Chapter Text
The Death of Muckle Black Tyke
Episode 1 / The Black Dog
There were some truths about Yoo Kihyun that people knew as gospel: he got up at six thirty O’clock every day without delay; he did his daily routine in the same order: wake up, clean up his bed, shower, teeth, skin care, clothes, breakfast, teeth again and out he was into the world; he always cooked for himself, and actually should be praised for his cooking skills; he loved photography, and actually had started using it to win money on his first year of college; and he was openly, but not a flamboyant, gay. He had, for the past eleven year or more, stuck to that routine and only gave it up when there was no way he could follow it through - his college years were such a blur mostly because following such a routine was impossible even for the soundest of minds, but when he graduated and started working, he stuck to it like glue. His coworkers knew him to be respectful, kind, a bit on the dramatic side and very professional, a role model on work ethics despite his young age. He never declined an invitation to drinks or dinner with them twice in a row. He never spoke informally and he never showed any bad habits, and on the times his temper flared up, he knew how to rein it back down and keep the interaction pleasing enough. They all knew he had to be imperfect somewhere, and Kihyun himself admitted to that begrudgingly, but a social or a work setting was no such place.
The only problem was that “such place” was inside of his head.
Or well, nowadays it was.
Before, it had been out in the open. His temper flared and mellowed with the same intensity a storm carried. He was strict, sarcastic and very passionate. He was himself, or tried to be, unapologetically and free. And the results had showed Kihyun that, really, he shouldn’t show people what he really thought or felt if he wanted a quiet, peaceful existence. And oh how much he wanted that.
Kihyun’s mother often chided and nagged him for being too skinny and tiny [he just never had a big appetite!], his father reprimanded him for being too neurotic [wanting his living quarters to be organized and clean was a sign for neurosis now?], his brother made fun of him for being so feminine [Really? Having a skin care routine was solely for women now? Jesus Christ….], his former friends had gradually stopped hanging out with him because he nagged like a mother-in-law [He just wanted them to be safe, clean and successful adults! He was nagging for their own good!], and his former high school classmates had just resumed it all by calling him a pervert [really, a pervert, because he was a bit too organized for a teenager, and had tinier built, was a church choir kid and wasn’t all that good in sports? Unbelievable]. All in all, Kihyun had learnt the hard way, that his life was going to be exponentially better if he just took his opinions and habits and shoved them deep inside his core were no one could see them in the naked eye. Hiding his true self meant peace. He needed to learn such skills.
And well had he learnt. Where before there was family issues, he quieted them down by eating two snacks more a day [at least the weeks prior to visiting his parents], never voicing out his issues with how things were done [so his father wouldn’t get annoyed with him and start going on about what had done wrong in his upbringing] and waking up before the sun rose [so his brother couldn’t see his daily routine unfold] and with strangers, or peers by association, where there had been bullying in high school, by college he was decently liked by most people in his year [because he could get them good grades by working with him], he just had to bottle his temper inside [because his attitude had always been a problem] and keep his real self restrained long enough for people not to see.
Sadly, that brought a tiny black pup with him.
One that grew as fast as any dog would grow.
One that was black as the night, and just as engulfing.
Black dogs have, in some cultures, been associated with less than happy meanings. Portents of death, crossroads, Sirius Black and his despondent attitude… all those meaning just jumbled together just meant one thing to Kihyun in the grand scheme of things: depression. It was a harsh reality he lived with every single hour of every single day, sometimes soft and whimpering, other harsh and barking. He never thought of himself as that guy who could fall into such a dark hole, and yet, at 26 years old, he faces his life with a grim outlook and shame. Shame, because he had a job that he should enjoy - as he had wanted a carrier in journalism since he graduated college and finally, after years of taking pictures at shitty baby showers and over the top weddings, he could finally say he was writing and taking pictures for a decent newspaper -, an apartment that was mostly paid off - thanks to the inheritance his beloved grandfather left for him -, food on his plate - that he once enjoyed cooking for himself - and some decent acquittances that he actually found tolerable.
