Chapter Text
Baekhyun hefts his slipping backpack strap up his shoulder as he looks up in awe.
In front of him, an iconic triangular structure arcs across the road, forming a triangle frame over the cars that pass through it. Next to the triangle, a vertical metal tower sticks up into the air, like the metal chimney of an industrial factory.
The gateway to Seoul National University.
Excitement bubbles up inside Baekhyun. He’s here at last!
Like a tourist, Baekhyun stands at the edge of the road to take a selfie with the triangular metal structure in the background. It takes a while before he manages to find the correct angle that would fit in both his face and the triangular structure.
He sets the timer for 10 seconds, trying out his smile and his hand pose in the meantime. He goes for a thumbs-up sign, before changing his mind to flash a victory sign instead.
3… 2… 1…
Just before the shutter clicks, a shoulder collides into Baekhyun.
Baekhyun is thrown off balance.
Baekhyun’s arms flail around wildly, trying desperately to regain his body’s centre of gravity.
It doesn’t work.
Baekhyun collides face first into the gravel pavement, inhaling a mouthful of dust in the process.
Coughing and spluttering, Baekhyun rubs the dust from his eyes, so that he can open them and regain his sense of sight.
Only that when he opens his eyes, the world around him is a complete blur.
His spectacles must have fallen off.
Squinting, Baekhyun looks up to spot the two blurry human forms walking away from him right now. The fact that one of them had just bumped into Baekhyun and caused him to fall over doesn’t even break their stride.
“Damn country bumpkin tourists,” says the one of them. “Always getting in the way.”
His friend laughs, agreeing with him.
Baekhyun’s face heats up. He’s not a tourist. He’s a student here too, just like the two of them. The only one in his little seaside town who has ever made it here.
Baekhyun looks around for his glasses. He spots them, lying in the dirt an arm’s length away.
He reaches out towards them, but before his fingers can close over them, there’s loud, crunching sound of cracking glass.
Baekhyun looks up. The blurry outline of a girl looms over him.
She puts down her phone in a panic, apparently having been looking at her handphone screen instead of looking at where she was going.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!”
Flustered, she bows profusely at Baekhyun, before she quickly scampers off.
Baekhyun picks up the battered metal frame. The last bits of glass that had been clinging stubbornly to the metal frame succumb to the force of gravity, scratching Baekhyun’s fingers as they fall through Baekhyun’s fingers to shatter on the ground, the glittering grains of glass sparkling amongst the grains of sand and dirt.
Baekhyun holds on feebly to the ruined metal frame as he sits on the pavement in despair.
What is he going to do?
********
Chanyeol stretches his legs. He hates car rides. They’re boring, his long legs feel cramped, and he hates the fact that his world is now trapped within glass windows.
Chanyeol is bored.
He puts down his handphone. There’s nothing interesting on SNS.
There’s a small screen mounted on the back of the car seat in front of him. It’s connected to Netflix, so with a lift of his finger, Chanyeol could choose a movie or a drama series to watch. Boring.
Chanyeol contemplates picking up his tablet, which had been lying on the seat next to him. Perhaps he could game on it for a while. But that prospect sounds boring too.
He looks out of the car window. As he drums his fingers against the base of the car window, the scenery of Seoul whizzes by him. The same old roads and buildings, cars and people. Boring. Seoul is such a boring city. Perhaps he should take a flight to Tokyo or Shanghai after this, spend the weekend there. After all, it’s Friday, and term only starts on Monday.
The car slows to stop. There’s a long line of cars on the road before them, snaking all the way to through the metal triangular frame that signals the entrance to Seoul National University, and far beyond, stretching down the road as far as the eye can see.
Great. More waiting. And more boredom.
Chanyeol sighs. He should be in America, at Harvard. Or the United Kingdom, at Cambridge or Oxford. But instead, here he is, sitting in his car as it crawls its way down the road leading into Seoul National University together. Why is he even here? It’s not as if he’s the same as these plebians who are too poor to study outside of the country.
Then, he remembers why.
Unbidden, his mother’s shrill voice reverberates in his head.
