Chapter 2. Worship

On October 09, bathed in the soft glow of morning light, Kim Seok woke up with a sense of excitement, a small cake adorned with delicate yellow flowers cradled in his hands. It was Heyon’s 19th birthday, and he couldn’t wait to surprise him. The room was adorned with a tranquil ambiance, and Heyon lay there, cocooned in the serenity of his baby blue duvet, sleeping soundly.

With gentle steps, Kim approached Heyon’s bedside and whispered his name in hushed tones. “Hey… good morning”

Heyon stirred from his slumber, his dark hair cascading over his eyes, momentarily obscuring his vision. He blinked his puffy little eyes, and a sweet smile gradually graced his face as his focus settled on Kim.

“Happy birthday,” Kim murmured tenderly, presenting the small cake before him.

Heyon sat up, rubbing his eyes as he broke into a heartwarming smile. The warmth of the moment enveloped them both. Kim, dressed in a black jacket, reached into his pocket, searching for a small lighter, while Heyon observed him with a careful gaze. A subtle movement of Heyon’s bottom lip caught Kim’s attention, and he couldn’t help but admire the enchanting sight before him—the mesmerizing brown hair with green tips that held an irresistible allure.

“Wait,” Kim said, finding the lighter and returning his focus to the little candle atop the cake. He sighed softly, appreciating Heyon’s radiant presence. “Ready,” he declared, lifting the cake adorned with flickering candles. “Make a wish.”

Heyon’s smile deepened, and he settled back comfortably on the bed, closing his eyes in earnest contemplation. He blew out the candles with a burst of determination, sending his heartfelt wish into the universe. As his eyes opened, they returned to the cupcake adorned with sunflowers, and his smile returned in full bloom.

“It’s beautiful,” he expressed, looking at Kim with gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you, Seok.”

Kim humbly downplayed his gesture, placing the cake on the nightstand. Curiosity gnawed at him as he wondered about Heyon’s wish, but he respected the sanctity of the secret.

“What did you wish for?” he inquired, his lips slightly pursed, a hint of disapproval at the notion of keeping secrets, yet unwilling to pry.

Heyon, with a playful glint in his eyes, replied, “I can’t tell, so it won’t come true.”

Though Kim didn’t fully endorse the idea of withheld wishes, he chose not to delve further into it. Instead, he allowed the beauty of the moment to linger, savoring the joy in Heyon’s eyes and the enchantment of the morning’s serenade.

“I brought your present.” He said, reaching deep into his jacket pockets.

Heyon opened his eyes in surprise.

“But what if my dad finds out? He might get mad and hit me.”

“Let’s not talk about him, huh? Today is your 19th birthday; you’re an adult.

Heyon bit the tip of his lower lip, staring at the bleaching powder and orange paint on his best friend’s hands.

It had always been his desire to have colored hair. And after meeting Seok, who always had the tips of his hair green, that desire only increased.

“Do you want to do it?” Kim asked.

Heyon had round, dark eyes focused on his best friend. It took courage, but he nodded.

“Okay, so let’s eat the cake and do it, okay?”

Heyon threw the blanket aside, making Seok smile when he saw him in his fluffy pajamas with white stripes and green birds.

The Lim house was silent. Lim HanWool was sitting at the front with his small note table, but he had a Bible open there. His hands were clasped together, and his mouth was murmuring low words to a God.

Heyon looked at him when his father’s eyes went to him and just bowed, giving him a small smile.

He knew how his father shouldn’t be disturbed when he was in his moments of worship, and on his birthday, he didn’t want to be punished for that mistake.

The man turned his attention to the Bible in front of him and let his son go to the kitchen.

Heyon fetched two forks and tiptoed back to the bedroom. When he entered the room, he sighed in relief.

“How did you get past him?” he asked, handing one of the forks to Seok.

“I just passed by.” He shrugged. “You still won’t tell me your wish?”

Amidst the soft rays of morning light, the echoes of Heyon’s laughter danced through the air, imbuing the room with a joyous energy. Playfully, he shrugged off any notion of mischief, reaching for a delectable piece of the cake, unintentionally bringing one of the delicate sugar flowers along with it. His eyes sparkled with delight as he savored the sweet confection, every morsel a testament to his unabashed love for all things sugary.

Seated beside Heyon, Kim couldn’t resist the allure of the cake, extending his hand to claim a slice for himself. However, a curious expression soon twisted across his features as he tasted it, his taste buds finding no affinity for the saccharine treat. “I don’t understand how someone doesn’t like sweets,” Heyon remarked with amusement, casting a playful glance in Kim’s direction. “Like, it’s sweet!”