In reality, he knew being depressed was not something he should let himself BE, and should have fought harder when he felt it initially crept in the back of his mind, taking hold of every little insecurity he had ever felt. At first it was manageable, mostly because he had always prided himself in being logical and sensible, so he knew most of the thoughts he was having were largely untrue. He knew that anything his insecurities said was just, and really just, bullshit. And then came the progressive mulling. What if those thoughts were true? What if he really was such a nuisance to everyone and keeping everything inside was the best course of action? He worked hard on being cheerful, secure in his professional ideas and efficient in his work, he worked hard to be respected and well liked, unlike how his formative years had been, full of quarrels and harsh words thrown around indiscreetly. He had been himself back then, and himself had gotten ridiculed, beaten up and discarded like a dirty rag when being around him had become uncomfortable.
Losing friends in that context was the worst part of it, if he thought about it hard enough. He thought the people he considered his friends were going to stick by him, defend him when teachers gave him the back and bullies took advantage of his smaller frame… but they never did. Or maybe they tried, but his prideful, spiteful self had pushed them away. He tried to look over everything that had happened in high school, but every mistake ate away at his self confidence, at his self love. He had learnt to blame himself for every mistake, for every misplaced scream, and couldn’t really blame them for leaving. In the end, it was his fault. Like it was his parents were annoyed and disappointed and how he had turned out, like it was with his brother that was ashamed of him.
So he hid. It was easy, really. He discovered he could have been an actor with all the power he had over his involuntary reactions. Or a politician. Well, he still could, if it didn’t feel so fucking exhausting to even think about the future. Hell, thinking about the next day was awful. Getting by the hour was painful. Working was becoming painful too.
He feared the day breathing could become just as painful.
Looking out of the window on the right side of his desk, he tried hard not to let his tumultuous thoughts show on his face. He felt so drained, and hadn’t been able to concentrate for hours now; his brain went on this rollercoaster ride down every part of him that disgusted him about himself and really, it wasn’t very productive. The last few weeks had been like this one, even if he had forced himself to do stuff he actually enjoyed once, but nothing seemed to feel the void and calm down the black dog. He was vicious and angry, his barks ringing inside his ears, defeating him to the real world.
His coworkers had noticed, of course, about his lack of productivity and slump. But his boss had been lenient enough to let him be a bit behind given his past performance, if he stayed after hours to finish his work. He was actually grateful to not be dropped on the spot, but he also felt worse, because what had he done to deserve such treatment? He had just done his work all this time, nothing worth noticing over the others. And being for the third night in a row stuck in front of his computer unable to concentrate was driving himself up the wall.
“Yoo Kihyun-sunbaenim! Still here?” Asked one of his coworkers, Yoon Jeonghan. He actually was an intern, fresh out of college, but was the new talk of the newspaper: he was tall, slim, with luscious long hair and pleasing features; a smooth talker if you ever heard one, but his charms had everyone enamored with him by the hour. Kihyun liked him alright, like he liked anyone else nowadays, really.
“Yoon Jeonghan- hoobae, yes. I’m still here, Where you organizing files till this hour? Thank you for the great work!” He praised, smiling tiredly at the younger man, who rewarded him with a beaming smile.
“You are too kind, sunbae. But aren’t you going home? It’s almost ten past twenty. You live close by?” He pressed, walking a bit closer to Kihyun’s desk. The older male felt himself tense from the unwanted proximity, and the black dog was barking louder inside his head. He clutched the closest pen he could reach so Jeonghan couldn’t see his hands going white from the stress he was putting on them.
“Yeah, it’s just a twenty minute walk, give it or take. I’ll be fine hoobae, but you should go! It’s late and you take the train, do you not?” The younger nodded “then go, I’ll finish up here and close. Lee-nim trusted me with the keys.”
