Tw|transphobia|bullying|violence|blood|implied burn-out|
~
Yunho rubbed over his face and groaned internally. His body felt like falling apart; any moment he would collapse, lay boneless somewhere. But he couldn't allow himself to, there was so much work to do, he couldn't dare take a break when the clock was ticking. Oh how much he regretted his suggestion for the event, how much he wished to just have shut his mouth that day.
"Okay, we need to distribute this diffrently," he called and returned to his fellow trainees. Not that they took him very seriously. Yunho looked over his paper and scratched the back of his head, "fitting with the track, we will start with contemporary, I think two dancers and three vocalists are enough here," he said and noted his suggestion on the paper.
"We should focus more on the performance."
Yunho looked up to Kyungmin, a boy his age. He had auditioned the same day as him; he was slim and almost as tall as him, not to speak of his handsome face and outgoing character. He could recall looking at him enter the room with a sure smirk and leave with the same expression. "Three people will be too much for the track we have been given, I don't think it would fit."
The boy tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Who are you to decide that?" he asked, mock very much prominent in his words.
"I was given the position to lead this. Sure, we can try out your idea," Yunho gave back, left cold by the comment. "Consider we have a ticking time, a duo is always faster, but sure, I'm sure you would gladly take over the practice then, hm?"
A breath was stuck in Kyungmin's throat, the reply remained silent. The tension around the other tightened as they lowered their gaze to the ground, the walls, everywhere but Yunho who kept on pulling through the tight schedule with an iron fist. "We need more people for the hip-hop performance, we are short on rappers... "
"I have a question," a small and thin voice asked from behind all the tall trainees. They moved aside and their youngest trainee came to view. Lee Nayeong, a girl from farther away. Her dialect was still present, it was cute to play a game of guess what she's trying to say now and then. Yunho sometimes felt sad for her; so far away from home at such a young age. "It's all good and so... but what will you do? You're assigning us parts, but what is yours?" she asked shyly. By the slight shake in her thin voice, Yunho could tell it was pure curiosity.
"Teach you the choreos, lyrics, and take on wherever we need more people," Yunho replied with his lips pressed in a line and spread in a tired smile. He had been up for days on end to develop and plan the whole performance, he would take whatever role was missing in the end. "What kind of leader would I be, if I let you all figure things out on your own? We only need to learn it together now." His eyelids felt heavy as he looked at the group of around twenty people, maybe less. All so talented; he felt sorry to be the one they depended on. It was all in his hands now; they all would be judged by how well he had thought this through.
~
Hongjoong knocked at the door to the practice room, then slowly took a step into the room. The lights were on, the music still playing.
"Three, four, five and tam-tam ta-" the last count got stuck in Yunho's throat when his father came into his view from the side. He stopped, his small group behind him turning to bow respectfully and shyly. Yunho followed suit; inside this building, they were strangers, not father and son.
"I see you're all still practicing hard," Hongjoong commented and threw his son a questioning look, switching between him and the clock.
"We are... we are practicing the contemporary part of our performance for the event," Yunho explained and looked to his fellow trainees, "we are just perfecting small mistakes."
Hongjoong looked at the small group proudly, yet hid the high concern. As a parent, his instincts tingled at the back of his head. Dark circles painted underneath their eyes, faces slowly turning pale, their statue leaning from side to side. They were tired to the bone, yet put themselves together to keep going. "I see, I see..." his eyes went over to a pair that leaned against each other, "but there is no use to overdo it, mhm? The building is closing, let's end today's session and go home to rest." It was a word from above, though they made faces of objection, there was nothing they would dare reply.
Hongjoong looked at his son again and caught him dozing off while standing. He sighed and left the room again, walked down the hall to the elevator. The parent took his time, took small steps so Yunho could catch up. His son eventually did, walked next to him silently. "Since when have you been here?" he asked as he hit the button to call the elevator.
First Yunho remained silent, then sighed tiredly. "Seven in the morning, this was the fourth group I have been practicing with."
"Why is your phone turned off?"
"I... I didn't want Papa to storm-call me... I'm sorry," Yunho said and allowed himself to lean against his father's frame, too tired to stand fully on his own feet. "My time is running, Dad..."
Hongjoong put his arm around his son's shoulder and sighed out loud. He knew exactly how his son felt, knew exactly how much his body and soul hurt at the moment, and also knew how strong his mind was. He would keep this up until the end, there was nothing he could tell him. Yet he was not only Kim Hongjoong the artist, but he was also his parent; all alarms went off in his head. He had to stop him, Yunho was still a child, they were all too young to be staying up all day and night. "Nothing is more worth than your health, Yunho."
"They depend on me... I know, Dad, thank you."~
Mingi smiled over their whole face as they twirled around in the long dress their brother had chosen for them. it was midnight blue and glittery; it sparkled under the light of the cabin so prettily.
