stars in cat eyes

—tsh... — stretched across the second floor. —You'll know how to be alone at night, — Jisung said. —It's easy for you to say, you're such a liar. They'd escaped, but it didn't feel right to have a strange boy in the workshop of the most important man in Jisung's life, sitting on his bed, treating the boy's wounds, but he kept silent until he gritted his teeth. —What were you doing out so late? I see we live in Samchok together, what are you doing in another neighborhood? — His lip was bleeding, and he was tired of propping it up with absorbent cotton, so the ointment from his grandmother on the countertop came in handy. —Keep your mouth shut. —Oh, you're kind of indifferent? Yeah, girls like that kind of guy, cold, aloof. We have one in the company. But he's more social than you. —We have? — Jisung asked cautiously. He wasn't really interested. The soiled cotton disks flew onto the bedside table. —Huh! We're not as big a group as those thugs, but we can beat them up. —And what neighborhood is yours? — Jisung asked lazily, putting the rest of the absorbent cotton and peroxide into the first aid kit. —This one. Jisung opened his eyes in surprise. The boy was frail: his specially curled, lightened hair fell over his eyes, and he wore a striped red-and-white T-shirt to match his windbreaker. —Haven't you ever heard of us? — The boy tilted his head to the side, studying his interlocutor. He looked like a vixen, with a sly squint of his eyes. —I wasn't interested, — Jisung mumbled stupidly. He wasn't interested in anything at all, except cars, beer, and his hyung. It was interesting to hear the older man's stories, but he never remembered Jun telling them like he did the first time. Mug, it needs to be taped up. —Relax, of course you didn't know, and neither did the others, — the boy said with a conspiratorial look, - Bang Jueng, the head of the last company, decided to retire. You should have seen his gray hair! So he thought he'd give the case to us while he took care of it. Shit, I almost ruined our reputation! Oh, well, thanks to you, if it wasn't for you, he'd have nailed me there, and we'd never have seen the neighborhood. —Leave right now, — Jisung suspected that maybe he needed someone to help him through this period of his life, but he realized that no one could replace him. As much as he wanted to spill his thoughts to everyone around him: his grandmother, his father, even this little boy, Jisung held back. Jun-hyun had been his secret from the beginning, his fortress and protection. —No hyun! Can we just talk? Look, my name is Yang Jeongin, — he patted his chest, — but everyone calls me IN or Yenny, that's what my mom used to call me, — his smile warmed. He made himself comfortable on the bed with his feet, pulled on his gray gym shoes over his white socks with some inscription. Just like a child, — and who are you? —Jisung. Han Jisung. You don't have to memorize it, you won't be here long. —At least I have a name. The ice is breaking! — Jeongin patted his legs with anticipation, — What were you doing so late in the neighborhood? Or were you with someone? Or maybe a loner? —Nobody, I'm not with anybody, I'm not alone, I just don't care. I… uh… just needed to... — Han turned off the main light and flicked on the nightlight. The orange gloomy light spilled into the room. The boy's hair turned a warm peachy color, and Jison didn't look at him. He didn't even see his eyes. Just a glimpse. The moon looked out of the window with the tattered tulle underneath the bed, illuminating it as well as the nightlight with the bear - a gift from Jisung to hyung, a gift, by the way, for which he was unbearably ashamed. Jisung didn't think much of it, so he gave him a nightlight with a bear painted on it, both childishly cute and maturely silly, but hyung cherished it, and it warmed his soul. —Haven't you ever been interested in that kind of life? Have you even smoked? I don't know, cigarettes, pot? —I don't need it. —But what about it? Have they told you how interesting it is here? It's such a life! Just imagine: you go out at night, and in the morning you're stoned and beat up some guy," Jeongin started to dream, but Jisung jumped. —How did they beat you? — He smiled a quiet smile, but it was enough for Jeongin to mentally recognize himself as the winner. —Hey! I'd take him in a heartbeat! —No, no, no. Why are you without your own company? —uh… Look at me, I'm puny, even that big guy didn't think I was Jueng's henchman. I told him! And my friends have me as a kid. Everyone thinks I'm small. I can't go anywhere. Yenny can't go yet, he'll get attached at the end, and if she doesn't, he'll stay at headquarters, — he said with a pout of resentment, — so I decided to prove that I was independent, but it didn't work out. Jisung was silent. He didn't know if he felt sorry for the boy or if all he was saying was stupidity. Perhaps he saw himself in him. Just as talkative, meeting his hyung for the first time, resentful of life… *** "—Hyung, why don't you at least tell me your name?" —"Will that stop you from messing with bad people?" — The guy was seething with anger, but he didn't overreact. He turned to look at the boy. Cap, old sweat Converse, jacket falling off one shoulder. He looked to be about fifteen, if not less. —"I didn't think they were bad", — the younger one lowered his head guiltily. —"There are no good ones in this neighborhood". —"They do! You're good!" And they walked down the deserted street, Jisung telling stories from his life, opening up to someone for the first time, and Jun listened silently and smiled. He was missing someone, too. *** Jisung has no pity. If he was asked if he wanted to go to the neighborhood again after a fight with his parents, to go up to that company knowing you'd get your nose broken, he'd say yes. He'd agree to anything just to see hyung's face again, to hear his voice. —If you want to appear mature, you should at least start to think. They don't let you into the thick of things, because they care about you and love you, but on the contrary, you create problems for them, — Jeongin's eyes rounded, nothing left of the old fox. —You don't need to lecture me! You're sitting here so cold while people talk to you normally. What happened to you, did someone die? Teeth gritted. A blue-white-and-red windbreaker flew straight into the wearer's face. —Get out. —I didn't really want to stay with the ghouls. Hurried footsteps were heard on the first floor. The green lada that stood in a separate open room gleamed from behind the moon, through the open gate. Remember to close it before going to bed. —What is it? — Jeongin asked quietly, taking a seat on the floor. —Shrapnel. Hurry up, get out of here. The younger man only got up, gave the older man a resentful look, and went out the main door. Through the window, Jisung saw Jeongin looking around and moving slowly around the corner as if intimidated. Jisung looked sadly at the splinters. He hadn't bought glue, and he'd helped some kid. The wind blew in from the open gate, and he ran to it and locked it as hyung always did before he went to bed. The clock on the second floor of the small workshop was tapping unpleasantly and showing half-past four in the morning. Jisung had often seen the dawn here, but he had never been alone in this place for so long. For two months he hadn't said good night to anyone. This place is tied to a person, Jisung hoped that while he was here, he wouldn't forget that smile, those words, or the image that appeared in dreams every day after the fateful day. Jisung didn't sleep well, Jisung missed him.