With a good-natured chuckle, Kim replied, “I don’t like it,” gently setting his fork aside. “But to see you happy, I ordered it with great pleasure.” His words carried a hint of affection, reflecting the deep bond Heyon always held in his heart for him.

Unfazed by Kim’s preference, Heyon continued to savor the cake as if it were the most exquisite delicacy to ever grace his taste buds. To him, it indeed seemed like an ambrosial creation, and the smears of white icing around the corners of his lips only added to his undeniable charm, making him all the more endearing.

Inquisitively, Kim sought his cell phone, eager to plan the day’s festivities. “What would you like to do today? I’ll take you wherever your heart desires.”

A glimmer of excitement danced in Heyon’s eyes as he proposed, “Even to the amusement park?”

Kim’s expression wrinkled slightly, revealing his distaste for such places. Nevertheless, his voice remained gracious as he responded, “Of course, anywhere you wish to go.”

“But you don’t like it, Seok…”

With a warm smile, Seok reassured him, “It’s not my day; it’s yours, Yonie. So if you want to go, we can go.”

Heyon’s eyes lit up with joy as he declared, “Then, I want to go. I want to ride the Ferris wheel, and I want you to come with me, alright?”

Kim playfully rolled his eyes, succumbing to Heyon’s charm without hesitation. “Alright,” he conceded, unable to resist the enchantment that Heyon effortlessly weaved around him.

His eyes widened at the sight of his father, but the man just looked at Seok. “How did you get past him?” the man asked, already seeming annoyed.

“Through the window,” Seok pointed, but the man looked at it and saw it was locked. “Your security in this house is pretty half-hearted, you know?” he chuckled. “I want you to leave now!” the man scolded.

“But, Dad... it’s my birthday, Seok is the only friend I have.” Hanwool snorted and looked at the cake.

“Give me that,” he demanded, pointing at it.

“Do you want a piece?” Seok asked, smiling cunningly. He hated the man and knew that the feeling was mutual.

“You know I don’t approve of Heyon eating so much candy. It’s already enough.”

“Are you going to keep it?” Heyon asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as he retrieved the small cake and handed it to his father, afraid he would simply throw it away.

“I’ll get rid of this junk. In my house, you don’t eat sweets! And hurry up, you still haven’t prayed today,” Hanwool replied, instigating Heyon to fulfill his daily ritual.

With a sigh of resignation, Heyon reluctantly nodded, his father, Hanwool, giving Seok a suspicious look before leaving, leaving a feeling of irritation in his wake, and the fact that he never understood how Seok simply appeared inside Heyon’s room without him seeing him enter. Hanwool never liked Kim much, and their friendship was met with strong disapproval from him.

“Why do you still pray?” Seok asked, watching Heyon get up to retrieve his book from the last shelf of the wardrobe. “You don’t even believe in that. Besides, he only uses it to hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” Heyon hesitated, avoiding the implicit truth.

“Don’t go,” Seok pleaded, his heart urging him to protect Heyon from any potential harm.

“I have to go...”

“Then I’ll go with you!”

“No, Seok, it will only make things worse. Just... stay here,” Heyon implored, knowing the consequences of Seok’s presence during his father’s prayer.

Seok snorted, feeling the frustration of his helplessness. If only he could intervene, if only he could protect Heyon, he would have confronted Hanwool without hesitation. But he knew it wasn’t that simple...

“Don’t go if you don’t believe in this nonsense about being good or in a God who will save you. He’s not telling you the truth; it’s not exactly that God he wants you to worship. He wants you to worship only him because he wants you to fear him,” Seok revealed, unmasking Heyon’s father’s manipulative nature.

“I can’t do anything, Seok. He knows I don’t believe, but if he believes, what can I do? I’m under his roof, I must obey him,” Heyon replied, overwhelmed by the weight of his father’s convictions and the fear of the repercussions of his defiance.

Seok’s concern remained unwavering as he suggested, “Ask him to respect your disbelief, just as you respect his belief,” hoping to find a middle ground between Heyon’s convictions and his father’s expectations.

“I can’t...” Heyon finally said, his voice tinged with sadness and frustration, struggling to navigate the complexities of his relationship with his father.

Seok asked, genuinely seeking to understand the internal struggle that kept Heyon bound to his father’s demands: “Why are you still going, then?”

“Because I don’t want to be punished. I can’t bear being beaten anymore, and I don’t want to feel pain on my birthday,” Heyon admitted, his gaze fixed on the living room as he prepared to face his father once more. “Don’t follow me, stay here and wait.”

