Archive of Our Own ^beta

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I would never stop thinking about that day. There was a point where I considered him my only friend along with one other girl. That was right when I had been raped and everyone else I knew and loved ghosted me. I think that's when I grew attached, or feelings. Maybe both. I needed it. I needed company. Have a conversation and genuinely talk through the worst experience of my life so far. The thoughts I had since that moment, the ideas and twisted feelings I had grown to consider. It was the worst few months of my life. And I had someone that cared. Someone that was of actual authority, that helped.

And it helped talking to him. He touched me so often with just words, never hands. And not just obvious attempts to comfort. It were actual new perspectives the man offered to me as well as talking me entirely through the melt downs. It was healing. Of course it healed. When loved, talking heals people as time passes. Professor Jeong healed me. Especially considering how my best friend of 3 years left me. Told me she needed time to forgive me for it. For the rape. For being raped. But that's a different story.
I was just so glad to have been able to talk.

I had weird fantasies. Always did. I wanted him to hug me. Wrap me in his strong arms and with his rough fingers, caress my hair. Maybe he'd talk a little softer. Whisper in my ear how it would all be okay. Gently hold me like I'm the most vulnerable thing in the world. That was it. That was all I ever wanted but knew I couldn't have. Professor Jeong never went that far. Not even a single touch, ever. He wouldn't. He was a man of honor, he can't. Oh how jealous I had been of his wife, his two daughters whom were my age, slightly older. How they trusted their old man the way he trusted them. And maybe that was all I seeked inside of him. Trust and a little bit more. It was selfish of me really. I can't play daddy and son with him, I knew that. It was weird it was strange it didn't make sense for him. Why would it. But even though I tried to hide that part, it was his tongue those words rolled on first.
He confessed to me, in the warmest way I had ever known. That even if I didn't say it, he felt the void he was able to fill inside of me. And that it was okay.

''As though you find what you've longed for your whole life. That stable, loving fatherly connection you seek in me. I can feel the way it affected you. Made you question your worth. But trust me when I say this, my dear Mingi. You are a Young intelligent man. Never forget that.''.

He said it to me like I had a place in his heart. I'm sure he knows that he meant more to me than I ever meant to him. He knows a depressed kid when he sees one. Never would he love me the way I have loved him. It was just... impossible. Never would he grab my hand and smile at me and tell me he's proud of me, or that he does have a special place for me in that old man heart of his. Take me to the corner and touch my soul in the deepest parts. Make me wonder if the gods were real, and if they were, why they granted me this luck. It was sinful, I knew that. but I also knew it wasn't romance that drove me to this. I wanted him physically as close as possible to who I was inside. He's already seen it. I bet it would feel similar. Just a little more out of breath.

Why does sex need to be romance when to me this is about closeness?

Mutual understanding. How I feel understood, touched by his words and just knowing he's there when I need him.

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The fresh hotel sheets were becoming hot as I gripped and held them tightly. My own whimpering was out of slight pain but I knew he didn't notice. Maybe he did but could not care less. My hands felt empty and I barely was into it. I just loved the praise that came with this, with doing this.

He came on the bed as he pushed me away.

I laid there for a moment. Messy and still. I didn't like this stranger. He didn't really have sex with me, just pushes me and has me. Probably cause he knows I lost my full virginity to him. What does she know, he must think. 38 years old. Twenty years older than me.

Why do I go back to the same man that violated me? I can't fully put the blame on him, can I? Sure the first time was forced and clear rape, but the other times weren't. And I wanted it. I think.

 

It didn't matter. I was safe and unharmed right in this moment.

 

''Gonna shower, im tired.'' I spoke calmly and pushed myself off to the bathroom. Afterwards, that weird numbness falls on you, like were never really there in the first place. Always goes back to who I wish it was instead.

 

Who I wish would have me safe and sound, actually make me feel good.

 

I hated the things I did to feel a snip of it. I was always uncontrollable, angry and a ''loose canon''. I always cry too much and needed everyone to change for me. I was a terrible little girl. That's what I believed until I stood behind a 3rd grade classroom at 16 years old.

It was a mandatory school assignment. Do some social work, whatever that may be, for two days. I chose to assist a teacher at an elementary school. Easy work, I assumed. And it honestly was. Tell some kids how basic spelling and math works and make sure they don't die.

It was around second period when she cried. A little girl, panicking because she missed her grandma. Teacher was calm and softly comforted her, or tried, before raising her voice and telling her that it was getting too much. I approached the girl when that woman left. She talked to me and I got her to smile again moments after. She was just a kid who needed understanding and the feeling of safety. It wasn't hard at all to ensure that for her. I got in trouble for doing that because it was ''out of line''.

You bet I fought with the same teacher over it. How hard was it to be nice and understanding to an 8 year old? Yes, the world does feel like it's falling apart in their eyes. They haven't lived that long to realize how insignificant the situation is, it's a blessing only they know.

 

I saw myself in her, and they all lied. She was easy to understand and adore.

 

I knew at heart that I had never asked for too much, just asked the wrong person. Unfortunately the wrong people included my parents, therapists and friends.

Until professor Jeong.

With him it felt natural. I wasn't some difficult case to crack for him, didn't need a whole research and diagnoses to figure me out. We just talked and before I knew it we were laughing and able to joke around each other. All while he knew when to call for me. It's like he had a 6th sense for it. Reaching out to me when things got bad. It wasn't hard at all.

I received no special treatment during his class. It made me feel normal and special at the same time. Just a high school student learning and talking with friends. I felt as normal as that.

