• log. [ boy x boy ]

h e l p.

It's been a few days.
Park would enjoy,
But he can't.

The knocks on the door unsettle Park. But he has no choice but to answer. When he sees who stands outside, he freezes. His father freezes, too, eyes wide in fear. In horror.

Policemen. And behind them, a woman with a glint in her eyes behind that fake, "shaken" expression.

"Sir, we'd like to ask you a few questions about your wife. May we come in?"

"Y — yes. Yes, of course," his father stammers. Park Jung watches as his mother grins at his father, who's gone incredibly pale. The police step in and the door slams shut.

They don't allow him into the room.

ﾑﾑﾑﾑﾑﾑﾑﾑﾑ

Park Jung is frantic. He's panicking and he doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't speak, but his eyes are enough. He's calling. Calling for help.

He doesn't have his phone with him. And that's what makes him panic.

He hears something about domestic violence.

And his blood begins to boil.

He doesn't care anymore. He stomps down the stairs, takes the house phone, dials a number before barging into the room.

"Don't fucking talk to me about domestic violence."

"Young man, you aren't supposed to listen to our —"

"No. Listen the fuck up, officer," he starts. He sees his mother's angry expression, but his anger bests his fear.

"See these?" He pulls his sleeves up. The bandages are still there. He sees panic flash in his mother's eyes. The policemen are silent. "You know what these are?"

He rips them open to reveal bruises and scars. He walks over to his mother and digs into her bag without permission. His mother tries to gasp, to speak, take this opportunity, but he cuts him off as he pulls out his phone. "See this? This is my phone. I have evidence.

"There's domestic violence, alright. But Appa has done nothing. In fact, you're listening to a snake's words."

He brings out his other arm, revealing more cuts and bruises. Pulls up his shirt to reveal bruises.

"Appa has done nothing. Rather, it's all her. Have you even looked into her history?"

"Park Jung —"

"Don't call me that. Shut up," he snaps at his mother.

Somehow, his phone has battery, albeit at five percent. He taps on the app, then the log.

"Report me? I dare you! If you open your ugly little mouth I'll make sure you'll never see the light of day again!"

"I'm sorry —"

"I'll be taking this."

And the log goes on and on. Until the end.

And the door opens and a man barges in.

The police stand up. "Mr. Hisame?"

Park Jung and Hisame make eye contact, and the man takes a step back, a proud glimmer in his eyes. "Listen to him."

Turns out he didn't need my help after all.

And the night goes on.

And the one who emerges, triumphant, from the battlefield is Park Jung himself.