You have to stay in Seoul! Your cousin Yong-gu plays golf with your grandfather every weekend, and your stepsister Yoona goes for high tea with your grandmother every other day. And you want to go abroad for a few years? Don’t come crying to me when you come back and find out that the company has gone to them, and you are left with nothing!
Chanyeol rolls his eyes. It’s just like his mother to worry over nothing. Chanyeol is the first-born son of the first-born son. Since the very day he was born, he has been his grandparents’ darling, their absolute favourite, the apple of their eye who can do no wrong. While they dote on Yong-gu and Yoona as well, Yong-gu is the son of the second son, and Yoona isn’t even legitimate. Her mother is Chanyeol’s father’s mistress. Neither Yong-gu’s or Yoona’s status in the family is ever going to rival Chanyeol’s. And anyway, Chanyeol’s mother is the CEO of her own chaebol conglomerate. Even if Chanyeol inherited only her side of the wealth, Chanyeol would still be one of the richest men in the country.
Next to him, Chi-yeul startles. His arm flies to Chanyeol, ready to steady him and protect him in case the car needs to do an emergency brake.
Chanyeol looks out of the car window, to see what had put his bodyguard on heightened alert.
Chanyeol smirks, slightly amused at what he sees.
It’s just a boy. A boy who is so absorbed in trying to take a selfie with the triangular car gateway to Seoul National University that he’s clearly forgotten that he’s next to a road. In his bid to find the perfect angle, he’s currently taking a few steps backwards, and he’s walking backwards right into their car.
“Stop!” Chi-yeul shouts urgently to the chauffeur. “Don’t move the car!”
But it’s too late. The chauffeur hadn’t seen the boy, since his eyes were looking to the front. The car in front of theirs had inched forward, so he had released his foot from the brake. Their car is now sliding forward.
Once the boy backs right into them, the momentum of the moving car is going to drag him bodily forwards. An injury or an accident waiting to happen.
But miraculously, the boy stops. Just half a step away from the moving car behind him, and he’s found his perfect angle that would accommodate both his face and the triangular gateway behind him.
As their car slides past harmlessly behind the boy, Chanyeol watches as the boy does a thumbs-up sign to the handphone camera, before he changes his mind and switches to a victory sign.
Chanyeol laughs, amused. How lucky is the boy? He has just missed an injury by a hair’s breadth, and he’s still blissfully ignorant of the entire incident.
But just then, a couple of boys, university students from the looks of it, collide straight into the boy. They had been talking and laughing, gesturing wildly as they cracked jokes with each other, walking down the pavement as if they were the kings of the world and they were only ones occupying a public pavement.
The boy is a puny little thing, and the impact of the collision sends him sprawling face first into the dirt, thankfully in the opposite direction of the traffic. The two boys, tall beefy jocks, turn around to look briefly at the fallen boy, before continuing on the way, as if nothing had happened.
Chanyeol watches in amusement as the boy scrambles to his hands and knees, and begins frantically searching for his glasses. Chanyeol spots them easily. They’re lying on the pavement, two arm-spans away from the boy in the two o’clock position. The boy is groping blindly in all the wrong directions, and Chanyeol cheers him on silently.
Ah, the boy seems to spot them at last. He’s no longer groping blindly 360, but he’s scrambling forwards in the right direction at last. His hand is outstretched. Just a couple of centimetres more, and his fingers are going to close down over the glasses… …
A girl walks past, eyes focused on her handphone. Her foot steps right over the spectacles, crushing it beneath the heel of her pink-sequined trainers.
The boy looks up in shock.
The girl freezes in shock too. But her frozen state lasts only for a second, before she her flight mode kicks in. Bowing and apologising profusely, the girl quickly takes off, leaving to the shocked boy behind, still on his hands and knees in the dirt.
Chanyeol laughs. How unlucky is this boy?
Chanyeol watches the poor boy as he sits in the dirt. He’s wearing the drabbest clothes Chanyeol has ever seen a person around his age wearing, a faded loose-fitting stripped shirt that practically swallows up the skinny little boy, and baggy worn jeans that look tattered through genuine wear and tear. Cradling the sad remains of his spectacles, the boy looks especially woeful.
Their car rolls to a stop again, courtesy of the heavy traffic.