∞

The sound of banging on the metal gate was ear-splitting. The half-discharged phone showed that it was well past noon, and the sun was shining in his face to prove it. The gate opened quickly. A man stood in front of the crumpled Han, wearing his usual hyung clothes. Half-closed eyes did not see him, but a voice, forever imprinted on the crust of consciousness, made him stir. —What's the matter with you here? - The man stood, adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeves, occasionally glancing at his watch. —And hello to you, dad, what do you want? —To remind you of our pact. Jisung got a jolt of electricity. For the past two months, his father had been quiet, not pushing, letting him get over his grief, but the time for reckoning had come. —Dad, I can't… I want to break our pact. The father's eyes widened. He gave his son a scornful look, coughed a little, and answered: —You want to live your whole life in this backwater? You've only got to leave here and never come back. I tolerated your intercourse while that ragamuffin was alive. I didn't like the fact that the son of such a famous man in town was messing around with that mechanic. I thought you'd realize after he died that you were rotting away without my help, but you haven't moved on in two months. Feel sorry for yourself? —That's enough! Get outta here! And don't expect me home again, I'm not going back there... —And what should I tell your grandmother? — the man smiled smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets. —Nothing... I'll... I'll do it myself... —  Jisung scratched the back of his head. He'd forgotten about his grandmother, who he'd promised to come to dinner two months ago, who'd been waiting for him for a long time. She probably often sat in his room, listening to his CDs, and no longer said it was nothing. Maybe she, too, wanted to see the same Han Jisung who'd danced with her to his favorite songs and her grumbling, — I'll tell you myself. go away. He didn't go to see his father off. His thoughts had become confused again since he'd been awake, his heart was tired and habitually aching. What remained was to go to the second floor, turn on some hyung CD he'd memorized, lie on the bed he hadn't washed in two months, breathe in the smell of it, and turn off the night-light that ha d been burning since the night before. The new lifestyle will soon lead to cuddling with your favorite hyung. Right in the grave.