It all hits Mingyu at once, and he realizes, he’s afraid of being forgotten. He’s terrified of being no one and he is petrified of being alone. Every bad memory is seared into his brain, feeding those scary thoughts that tell him he is falling apart, losing himself, drifting into nothingness. And they’re right. They’re always right and there is not one damn thing he can do about it because those are not the only things they say. He can’t possibly forget how worthless he is because he is reminded every breathing moment. How desperate he is. No matter how many friends he has, how many girls like him, how many baskets he gets in a game, it’s not enough to weigh down his drifting mind.

Mingyu has always been alone since he could remember. That first day of sixth grade is still clear in his foggy mind. He knows most probably couldn’t care less, but sitting alone at lunch, talking to no one, having no friends was humiliating to him. It was simply terrifying, but there was absolutely nothing he could do because he was just too damn scared to talk to anyone, reach out to anyone. He felt like he couldn't live up to their expectations. The possibility of being disliked was too much for him to stomach, but the consequence of being alone might have been worse.

Mingyu continued to sit alone every day at lunch. A few months after school started he had also stopped eating his lunches. Soon he’d just stay there for a whole hour just sitting. Thinking. Thinking about life. Thinking about everything he wishes he was and everything he wishes he had. To outside eyes Mingyu’s life seemed like it should be perfect because apparently having money was everything in life. Yes, overused and overrated, but still true: money couldn’t buy happiness. Mingyu knew this first hand. He didn’t know what was stopping him, like he was born into a locked cage with the key long gone. He had no answers.

After sixth grade ended, the Kim family made a big move to an even bigger house on the outskirts of Seoul and Mingyu transferred schools. He didn’t want to make the same mistake; he didn’t want things to turn out the same. Maybe he couldn’t break out of the cage, but he could at least decorate it, rattle the bars a little.

Summer was quickly over after taking so much time in moving and seventh grade was starting. Prime time for boy’s development started at 12 years old and boy, did Mingyu experience changes. He got noticeably taller and his knees and elbows ached from growing pains. His hair started growing quicker, causing a shaggy black mop to start development on his head even though he’d gotten a haircut last week. His voice became higher too, which did no good for his slight lisp.

This school was much different from his last. City kids seemed more… intimidating. These kids, unlike suburb children, appeared to be born to criticize. Their eyes scaned each other like they’re just thinking how weird the other is and they don’t seem to be afraid to hide it. Mingyu wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would reach the top of the food chain so then no one could speak down to him. There would be nothing to be afraid of then. At least he hoped there wouldn't be.

What twelve-year-old Mingyu didn’t realize though, is that he’d been born into this life. Looked at by judging eyes as soon as he exited the womb and got home. He was trapped into this cage that had no lock on the outside. No exit. He’d just appeared in there and it wasn’t even his fault. Twelve-year-old Mingyu did not know, did not notice that each bar was mended and grew larger with each word of his parents. He did not know that parents should be any different. He didn’t expect anything else because he knew nothing else.

His plan was a success. He had no problem chatting with his classmates thanks to his newborn features. He decided that everyone here was shallow. He was no different, though. At 12 years old, girls started to look at boys differently and they sure looked at Mingyu differently. Soon everyone knew Mingyu because of his trademark bright, toothy smile. He’d smile at anyone looking his way and wave. He also decided that he didn’t want to be like those people that served those mean looks at anyone and anything. He wanted to make others feel good. But it wasn’t for them. It was for himself. Everything was for himself. Mingyu was the shallowest here by far.

Seventh grade was also the time Mingyu had met Seungcheol. Seungcheol sat in the back of the class room while Mingyu sat in the front so they never really had any means of communication. They hardly knew each other existed. One day, a girl sitting not quite in the back but definitely not in the front complained to the teacher that she hadn’t gotten new glasses yet and that she could just barely read the board. With a sigh, the teacher stopped the lesson and asked the class if there were any volunteers that were willing to switch seats. Mingyu realized he had no legitimate reason he needed to stay at