Three more days left.

Jongin’s mind buzzed with those words. Three days, three days, three days. He took a bus to the hospital this time instead of running like he had the night before. But then, he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight at that point.

Three days. Only three more days to spend with him, and he wasn’t even awake. Pain burned through Jongin’s chest as he wished that he could spend these three days with a conscious Kyungsoo. He ached to hear his voice again, see his eyes blink again instead of always being closed.

But despite the fact that he was not awake, Jongin wouldn’t leave him. He had asked the nurse as he had escorted him out last night whether or not Kyungsoo had many visitors, and the nurse had sadly shook his head. He hardly had any visitors lately. Jongin was enraged. Was Kyungsoo’s father more concerned with his businesses than he was about his own son? So until the day came, Jongin vowed he would stay by Kyungsoo’s side.

He arrived at the hospital, now having clearance to go visit him, since the nurse he had met last night vouched for him. He walked through the hallways, not wanting to be scolded for running again, and entered Kyungsoo’s room.

It was no easier to see him there, immobile on the hospital bed, even though he had been here last night. Jongin again, took slow, halting steps towards him. Instead of using his knees though, he pulled up a chair, sitting next to him.

“Hey,” he murmured to Kyungsoo’s still form. “I’m here. I’ll come every day. I won’t desert you.”

-

Kyungsoo felt his heart rend in two.

He had passed a fitful night, unable to go back into his calm meditation like he always did, since he couldn’t sleep. Instead, all he could think of was Jongin.

He had watched him weeping by his bedside, heard each word he had gasped out between sobs; words like “I’m sorry,” and “I didn’t know,” and “You can’t die.” Seeing Jongin like that had made him wonder; after all this time. Jongin, are you still in love with me?

Kyungsoo painfully remembered their parting words again. If you leave me now, you can’t come back.

If Jongin had really meant those words, if he really meant that after that day, he would never care for him again, why was he here? Kyungsoo wondered how Jongin even found out about his coma.

Torturing himself, Kyungsoo remembered the accident. Hours after he had left Jongin, for what he was sure was the last time, he decided not to go home just yet. He didn’t want to go back to the vast, empty mansion that his father hardly spent any time at anyway. He didn’t want to go back to the home that didn’t feel like home. He had been aching over the loss of the one man who made him feel like home. Now that he was gone, would anything or anyone feel like home again? He knew that Jongin loved him. But he had betrayed him! He had lied to him about his job, his background, and because of him, he had been beaten so badly by the thugs who claimed to be Jongin’s friends. His gang. He couldn’t forget their words, their threats. If he reported them, he would be hunted down and killed, he knew it.

He had begun to cry then, the hot tears unable to be held back any longer, and Kyungsoo had given in to his grief. His wails and gasps had drowned out the sound of the car’s engine as it had sped towards him. It was a drunk who was driving, a guy who hadn’t even seen Kyungsoo until he had hit him. The last thing Kyungsoo could remember before “waking up,” was the sudden flash of the headlights and the bone-shattering pain as he was flung backwards from the impact. His head had not only hit the car’s front bumper, but also the pavement as he landed, which was the decided cause of the coma.

Since then, Kyungsoo had been doing nothing but thinking. About himself, about his past, about what his father had wanted for him. Ever since he was a child, he was taught what was right, what was proper, how to act, speak, eat- everything. It had been a rigid time, no time for a real childhood that required toys, games, friends and imagination. Nothing changed when he went into his teens. He was put into the best private schools for the academically advanced. Kyungsoo liked to believe he was smart and deserved to be there, but he continued to feel the lack of belonging. Everyone there at these schools were just like him; cultured, refined, intelligent and well-mannered. But unlike the others, he desired friendship, real friendship. He had had friends of course: sons of his father’s partners. But although they were nice people, he never felt able to really connect to them.

People outside of school were no better. Because of his image, people would be nice to him. But the friends he had thought he made were really only after one thing: his money. He knew this of course. His father had taught him since he was five that all people in the world were only aware of money, and that he shouldn’t make friends too easily because of this. Still, he tried, hoping that there would be someone out there who cared for him and not for what his fortune might bring them.

Finally, after finishing business school at such a young age, he took up his position at his father’s company. He was destined to become junior vice president someday, and when his father died, he would inherit not only all his father’s profits, but also his position as president of the Do Corporation. By then, he had given up all hope of being able to find someone who would like him for himself, not his money.

He had taken to going for walks by himself after work every day. But instead of going to the places where all his coworkers and colleagues went, he decided that maybe he’d visit the other side of town for a change of scenery. He didn’t tell his father, or he would’ve sent him with a bodyguard. Instead, he snuck off by himself.

After a while, he discovered the river which acted as the border between the two sides of the city. Which soon led to him discovering Jongin.

And Kyungsoo finally thought that after so many years of searching, he had found someone. A real friend, who cared nothing for his position or his money, but for him.