“Are you sure? We could walk together, sunbae. It’s lonely to walk alone in dark nights like this…” the young journalist trailed off, looking out the window, pondering. Kihyun joined him in silence, his eyes finding the same scenery he saw every day and that once filled him with pride. It only looked like a blur, now.
“I have to finish this up, but I’ll take on that offer next time, what do you say?” Asked in return Kihyun, trying to make a mental note to keep himself from denying Jeonghan the next time, even if it pained him. The dog growled.
Jeonghan smiled.
“I hope you finish early, sunbae. Have a good night and see you tomorrow!”
With that, the man left the building, his steps slowly dissipating down the stairs and Kihyun felt he could finally breath again. He once loved to be around people and felt good when his smiles, albeit a bit faked, were returned with enthusiasm. The last few weeks, it felt like every smile gave was more of a grimace, and every once he got in return was mocking him in secret…
That train of thought had to stop.
Groaning, he looked at the document he had open in his computer and felt his soul slowly trying to get free from his body.
_____________
Yoo Kihyun actually had friends in high school. Like, good friends.
Well, when he was in middle school, because high school was the time everything went to hell, but you get the idea.
There was Lee Hoseok. Or well… Shin, he supposed, after her mother remarried. Slightly older, so he forced Kihyun to call him hyung even if the difference in age wasn’t all that big of a deal. A kind, sensitive little boy who had been his friend since elementary school. The guy was the cry baby, the softest creature to grace the land with his presence and Kihyun absolutely adored him when they were kids. He thought of himself as Hoseok’s protector, in a way, even if the boy was a tae kwon do student and actually could crush anyone between his hands. Hoseok gentleness and good nature made it impossible for him to defend himself, and Kihyun was all trigger happy to go off on the bullies. But by the time the reached high school… well… Hoseok had become popular, in a way. He had grown into his strength, his body buffing up and his face getting handsome, more handsome that it was fair to be. He still was kind and gentle, but had learnt that playfulness actually paid off more than the aggressiveness Kihyun had always used like his armour. By their second year of high school, the distance between themselves was far too great to be filled and, honestly? Kihyun knows nothing about the guy in the present. He still hoped he was well, thought.
Then, there was Lee Jooheon, who was a year younger. He was a church boy, just like him. He was the scaredy cat, the kid who was easy to tease and the kind of person who didn’t quite understand about social cues. Kihyun had taken upon himself to shield him when other kids in the neighborhood teased them for going to church regularly and actually enjoying partaking in choir activities. Jooheon was so sweet, his mother used to call him “Honey” and the nickname actually stuck around, much to his horror. Music was their main thing; together, they played guitar, danced around and tried - and failed - to compose music. But a year in difference was huge when they were kids, and by the time Kihyun was being left behind by his peers in high school, people had taken notice in Jooheon’s evident musical talent. So, Kihyun took distance, because who would have wanted to be associated with the weird, angry choir kid that couldn’t be liked by anyone? Certainly not Jooheon, not at all. He still saw the kid’s mother whenever he visited his own parents, and knew enough about the other’s life - was good, living in Seoul as himself, working for a record company and actually was a rapper, who would have thought - to feel confident in his decision.
And then, there was Im Changkyun, who was even younger than Jooheon. The kid was unexpressive as they came, and was admittedly, the weirdest human being Kihyun had the pleasure of ever getting to know. He was interested in the creepiest shit - insects, blood, and weird science-y stuff Kihyun never bothered really understanding - and even as a young teen, had the deepest voice he had ever heard. That, if he wasn’t creaming at the top of his lungs or trying to act cute to both Hoseok and Kihyun. He usually succeeded in his schemes, getting both food and cuddles out of them. Sadly, even if Kihyun adored the kid, and actually fantasized of being able to stay friends with him in high school, just a year before Kihyun went into that hell hole, Changkyun’s family was transferred to Boston. Between tears and hugs, they had promised to keep in touch. They never did.
