Na-Kyum had very few friends. His siblings from the orphanage found him too sensible. He was a bit ugly, a bit clumsy. He was the slowest so it wasn't fun to play catch with him and he didn't have the coordination to play ball either. The cruelty they had to endure daily had rubbed off on some of the kids and though he wasn't the adults' favorite victim, he had become the children's. Which was how he took to running away to the fields. He'd rather be alone than hurt.
Do-Yung was his first friend. His brother. No one else seemed to enjoy his company like Do-Yung did. No one else listened to him, laughed with him, waited for him. Every time he walked through the bushes to find the small, disheveled boy waiting for him, it healed something in the orphan's heart. He'd never give up on this precious friend.
Hanging out with Do-Yung though had introduced him to a darkness he had never, ever suspected before. The few bruises and occasional cuts he got were nothing. He realized his plate was full enough, his clothes were clean enough, his bed was comfortable enough. And he suffered to see his friend go back day after day after day. Noona Hee-Na had told him the key to a better life was to work hard. If you studied hard enough, you could flee from here and get a nice place to live in peace. No more punishment, all the food you wanted. He had innocently asked if you could invite whoever you wanted at your place and she had smiled, answering that yes, you could.
Since then, Na-Kyum had redoubled his efforts in class. He would work hard and get a good job. Then he'd take Do-Yung away from this horrible place.
Also, Do-Yung was too small, smaller than him despite his elder age, thus Na-Kyum often stole or hid half of his own meal to bring it to him. He needed to eat to grow healthier.
When Do-Yung slipped inside the orphanage and they laid next to each other on the tiny bed, Na-Kyum realized how petite his friend was. Amongst the white sheets, in the quietness of the night with the moon for sole light, he saw the bones poking out under the skin, the sunken eyes, the dry hair. Sometimes he woke up just to look at him and catalogue all those details that made his heart twist. He'd look at the tiny form but the second he leaned back, Do-Yung's face would shift from peaceful to a deep, uncomfortable frown that only disappeared when Na-Kyum held him.
It felt weird to be special to someone. Good, but weird. Na-Kyum cherished Do-Yung, his friend had easily become number one in his heart, though he hadn't had to fight much, and he wanted the best for Do-Yung. So every time those beautiful, mesmerizing blue eyes looked up at him, Na-Kyum found himself dreading the day his friend would realize how inadequate he was.
He tried his best, gave everything he had, but he knew Do-Yung wasn't like him. He was so much better. Even covered in blood and mud, wearing ripped clothes, Na-Kyum saw the silent strength laying dormant in his friend. He was proud of it, had no jealousy for the brother he considered his sole family in the world, but along the joy that grew every moment they spent together, getting closer by the time, the fear spread. One day, Do-Yung would wake up and see in him exactly what the others saw. The ugly, stupid orphan who had nothing. Not one thing that had made anyone want to adopt him, no one thing that had made him popular amongst his peers. Nothing.
But he made the most of the time they had together and did his best to be worthy of their friendship.
Time passed and somehow all the responsables at the orphanage changed, making life a whole lot more bearable. The teacher who liked to use the hosepipe on him at least once a week was found hanging in the canteen one day around his tenth birthday, the object of torture tight around his neck. Na-Kyum had just received a beating that would go down in history as one of the worst he had to bear at the orphanage, it was so bad he had to stay in the infirmary for a whole week, thankfully, Do-Yung had kept him company every night, but the suicide had still shocked him. The director who sometimes locked himself in his office with some of the elder children and had started getting uncomfortably touchy with Na-Kyum himself, resigned without warning one day and no one knew what had become of him. All the bad people somehow left one by one. Na-Kyum had joked that Do-Yung had to be his lucky charm to which the elder boy had simply smiled.
Not all changes proved to be good though. Because he was malnourished, Na-Kyum had been thin but his awful body somehow went into survival mode the second he was given three, healthy meals a day and never turned it off.
While both Do-Yung and Na-Kyum grew. The former gained in muscles and height. The latter in width. Objectively he knew he wasn't fat, just slightly overweight, the nurse had told him so too and she wasn't one to mince her words. However everytime he caught sight of his reflection, Na-Kyum had to hold back tears. The kids had started calling him Hamtaro, like the animated hamster.
He had asked Do-Yung about it once.
« You're perfect, » the boy who now surpassed him in both age and height frowned at him as they laid in the bunkbed that had been changed thanks to an impressive anonymous donation to the orphanage. Just in time too, because it was getting hard to accommodate two growing teenagers.
« But- »
« You. Are. Perfect. » He had held Na-Kyum's chubby face in his warm calloused hands and the look in his eyes had prevented the orphan from arguing more.
The orphanage taught them until Middle school when they had to attend the local establishment. The first week had been awful.
Do-Yung had disappeared on one of his mysterious vacations, the ones he always waved off and never explained, so Na-Kyum didn't even have the comfort of spending time with his friend to soothe the pain of being an outcast. He was a poor orphan who blushed easily, had unattractive features and was fat. He was designated target on day one. That was why Do-Yung found him crying in bed when he finally came back. Na-Kyum could still see his terrifying expression. What he had always feared was finally happening, he was too old now to be crying like a baby, Do-Yung was becoming disgusted by him. So he swallowed his tears and refused to talk about it, blaming it on exhaustion and a bad headache.
A few days later, there was commotion at school. Na-Kyum stayed away, unwilling to attract any more attention. He ignored the matter and went to sit on his own in class during the break and would have forgotten all about it if it wasn't for something he heard during lunch break. Scary dark blue eyes ?
« Hmm…Excuse me ? » He fidgeted and stood beside the gossiping group.
« Shhh ! Hamtaro is finally talking ! » The pretty leader mocked but he had to bear it.
« D-do you know in which- »
« Louder, I don't understand your squeaking, » another girl smirked cruelly.
« Do you know in which class- »
« The fuck Hamtaro ? Louder ! » The mean classmate shouted.
Na-Kyum was trembling and looked down in shame when the door burst open. They all turned to look at the commotion and Na-Kyum gaped at the sight of Do-Yung stepping in, in uniform, hands lazily hanging from his pockets.
« Come Kyum, » he gently called out.
« Hyung ? » He stuttered in shock.
« Show me around the school. It's my first day, » his friend dragged him out by the wrist.
Na-Kyum's lucky charm was back. The two main bullies who liked to push him around never came back to school. And nobody ever called him Hamtaro again.
Do-Yung had enrolled in a year above him, with people one year younger despite Na-Kyum's insistance that he had the level to keep up with people his own age. His friend had mumbled something about wishing he could have been in Na-Kyum's class and about an old bastard being stubborn.