-

Two years ago, before the intertwining of their paths, eighteen-year-old Jongin wandered through the streets in the dimming light of the sunset. He felt numb and insubstantial. He was a strong kid, but felt that even the smallest breeze could knock him off his feet. The police had taken away his mother and brought him to the station to report all he could about her death. He couldn’t even remember what he had told them; he had muttered the few facts that he knew, and showed them her suicide note. They had talked about placing him in an orphanage or a shelter, but he had run away before they could force him. He had tried going home to his run-down apartment where he and Mom lived, but there were still police and detectives there, trying to find more evidence towards his mother’s death. He had nowhere to go, nobody to turn to. So he walked through the streets, trying to come up with a plan. Maybe he could go to the orphanage, although he would only be allowed to live there for one more year. But maybe he could work, so that he could try living on his own after he outgrew the orphanage.

He had been kicking a pebble down the street with his worn out sneaker as he had gone. But when a rogue kick sent it clattering down a dark alley, Jongin wondered whether or not to follow it. He hadn’t cared about where he was going so far, but this place was dark, unknown. It was probably dangerous. But his curiosity wanted to be satisfied, so he allowed himself to crane his neck forward, peering down the alley.

The shadows suddenly came to life, and Jongin let out a faint yell, taking a step back. One of the shadows slithered up to him, and he quailed.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “You lost?” It hadn’t been a real shadow of course. It had been a man, dressed all in black. Several more men were lurking there still, also in black, looking for all the world like liquid shadows, staying low and hidden.

“N-no,” Jongin stammered, staring down at his feet. He wanted to get away from here as fast as he could.

“I know you,” the man suddenly said, and his head shot up. “You’re the kid from the Nambu apartment. Your mom offed herself today, didn’t she?” Jongin bristled, hating to hear about his mother from this strange, intimidating guy. But it was the truth. He nodded.

“,” he muttered, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, and a lighter from his other. “Sorry.” He lit the cigarette, blowing smoke into Jongin’s face. “So now what? You got anywhere to go?”

Jongin hated that he was so predictable. But he shook his head, his face turned down towards his feet. This guy probably didn’t care anyway.

“Kid,” the man said, getting Jongin’s attention again. He pulled the cigarette away from his face, revealing a rather handsome smile. “The name’s Jongdae. And if you need a place to go...I could always use an extra guy around here.”

Jongin frowned. What was this Jongdae implying?

“If I take you on, you’ll work for me,” Jongdae said, taking another drag from the cigarette. “I’ll set you up in a nice apartment, get you clothes, food, whatever you need. All you gotta do is do everything that I tell you to. Not a bad deal, right?” More smoke blown towards his face. “You’ll have friends here too,” Jongdae added, motioning behind him. “All these guys. They’re my guys. They’ll be yours too. We’re all like,” he gave a quick laugh, “a family here. We take care of each other. And we’ll take care of you too.” Jongdae gave a smirk, sizing up the kid in front of him. “So whaddaya say?”

Jongin peered behind Jongdae, trying to make out the men behind him. All of them wore black and black cloth masks on their faces. Some of them were older, maybe around the same age as Jongdae. But he could tell that there were kids there just about the same age as him. They all looked healthy, well-fed. Was Jongdae telling the truth when he said that they all took care of each other? Would they really take care of him?

Jongin didn’t know where else he could turn to anyway. And the idea...of being cared for again...of having friends again. It was too much to pass up.

“Okay,” he said, looking up at Jongdae’s knowing smile. “I’m in.”

-

“Welcome to the headquarters, kid.” Jongdae’s hand was firm on Jongin’s shoulder as he showed him into a small apartment. It was no better than the one he had lived in before. But it was warm, at least: the heat and electricity probably weren’t always getting turned off.

“This is where we all meet before jobs, and where we keep our...supplies,” Jongdae said, pointing off towards a few rooms down a tiny hall. “This is also where any of us stay when we’re in a jam, or looking for a new place.” He pointed to a tall man with black hair doing something in the kitchen. “Like Chanyeol over there.”

Jongin felt his blood run cold when he peered into the kitchen. The man was weighing something on a scale. Small plastic bags full of powder. Just what had he gotten himself into?

“You can sleep in this room until we can find a place for you later. Just make yourself at home. Night, kid.” Jongdae showed Jongin into a small bedroom with a couple of beds, gently shoving him inside and shutting the door. Jongin looked around at the room. It was plain, not much to furnish it. But then again, this place was basically just a shelter. Jongdae had said that the people staying here were the ones who needed help. And that’s basically what he was.

“Hey.” Jongin had been too busy looking around the room to notice that there had been someone there already. It was another boy, sitting on one of the beds lazily. He had blonde hair, and was very tall and skinny; his legs were hanging off the edge of the bed. But what Jongin noticed mostly was that he was probably around the same age as him. He had a young looking face, despite the mean expression on it.

