| Fan Fiction |
by Micah
Yoochun made a mental note to himself to never hit Mr. Kim on his head.
“Then how about music? Do you have a song you like?” Yoochun inquired as he shuffled through the rack of CDs.
“What song do you know?”
Yoochun didn’t like the meaning behind his question. “I don’t sing.”
“I’m not asking you to sing, I’m ordering you to sing. However, feel grateful that I am willing to let you pick the song.”
“I don’t know any songs,” Yoochun lied.
“I’ve heard you sing while you cook.”
Yoochun frowned (those frowns were rubbing off on him). He remembered when he had wanted to become a singer. Unfortunately, no one would tolerate an ugly celebrity.
“I do have a favorite song…”
“Then sing it, and for once, don’t argue with me. I woke up with a huge headache,” Mr. Kim grumbled.
“Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Sing.”
“I said I have a favorite song, but it’s been a long time since I’ve sung it. I can’t remember the lyrics. I remember the melody.”
“Fine, hum it,” he ordered rudely.
Taking a deep breath, Yoochun began to hum, staring at Mr. Kim’s expression the whole time. His eyes were open, but they were hollow. He had no emotion on his face that Yoochun could read, but at least his body seemed less tense.
When he finished the song, Mr. Kim inquired, “What song is that?”
“The title is ‘Rising Sun’,” Yoochun said with a smile. It was his favorite song.
It clearly was not a song Mr. Kim liked because he scowled at the title as he quietly hissed, “Idiot.”
“What?” Yoochun was confused. It didn’t confuse him that Mr. Kim was using an insulting term. It confused him because Mr. Kim was mumbling it, rather than shouting it…meaning he wasn’t intending on calling Yoochun the ‘idiot’. Then was he calling himself an ‘idiot’?
“Do you notice that I am blind? I may never see another sunrise again in my life!” he threw the mug that he was holding onto the ground.
The shattering glass frightened Yoochun. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Mr. Kim looked like he was actually trying to control his anger. This was new.
“Forget it,” he mumbled. “This…being blind and helpless…it irritates me. It irritates me that I cannot see, that I no longer have control of my life, that…”
He stopped talking and Yoochun looked at his blank eyes. Then he looked lower at the blind man’s closed lips. It was as if he had so much to say, but did not know how.
“I’m sorry,” Yoochun repeated.
Mr. Kim sighed. “It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t be sorry. The person who should be sorry is the one who caused my accident. I’ll find him and when I do, I’ll make sure he’s put in jail for the rest of his life.”
■■■■■
“I’ve cleaned every inch of your beach house in just three days; I feel so proud of myself!” Yoochun cheered.
“Stupid Mouse,” Mr. Kim grumbled in reply.
“It’s Micky.”
“Mouse,” he spoke with finality.
Yoochun rolled his eyes. “Sure, call me whatever you want, you’re the boss,” he retorted in a rude tone.
“What kind of person finds satisfaction in cleaning a house? Am I wrong in calling you stupid?”
“So what if I find satisfaction in completing ‘little’ tasks? It sure makes my life happier than yours.”
“You have no idea what ‘happy’ is.”
“I suppose you do?” Yoochun countered. Mr. Kim remained silent so the skinnier man continued, “I know you’ve been unhappy about losing your sight, but can’t you look on the bright side?”
“‘Look on the bright side’?” his employer cocked a sarcastic eyebrow as he turned towards Yoochun’s voice.
“Okay, wrong choice of words. But…you lost your sight. It’s a lot better than losing an arm or a leg. There are people in this world who are starving or suffering in ways that are worse than you.”
“At least they can see!”
“What good are eyes when you don’t have friends, family, or just food? Don’t think you’re the most miserable person on earth,” Yoochun nearly shouted. “I’m sick of you always sitting there feeling sorry for yourself.”
“I’m sick of your bickering,” the other man exclaimed.
“Very well, I shall not speak another word,” Yoochun declared, mimicking Mr. Kim’s tone of finality.
■■■■■
For the next week, Yoochun did not say a word to Mr. Kim. He enjoyed knowing that after three days, it was beginning to annoy the jerk.
Too bad he was too hard headed to admit…until a whole week later.
“Where is my breakfast?” he demanded loudly.
Yoochun made sure he could hear the sound of the plate landing on the table in front of him. He loudly placed the utensils in a convenient position along with a glass of orange juice. Everything was positioned in the exact spot just like every morning so that he would know where to reach.
Then Yoochun turned away to leave, but Mr. Kim spoke, “Have they delivered the newspaper yet?”
Yoochun walked out to the porch and picked up the newspaper. Walking back in, he slammed it loudly onto the table and turned to walk away.
“You expect me to read the newspaper?” Mr. Kim’s voice dripped venom.
Purposely walking so his employer could hear his footsteps, Yoochun turned on the stereo and tuned it to the news channel. He heard Mr. Kim cuss and smiled happily to himself.
“Damn it, come back here!” he finally shouted. Yoochun picked up the broom and swept it across the floor loudly. “Forget the sweeping! Turn off the radio! Sit down here and read me the news!”
Yoochun tapped a finger on the tip of the broom and wondered how he could tell the other man to ‘Go to hell’ without speaking.
“Okay, I’m sorry! Now would you please speak?”
His face was red and he looked dangerously angry. It didn’t match his soft features and Yoochun had to wonder if it was possible to pull off ‘cute,’ ‘beautiful,’ and ‘handsome’ all at once.
Yoochun made a, “Hmm…” sound and wondered if it was considered speaking.
“I don’t ever apologize to anyone! Don’t push me to the edge!” he spoke through gritted teeth; perfectly straight and white teeth.
Yoochun smiled and walked back over to him. He opened up the newspaper and sat down in the chair next to the jerk. “Let’s see…oh, look, our country’s soccer team just won another match!”
“Read me the financial section.”
“I like the Sports section though,” Yoochun said.
Mr. Kim looked like he wanted to fire Yoochun right on the spot. Then he calmed himself and simply grumbled, “Fine.”
■■■■■
“What are you doing now?”
“The doors on the cabinets are a bit loose. I’m going to fix them. Where do you keep the tool box?”
“Don’t touch them,” Mr. Kim spoke in a cold voice.
“What?”
“I’ll fix them myself,” he retorted, frowning again.
Yoochun couldn’t understand. “But…”
“If I never get my sight back then those doors are going to stay loose forever. Don’t you dare fix them, got it?”
Yoochun sighed in defeat. “Fine.”
■■■■■
When he walked out to the living this morning, he found Mr. Kim sitting on the sofa staring at nothing. He was really good at making his way around the house without any help.
The television was on and he was randomly clicking on the remote control. Yoochun wondered how long it took him to find the controller.
“Good morning.”
“It is already seven and you say ‘Good morning’?”
Yoochun glanced at the T.V. and guessed that he had been watching the six o’clock news and the one hour program was just now ending.
“Am I supposed to say ‘Good night’?” he retorted. He liked waking up early, but that didn’t mean Yoochun did.