𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰; nahyuck

𝔱𝔴𝔬

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"Nope. I'm not giving Teddy back unless you finish eating these carrots," Donghyuck pouted softy, cuddling the worn out plushy in front of the four year old to elicit some reaction from him. The little boy's eyes watered, though he stayed strong and nodded meekly.

"Feed me," he demanded, pushing his half empty plate to the adult and gripping the edge of the table with his tiny fingers.

Donghyuck smiled, sitting the bear on his side of the table and leaning in to pick up the plastic fork the infant had abandoned. He gently jabbed a carrot stick, holding it to the other's mouth and nodding his head victoriously when the boy ate it. "See," he chirped, "They aren't so bad. And you'll grow up to be big and strong."

"As strong as Hyuckie?"

The older flinched, furrowing his brows, "I'd hope stronger. I'm not particularly-"

"Mummy says Hyuckie has nice muscles. I want nice muscles too."

Oh dear god, the brunette grimaced, stabbing another carrot with a tad more fervour than the last, if I hear one more inappropriate story about someone's mother, I'll-

"I'll take over from here," one of Donghyuck's coworkers offered, crouching down to the child-sized table and taking the fork.

"No! I want Hyuckie to feed me!" The little boy whined.

"Hyuckie has to play with me!" Another small girl shrieked.

"He promised I could paint with him-" yet another proclaimed, and the young man started to get agitated.

What a disaster, he thought. The boy who had taken over the feeding duty, Park Jisung, winked up at him and handed him a book. "Read them all a story. They'll learn to compromise this way."

"Ji, you're a legend," the brunette beamed fondly, taking the fairytale collection from his outstretched hand and rolling his sleeves up. "One day, I'll get better at this job."

"You're already doing amazing."

I'm only doing alright because I'm gentle. I have no control, he wanted to argue, though decided against it and trailed over to sit on the alleged 'story throne'. It was basically a wooden throne-shaped chair, the red paint chipping away with every story and the discomfort unapparent to the children who listened.

Hyuck perched himself down on it, flicking the hardback open and landing on some story he had never heard of. His eyes glazed over when he read the word 'princess', forcing him to flick to the next story. Another one much similar to the last appeared, so he flicked and flicked, looking for something more gripping.

"Hyuckie. Aren't you going to read?" A particularly young girl enquired sweetly, snuggling a tatty pink blanket like a lifeline.

He eyed her wearily, taking another glance at the illustration to the last page and cringing at the typical kiss scene for a 'happy ever after'. The male slammed the book closed and lay it on the floor beside him.

He had only been working in this play school for seven months, though he was a fast learner and an even better manipulator. "I'll tell you a story. How about that?"

The children all got comfortable, intrigued by the minor change to their routine. Donghyuck studied each of their individual faces, running a hand through his frizzy brown hair and smirking.

"Once upon a time, there was a bad boy. He was naughty, and never played by the rules. He didn't play fair."

Jisung perked up from his place at the abandoned table, his hands moving to clean up the messes, though his ears tuned into the story.

"This boy," Donghyuck continued, "He was part of a big group of friends. Really close friends that always looked after each other."

"Sharing is caring," a little boy recited, obviously having had that phrase drilled into his brain by various people.

"Indeed," the brunette agreed, "Though the boy never shared. And one day, he decided he wanted to fight the leader of the group. The best boy who looked after everyone."

I know this story, Jisung thought as he reluctantly peeled play-dough off the wooden surface, hating the dry feeling it left on his hands. This all happened in that mafia group, didn't it?

"Fighting is for bullies!" A girl squealed, shaking her head like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Only sad people fight."

"And angry people," Donghyuck reminded her. "The naughty boy ended up winning against the good boy, and made him run away."

"The good boy ran?!" They all chorused, always being told stories where good prevailed and evil was shunned. Their young and naive minds could barely handle the concept that not all things were good.

"Mmm. And then the naughty boy disappeared one day, leaving the friends like a coward."

Jisung sighed, stacking all the plates and toys into a box and shooting his coworker a look. "That's a bit-"

"What's a coward?" Someone asked, head tilted and brain fizzing out from lack of vocabulary.

"A coward is someone who won't stand up for themselves or other people. A person who runs away from problems instead of facing them. The moral of the story," Donghyuck hummed, "Is that trust is such a precious and fragile thing. Tell me, if I crumpled up a piece of paper right now," he reached over to the shelf beside him and took a blank sheet in his hands. Then, scrunching it up, he began to unfold it, "Can it ever be perfect again?"

The kids watched in amazement as the sheet was returned to its original size, though left with scarring creases that would be impossible to remove. "No," someone responded, "It can't be perfect again."

"Then never betray the people you care about," the oldest spoke seriously, binning the paper. "They will trust you if you trust them. It only works two ways."

Jisung slumped his shoulders from the back of the room, laying the box down and thinking to himself.

Why that story of all the tales this city has to offer?

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