“Why you little !”

Down a nearby alley, someone was being thrown against a brick wall, a painful grunt resonating on this eerily silent night. Noticing the occuring fight occurring the corner of his eyes, Jihoon decided it was best to pull the hood over his head and keep on walking. He wasn’t a heartless prick; he did know of ‘empathy’, but such occurrences had to be disregarded unless he wanted to be in a bigger problem than the one he was currently in. It was selfish of him and Jihoon was well‐versed of said situation himself. Unfortunately, the boy had no power to fight against it, despite his ever livid heart. He knew better than to get himself involved.

Jihoon sighed and gave his hood another tug.

Finally rounding the corner at the end of the road, he made a sharp turn into a slightly old building. It looked substantially abandoned with glassless windows and cracked walls. Jihoon, upon noticing the blinking bulb barely illuminating the always dimmed hallway, practically flew up the flight of stairs. Though his each move was thoroughly calculated. Every now and then he could hear the crushing sound of broken shards beneath his soles, to which he was fully accustomed to at this point.

In fact, the boy knew all too well to wear thicker shoes when walking around the area. This side of the city was never safe. Its conditions were not how they used to be in the past. Though it may come off as ludicrous and twisted, the noise coming from each step almost felt like a soothing melody to his ears. A solitary symphony acted like a reminder that he was very much alive, that he was still breathing the rather musk air on such cold winter night.

Yes, it was never an ideal environment to live in.

But at least his heart was actively pumping.

Probably due to great stamina and immense endurance he had built over the years, he had yet to break a single sweat. Not even after climbing a total of eight floors. Although the building had its own elevator, the damn thing broke months ago. If he were to be living in a world of five or six years back, Jihoon would have complained directly to those who were in charge. Except in his current state, Jihoon could only swallow the bitter life he had to face every single day. A brave front set as default. 

It was hard at first, that Jihoon had to admit. For it took him a whole year to get used to this. This life he wished he never had to experience. This life he wished had never existed. Yet like the saying goes, practice makes perfect. Now, he could get through the whole day, making his way home with a poker front, as if nothing could ever break him. Despite him standing at a height of 5 feet plus.

Most of the time at least.

It would be an outward lie to say that he had never once crumbled. Of course he did. He was a flawed human being after all. Jihoon may not scream or throw tantrum like most would usually do in this situation, but even a calm and collected person like himself would have his moments. Especially when he was brought back to the thought of his paren‐

No. Not now.

Please.

With a sigh, Jihoon turned the knob open.

“Hyung? Jihoon‐hyung? Is that you?”

Greeted by darkness, Jihoon slipped out of his already worn out sneakers as he carefully made his way to the center of the room. The nook‐like space was faintly lit by a small lantern placed in the corner, already nearing its extinguishment. How disheartening. Seokmin then came into his peripheral, all washed up with baggy pants hung loosely around his small waist, hair still wet. 

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Seokmin had asked. 

Jihoon instead walked to the other side of the room, visibly trying to steer himself away as he picked up a rather clean towel and chucked it into the younger’s hands.

“The light's out again?”

“Yup. The usual,” Seokmin gave a curt reply, voice muffled by the towel covering his head. The shorter of the two hummed in acknowledgement, all the while reaching into his right pocket and proceeded to take out a small package for the now dry Seokmin. With a hand stretched out, he subsequently asked, “What is this?”

“Bread," Jihoon stated the obvious, simultaneously trying to escape from the impending bullets of questions. He was too tired to even utter another word, but before he could saunter into the washroom and take a long awaited bath, a hand took hold of the crook of his elbow, stopping him in his track.

“I know what this is, but what I meant was– what about you?” the younger had pried. He did try to return the hard earned food back to the older, insisting that he in fact had eaten something. However, before the seemingly worried Seokmin could even finish his sentence, Jihoon gently pushed his hands away. Only before he had closed the door to the tiny washroom that Seokmin heard Jihoon said,

“I’m not hungry.”

They both knew it was a lie. 

As Jihoon was standing underneath the showerhead, water bouncing off both his collarbones and back, the strain that previously occupied his muscles had begun to wash away. Jihoon tried to focus on the rhythmic pitter‐patter of the cold water hitting his skin, but the low grumbling in the pit of his stomach could not be silenced. He was starving. Famished. Despite so, he could not let Seokmin waste with hunger – not while he was in charge.

Carrying the role of an older brother did not allow Jihoon to have such a luxury. To him, Seokmin would always come first, his utmost priority. Regardless whatever it was. Even though Seokmin may come off as annoying every once in awhile, as much as Jihoon hated to admit it, he knew he could never live without said boy by his side.

Thus why Jihoon would always try his best to protect Seokmin. A promise he wished not to break. Up until now, everything he did had been an effort in granting a comfortable life for them siblings. As comfortable as they could be in this messed up world. But the second Jihoon's eyes travelled down his arm, eventually settled upon the barcode engraved on his right wrist, he could feel the so-called confidence slipping through his bony fingers. 

Series of black lines that bitterly condemned their lives. 

It was way past midnight, but Jihoon could not sleep a wink due to his grumbling stomach. Tearing the blanket away from his body, Jihoon carefully sat up from his side, groaning as he did. He looked over at Seokmin who was peacefully sleeping; his chest heaved with each breath he took. The corner of Jihoon's lips curved upwards at the sight, as he gently tucked a stray hair behind the younger's ear. Not wanting to wake up the soundlessly asleep figure, Jihoon silently rose to his feet, picking up a familiar binder along the way.

