perhaps, you | woosan

Chapter Eleven

POV: Wooyoung

Wooyoung's strategy on the dinner table was to eat everything while it was hot and tasty—because food was literally the only thing he could enjoy—and be seated there playing with his fingers with his mouth shut. Because nobody was supposed to leave the table unless everyone was filled and done. A rule that existed in this household ever since he remembered and one of the many he detested.

Every conversation resolved in praising his father or Seonghwa and belittling Wooyoung. Which was another course of tonight, the starter served with how Seonghwa had succeeded in obtaining an internship at the best hospital in Seoul.

"Seonghwa-yah, I'm so proud of you but oh, we'll miss you," Ms. Jung let out a trembling voice as if she was on the verge of crying dramatically.

Seonghwa, the caring son that he was, held his mother's hand in comfort, "I'll come back often and call you everyday, okay?"

"He will find a well-bred beautiful future wife in no time at the hospital. What if he's carrying a baby next time we see him?" Mr. Jung grinned proudly, in which Seonghwa replied with a timid laugh.

Not wanting to see the drama, Wooyoung dropped his head low. He wished he could cut his ears off right there and then, so that he could lose his ability to hear their voices, frustration accelerating the tapping of his impatient feet.

"Wooyoung," Mr. Jung initiated. "You'll be going back to university tomorrow, but make sure you behave."

Wooyoung sighed and rolled his eyes, tired of hearing and replying to the same old story. A behaviour his father obviously did not approve of, as he raised his voice. "WOOYOUNG! Are you listening!"

"Father, please calm down," Seonghwa soothed him.

"Seonghwa told me that you were studying unlike usual and I hoped you'd change in a week...." Mr. Jung muttered, exhaling loudly.

What can't be changed in nineteen years can't be changed in a week dad, Wooyoung mocked internally.

"Do not go to useless parties. Do not hang around people of no good, do not make friends with them," Mr. Jung insisted.

Those words pricked on Wooyoung's nerves. "Who's no good? Someone like me? Someone who doesn't listen to you? Someone who isn't Seonghwa?"

"WOOYOUNG-" Mr. Jung stood up furiously, unminding the chair turning around in reaction.

"Wooyoung-ah, of course not!" Seonghwa interrupted, also standing to hold his father's arm, preventing him from doing anything rash. "Father just wants the best for you. To have a fruitful school life, to have a decent job, to have a beautiful wife, and start a wonderful family...."

"Wooyoung-ah, just try to understand your father, hm?" Ms. Jung added.

Everything sounded ridiculous. It was a strong disdain that ignited in his lower belly, uneasily settling there, flaring up as seconds went by. A mocking laugh escaped his mouth before he knew.

"The best for me? Or is it the best for you?" He raised a fork and pointed the tip to his father, the act so provocative that enraged the old male easily. But before the other could yell something at the top of his head which Wooyoung had bared for so long, he barked. He had enough.

"Understand you? Then let me ask, have any of you tried to understand me? What I enjoy, what I hate, what I treasure? Who I am?"

Mr. Jung was standing there clenching his fist, trying to restrain his exploding anger, Ms. Jung sat there worriedly cupping her mouth as to what her second son may say, and Seonghwa was standing still, unable to utter a word, his eyes fixed at him.

In that moment, Wooyoung felt like he conquered. Everyone was listening to him. Everyone was paying attention to him. He wished he'd done it sooner—instead of ignoring and rejecting every demand they made, closing him off, sulking that no one understands him. He should've spilled every ounce of his piled turbulent emotions to them.

It was that clawing fear that never left him—the fear that he, perhaps, truly wasn't good enough. He could let out his true self so vulnerable to the world, and perhaps be shattered to the truth that no one was willing to accept him.

But right now, right here, he felt invincible. Part of the courage was that he had Yeosang. More of the reason was how 'you're my hero' lingered at the back of his brain, heatedly repeating itself, swelling his determination ever so powerfully.

"You don't choose what's best for me. That can only be my call."