Thoughts were interrupted by the cold sound of his voice.

 

''Get in the car, I'm getting food.''

I didn't feel like getting a meal. But I needed the ride home, so I did.

 

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I looked messy in class. As much as I felt like it too. I hated biology class. I hated my new teacher. Nothing could compare to him. I was getting upset, lost in thoughts and felt the urge to follow him home, which is the one sign that tells me it's getting too much. The last time I felt like that I was 14, head over heels for some other student and got into a car accident in the midst of stalking them. It scarred my leg barely, but very clear to this day for me.

I excused myself out of the class and just 'walked around'. It was just an excuse to go past all the classrooms he taught in and get a glimpse of him. Maybe another smoke break too.

 

I didn't understand. Ever since he told me what he told me, I kept obsessing. I saw him everywhere, in my dreams, outside, school, he ran in my thoughts.

 

''We shouldn't talk anymore, I'm sorry.''

I have too many questions and not enough answers. Literally what the fuck was that. A damned friday is what it was.

It was a chaotic but beautiful tuesday morning. I felt good, energetic even. I finally got a hold of Yunho again. I was allowed to call him by his first name. In casual setting at least, when no fellow students or colleagues were around. When we were alone.
It had been a while since we talked because he was away for a while and I was too tired to attend class.

 

''Oh hey min, I was about to grab coffee real quick.''

''Can I come?''

''Of course you can.''

 

I smiled and grabbed my stuff. The café was only a three minute walk from the school building and very popular amongst students, teachers and other staff. Everyone went there. Attached right next to it, was also a bakery, as well as a grocery store across.

 

''One capuccino please,''

''I'll have a small matcha, with white chocolate syrup, please.''

 

My heart was comfortable and warm.

 

''Thank you for paying.''

''Don't mention it, Ming. So, you're taking your driver's exam soon?''

 

I had told him about the exam, it was only theory but everyone knew the theory was harder to pass than the actual driving part. On the way back I mentioned my colleague who had been initiating a date with me and how excited I was all week. Yunho was happy for me, always had been whenever something was going right for me.

 

''How about you meet me in my classroom again on friday, you can tell me all about this little romance of yours for longer. I have class soon and I think you do too.''

 

He was right, we were together for just about 30 minutes. But he had class and I had to go, so I did.

I thought about what to do in the meantime. Friday couldn't roll around sooner. It could not come any faster. But it was friday's like those that made me wish my suicide attempts last year had worked. Dramatic, I know. Sitting in his office. I wondered where he was. 10 minutes before my last class ended I could swear I saw him alone there, working on whatever. It had been 3 hours. Did something happen? Surely he would've left me a message at least.

I remained patient, I was like that for him. Never barged into his space to start rambling, always asking nicely first. I liked the healthy boundary.

There he finally was, in the doorway walking inside.

 

''I have upsetting news Mingi,'' he began, while packing his stuff. I didn't understand obviously so I tried asking.

''How do you mean? Is everything alright?''.

 

He stopped. Turned his face to me and said the following;

 

''I just spoke with the principle and some other higher ups, I can't be your confidant any longer.''

That was it. What? I didn't follow. ''I don't get it, why?''

 

I barely remember the conversation after that. It was just me breaking down in front of him. I didn't understand. I was specifically sent to this man because none of the adults in the school's care team were able to talk with me.

It was all too complex, we fought a lot. I didn't understand at all. I had no one anymore?

 

How?

 

''They didn't really trust it, trust us. Well, that's sugarcoating it. They don't trust me, Mingi.''

''Who am I supposed to go to, sir?''. It hurt talking. For the first time it hurt talking to him. My throat felt like it had swallowed 10 huge bricks. I could not contain the tears, nor the way my voice sounded.

 

The only person I fully relied on. The only adult I trusted. My only motivation to try even a little. The one comfort that got me through the times of absolute hell. After all the trauma I actively went through with those men outside, what they did to my body, the stress I carried during the times of making that report. Freeing what felt like my corpse from their hands. The way no one was there. In the blink of an eye it was just me. And I made one right decision to open up to him, to Yunho.

It had only been a few months. The aftermath of assault like that was worse than the event itself. It wasn't a one time thing either, this was a cycle of repeated violence, sexual violence.

I haven't fully processed all that trauma yet, along with the molestation back when I was a kid, which my mom allowed to happen.

But it was the last thing I thought about. I cared more about losing Yunho than ''healing''. He was all I needed.

 

The last thing I remember of the interaction were the repeated ''I'm sorry, I really am'' coming from his mouth. It went on for hours it felt like. Constant apologies, without much talking. Those were our last words exchanged in actual conversation.

I couldn't understand. The world fell silent, nothing mattered for a moment.

 

That was almost a year ago.

 

For a few months none of it mattered. I had tried going back in there, just waiting for him after school. Of course I did. I couldn't go too long without something happening.
I was vulnerable, had addictive tendencies, loved being out at night. I couldn't help but feel invincible for a while, before crashing back into a deep depression.
And repeat.

 

So I stood there, waiting. Turning my face to the door as he walked in.

 

''No- no Mingi. I'm sorry, you know we cannot do this, my dear.''

 

It caught me off guard, even though I expected it a little. Just needed him to acknowledge me for even a second. Have another moment I can take home. It didn't matter if it was positive or not. I needed a new memory that we shared. Just like how we used to. I left without saying anything and just cried in the bathrooms, before leaving outside and lighting one up. And then another one. It just couldn't hurt, could it?