It was raining hard. The bright lights of Seol were dim and blurred. Minho walked quickly through the dark streets, his mind calm and his footsteps even and paced. All of the sudden, he stopped. He heard the noise again. A quiet moan came from the shadows. A thud followed, then another moan. Minho began to walk quickly away from the sourse of the noise. The fear of meeting the same fate of the person was stronger than his curiosity. A loud crack rang through the night and a ear peircing scream followed. Minho wipped around and ran as fast as he could back toward the ally. The sreaming person was a boy who sounded only a few years younger than himself. The another thud and another scream sounded as Minho delved into the dark allyway. He swung his fist at the attacker and made contact with, what he guessed, was the man's jaw. There was another grunt of pain as Minho grove his knee into the attacker's liver. He grabbed the man's hair and whispered into his ear, "That was just a sample of what I will do to you if you lay a hand on this boy again." Minho shoved the attacker to the ground and turned his attention to the boy. It was too dark to see but Minho could tell when he picked the boy up that he was bleeding from many wounds. The boy was unnaturally light and thin. He was shaking, from the injuries or the cold rain, Minho could not tell. Minho readjusted the fragile boy in his arms so that Minho's coat protected them both from the rain and started to run.