So yeah, Kihyun had people he really cared about in high school, but his unpleasant self had driven everyone away. He couldn’t blame Hoseok and Jooheon, not really, when he was the one driving everyone away and not clinging to that relationship. But what hurt the most was learning both of his former friends had become chummy with his main tormentors over the course of high school life. Both Hoseok and Jooheon had become friends with Son Hyunwoo and Lee Minhyuk, source of terror and bane of his existence, respectively. But that’s a story for another time, I’m afraid.
___________
Kihyun knew his thoughts were starting to become dangerous when he found himself pondering on the concept of suicide outside of the passing observation of: “oh, yeah, it’s so sad that people go into that mental space the can’t escape”. He was at the stage of “the relief they must have felt when the pain was over must have been amazing”.
It was scary to realize just how dark he had become in the past months. And what was scarier, he knew if he chose to end his life, the most probable person to notice was going to be his boss, because he didn’t hand in the assignment given to him the day before. His mother surely was going to be notified next, and so would his father be told, and then his brother, of course. But aside from some distant family members he couldn’t remember the faces of, and some high school hypocrites, he doubted his funeral was going to be a notorious affair. Who would, in their sound mind, go to his funeral out of real care for him, really? His boss would be obligated to do so, maybe some professors he had a semi-close relationship with in college, and maybe his most recent ex boyfriend, Min Yoongi, because his mom still had his number, and they actually still saw each other as pleasant acquaintances when meeting each other for business - the male was one of the best marketeers Kihyun had ever known. But people still relevant to his present life? He hardly had anyone that could fit that description.
And suicide seemed such a far away concept, at first. It was something he wouldn’t even dare to attempt, as a devoted christian, and something he originally told himself was never going to do to his parents. He wasn’t selfish, he told himself. He wasn’t a coward, nor was he a quitter, he stated, firmly in his head. But the looming presence of the black dog made him realize, if he let himself be a bit cynical, that those preconceptions were just bullshit. That was things people never dealt with such feelings told people who dealt with them to appear worried or involved in the process, but they didn’t know. They didn’t feel. They didn’t feel the contradictions inside his head that paralyzed him on his bed when he was supposed to be sleeping, or when he was supposed to stand up in the morning. They didn’t see the dullness in the world, that had shaded the world in such a unflattering shade of muddy brown, and had made once a beautiful world, just a thing he had to deal with because it was just… there. And they didn’t see how much he wanted NOT to be like that, how much he struggled to rationalize everything, and tell himself that all that crap was just in his head. That those thoughts weren’t real.
But they were. Very much so.
So he kept pushing, he kept fighting a losing battle every day, just because he could, because he still could drag the strength he thought lost to move and do his routine every day as it should be done, and go to work and finish his assignments with less remark-ability, but still pretty good in quality, if his boss word’s were anything to get by. He tried to keep people ignorant of his struggles so hard, he sometimes forgot he was actually struggling with anything. In those moments he felt alive again, even if for a little while.
Yet, he knew he couldn’t keep this up. It was unsustainable in the very definition of the word. But then what? What could he do? Go to therapy?
He had actually considered… getting professional help. He had actually booked an appointment with a mental health professional twice and never actually got there because… because he panicked. Why he panicked, he couldn’t really describe it, but it was like the dog was bitting at his ankles, vicious and angry, and every step he took closer to the doctor’s office, the worst the pain got. So, in the end, he backtracked. Every time that had happened, the dog got quieter, almost pleasant in the back of his head, curled up and content. He felt such relief getting back to his apartment, just to be filled with shame and disappointment right after, as one felt when failing at something important. He was filling to be responsable. He was failing to himself because he was scared, of all things.
But when he booked a third appointment, just a few days after his last crisis, when he just had energy to keep himself from crying in front of his boss for a missed dead line, he failed to get there too.
And that’s where we are today. In that lonely road headed right to the unknown.
