The first time he saw him was when he was playing on the swing. Kyuhyun wondered why the boy was alone in such a scary place. For a boy aged seven years old, being alone in the park at night was already scary as it was.

                He took a step closer to the boy and was startled when he suddenly looked up. At first, he found the boy scary because he has dark eye bags, contrasting his pale thin face. He kept a stoic look on his face but his eyes told another story. How a kid understood that was beyond anyone’s understanding.

                A few years later, he found the boy again. This time, he wasn’t sitting on a swing masking a stoic expression. The boy was running and he looked scared. His eyes were smudged with mascara and tears continuously flowed out his eyes. He screamed. He kept screaming for other people to help him but the adults didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything. He was frozen in place. He wanted to help but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t old enough yet. He can’t help him—not with the way things are to him.

                Their gaze met. He saw the man’s eyes calling for help as he struggled to break free. He saw the man’s eyes begging, pleading for him to move but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Even after the boy was long gone, he stood frozen on the same spot.

                A few years have gone by and he still hasn’t seen the boy. He tried his best to improve himself—to make himself worthy. He wanted to help the boy. He wanted to save him. He wanted to see him smile. He wanted the boy to love him the way he does.

                He was devastated. He was horrified. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The boy he loved, the boy he saw running away back then with what looked like smudged mascara was the same boy—man—everyone in the city was talking about.

                 “The Freak with Black Tears”

                The title was written in bold letters. The title was insulting as it was. Black tears. The boy was shedding black tears back then. It wasn’t mascara. It was tears. It was tears and it was black. He was horrified by the information he found out and instead of being scared, he was even more determined to save the boy.

                 Nameless. The boy was still nameless. He watched the show and waited for the master to say the boy’s name but he didn’t. He kept calling the boy “freak”. Nameless. Nobody wanted to be left nameless in this world—this ugly and condescending world. He decided to name the boy “Yesung”. He knew that name wouldn’t mean anything if he couldn’t help the boy but it was far, far better than being called “freak”.

                He always visited Yesung. Every day he would look at Yesung hoping the other would look at him too. Every day he would think of a plan to take the boy away from that wretched place. Day after day he would think. Day after day, he was slowly losing hope.

                He was watching Yesung from afar and he saw how pale the boy’s complexion was. His bags were very dark and his face was very thin. He was very thin. He looked as if he hasn’t eaten in days. He looked as if he hasn’t met the sun. He looked as if he doesn’t know what sleep was. Everything about Yesung was odd. He lacked in some things—physical, mental, emotional.

                He didn’t wonder why he could examine the boy’s face. He didn’t question it because he was too busy examining the boys facial features. He was handsome. Yesung was handsome. Yesung was the boy he loved years ago. The same boy who made his heart flutter. He didn’t expect however, to see the same boy be hit so hard on the face. That was when it hit him. Yesung wasn’t crying. There were no tears on his face. There wasn’t a black trail on his face like how he was accustomed to see. Yesung’s face was blank—stoic. No response as the master and his subordinates kept hitting him.

                He knew Yesung was of no use to the circus anymore so he followed them. He followed them to the dark alley where he saw them dump the boy’s lifeless body with a snicker. They gave him one last kick before proceeding to walk away.

                He prayed to the God above to save the boy. He brought him to his home and tended his wounds. He knew the only way to save Yesung was to bring him to the hospital but he didn’t want to. They might use him for experiments and he didn’t want that. Yesung deserved to be happy and he would make sure that he’ll do just that. He made that vow and he intended to keep it.

                Yesung woke up but he was unresponsive. He wouldn’t blame him. He went through a lot. He helped the boy through everything and he was happy that Yesung hasn’t shed a tear since then. It all came crashing down when Kyuhyun enveloped his brother in a hug—his brother who looked more like a girl—his brother, Ren. He saw it. He saw it, the black tears. It was back—back to hunt the boy he love again.

                Yesung ran away but he ran faster. He caught up to him and pulled him into a hug to avoid people’s stare. He doesn’t want them to see Yesung’s precious tears. He doesn’t want him to suffer. He wanted him to be happy.

                Back in his apartment, he tried his best to calm the boy down by whispering sweet words to him but he kept crying. He stopped however, when Yesung whispered three words he longed to hear from the latter. Three words he thought he will never hear.

                Yesung’s cries became louder as he whispered the three words back. He was happy. Yesung was happy. He knew the latter was because he laughed. For the first time, he heard the person he loved laughed and that made him smile. They both smiled as they held each other securely—never wanting to let go.

Another supposed to be drabble. Failed again. I will never write drabbles ever! :\ who am i kidding? Anyways, this isn't a sequel. This was bugging me last night and it's telling me to write it down so I did. :3

Hope you like Kyuhyun's story. :)