"Jonghyun...at least calm down a little before we go in." Jonghyun breathed out harshly, his hands coming up to scrape the back of his neck almost franticly. 

"Jinki..." I stepped forward,meeting him as he clung to me in a semi-hug, "...Please don't hate me." I shook my head, bring one hand up to run my fingers through his dark, messy hair. 

"Jagiya, listen to me." I waited until he brought his face out from my neck to look me in the eye before continuing. "I don't hate you, Jonghyun. Why would I?" The hand that had been brushing through his hair slid down to brush his neck, soothing the red scratches he'd left there.

"Because. You've seen them...you know what I look like in real life, Jinki." I frowned; His hands were shaking violently where they clutched at my school shirt, his eyes were glazed over with fear as he looked up at me.

"Yes. I know what you look like, and I could never hate that. I know you can't tell me why you do this to yourself, but you know that I'm okay with that. I want to be here for you so won't ever need to hurt yourself like this, but these things take time to heal. Scars fade, but it takes many years. You aren't just someone looking for attention; I know how you feel about those marks, and you know how I feel about you." I held his hands tightly in my own for a moment, a lump thickening in my throat as I spoke.

"Even if you covered yourself with them, no matter how much pain that would cause the both of us, I would still love you." His body shook like a leaf in a winter storm, cold and weary, jerking violently against its will. Tears didn't show, though, as he looked back up at me. His eyes were no longer glazed, but soft and calm. I couldn't show him a full smile, like I wanted to, so I held him tightly against me, hoping he would get something out of my lack of words here.

"Jinki...how do you do this?" His voice was quiet, and as soft as his eyes now; I wouldn't have heard him if I hadn't trained myself unconsciously to pick up every word his beautiful voice spoke.

"Hm? Do what?" He chuckled, somewhat emptily, and reached his arms out to wrap them around my neck. I smiled now as I felt his lips kiss my neck, twisted up at the corners just slightly as my own arms wound around his waist and held his back.

"Put up with me. I cause drama with everything I do. I can't go home without setting some kind of argument off; I can't go to school without getting in trouble or getting picked on; Then I make you deal with it all, and take on all the emotional crap I spew all over you everyday. On top of all your own problems."

I laughed at this; I hardly considered these things 'burdens'; I never minded when he talked about getting sent to the principal for making a 'stupid gay joke' in class when he was the only gay kid, proud smile stretched across his face when he got to 'the best parts' of the story; I certainly never minded playing around with him and having to hold him back when he got frustrated and wanted to break something when he felt the need to talk about how much he hates people-of all kinds; I didn't mind when he told me how much he hated himself for making his sister upset, even if it was over something like watching television.

I didn't mind because when he talked, he put everything he had into it. He could make a gruesome, twisted murder story he created off the top of his head, words coming as he blurted them out, sound like an enthralling romance novel just by the way he simply spoke each word with his heart. 

"You say all that like you've become a burden to me. I love you; I love your flaws. I love your voice; even if you spend hours using it non stop; I love your goofy laughs and puppy eyes and your silly smiles and I love you." I pulled back to look at him, a wide, bright smile stretched across his face. 

"You cheeseball." I laughed, kissing his forehead, before pulling him towards the large metal framed glass doors that gave way to the crowd of teens and college students inside of the building just ahead of us.  

He smirked, pulling his sleeves down past his wrists, before running full-speed towards the doors. 

"Yah!" I ran after him, carefully not to slip in the puddles that still hadn't dried from the earlier rain. It was only a minute before he just about slammed into the doors; A familiar boy sliding them open just before Jonghyun collided with him.

"Ah, mianhe!" Jonghyun pulled on his sleeves, looking at the boy closely. When I got up to them I smiled; The boy he'd almost knocked over looked younger than Jonghyun himself.

"I'm sorry, he obviously wasn't looking where he was running." The boy shook his head, smiling weakly.

"It's fine, we didn't crash or anything. I just came out to look for someone, excuse me." I nodded grabbing the door as we moved to let the boy out. He looked around, his baggy sweater falling off one shoulder entirely, light bruising showing along his collarbone just underneath the thin blue straps of what appeared to be a bra; His pants, tight and formfitting as seemingly possible, somehow clung to his bony legs and at the same time didn't quite fit him.

He obviously wasn't very healthy; His hair was messy, the long, golden brown strands probably knotted under the soft looking surface,and his skin was a sickly pale, several large spots of bruising covered his arm and shoulder. His feet were, quite surprisingly, clad in a pair of sleek black wedge heels,the bones sticking out viscously as he walked forward. I noticed how he shook, his sweater swaying lightly as he leaned against the wall just outside the doors. 

"Are you...okay?" Jonghyun walked up the boy, trying to show that he wouldn't pry if the younger was so defensive, but would be willing to talk if the boy needed.

"I'm fine. I just..." I followed the boys eyes as they trailed along Jjong's arms, widening just a fraction as they reached his wrists, before a somewhat calmer look came upon his pale, tired features. "I'm waiting for my pusher." His voice had gotten quieter as he spoke the words gently. I nodded;He'd been starting to look more and more like someone with a 'problem' as I watched him. 

"Pusher?What-" I grabbed Jonghyun's hand, nodding over towards the doors of the cafe before he could ask the young boy standing across from us anything. 

"We should go." I could see a car pull up, the young boys eyes following it until it parked in the single space available in front of Vinum. The headlights shone dimly on us, a sheen of sweat becoming visible on the boys face as Jonghyun and I turned to go.

"Taeyeon?" I looked to see if the boy would respond, and sure enough, he walked over the the car. Another boy, one closer to my age, got out of the car; His thick jacket and expensive shoes spoke volumes. He had to be 'Taeyeon's pusher. I was a little surprised when the tall, thin man hugged the boy tightly, smiling brightly and kissing him on the cheek. 

"Minho!" The boy squeaked happily as the man picked him up, swinging him around. I smiled, despite the fact that the relationship was probably based on a simple interaction- the needy and the giver; the addict and the pusher.

"Ah, Jonghyun?" Jonghyun stopped halfway through the door as Minho called him. 

I looked between the two; I was completely sure I'd never see this man before, so where had Jonghyun met him?

"Minho?" He smiled brightly, going over to the car. He stopped as he passed me though; It never got easier around him and his friends, especially since he had a seemingly never ending stream of new people to introduce me to. 

"Jinki, this is Minho. He's...he's that wangta I told you I met in my new homeroom." 

Wangta- In Korean classrooms, a wangta is a victim of extreme bullying. A wangta is considered a 'loser' or a 'loner'. The class normally -never- speak to this singular person, nor will outside students. Sometimes, without acknowledging them, they will make wangta carry their items such as bags, or lunches. This person will almost never get to speak to people, since students are put into homerooms, and are in school from 6-7 am to 11- 12 pm. Usually, this is very serious, but teachers can't do anything, and parents will never know unless their child tells them.