He was just there, in the city, the flashing light s of cars speeding right besides him in the narrow pathway he had chosen to get from one side to the city to the other. The doctor he had tried to visit that day was actually on the other side of Seoul, and he had commuted for about forty-five minutes before hiving in to the dog and scrambling away, with his breath short and head spinning. He felt like such a waste of space. Like such a failure. No wonder his parents and brother couldn’t bare him really.
Walking was such a task, so he stopped doing so, looking down at the concrete sidewalk like it could show him the answers to his issues. Like it could get him out of that mental space and into that counselors office once and for all, so that person could help him rein the dog in and stop this spiral right into madness. He needed something, anything. But concrete was just concrete, inert, dead as stone.
Dead as he could be if he just leaned sideways into incoming traffic.
With a start, Kihyun pinched his hand hard enough to bruise, but it was enough to get him out of that trance, in which he undoubtedly could have jumped into traffic if he didn’t have such a strong grip on himself still. He felt pain, so that meant he still was alive. And alive was good, right?
Right?
He forced him to stand closer to the wall, a mere feet away from the busy, heavily driven street, but it felt like an ocean between himself damnation and relief. He hadn’t meant that last thought.
Trying to get a grip on himself, he tried breathing slowly. He held his breath for three seconds and the released it shakily. That actually had helped him before, when he had been contemplating such things before, and had gotten the more rational part of his brain working again. But today it seemed that even trying to breath was a chore. It was just all so tiring. All so hard to do. He didn’t know who he was anymore, nor how to get back to better times, or at least less shitty ones.
He glanced to the street, the cars speeding relentlessly down the street. It was that kind of street were they were supposed to be careful because people could cross it, but no one paid much attention because, let’s be honest, with three lanes on one side and three on the other, no one should be trying to cross it. There was an overpass, for that purpose exactly, less than half a mile away, fully covered to keep people from falling.
Kihyun hated feeling disappointed at such a fact.
He didn’t know why his feet had walked closer to the street, but he didn’t mind when the drift of cars passing by played with his fringe in such. Gentle way, it almost felt like a caress. It had been a while since he had felt such tenderness in a touch, even if it was because of the wind. But the wind made his skin feel cold, and he was mortifies to realize it was because of cooling tears.
Looking up to the sky, he tried hard to suppress them, or at least to make them roll back inside his eyes, the traitors. But he couldn’t help himself. He was crying alone on a car-filled, lonely street at eight o’clock at night without anything to look out for his future. He was tired and the dog was gnawing at his heart, pushing him to get everything over with. The end the pain his sharp teeth broke into his flesh. His rational brain doubted he could ever get himself killed by a car even if he jumped at the right second, and the idea of failure in killing himself was even more mortifying. But it was perfect, in a way. If he really ended up dead, then… then…
Then…
The he heard someone shout from somewhere down the path, but couldn’t be bothered to look up.
Then…
Then he heard it again, closer.
Then…
Then he felt it right beside him.
“Yo!! Short guy!! Hi!!” He heard that someone scream, but his brain was so hazed, that even his movements were slow and detached “Wow, are you ok? You look… hey, dude, are you crying…? What are you doing…?” The voice, once cheerful sounded concerned, and that broke the spell.
Right in front of him, there was a face he thought he should remember: it was pleasing to look at, that was for sure, with a sharp nose, gentle upturned eyes and pretty mouth. The hair was almost honey like, but not really. It shone golden under the street lights. The man was tall, well built, but skinny and sharp everything. His coat was crisp, and his shoes weren’t polished, but still looked decent enough on Kihyun’s opinion. Drying his eyes discretely, or as discretely as he could with someone looking him intensely and straight, he pushed his mask back on, in fear the man was a client.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
The man snickered, but his eyes reminded concerned and aware. Just as aware as they were before.
Once before.
Kihyun’s brean caught in his throath and wished he had jumped straight into oncoming traffic a few minutes ago.
“Really? Four years in the same class and you forgot about me, Yoo Kihyun? I’m wounded. But your friend Lee Minhyuk here needs a beer and you are coming with me,”
Kihyun felt himself faint.