Chapter Text
Seungcheol stares at the young boy waiting for the bus with a soft smile.
He looked so short, small in both height and weight, face slender but those chubby cheeks every kid at that age had still evident. His hair was matted in every direction as if he had just woken up, the color of honey. Seungcheol chuckled when the said boy yawned. Perhaps he had just woken up.
Seungceol must not have been as distinctive as he thought, because the child turned his head in the older's direction at the sound of his sneer. To Seungcheol's surprise, the kid smiled back at him, eyes turning into crescents and his crooky teeth showing. It was genuine, and Seungcheol's entrire week had improved because of it.
When the boy's focus returned to the book on his lap, Seungcheol didn't hesitate to go in closer. He perused the book, noting how sloppy the kid's handwriting was; so messy that Seungcheol couldn't recognize whether it was maths or english.
He had no idea what came to him when he asked, but his future self would be grateful for the unexpected surge of bravery he had received at the time, "Studying hard?"
He didn't expect to be met with a worn, uneasy grin before the child bowed his head lower, as if ashamed - humiliated, almost.
Seungcheol felt an ache in his chest all of a sudden. Had his question made the boy uncomfortable?
It was only then that he took some time to observe the boy more closely, realizing that what he had assumed to be the boy's handwriting was actually doodling - that was probably why the boy became embarrassed so abruptly. Was he not studying? Did he not know how to read? Write?
Seungcheol took a closer look at what the kid was drawing at the moment, spotting two stick figures, one taller than the other, with a large gap between them. Before Seungcheol could express his curiousity aloud, the small boy drew an 'x' over the tallest figure, and Seungcheol couldn't help but stare at how he bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed as if he was irritated as he dragged the pencil slowly and roughly over the sketch.
Seungcheol cleared his throat, crouching next to the boy. He pointed to the doodle, specifically at the 'x' symbol. "Who's this?" he wondered, and the boy's answer was nothing more than an upset grumble "My appa. He left" he confessed, and Seungcheol turned to glimpse at the boy's face with gaped lips, not expecting such an answer.
When he first noticed the young boy, he had smiled fondly at the sight because he was reminded of himself; waiting for the bus every Sunday since that was the only day his foster family permitted him to visit his grandmother. Legs that were too short to reach the ground, sleeves that were so long that his fingers couldn't be seen, and a book in his hands to pass the time because he wasn't allowed to have any toys.
Now, at a closer look, what resembled his young self wasn't the innocence of a child's life but the dirtiness on the boy's face. The scrape on his brow, raw and purple from neglecting it, eyebags visible at such a young age, red-rimmed eyes, and tanned skin only at certain spots. It reminded of himself, dirty every day, especially whenever he had to run through the rain and mud - the period of time when he had to teach his soul how to battle and reach deep for the reserve beneath the reserve and give it all he had.
He wasn't proud of that mud. In contrast, he had to spend most of his life dealing with emotions of regret and sorrow, guilt. Until he was confronted by Jeonghan, the person who had helped him realize how strong he actually was. How right of a decision he had made. And how proud of his past dirtiness he should have been and he should be till the end of his life (dramatic much, Seungcheol had snickered. Jeonghan made sure to wipe that smirk away immediately).
And, even though he had grown into an adult by then, if he hadn't met him and hadn't been taught that, he would have spent the rest of his life dealing with the same unwelcome, nasty feelings.
And the youngster next to him didn't appear to be older than five years old. This aggravated the situation. Because he wasn't of an age where he could grasp what was going on. Why his appa had abandoned him. Why he was being stared at by so many people; their faces filled with pity or disgust.
"How long have you been alone?" Seungcheol asked, his tone sufficiently gentle to make the matter appear less serious and painful than what is actually was. The child did not respond or even glance at him. He just raised his palm up in front of the stranger's face to show the number four with his fingers.