"Do you like it?" Yunho asked as he leaned against the wall across from the cabin. He had at least ten other outfits sitting next to him, all for him and his siblings to be tried on. After they had spent the whole morning trying to find fits to wear at the spring celebration – which was coming closer – they had concluded that it was time to get something new, something fancy enough for the evening. There were all types of pieces next to the eldest, from blouses to dress pants, over skirts and dresses, shirts, jackets, and whatnot.
"And? How is it going?" Seonghwa peaked his head in to check on his children. He had clothes picked for himself in his hand, too.
"I think Mingi found their dress," Yunho said and motioned to his sibling standing in the cabin. "It looks pretty on them."
Gathering courage, Mingi stood out of the safety of the cabin and stepped into their father's view, the dress glistering under the lighting. There was fear, uncertainty, and embarrassment in everything they did; it was not that they feared that their family wouldn't stand behind them and their decisions. It was shyness, some kind of instinct that crept beneath their skin and made every oh so little hair stand.
"You look lovely, Mingi," Seonghwa said with a heartwarming smile on his face. His chest warmed when he watched a smile flash over his child's lips slowly, when blush reddened their face cutely. "You should wear it at the event. It really suits you."
"You think so?" they asked and turned around to the mirror inside the cabin. Long hair in two small buns, strands sticking out electrified because of all the changing outfits. Their chest was warm and Mingi felt a burden fall off their fragile shoulders; was it so easy, stepping out of the shell they had been hiding in? It felt like a dream; the quick acceptance of their wishes, the adjustments just for Mingi's liking. It was a dream indeed, one they didn't want to wake up from.
~
"If you don't feel comfortable, just open them, Mingi," San said as he watched his sibling stare at themselves in the mirror. "If you're scared, you can just open them, it's fine. Some circles aren't the safest to be one's self. That doesn't make you less valid."
Mingi's mouth twitched left and right, then they drew away their eyes. "I don't want to open the braids... Yeosangie made them so pretty," they said and left the bathroom. "I'm going to school with these."
"If you say so..." San replied quietly and followed Mingi down the stairs to the kitchen. They packed their lunch boxes and quickly left the house. Yunho trailed behind, rather shuffling than walking. Exhaustion was all over the elder's face as they walked the way to the next bus stop. San had barely seen him the past weeks, he was either at school or the company building for hours on end. He was concerned, yet his brother had this thing to him; it was almost impossible to care for him, Yunho would always end up taking care of one instead.
"I don't feel good," Yeosang said, quietly enough for only San to head. "I don't know what it is, I just don't feel good today..."
"Me neither, me neither..." San replied as he turned his head back to Mingi and Yunho walking behind them. Something hung heavily in his chest and gave him a bitter feeling.
~
Mingi bound their hair in a small ponytail at the joint of the two little braids Yeosang had braided. The long strands of hair kept falling into their face, it distracted them while taking notes.
"Please also remember to solve number four to seven on page thirty..." the teacher said at last and dismissed the class. He started to pack his things together and walked through the rows to the back of the room where the door was, passing Mingi. The elderly man halted and looked over the student's shoulder on the notes. Startled by the presence behind them, Mingi flinched slightly and put the pen down, looking up behind them. "Say Mingi... Have you been to an ophthalmologist?" he asked and looked at the notes of his student.
"Uhm... No, Sir," Mingi replied and looked on their paper, then to the blackboard.
"You should go see one, it's a shame that you're only a pair of glasses away from good grades, mhm?" he said and took a hold of his bag again. The elder was about to leave the classroom for his break but a last thing was burning on his tongue. "I know your generation is different than mine, that you care less about... appearance... But such girlish hair really doesn't fit a handsome young man like you, Mingi. I will close one eye, for now, I don't want to have to say this again. The next time, I will report you to the principal."
A reply burned on their tongue and the urge to disagree in their chest as they watched the elderly man leave the classroom. With a shaky hand, they twirled a strand of the shirt ponytail between their fingers; it was a habit they had picked up while growing out the hair. It was a brief distraction whenever their stomach turned and tossed uncomfortably.
~
Sannie
We have an extra class
You can wait or take the earlier bus
Yunho will go to the company building right after school
Mingi sighed and searched for their earphones in their bag. It was stuffed full of books and loose papers; they could hear their Papa nag about the mess. Taking the bus alone was boring, and they had already waited too long for the elder twins, Mingi wouldn't catch the bus even if they ran. So, plugging in the earphones, they searched for a place to sit and wait. The school building was huge; had a hang-out area in the west wing with bean bags and lounges. Some students used the area to study or eat snacks while waiting for their next class. It wouldn't be weird if they sat there in some corner and waited for San and Yeosang. When Mingi arrived at the spacy area, there were small groups of students quietly talking. They sat in the farthest corner and fished out a paper, pen, and the thick math book to do their homework.
Music was blasting in their earphones, overtoned everything around them. It created a somewhat safe bubble; it was just them and the music that calmed their rapidly beating heart. The whole week Mingi had been walking on shards of glass. It was just a question of time when someone would pick on them, when teachers would threaten with expulsion. The constant feeling of anxiety had become something familiar when Mingi walked down the halls of the school, eyes always on the floor; too scared to see someone looking at them. But the first week was over now, it couldn't get worse than it was.
