Chapter Text
The two of them started with a pair of screams.
One was a yellow scream, jovial and vibrant, half laugh in nature. A skeleton of excitement with a skin of childish humor. Chubby cheeks and a large smile mirror the structure of this scream, and give birth to it from the frame of a tiny five year old boy. His feet stumble over themselves, trying desprately to evade a tagger and the threat of becoming 'It'.
The other was a purple scream, high and terrified, all surprise and no fun. Built from shock and fear in equal measure, twining together behind two tightly closed eyes. Its escape is a quiet mouth without a choice in the matter, the body it is attached to sent tumbling under the force of another boy the same age.
They started with a pair of screams, as different as could be. They were opposites, they always would be, and Wonwoo knew that very well. Not that he minded.
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The room is large and square, each wall painted a different pastel shade and every table ready with a list of four names in its center. Orderly and clean, the sort of safe space that every kindergarten classroom should be. The door, which is propped open by a chair with tennis balls on its legs, is covered in rainbows- 15 of them, Wonwoo made sure to count- and outside a chorus of happy squeals can be heard. Classmates, running around and playing with one another. His teacher sits at her desk, her long hair pulled back into a pretty braid, glancing out side every moment or two to check on her students.
From where Wonwoo sits he can see the butterfly clips in her hair, ones that himself and his classmates were allowed to put into her braid earlier that day. They are bright in the sun that streams across her desk, shades of purple and blue glittering in the light. Stray hairs dip down, escaped from clip and braid alike, and hang over a book as big as the ones his Mommy likes to read. He wants to read it too, and see what makes those big books so interesting, but be isn't old enough. He hasn't practiced enough, not yet. That's okay. He will get there, one day. That's what mommy tells him, and he trusts that she is right.
Practice, practice- he wants to read, and he will. This is the one day a week he is allowed to stay inside and read, he shouldn't waste it wishing he could read a bigger book. A sigh escapes puffed up cheeks, he shakes his head, and then it's back to reading, hanging over a collection of Frog and Toad.
Tuesday has gone well for the him so far. Math made sense, as it always does. Circle time was quiet and they got to watch an episode of Bill Nye. The girl who always sneezes on him is absent. A good day, the sort that deserves a pat on the back.
Outside some children skip rope, trying to beat one another in their records. A girl plays on the monkey bars, going back and forth over and over. 6 kids are playing a game of tag, and have been for a while now. Things are normal and happy.
Then someone runs inside, skidding around the doors edge and trying desprately to avoid being tagged. His shrieking giggles eminate through the room as their teacher calls his name and that of his pursuer, telling both to stop. But he is too busy running with his face turned back, tongue sticking out of his mouth between giggles. Then his feet are out from under him, and he screams, the happy scream of someone just playing a game to play, not to win or lose. His tumble is quick, end over end, face to carpet and legs flailing in the air. The breath is forced out of his chest, but still, he is happier than not, although the scrape of his cheek across the floor is less than pleasant.
In the same instant Wonwoo is jarred into reality, the book thrown from his lap, his body sent tumbling under the weight of someone his own size. His scream is far less happy. In fact, its terrified and high pitched, accompanied by the smack of a knee into his nose and his head to the floor. Both arms are pinned under him. What happened he can't be sure, but it was sudden and it caused him hurt.
They tumble to the ground together, one removed from imagination as the other fails to evade his pursuer. Limbs tangle in the frantic seconds after the impact.
"Soonyoung!"
Another yell of that name rings out, and shuffled steps follow quickly behind it, both stern in a motherly way. Under the noise Wonwoo whimpers faintly, one hand managing to free itself and press against his aching nose. Soonyoung is the first to get himself upright, both hands pushing himself up over the fallen Wonwoo. Half his face turned red from rug burn and tears already run down his cheeks. He hears his name, but doesn't look toward it the way he should. He isn't disobedient, really he isn't- he just wants to be of help to the poor kid bringing a second hand to his nose.
A series of sniffles accompanies the soft tugging of Wonwoo's jacket, Soonyoung doing what he can to be of help to the person he had just hurt. Guilt is already clear in his narrow eyes- Wonwoo can see it in the blurry squinting be tries to maintain. Both of his elbows swivel down, trying to sit himself up as well, and the pair manage to get him upright together. The world is swimming around Wonwoo, and he has to shut his eyes so he won't face it.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Soonyoung is babbling, trying to rub the sides of his arms, wipe the water from his leaking eyes. He can't see it, but half the boy's face is bright red, and the apple of it is starting to bleed a little. Something wet is starting to materialize on his sleeves. Syllables are blurring together as they spill from Soonyoung's lips, his tearful eyes still firmly on Wonwoo. "I'm sorry I fell on you! Are you okay?" The boys hand tugs at other tugs Wonwoo'a sleeve. It dislodges one hand.
Five little fingers are bright with blood, more escaping from his nose, and the sight is so startling that Soonyoung goes still, a sleeve caught in his grasp. Big brown eyes stare at the hand. No one moves. The stillness makes Wonwoo's chest tighten, so he opens his eyes to see what is going on. His hand is red. Too red. A spark of fear races through his mind.
Their teacher crouches before the two boys just as a shriek of fear escapes him. Flutters of worry and worried noises invade Wonwoo's space, as well as a tissue that squeezes past his sleeve and presses to the source of the red on his hand. It's pinch is just a little too hard, the urge to pull away barely stifled under the need to get help- if he's bleeding all over his hands, he just *has* to be dying. Nothing else makes sense. Tiny hands shake, afraid of getting red everywhere or making things worse. The soothing words do nothing to help calm him. He just wants his Mommy.
While pain has not gone away, it is subsumed by a tide of fear- one that blocks out his memory for the next few minutes. No matter how hard he tries, in the years to come he will only ever have Soonyoung's account of those couple minutes. The ones where his hands are cleaned by his teacher and find their way to the hem of a fellow students shirt. The ones where babbled apologies melt into Soonyoung's hand keeping a tissue to his nose. Neither have stopped crying.
His eyes blink open when he didn't remember closing them, and they land on the profile of his classmate, looking at their teacher. She huddles over the phone by their door, speaking to someone on the other side of the line. Wonwoo blinks, heart rate slowing, the pain in his face dulled to a steady ache that refuses to be removed.
He let's go of Soonyoung's sweater, and makes an effort to pinch his own nose. The touch is too tight like this. Or- what if it's the only thing keeping him alive? As the hand helping him falls away, he finds himself pinching his nose as hard as he can. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to.
"I'm-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to kick you-" Soonyoung rushes, the high pitched worrying he had been doing a moment before making its return, "Was I pinching too hard? I'm so sorry, Mrs. Han told me to be careful- I'm sorry."
Wonwoo had always been quiet. He didn't enjoy talking very much and tended to find company among others who avoided words. Silence came to him when he panicked, or found himself in pain. But words seem neccisary now, especially since someone was trying to save him from emptying all the blood from his body.
"Thank you." His eyes are still welling with tears, partially in fear and partially from the sharp pressure of his pinching.
Soonyoung is confused, that much is clear. A furrow forms on his brow, his quick-moving lips scrunched up into a pursed line. "For what? I kicked you- I hurt you." Built fills out the creases that had crossed his face with the confusion.
Wonwoo shifts, blinking fast to get rid of tears. "You tried to keep me from dying."
There is nothing for a minute but staring. Then Soonyoung giggles, both hands over his little mouth. The rug burned cheek bunches up from it, and now it is Wonwoo's turn to furrow his eyebrows.
"You can't die from a bloody nose!"