Heavy lidded eyes threatened to close and your cumbersome stance slouched further under the weight of your bag. Work had dragged on again and your shift ended up being extended; it was the usual working at a convenience store, a stupid chain that remained open all hours of the day and night. It was this job or no job and you didn’t want to bargain especially when it came to employment – your university life was hectic enough that you couldn’t fit it in any other way than to compete for your sleep time. Psssh, sleep is for the weak.

Trudging up the front few steps of the dishevelled building, you looked into row of mailboxes, sticking a finger down the chute of yours for any letters but found none. Thinking that it had been such a waste of energy, you walked slowly to the elevator and pressed the faded button. Even though this place mirrored that of a run-down ghetto, it sufficed in putting a roof over your head. Plus, the rent was the cheapest in the area and with your trusty bicycle, you could pretty much get to anywhere in a matter of minutes. The elevator was rickety and unbalanced but you got to its rhythmic instability as soon as you had moved in, the slow but steady stopping and starting of the machine almost comforting your exhaustion.

Arriving at your level, you paused for the doors to open, taking a few seconds to recollect yourself before you stepped out closer to home. It was with a drugged-like stupor that you walked out, ready to fall flat on your face at any second and the small bell chimed signally finally, your arrival.

You fumbled around instinctively for your keys, sticking a lethargic hand into your backpack and jingling around to find it by ear. After grabbing them at the bottom of your bag, you peeled them around the key-ring one by one, checking them closer in the faint light, whilst your legs instinctively brought you ever nearer to the door. Then, grabbing the right key, you were ready to insert it into the keyhole when blue-tinged blonde hair pointedly stuck out from the bottom of your periphery.

Unable to stop the small yelp from escaping your lips, the sound reverberated off the concrete walls like a single bullet bouncing around and rattling the whole room. The boy whose serene face was composed in slumber had his back against your door, making entering your apartment impossible without moving him first. He looked young, too young to be guarding a stranger’s door at night but in all his face, there was not a single trace of malice that you could find, puzzling you more; and the mask he wore that covered the bottom of his chin and neck only made you question the strange circumstances further. The immediate thought that he was some sort of runaway druggo or alcoholic made its way to your mind but the image simply didn’t fit; he neither looked haggard from the use of narcotics nor did he smell of booze and his casual attire of a t-shirt and jeans clearly suggested more innocent means.

You looked around reflexively, checking your familiar surroundings as they suddenly became foreign to you. As always, there was no one. The neighbour to your left and right were both decent people: there was the aspiring writer who never left his apartment for weeks at a time, promising to write his next bestseller with impossible poignancy and the old lady who refused to stay in a geriatric’s home. Both of them were great individuals and you couldn’t possibly think of any reason for them to dump a kid to you like this – obviously it couldn’t be them, but you looked around anyway for any trace of how the boy got here.

in a deep breath you tentatively placed a soft palm on the boy’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “Helloooo….” You trailed, bending down at the waist to his level. At this, the boy’s eyes slowly fluttered open and his eye lashes were like heavy feathers, quivering ruthlessly awake. He looked up and you and you bit your lip.

“Are you alright?”

He continued to stare and appearance-wise, he seemed completely fine. You inspected him closely and found no sign of any sort of outer injury – no crazy gang wounds or infected bleeding, thank god.

“Ummm…. I’m Kiinan, you’re sort of sitting outside my house. Do you need anything? Do you want me to get you to the hospital or police?” You tried, scrutinizing him further but he just blinked a few times.

“No thank you.” His voice was clear, but too structured – too formal. “I am supposed to be looking for you.”

“What…?” furrowing your brows together you looked at him in confusion and he paused before he continued.

“I have nowhere to go so I must stay with you. I cannot leave.”

His words were beginning to freak you out and you began to have your suspicions about it all being a sick joke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly countered but his final sentence made you relent; it hit home the hardest, the only thing that could possibly make you unconditionally weak and worried.

“Your father sent me.”

You froze. You hadn’t spoken to my father in years; he left your mum and sister ages ago when you were still in primary school. He had always been a strange, erratic man and his occupation as a scientist didn’t help his cause. Officially, he was working for the government but you never knew what he really did in those dark depths. One day he left a petty note scrawled on some used paper on the dining table telling the family that he had to go. His scrawny writing imprinted an ‘I’m sorry’ on the page but you didn’t know if he meant it.

There was a painful resolve in the way your Ma took it, as if she had expected it all along and the days continued as if he was never with us in the first place and us girls had no choice by to copy and follow, your masks concealing the confusion and hurt only children could understand. Later, large sums of money started to appear in the bank account from an unknown depositor and presents popped out on the doorstep every couple of months or so. In the beginning, Ma donated the money to charity because she refused to take it but it didn’t stop so she gave up trying, putting it towards your education. Nonetheless, if she ever found any of the gifts left out at the door, she would throw the poor thing away – that’s why the two of you were always quick in your secrecy.