Seok’s plea echoed in his heart, but with a bittersweet smile, Heyon reassured him: “I have no choice, Seok... It will be quick, I’ll be right back,” attempting to alleviate Seok’s worries. “Use your headphones.”

With a heavy heart, Heyon proceeded to the place where he always said his prayers, his thoughts consumed by the impending confrontation. As he passed through the living room, he noticed his father disposing of the remaining cake in the trash—an emblematic reminder of the divide between them, the profound differences in belief and understanding that left Heyon feeling perpetually torn and conflicted.

That pained him, and he even thought about how hypocritical the man was. He dictated so much about what was wrong and always talked about not wasting food. But then why did he throw all the rest of the cake away? It was Seok who gave it to him; it had more value than just flavor.

“On your knees,” the man ordered, and Heyon followed suit, kneeling beside him.

Heyon saw the man leave the book open in front of him and followed suit, leaving his book on the coffee table.

“Begin the prayer,” commanded HanWool.

The boy tucked his feet in, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together. His voice started trembling, but he knew he needed to sound strong. The first “Amen” came from his father, and that was a relief. Maybe Heyon was doing well.

However, after minutes passed, Heyon started running out of things to be thankful for, and that scared him. When he heard the tired sigh from the man, he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Hanwool demanded perfection from him, seeing him as some kind of saint, but Heyon didn’t want that, and he didn’t have many things to be genuinely grateful for.

“Do it right, damn it!” the father insisted. Heyon nodded, praying with more fervor, but the man huffed, waiting for the final “amen” from his son, before getting up and, fueled by his own rage, grabbing the leather belt that was always reserved for Heyon’s mistakes.

“Please, father... today is my birthday,” Heyon pleaded.

“I don’t care about that,” Hanwool replied, indifferent.

Heyon felt the pain in the middle of his back, but he had to endure it. In the room, Seok also heard everything and felt the urge to intervene, but what would he do next? Hanwool would certainly become even more possessive, and Seok would have the desire to kill him inflamed. He would actually do it, but he thought about Heyon and how he would react if he saw that happening right in front of him.

When Heyon closed his eyes tightly, feeling weak and on the verge of fainting, his father finally stopped, taking a deep breath with the bloodstains painted on the once beautiful pajamas. HanWool was despicable. He took pleasure in his own son’s pain.

Heyon’s heart skipped a beat as he stood up, weak. In the dimly lit room, he witnessed the pre-death. He stumbled sadly but looked into his father’s eyes and apologized. The leather belt, once a sinister tool of instruction, held haunting memories of the man’s attempts to mold him into something he was not.

With the silence of his father, Heyon knew it was all finally over. He wiped away a solitary tear cascading down his cheek and reached for the book in his hands. Avoiding any eye contact with the man, he retreated to the sanctuary of his room.

At that moment, the air was heavy with the hatred growing inside his heart. Heyon struggled to suppress the urge to release his own pain, avoiding Seok’s gaze when he entered the room and heard his friend gasp at the bloodstains on his shirt. He placed the book back in its place and sought comfort behind the locked bathroom door.

Seok, now standing, was overwhelmed by hatred. He sighed, guilty, filled with the desire to kill Hanwool even more for making Heyon go through that day after day, month after month, for years... His hand pressed against the cold white bathroom door as he strained to hear the soft cries mixed with the running water. He couldn’t even imagine the real pain Heyon felt there, and it was greater than physical pain. The turmoil inside him threatened to unleash his primal instincts, entwining them with the anger coursing through his veins.

His eyes mixed between natural and green, but he controlled it. Otherwise, he would really kill Hanwool right there.

With a deep breath, he steadied himself, determined to maintain control over the storm of emotions inside him. Opening his eyes, a flash of brown speckled with conflict, he confronted the distressing reality before him.

“Yonie?” he called, feeling his own throat choke up. Leaning against the bathroom door, he felt even more pain in his own cursed heart. In that second, with a sniffle, the sound of crying stopped.

“Let me help you,” Seok offered, his voice trembling.

“I’m fine, Seok,” Heyon lied, taking a deep breath, wishing he could disappear.

“It’s okay...” Seok didn’t insist, but, envisioning the smile on his friend’s face when they finally left that house, he said, “I’ll take you to the movies too, okay? We’ll get a big bucket of buttered popcorn and all the candies you want, alright?” It was futile to say that, but he wanted to try to cheer up the friend who had just been abused and had no one to protect him.

In that vulnerable moment, Heyon’s trembling lips tried to wipe away the emotional marks on his spirit. But amid the turbulence, a faint smile emerged, a glimpse of peace knowing he had someone genuinely good in his life, someone he could count on and trust.

At least he had Seok.