r e f l e c t i o n -- part 2.5 / to the end
' Are you two brothers? '
' Does it look like it?'
' Well... '
' We're not though. '
' How'd a pair like you meet then? '
W e don't like talking about that.
In fact, to this day, the two still didn't know their first meeting. The most probable cause to this was because their meeting was in the times where both were vulnerable and, to put it bluntly, at their worst. So, of course, thinking back to such a time was the last thing any of them would do. Flash back to several years ago, when Chen was called Jongdae and Zelo was called Daejung. This was the darkest times for the two - both having a different reason to the other. Poor high schooler Jongdae was being bullied for his looks -- oh, didn't he tell yo? All of those beautiful traits that his wonderful face and body consist of now are fake. Back before he surgically remade himself, he was ugly - well, called that by classmates anyway. Although, even after making himself artificially beautiful, his bullying classmates still couldn't see it, and it just made it worse. Fake faced, they'd call him. And there, he was at his lowest. It was his usual routine to drag himself into school and to his desk where he'd bury his head in his hands or arms before wishing - praying - that he could disappear. Perhaps die. And when a kind enough teacher noticed the worrying teen, they'd send him off to the school infirmary to rest until better. He did this everyday, and nobody or nothing disrupted this routine - unless, of course, it was the brilliant day of the week where he was dragged out to be beat and publicly humiliated in front of the whole school. But today wasn't one of those days. There shouldn't have been anyone disrupting him while he pondered on life and what horrible thing he must've done to deserve this. So why was this boy, covered in bruises and scares and all sorts of wonderful wounds, sitting on the bed opposite? Jongdae narrowed his eyes at the younger boy, who looked incredibly out of place, and who strangely stared at one point for too long. This was until the school nurse came in carrying a tray full of bandages and sterilised equipment; she was probably using up all of the infirmary's stock of treatment just on this one boy. Just by observing the boy, the only thing that came to mind was ' fag ' -- he didn't know why, but it was just something about him. His posture was awfully straight, so way too formal; well, to be honest, his whole demeanour was just cold -- his expression, his body, and even the way he looked off into the distance. "Ah, Jongdae, are you feeling unwell again?" The nurse asked as she began to tend the first of many wounds on the younger boy's body. Chen could merely nod, nervously clearing his throat, the nurse smiling sweet in response. It was in the midst of her light story about her toddler when she noticed the teenager in the opposute bed gving quite the observer’s stare towards the boy she was tending to. “Oh, you two haven’t met yet, have you?” The two boys shook their heads. “Well, why don’t you introduce yourselves?” Even the weird quiet kid looked up at what looked like despair at that point. “My name’s Jongdae.” “My name’s... Junhong. But call me Zelo.” “What kind of name is Zelo?” “It’s derived from the Greek God of rilvary, Zelus and-” “It was a rhetorical question, dude. I didn’t want to know the back story to your whole life.” “...” “You’re a fag.” “No, my name is Zelo.” “Alright, you can be Faglo.”