And as they solved the last equation, someone yanked Mingi's head back by the ponytail. Someone else ripped the phone from them, another kicked the bean bag underneath them. Mingi met the floor faster than they could process what had happened in mere seconds.
"You know you piss me off so much," he said and laughed, holding up Mingi's head by the hair, "what are you? A bitch?"
Horrified, Mingi's eyes went through the hang-out area, searching for help from behind their glassy eyes. The others packed their stuff and rushed out of the hall, not even looking at the obvious scene. It was then when Mingi's heart sank and they gave in to whatever was coming.
"Let his hair out," the one holding them by the ponytail tsked, "ugly stays ugly, freak."
"It hurts... let go..." It was a miserable try, one so unnecessary, Mingi regretted even putting in the effort.
"Sure," he gave back and made a sign to one of his underlings. "We don't want you to be in pain, do we?"
Scissors appeared in Mingi's view, the one who had snatched their phone laughed mockingly as he brought it closer to their face. The scissors were open, one blade was held against Mingi's cheek; it felt cold, yet sweat formed on their skin. They swatted him away, kicked and tossed in all directions, yet Mingi was not strong enough to stand against three upper-classmen. They felt the lunch come back up their throat as kicks landed in their sides and stomach. Somewhere was the pair of scissors, somewhere they had cut them; their whole body hurt, Mingi couldn't even locate it.
Again their head was held up by the ponytail by the same guy, the scissors in his hand now. His face was scrunched up in disgust as he pulled Mingi's hair. "You people are sick in the head. As if you can change a body! And you say you have always been that way!" he laughed and brought the scissors back to Mingi's cheek, this time he drew blood. "All this western bullshit!"
The sound of thick hair being cut filled the hall next to their chocked up whimpers. Chunks of hair fell in Mingi's lap, their head free from his grip. The punch on their bleeding cheek felt numb, everything around them got reduced to the minimum.
"You rich people disgust me so much!"
"Live so wildly, and pretend to be normal like us!"
"You're all together disgusting"
"Tsk, isn't your brother that whore? Didn't he sleep with a teacher for grades?"
"And greedy, that's what you are"
"Aren't you just like him? A whore just tempting us to get laid"
"Fuck them people."
Mingi wondered what their brother was doing at the moment, wondering how hard his shell must have gotten since the incident.
"You're just a bunch of mentally ill weirdos"
Mingi wondered how Yunho had grown out of his insecurities, how he had gotten used to being treated like that every time he went to school.
Again Mingi was amazed about how indeed, they were the weakest link between their siblings. How even Wooyoung had attempted to hit elder students that were picking on Jongho, how all of their siblings had the strength to defend themselves and there Mingi was; facing whatever was coming silently, defencelessly.
~
"What did Mingi reply?"
"Nothing"
"Maybe they went home already?"
San shrugged his shoulders as he opened the chat with his younger sibling. Mingi had read his message, hadn't replied though. "I think they did. Usually, they would be complaining about waiting and all."
Yeosang packed his stuff in his bag and trailed behind his brother. "Yunho texted me during class that he's leaving earlier to go to the practice rooms. We're taking the bus alone."
Taking a last look back at the building, San sighed and left the school grounds with his twin, walking to the bus stop on the other side of the street. "Today is so weird..."
"You're just worrying too much."
~
Mingi
Yuyu
Can you please come to pick me up?
I missed the bus
and it's cold
Yuyu I'm scared
it's getting dark...
*location*
you're at practice, right?
It's okay
I think I found the right bus home
Fighting Yuyu!
You're going to be a great artist someday
~
It was silent in the bathroom when Seonghwa cleaned up his child's wounds. He tried to be as gentle as he could, yet Mingi flinched with every touch.
"I..." Mingi spoke up for the first time since they had returned home. Their voice was shaking and hoarse as if they had cried for hours on end. "I think I'll never get away from the butch lesbian cut..." Trembling fingers reached between the horribly, forcefully, cut hair. It was so uneven, ugly, and frizzy. The long, dark strands that they had taken care of so attentively were gone, all their effort gone in second.
Seonghwa put the last bandaid on Mingi's cheek and then pulled his child in between his arms, held their head close to his chest, and cried. "I'm so sorry, baby..." he sniffed and stroked through the chopped hair, holding onto his child for dear life. His chest stung, his heart broke with every second Mingi chose to stay quiet.
And in the middle of Seonghwa's quiet tears, one tearing cry for help broke out when Mingi wrapped their arms around Seonghwa fell apart in the warmth, in the comfort any only safety they trusted was true. The parent kissed and caressed the crown of their head, held them close and listened to the cries that tore them apart and further away from him.
~
:)
Do I have an explanation?
No.
Will I do it again and again?
Yes.
Hotel?
Trivago.