Taste Of Exiles

Chapter #1

—JISUNG POV—

Jisung had wondered, daily in fact, why he was always alone.

But then again, maybe he wasn't entirely alone. He had his house, he had his cat Dori, and he had Harun, his only friend who had moved with Jisung from Malaysia two years ago.

He also had the letter his brother had written before he left.

He had read it.

But no matter how many times Harun had asked to see the letter so he could figure out where Bekook was, Jisung wouldn't hand it over.

Because deep down, Jisung knew it wasn't by choice.

No matter how much Harun shook his head sadly and muttered Bekook's name next to curses over and over when he thought Jisung wasn't listening, Jisung knew the truth. He wasn't alone by choice. His brother had left because he had to, not because he wanted to. Still, Jisung couldn't shake the suffocating loneliness he felt in every quiet moment.

"Isn't that the mute kid?" Jisung snapped out of his thoughts, blinking in confusion as he looked up from his journal. The classroom buzzed with the usual chatter, but Jisung's attention was drawn to the voices in front of him.

"Yeah, he can't talk. They've tried to get him to, but it's like the dude's freaking retarded," one of the boys sneered. They stared at him, eyes trailing over his body, as if appraising him like an object. Jisung shrunk in on himself, the weight of their judgment pressing down on him. He could imagine what they saw: a short boy, his cheeks round with baby fat, curly red-brown hair falling untamed around his face, and oversized, circle-framed glasses—one of which was cracked and held together with tape. He wore a blue sweatshirt he'd borrowed from his brother's closet that morning, not caring that it hung too loose on him. It was too big for him, but he didn't mind. The sweatshirt made him feel a little closer to Bekook, especially after everything that had happened.

(Look at header picture)

Jisung couldn't remember exactly when the bullying started, but he could clearly remember how.

Jisung was rushing to get to class with an iced Americano in his hand, trying to hold it close to his chest to keep it from spilling. His mind was elsewhere—on his brother, Bekook, who had been gone for weeks. He hadn't been back for this long before, and Jisung was starting to worry. Bekook, just 14 years old when their parents died, had been forced to earn money for both of them once their parents' fortune ran out. Jisung had tried to help him in the past, offering to help Bekook with his job, but Bekook had always rejected the idea. Every time Jisung asked, Bekook would stare blankly out the window, his expression turning distant and closed off. Then, Bekook would force a smile, change the subject, and Jisung would know that his brother had shut him out again. But now, Bekook had been gone too long, and it made Jisung feel hollow inside, like something crucial was missing. That morning, lost in his thoughts, Jisung wasn't paying attention. As he walked down the hallway, he collided with someone, and before he could react, he found himself on the floor, his iced Americano splashing across the person's chest. He looked up in a daze, trying to quickly sign an apology, but the moment he saw the person's face, his stomach dropped. It was Park Jin-Young, the most popular kid at school—and notorious for picking on others.

"Frick!" Jin-Young yelled, his voice sharp with irritation. "Where's my apology, you piece of shit?" Jisung froze, his mind scrambling for a way to explain. He pointed to his mouth, trying to gesture that he couldn't speak. But Jin-Young's expression didn't soften. Instead, he glared at Jisung with disdain.

"Oh, so you can't speak?" Jin-Young said mockingly. "That's convenient. Guess that makes it easier." With one swift motion, he shoved Jisung back down to the floor. The impact left Jisung gasping for breath, his head spinning and his body aching from the sudden fall. As he struggled to regain his bearings, Jin-Young loomed over him, his eyes cold and full of malice. "You think you're special?" Jin-Young spat. "Pathetic." Jisung tried to pull himself together, but the pain was overwhelming. Every time he thought he might escape the situation, Jin-Young would push him back down, making it impossible for Jisung to recover. When he couldn't say anything, Jin-Young grew even more frustrated. "You're pathetic," he muttered again, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You can't even talk back. What a loser." Jisung's heart pounded in his chest as tears pricked at his eyes, but he refused to cry. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. His thoughts raced back to his brother. Bekook was the one who had always protected him, but now he was gone. Harun was his only friend, and Jisung didn't want to burden him with his problems. The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Jisung stood up, carefully hiding the bruises on his body under the layers of concealer he'd applied earlier. He didn't want Harun to see, and then he ran.