“Go down and help him,” says Chanyeol.
Chi-yeul nods in acknowledgement. He opens the car door, and already has one foot out, before Chanyeol speaks again.
“Wait.”
Chi-yeul pauses, awaiting further instructions.
“Ask him what degrees his spectacles are. If it’s around 300, he can have these.”
Chanyeol passes his spectacle box to Chi-yeul. Chanyeol’s wearing contacts right now, so he doesn’t need his glasses at the moment. Besides, he has a few more pairs at home.
Chi-yeul nods and bows, taking over the spectacle box respectfully. He exits the car, light and speedy on his feet, as always.
********
“Would you like a hand?”
Baekhyun looks up. There’s a hand extended in front of him.
Baekhyun takes the hand, and is pulled to his feet.
Once in a standing position, Baekhyun can vaguely make out a male figure standing in front of him.
The man dusts off the dirt off Baekhyun’s hands for him, before doing the same for Baekhyun’s shirt and pants.
He picks up Baekhyun’s backpack, which had been lying in the dirt a distance away. He dusts that clean too, before he hands it over to Baekhyun.
Baekhyun takes it over meekly. He’s so embarrassed. But at the same time, he’s infinitely grateful for this man showing him a little bit of kindness. It makes him feel less like he doesn’t matter.
“Are you all right?” the man asks. “Are you hurt?”
Baekhyun shakes his head. The only casualty from this incident is his spectacles. Without them, Baekhyun is as blind as a bat. What a way to start his first day at Seoul National University.
“What’s the degrees of your glasses?”
“285 degrees, sir.”
From his voice, the way he carries himself, Baekhyun can tell that this is no university student. This is a full-grown adult he’s talking too.
“Ah. You might find these useful then.”
The man holds out a black spectacle case to him. Baekhyun takes it hesitantly.
The box feels heavy. It’s made out a good material, unlike Baekhyun’s own flimsy plastic case. He opens it, and a pair of black round-framed spectacles sit inside.
“Go ahead and try it on,” says the man kindly. “These are 300 degrees, not too far from yours.”
Baekhyun carefully puts it on.
And instantly, the world before Baekhyun’s eyes sharpens itself into crystal-clear clarity.
Baekhyun blinks at the man before him. He’s handsome, with a boyish haircut, dyed light brown with stylish waves in his fringe. He has a boyish face too, with a small face, a heart-shaped jaw, straight nose, high cheekbones and glowing tanned skin. He’s smiling at Baekhyun. He has a boyish smile, but he’s definitely ten years or so older than Baekhyun, perhaps in his late twenties, or early thirties. He’s dressed formally in a black suit, white dress shirt, black tie and black leather shoes.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re most welcome,” says the man, smiling kindly. “My young master was the one that requested I come down to help you.”
“Your… young master?”
The man smiles and nods, inclining his head in the direction of a nearby car. Baekhyun turns to look, noticing it for the first time. Traffic has come to a standstill, thus allowing the man to disembark from the car. No doubt, the young master the master is referring to must be seated inside the car. But the windows of the are tinted to protect the privacy of its occupants, so Baekhyun can’t see who’s seated inside it.
The car looks big, shiny and expensive. Baekhyun does not know much about car brands, but he does recognise the round metal logo, with three straight spokes connecting in the centre. It’s a Mercedes, and it’s not the ordinary kind either. It’s longer than usual, a limousine.
“Oh. Your young master is so kind.”
“The spectacles are from him too,” smiles the man.
“Thank you. I’ll return them to him as soon as possible.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a gift from my young master.”
Baekhyun looks back down at the spectacles box. There’s a single word embossed on it.
Gucci.
Baekhyun looks up. The man is already in the middle of getting back onto the limo.
“Wait! But… but this is too expensive!” Baekhyun calls out.
The man turns back to look at Baekhyun.
“My Young Master says it’s fine. You can keep it.”
After saying this, the man starts to board the car.
“Wait! Who’s your Young Master?”
The man pauses. He seems to momentarily consult someone inside the limo, before he turns back to Baekhyun to answer him.
“My Young Master’s name is Park Chanyeol.”