Since then, the family had been pretty well off but no one wanted to simply rely on that sum for the rest of their lives, especially if they had no idea who was doing it and why. As you lived in the rural parts of the country, to study further you applied to a university in Seoul. Your mum was reluctant to let you go at first but then she gave in, on the condition that you would visit her in the breaks. In your bank account, the money she had given you remained untouched whilst you worked hard to make it for yourself. Of course, if things got too stressful and hectic, you would rely on the savings but you hated the idea of living like a freeter.

Somehow though, deep in your chest, there had always been an inkling of hope that he had never stopped loving his family and even now you thought of him fondly. How could a daughter not?

 “My dad?” you asked, mouth suddenly dry and he nodded firmly.

Picking him up by the arm, you opened the door with haste, the key still in your hand and pulled him into the apartment without further questioning. All worry left your system for your own safety, a different confusion rising about your enigmatic father.

The boy stumbled over his feet as you dragged him through the door. Closing the metallic frame firmly behind you, “take off your shoes,” you instructed and he did so without protest.

Dropping your keys down on a corner table, you hooked your bag on a side hanger and walked straight down the small corridor to the living area. Even though the apartment building looked run-down on the outside, the interior was actually quite decent; nevertheless, one still had to put effort in to make the house a home.

To the side of the front entrance was a small toilet and next to it was the bathroom. Continuing down was the living room which sat a two-seater sofa, a small white dining table with a single chair and the kitchen-area to the side, divided only by a thin strip of plastic counter. Cupboards lined that side of the wall whilst shelves hovered, facing the sofa in place of a television. You didn’t need the white noise and you rarely had the time to watch shows anyway – if you needed anything, you could get it from your laptop.

Small potted plants framed the area, not in excess that they were too much but it was homely and upon walking in to the tiles, Zelo’s robotic brain identified the scent of grapefruit and citrus – aromatic oils to freshen the room. It was pleasant and he locked the memory in his brain, listed under the pleasantries of life. The girl had walked to the very end of the apartment now, most probably nestled in her room. He stood there idly, not sure whether to follow and waited for her to appear again, his hand subconsciously tucking into the pocket of his pants to feel the envelope he had stowed there earlier.

She came out of her room in a flurry, already changed to visibly more comfortable clothes – a loose-t-shirt and pyjama shorts. Her look was determined, probing and slightly demanding. She stood akimbo and stared him up and down.

“So… what about my father?”

Zelo’s fingers curled around the envelope and pulled it out swiftly, sharply, handing it over to you without another word as if making up a silent explanation.

Your eyes shifted from him to the paper in his hands and with a tentative grasp, took the note and turned your back away to open it and read. It was an awkward scuffling of paper as if you couldn’t open it fast enough and the envelope was practically torn in the corner to shreds.

Pulling out the yellowed letter, written clearly in your father’s scrawny hand as you had it remembered the last time he had ever written to you, your eyes skimmed hungrily over the words, the newfound contact of your estranged parent.

My dearest Kii,

I am so sorry that we have to communicate like this again but like last time, I simply do not have a choice. I know it is unfair and cruel of me to ask more of you but this is probably the last thing you can ever do for a father like me.

Somehow, by some chance, a boy will be given in your care. His name is Zelo. Look after him. Make sure he behaves, but most importantly, keep him from harm, from anyone else that wants to have him as their own.

You must do that for me. Please.

Forever yours,

Dad.

You grimaced upon the conclusion of the letter. No formal apologies, no explanation of why he left and no intention of asking about his family and how they’ve been all the years. Angry but pathetic tears threatened to pool out of your eyes but you squeezed them shut, swivelling swiftly on your heel to look at the boy, the new member of this apartment.

“Did my Father give this to you? Do you know him?” you questions were irate and penetrating but the boy stood there calmly.

“I don’t know.” He said blandly – as he had been instructed to do and the anger in your chest peaked and you had to grit your teeth from yelling. How could this boy just come into your life and ruin everything. You had finally given up on your father when he has to barge right in and mess things up again. Untamed jealousy numbed you as you wondered why this stranger would be closer to your father than his own daughters ever could be – and yet he refused to answer anything.

“How can you not know?!” you cried, throwing the useless paper onto the counter.

Zelo examined the aggravated girl and a part of him felt like comforting her; but since he was still considered an infant, new to the world, he didn’t have enough control to do so. He just watched with an empty stare – trying hard to make sense of the situation.

“I just… don’t know.” 

~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for more Zelo-maknae goodness!!!!