused on why he is telling this to a stranger.
“Why are you telling that to me?”
“I just had to tell this to somebody.” He said and for a moment I got angry.
“If you’re asking for pity—“
“I never said I wanted someone’s sympathy.” And he looked at me again. “It’s better telling your problems to a stranger because you won’t have to be affected with what they will say to you.”
And everything became silent again, the only sounds heard were the sound of the rain hitting the ground, hitting my umbrella. Then I noticed, the boy next to me was drenched. I forgot I was even holding an umbrella while I was talking to him. I slowly moved the umbrella to the right so it can cover both of us from the rain.
I looked down and noticed that his hands shaking a bit. I noticed that his shoelaces were already untied, and he was still wearing his uniform under his jacket.
But what I didn’t notice was the tears that flowed down his pale cheeks.
Because the rain did a good job in covering them for him.
The next day, I sat by the same bench again, waiting for him to come and sit beside me. Few minutes later he came, and this time it was the boy who started their conversation.
“I see. Were you waiting for me?”
“Yeah.” I said. “Do you still want to remain strangers?”
He nodded and smiled. He smiled and it captivated me right at that moment. It felt so nice to see him smile, to see his eyes curve. I chuckled a bit. He looked cute. I never knew he had a dimple on his right cheek. “You should smile more often.” I told him and the happy curve slowly faded.
“I wish I could.” He said. “When I was younger I thought smiles were contagious because whenever my brother smiles, I can’t help but smile too.”
“When you were younger?”
He nodded. “He’s dead.” And he bit his bottom lip. “He was killed and he didn’t even know he was already being murdered.”
I was about to say something but he checked his wristwatch and stood up from the bench. “I should go now.”
He turned on his heels and gave a 90 degrees bow to me. “What are you doing?”
He stood up straight with a sad smile painted on his pale face. “It was nice meeting you. I need to go now. Be careful with strangers, okay?”
I got confused. He usually never cared about time. He stayed for hours and didn’t leave, what is different today then? I checked the time and it was only 2 o’clock. We stayed seated there until 4 yesterday and I have passed by the bench for times later than 2 and he is still there. I sadly looked at the empty seat beside me and decided I should get going now as well. There’s still tomorrow, I can still talk to him.
That’s what I thought.
I waited for him for three consecutive days but he never came. The boy did not come to sit beside me and share the comfortable silence with me anymore. I actually wanted to see him smile again. It’s already 5 in the afternoon and my job is going to start in a few hours. Bored and nothing to do, I turned on the small television and changed the channel to the daily news.
And I immediately regretted what I did.
The boy I was waiting for, for three days now was there. His picture facing me from the television. He was smiling, his dimple was showing and his eyes curved like how I saw the last time I talked to him. He was wearing his school uniform.
Something wet dropped to my hand. I looked down and saw my hands were shaking and tears fell from my eyes like a mad waterfall.
16 year-old Choi Junhong was found dead inside his room.
Suicide.
Currently living at his aunt’s house
Parents murdered 2 years ago.
I dropped the remote control and desperately tried to stop the tears. He’s dead. He’s gone. He killed himself.
“..I need to go now.”
In a second, I found myself kneeling on the ground. He said he needed to go. He just said he needed to go and I didn’t notice that this was what he meant. I fucking didn’t notice all the signs. It was all right in front of my face. Those dull eyes, the bitter laughs and smiles, the beaten up expression.
Why didn’t I talk to him a little bit earlier?
Why did I doubt him? I should have just talked to him the moment I saw him. I shouldn’t have ignored him. I shouldn’t have thought badly about him.
If I have approached him a little bit earlier, I might have stopped him from ending his life. I might have still saved him. He is so young. He still has a lot of things planned for him. But he snapped and I was too oblivious to notice. I was too focused in my own life that I didn’t notice.
“He was killed and he didn’t even know he was already being murdered.”
I remember him talking about his brother. That was a sign and I didn’t even paid attention to the meaning behind those lines. I am so dumb. I ran down the apartment building and immediately went to the bench where we both once sat together. It was freezing cold, it was still raining. Just like the first time I saw him sitting there. It was also raining that time and I didn’t even bother to cover him with my umbrella.
I only have my socks to cover my feet from the cold concrete but I didn’t care. I just don’t care anymore. I stared at the bench, and watched how the raindrops hit the metal bars. No one’s going to sit and wait there anymore.
I know I look like a mess. I don’t care. I sat there and cried. I remembered the news again, the smile on his face mocking me, killing me slowly and painfully. It wasn’t suicide. It was society’s fault he killed himself.
It was its people’s fault.
It was my fault. It was my fault he killed himself.
I stared at the flower shop in front of me. It was theirs, he said. I was about to stand up to go to the closed shop but I felt something soft on the handle of the bench.
It was his jacket. The one he is always wearing.
I clutched it with my fist and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks.
Another suicide case. A boy. A high school student. A nice friend and brother. A gifted child. Someone named Choi Junhong.
I was fucking sure I never wanted to be like them.
But what I didn’t know was… I was slowly becoming like the people I hated the most. Like the people who disgust me to the core. I slowly became ignorant without me knowing it.
I was right. It was a fucking contagious disease. It kills. It gets lives. It breaks hearts.
“It was nice meeting you.”
I’m going crazy.
I’m sorry Junhong.
Author's Note: Sorry if you are dissapointed with the ending. It's angst. Hehe. Please do comment :)
