addiction 2.

It wasn't often that Lee Sungjong saw respectable kids around this part of town, and it was hardly ever that Sungjong saw them more than once. He leaned against the bricks and narrowed his eyes, trying to see past the telephone pole. There that guy was again, the one in the blue North Face jacket, with his head hung low to his chest. 

The first time, Sungjong had only watched in silence. It was practically a scene out of every tragic movie--a boy walking alone under the romance of the streetlights' glow, hands shoved in his pockets. Shadows hung long and dark under his lashes. Watching him somehow made Sungjong's heart ache a little; his face was so dispirited, so unhappy. There were no waterworks, no drunken staggerings--just a face that spoke of a clean-broken heart. The simplicity had almost made Sungjong tear up just thinking about it afterwards. 

He liked watching these sorts of scenes in sad movies. They proved that life still had some things that were left pure and untouched; the pangs of depression and grief and heartache, set against a backdrop of blue sidewalks and yellow lights. But then with all of Sungjong's complex shades added in between, from silvery smoke to orange cigarette stubs, shining like glowworms in the darkness--they grounded him to the earth, telling him, Look, your life is real. Mom and Dad hate you, and so does everyone else. And maybe your life isn't okay, but it's so ing complicated you're not really sure anymore anyways.

Seeing something so pure in a stranger had never been so refreshing. And so this time, Sungjong lit a Camel, retied his pink sneakers, and waited for him. 

As he approached, Sungjong waved. "Hey," he said. "Want a cigarette?"

The boy looked up, and Sungjong didn't miss the brief flash of disgust over his face. "No thanks. I don't smoke."

"Well, just saying, you looked like you needed one. You know, a pick-me-up."

The boy ran an embarrassed hand through his hair, shining flaxen under the lights. "What I really need isn't exactly anything anyone could give," he said. "Sorry. I, um, better go." So the guy was a goody two-shoes, but he was a really cute goody two-shoes. Sungjong found his fluster absolutely endearing. He had a bit of a thing for awkward guys. 

"Well," Sungjong grinned, "I'm Jongie. I hope I see you around--when you're feeling better, that is."

The boy flushed and ducked away, breaking out into a light jog. But Sungjong didn't miss the faint whisper of "I'm Gyu."

Sungjong smiled, pleased, and flicked his cigarette.

Gyu. 

It was a cute name. 

I know Sungjong is always characterized as really girly and/or bratty, but I wanted to head away from that. I feel like in this story, he's a bit more mature, a bit more world-weary. But I think you'll definitely see that he's still a young kid as I continue writing this. Just a lot more different than say, Woohyun or Sunggyu. plus he's got more street smarts too. and I think if he's comfortable enough to dressing up as a girl out in public, I think he'd have some more self-confidence. 

I know you don't get the feeling that he's crossdressing, since I didn't really mention it..but that's 'cause I guess I wanted the fact that Sungjong isn't really identifying completely as a girl. he's still a guy, too. 

Sunggyu's all shy because he thinks a pretty girl talked to him. :P

I hope you enjoyed this! <3 thanks for reading!