Making sure that he had both his pen and book in his hands, Jihoon walked out of the door, heading straight towards his secret hideout:

The roof.

Jihoon made his way to the brink, carefully perching himself at his favorite spot,  feet dangling over thousands of feet from the ground, all numbed to any form of vertigo. It felt cold, but the chill air was indeed comforting. Giving his notebook few flips, he eventually came to a doodle free page and somehow, a tune started to make its way up his throat. Of course like he usually did, Jihoon effortlessly hummed the newly arranged melody, simultenously scribbling down one note after another. Slowly, but surely making progress. It had always been a dream of his to be a composer. To produce music that could turn a bad day bearable, to relay his own feelings into words. Yet after all these years, it remained stagnant as nothing more than a hobby, for the fire in him had long extinguished

The pink haired Indigent knew he could not afford attending the university, let alone a one‐day class. Jihoon had learned to accept the turth that it would be impossible for him to ever achieve that dream. Having to live within this confinement of poverty, it was more of the reason why he had decided to lock his passion away in a chest, safely tucked in the back of his mind.

Jihoon was aware, but he still found himself resorting to composing once in awhile in times like these.

It was the only solitude he had left.

Unfortunately, under the beautiful dark sky embedded with twinkling stars, the noise from his tummy brought him back to reality. 

“Stupid hunger.” 

“Yes, Jeonghan. I’ll make sure to pick one up. No, I won’t forget. Just trust me for once, okay?”

A sigh left Seungcheol’s lips as he ended the call, shaking his head over his ever persistent friend. It was 1 in the morning, but the damn brat just had to send him out to the market. Just because he “felt like eating ramyun”. Wanting to return as soon as possible, Seungcheol quickly maneuvered himself to the ‘noodle/pasta/breads’ area when he spotted a pink blob of hair, gracefully floating among the gaps in the shelves from the adjacent aisle.

Seungcheol, being the curious man he was, thought it would not hurt to take a little peek.

So he did. 

However, Seungcheol never would have thought that the chance he had taken that night would change his life forever. 

There, in front of the shelves of bread, he found a pink haired boy, biting into his own nails, while seemingly pondering over something trivial. If Seungcheol were to be honest, he swore his heart skipped a beat for a second there.

Snapping himself back to reality, Seungcheol made his way to the distressed teenager, all the while trying to suppress the butterflies in his stomach. There was no such thing as love at first sight anyway; none that he knew of. Slowly inching closer till they were only an arm's length apart, the boy's distressed mumbles eventually reached his ears. Somehow, throughout this, it was amusing to Seungcheol to see how the other was not even aware of his large presence. Finally having mustered a little courage, Seungcheol cleared his throat; apparently a tad too loud since he almost got hit in the face.

“What the bloody ?! You almost scared me half to death!” Jihoon, already in defensive state growled at the new unknown figure, eyes grown twice of its size. It may not be the right time, but Seungcheol found him to be relatively...cute.

Wait.. what?

“Sorry, I saw your pink hair and couldn’t help but be curious. I’m Seungcheol,” the raven had introduced himself, one hand out to the shorter male.

Jihoon indignantly ignored as he redirected his attention back to the shelf.

“Yeah, I never asked your name.”

Sassy.

Definitely, the pink‐haired male before him would be a tough shell to crack.

“Well, what’s your name then?”

“Why do you think I'd tell you that, a complete stranger?” 

Ouch. 

Seungcheol, who was this close to throw a fit could only bite his lower lip in obvious frustration. There was no such thing as 'quitting' in his dictionary. In fact, Seungcheol was known to be such a relentless piece of brick. Jeonghan even once admitted that Seungcheol’s persistence and friendliness were the key reasons as to how both of them had gotten so close. He had a way in sneaking into people’s hearts and that was what made Seungcheol a pain in the arse.  A trait of his Jeonghan had claimed to be his biggest strength, over and over again.

Seungcheol was unsure whether he should take that as a compliment. 

Though this was actually a first. To have such scene unfolding before his eyes, having to face such a strong match somehow made it even more intriguing. For he was finally came upon someone who could care less of his existence. Someone who would not fawn over him, neither for his looks nor his status.

But before Seungcheol could prod any further, Jihoon, who was on the tip of his toes, trying to reach for a bread obviously too high for his height, found himself to be losing his footing. 

Jihoon could have sworn he would dive face first to he floor.

Until he felt a pair of arms around his waist. 

Upon noticing a foreign sensation, Jihoon immediately jumped to his feet, almost falling back the second time.

“I swear, you are the most clumsy person I’ve ever met,” Seungcheol let out a deep chuckle. Dismissing the scowl on Jihoon's face, Seungcheol crouched down to the floor, hands picking after the fallen mess of breads. Whereas Jihoon could only blink at the supposedly 'Seungcheol' guy, unable to process the whole incident.

“Your opinion is none of my concern,” Jihoon however spat, as he belatedly squatted down to pick up other remaining packages.

“You know, you could’ve just picked one of the many at the bottom shelves. They’re newer and fresher. Those at the top are mostly expired anyway.”

“But that’s the only thing I can afford,” and almost instantly Seungcheol’s hand froze mid‐air. He turned his head to look at the boy, wanting to ask him why, yet the other surprisingly reeled back when Jihoon was about to pick up a bread closer to Seungcheol.

No, it can’t be.

That barcode. That serial code. Jihoon could recognize it anywhere. He was, the guy before him was an...

“An Opulent.”

“Pardon?” Seungcheol heaved himself up, trying to come closer to the retracting male.

“Stop.”

“What do you m-”

"Get the away from me, you piece of Opulent trash!”