118. Hypochondriac

Jeon Junu

Junu sat straight in his drawing room and thought about what he had to do.

Mother won't let me go to the city just like that. I want to see Somin though. Chat more and have a nice walk.

The quiet boy went to the bathroom and poured scorching hot water into the sink, wetting a towel and washing himself again and again until he turned his skin hot and sickly reddish.

"Mother, I feel tired, can you give me a pill? I don't feel well," he acted out.

His cold mother didn't give it much of a thought as expected, only checking his temperature by putting a palm to his forehead.

"You are probably a bit overworked. Rest, we need you to be able to train again tomorrow," she grabbed his chin with her icy hand, scratching it lightly with her long snow-white nails decorated by crystals.

The young boy opened his mouth obediently and she laid a pink pill on his tongue. Handing him a glass of water to check that he actually took it, her paranoia didn't have any end. She turned her back to him and went back to the book reading, her expensive gown flew behind her like a cape. Even at home, she looked like there was a ball in the next room, long shiny brown curly hair neatly styled in an elegant bun with gem pins.

She loved her talented son in her own wicked way. Making him be another valuable asset to the family, granting him this one day to rest, but no more, a twisted game they played from time to time.

Junu pretended to swallow the pill and went to his room, locking the door as usual so mum wouldn't find it suspicious. She knew he needed silence when he was sick. The powerless boy spat the pill out, throwing it to the other ones stashed in a plastic container hidden behind a loose tile under his bed. Changed to one of his alternative clothes, which he had hidden there too, his favorite dark green sweatshirt and gray pants. Opened the window and carefully closed it behind him. He climbed down expertly as he did many times before, his feet aware of stable spots to step. The room was on the second floor, but the fear of height left him some time ago.

He relished in the insecurity when climbing down.

Maybe I'll fall down and break my neck.

I'll never know.

It was worth the risk anyway. In reality, his body got better and more stable with every climb he made. Each time he risked less and less, his mind unaware. Well-trained hands and fingers grabbing the ledge of the windows firmly. Feet unconsciously examined where the best safe spots to stand or step were. Inventing "new routes" by mistake.

Finding it soothing, the uncertainty was gone. Alright. I am out.

Junu remembered the first time he escaped.

...

Meticulous preparation took the locked-out boy several weeks. Getting to know the garden was touch one, thinking about it even in his sleep. He wasn't often allowed to leave his home studio so he must have cleverly come out with a plethora of excuses.

From, "I need to get more inspiration, let me in the park," to "I am going to faint mother, I need fresh air."

Finding the best spot to climb a fence was a different challenge together with where the cameras had blind their spots. He would walk around their private park, always watched by staff in the close vicinity, offering beverages or lectures.

"I just need to walk to clear my head," he'd argue.

Sometimes staging cell phone losing in various locations to have a perfect excuse why he had to pay the much-needed visit to the camera room. Going through the footage with the security man to see where he dropped the prized item. At the same time, burning camera angles into his mind.

His photographic memory and good space orientation made an intricate map in his mind. And together with the escape, the accompanying plan was born.

He added small fits here and there to his daily routine and started to act like a hypochondriac. He crafted the fragile boy persona and sweetened it with brattier behavior to hide his true self in front of everyone. Mother wouldn't care much for these conditions, if he painted the next day more to catch up on the wasted time.

Faking illness and throwing tantrums was his route to a piece of freedom.

She let it be, recognizing some type of rebellion in her soft son. Telling herself artists are emotional. The most renowned artists from the family were very reasonable in the spotlight, but mother had her own opinions on their personal behaviors and lives.

At least they aren't damaging the family name. She thought.

Hoped her husband would decline the ever-so-scarce visitation of his brother Jun.

Junu doesn't need any bad influences.

Preparation for the physical part of the plan was even more meticulous and timely. Watching thousands of tutorials, training steps, and strengthening his wrists in the darkness of his room wasn't exactly the safest way to be ready for climbing. Yet there wasn't any other option.

...

When the night came, he didn't feel nervous at all, numb from all the year-long preparations.
Once the entrance door was secured, it was his time to find out what would happen. The moment he really opened the window for the first time, cold nightly air made goosebumps on his skin. The boy carefully shut the window behind him, leaving only the subtle insertion under it, to be able to open it afterward.

His head was spinning with vertigo from the height, from the forbidden.

Taking a breath, he turned around and started descending the way he had planned. His hands were sweating, slipping a little bit on the surface of the house's facade. And then suddenly his sneakers touched the soft grass.

I survived.

His heart nearly jumped out of his body when he climbed over the fence and ran like mad to the city center. Looking like a part lunatic, part ninja, dressed in all black, hoodie covering his features, face mask on, high on the feeling of freedom. Limitless possibilities lay before him.

The first time he did that, he was only able to walk around. Looking at other people living their ordinary nightly life. Bars lit up with colorful reflections and the talking was deafened by the cacophony of the music. Junu yearned to go inside but was truly scared. He didn't know how to behave in such spaces so he only listened, walked, and kept dreaming.

...

Teho scout the biggest parks in the city center.

Surely she'll be somewhere here, I guess. Parks are nature, right? She wouldn't go to the center just like that, wouldn't she?

Yet he couldn't find her in either one of them.

Weird, I kinda expected her to read a book or sketch somewhere here. I should have tried to be more annoying and get it out of her or outright stalked her.

The fashionable boy stopped under the tree and looked around.

Damn Teho, I don't recognize you anymore. Get an early lunch and calm the fuck down.

When did I become this creepy?

...

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