Daffodils in Spring

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5:36 PM, July 23, 2019
3 Kilometers West of Nonsan, South Korea
Military Encampment

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When the Night Falls

Nightfall.

The trees swayed peacefully at the distance, and the wind made the untrimmed grass dance in time with his panting breath. He had always thought he had accustomed himself to rigorous conditions, since he had to run laps everyday around track and field ovals while vocalizing... Long ago, outside.

But unlike the lengthy hours of dancing and singing and reality show classes, the sheer shock from all the physical exertion was of a totally new horizon for him. And like every big circumstance can change you forever,

It began steer his life dramatically. Toward ways no one could possibly dream of.

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Nightfall was generally a time of relaxation for soldiers. After a gruelling day of individual training, or group exercises with their Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) subunits, everyone will eventually gather up at the base's quadrangle to wait for dismissal at around 5PM.

But not for Do Kyungsoo. He was just on the way back to their bunker from the water station, fetching two pails of water. Three days ago someone probably stepped on the main water pipe and broke the whole system, so everyone had to fetch their own water from a well farther up the hill we were were staying in.

He also had to drop by the armory to put his gun back along with the other two guns hanging crudely on his weary shoulders. It wasn't his, obviously, it was his hyungs' guns--senior soldiers within their bunker. He was ordered by them, those lazy bitches again just because they had the authority to.

And now they were in front of him.

Waiting outside the dormitory doors were two men of respectable stature, one of them was slav squatting and leaning his back on the dormitoty walls, his left hand playing on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. While the other stood tall with his arms crossed in front of him. His left foot tapping impatiently made a small cloud of dust under his shoe.

A sigh came out of one of his seniors - Doosik's lips as he stood up from his deep squat, a sigh that somehow sounded like mockery.

"Took you long." He grumbled low, swiftly closing the distance between himself and Kyungsoo with two long strides.
"You went to your nerdy friends?"

"No. I was from--"
"We don't have time for your shits newbie." the latter of the two - Jongil shot the pitiful junior a gaze full of unamused criticism. "Do we look like we care?" He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes to look all serious and sound irritated. 

But he just can't fully wipe the smirk off his face. Frustrating.

"Need a hand?"

Oh shit. Not this...

Kim Doosik whispered as he bent down slightly, roughly shoving his palm and motioned the weary Kyungsoo to pass a bucket to his outstretched fingers.

Here we go again.

Do Kyungsoo, seeing behind this veil of false kindness, only looked at him with a dark expression. There was absolutely no reason to trust his words, he was an evil "prankster" after all, and he would bully Kyungsoo because he can't do anything about it. "Respect your seniors", they say.

"Come on. What are you hesitating for?" He nudged his hand more, poking his junior's chest with his fingers with a sort of unwarranted violence. But even if Kyungsoo knew not to try and give him a bucket, he won't let anyone pass if he didn't get what he wanted.

And so the three men stood outside the bunker in a stalemate, an unsaid battle of attrition--yet it was clear who was winning. Doosik's lips curved ever so slightly in sadistic thought, he looked at Kyungsoo with a sort of frenzied gaze, a look unbefitting for a soldier.

And Kyungsoo's burdened fingers were giving up on him.

Might as well get this over with.

With a groan, he started to raise one of the buckets to his senior's hand. All the pull-ups from the drills earlier wore Kyungsoo's arms out, it was a big hindrance, but not enough to incapacitate him.

But the slap to Kyungsoo's face was what froze him.

A thunderous thwack! filled the dusk silence - drowning even the ambient chirping of crickets. Kyungsoo's neck immediately sent shocks of pain to his entire body, his head snapped to the left so wildly--it was a wonder how he was still standing after that. And because of the slap, the buckets dislodged from his hands and spilled all over without him noticing.

"A-ah! Hyung..."

"Sike." Doosik's eyes flashed a malicious glimmer and an amused grin before turning his back on the man he just clipped. Not caring about the water or Kyungsoo's wellbeing. "Who are you? The president? Just because you're an idol we'll bow down on your feet? Dream on."

Doosik walked up to Jongil with slow and proud steps, still mumbling "dream on fool" and chuckling to himself. Jongil's stifled laughter can be heard too.

Evil. They're evil...

Their deeds and tendencies didn't match what a soldier should be. They were overbearing, annoying, irresponsible, violent, obnoxious, self-entitled, dangerous...

Especially the third man who was inside their bunker right now, a mysterious figure with an equally murky background. No one in the camp ever heard him utter his name and only knew him by his military number 2414, and it was a rare occurrence to see him doing mandatory morning drills. And lastly, Doosik and Jongil would follow his orders like the two were his lapdogs.

That man specifically ordered his two stooges to give Kyungsoo hell on earth... Just because Kyungsoo looked at that man's eyes.

Do Kyungsoo can only look at the ground that was wet with the water he fetched from the hill. Self pity was eating him inside. His back slumped as if the world weighed him down. 

It was a pitiful sight.

"Go back to the well and fetch all the water you spilled. Do Kyungsoo, don't waste time." Jongil ordered before they both went inside that wretched wicked bunker.

Kyungsoo didn't answer, afraid that he would only blurt out profanities that would warrant him another beating. He just froze with his head down.

Yet his heart was cursing, crying out with rage and hatred against his bunkmates. If he was granted a chance, he would sock all their faces in with his own fists--pay them all and their atrocities tenfold.

But he knew that a chance like that was nigh impossible, and he would only get beat up to near death if that chance ever even comes.

He could only look up at the dusk sky with a weary gaze. His eyes mirrored a hopeless dream, an outcry for salvation. And a meek whisper escaped his dry lips.

"I wish I can get the hell out of this hellhole."

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