Seungcheol hummed, "Four days?" he asked, gulping his fury down when the boy shook his head, "Weeks?" he tried again, and the kid suddenly burst into tears, but no sound came out, only heavy breaths. Seungcheol didn't bother the glares he was receiving, quick to bring the young boy into the warmth of his arms.
He attempted to hushe him, but he stopped himself quickly. "You can cry all you want, baby. Don't force yourself to keep quiet" he whispered tenderly next to the boy's ears, instead, and it took some hiccups before he allowed some sobs to escape his lips. "Good job" Seungcheol praised, closing his own eyes as he bounced the boy in his arms gently.
What the young boy needed at the moment was to cry all his pain out. Let all the sorrow and troubles his dad had left him to handle all by himself. And Seungcheol should encourage that. Encourage him to sob into his embrace rather than to be strong, to be a man, and not shed one tear. Because being strong wasn't about not crying. Strong meant being able to feel those emotions without feeling embarrassed of them. Especially in this case, where the child bears no responsibility for his difficulties and negative emotions.
"Should we go clean you up?" Seungcheol suggested, humming a slow rhythm as he waited for the kid to unwind. He smiled when he felt him nod his head, sensing his tiny fingers clenching on his now wet shirt tighter.
Seungcheol patted his back, forgetting all about what he was meant to do there regarding the mission and walking back to his car instead.
He tried to place the boy on the back seat, but the kid resisted. Seungcheol sighed, not in frustration, but in sadness. He didn't want to think about what the youngster had been through in those four weeks to trust Seungcheol so soon and become so attached already. He was probably the only person who had treated him with kindness. His heart crushed at the thought.
"How about we get you something to eat first?" he offered instead, maybe if he got more comfortable and safe around him, he wouldn't be so fearful that Seungcheol would desert him once he removed him from his hug (like his appa probably had done).
Seungcheol grew concerned when he received no reaction. "Hey, baby?" he called, and tried to pull the boy away just enough to read his expression, but the kid had clung himself on Seungcheol like a koala. Seungcheol knew that if he put the tiniest bit of effort he would be able to unsolder the boy from him since the poor kid didn't appear to have that much strength; it was easy to assume that that was owing to his age, lack of nourishment, liquid (water), and energy.
"What's your name, honey?" Seungcheol asked, understanding that he couldn't keep on calling him via pet names if he wanted to get closer to him. The boy didn't shift the slightest when he replied, Seungcheol thanking his lucky stars for his good hearing as the boy's mouth was pressed against his shoulder and his words came out muffled; "Chan"
"Alright then, Channie. Are you not hungry?" Chan seemed taken aback all of sudden, squirming in Seungcheol's embrace while whining in shyness. He pulled his face away from the older's body just a little, establishing eye contact with the dark haired, paw sleeves covering his reddish face to conceal his shy grimace.
Seungcheol couldn't help but laugh loudly at the almost theatrical reaction. "You like that? Me calling you Channie?"
Chan whined, hiding himself as much as he could. Seungcheol's smile didn't flatter for a second, and neither did the crimson colour on Chan's ears.
"What do you want to eat, darling?" Seungcheol resumed his usage of pet names, seeing as Chan appreciated them just as much but didn't react as dramatically to them. Chan pulled the long sleeve of his torn hoodie, revealing half of his tiny fist and pointing to a certain shop across the street. A pink-painted one with a label of a large ice cream cone filled with vanilla ice cream on top.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes playfully, gazing at Chan's cheeky smile. "How about we go eat some tteokbokki first, and then get some ice cream too?" Seungcheol recommended, and Chan looked at him with wide eyes.
"Is that even possible?" He pondered, a gleam appearing across his expectant eyes that turned Seungcheol's heart into a puddle.
(That was the most Chan had spoken so far, and Seungcheol didn't miss the hoarseness that shouldn't be apparent in such a young child's voice. But that was a problem he'd have to deal with without Chan's immediate assistance)
Seungcheol giggled, bringing his finger to wipe a patch of dirt from the boy's cheek before smiling fondly, "For you, I can make anything you want possible"