“Who’re you?” he demanded rudely. “A new one?”

“Y-yeah,” Jongin muttered, intimidated. “I just came here today.”

The other boy suddenly smiled, sitting up and looking him over. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Huh. Me too. Got a name?”

“Jongin.”

“I’m Sehun,” the boy said, his face growing friendlier. “It’s nice to see someone else the same age around here.” He sat up, reaching a hand towards Jongin. “Maybe we can be roommates. We’re supposed to take care of each other after all, right?”

Jongin felt a smile working its way onto his face in return. Maybe now, he had found a friend. He reached back, grabbing Sehun’s wrist as he grabbed his in return.

-

“Kyungsoo! Come here please!”

“Coming Dad!” Kyungsoo shut his notebook, getting up off the couch. He had been reading, but soon had gotten distracted, grabbing his sketching pencils and his notebook. The curtained window he had been drawing was beginning to look real, the curtains showing depth and casting filmy shadows on the floor he had drawn.

He made his way through the library to his father’s study, knocking on the door twice before coming in. His father sat at his desk, as usual, writing on stacks of paper.

“What is it, Dad?” Kyungsoo asked, his voice soft so as not to startle his father. He knew he hated to be too distracted from his work. That was probably why he spent so long in the study for hours on end. When he was home anyway.

“Ah, Kyungsoo,” his father said, putting down his pen and looking up at his young son with a smile. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. And you?” This was stilted conversation for any father and son. But Kyungsoo knew better than to be casual with his dad. He hadn’t brought him up to be anything but refined, his father would say if he ever used slang around him.

“I am well. Congratulations on your graduation, son. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the ceremony.”

“It’s alright,” Kyungsoo answered with a straight face. He hadn’t been expecting Dad to make it anyway. “What was it you wanted to see me about?” he prompted.

“Ah, yes,” His father turned back to his papers quickly, pulling one out and holding it out towards his son. “This came for you today.”

It was a letter. Frowning with curiosity, Kyungsoo took it, reading the bold print.

We congratulate you, Mr. Do Kyungsoo, on your acceptance to…

“Dad,” Kyungsoo said, looking up at his father. “What is this?”

“It’s your acceptance letter to SNU.” he said matter-of-factly, a proud smile on his face. “You start there next March. You got into the business school there!”

“But...I didn’t apply at Seoul…” Kyungsoo murmured, thinking back hard on his university applications. He was sure that he didn’t apply to Seoul National. That wasn’t anywhere near where he wanted to go!

“I filled out the application for you.” Kyungsoo’s father said, still smiling. “Your grades and rank were exceptional; of course you got in.”

“You...you what?” Kyungsoo said, his voice growing faint. “But I...I didn’t even want to-”

“Kyungsoo.” His father’s voice was firm. The same voice that he used to speak to his inferiors at work. “You’re my only son. My heir. You’re going to inherit my position at the company when I die, and you must be prepared for that. Where else can you learn how to take care of the business? SNU is the best school there is for that. You should be grateful.”

Kyungsoo felt the familiar burn in his stomach at his father’s words. Of course Dad would think that. Kyungsoo had a duty to fulfill after all. It didn’t matter what he wanted. It had never mattered what Kyungsoo had wanted.

“Yes Dad. I am grateful. Thank you.”

“Good!” He smiled again, returning to his work. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner then.”

“Yes. Bye, Dad.” Kyungsoo murmured, turning around and leaving the study, closing the door quietly behind him. He didn’t expect his father to actually come to dinner though. He’d probably get caught up in work, and would just ask Seung to bring it to him in his study.

He knew better than to think his dad would spend any time with him at all.

-

“Good one, Jongin!”

Jongin smiled at the praise. He, Sehun, and another boy their age, Zitao, under the watchful eye of Jongdae, had robbed their first man. The older members of the gang kept watch in the shadows, ready to provide their help, in case the three youngest needed backup.

Not that it had been needed. Zitao was the best fighter, and Sehun was hard as a rock. And Jongin was growing to be just like them. He had only lived with the gang for three months, but already he felt as though he had been there all along. He was fitting in perfectly.

Every night, they would all meet up at the apartment he had first been to, which was their rendezvous before doing a job. There, they’d decide who it was taking the job, and who would handle the profits afterwards. Jongdae was the only one who personally knew the supplier, so he was the only one who ever bought the drugs. He would then divide it among them equally for them to sell for even higher prices. Some of the guys there even bought back their own shares.

But the apartment wasn’t only just a rendezvous. It was a shelter for the newly recruited, the ones in need of help, and also just a place to hang out. They’d have impromptu parties there sometimes, someone bringing in some music, a few joints and a six-pack of beer. At every one of these parties, Jongin felt even more a sense of fellowship and belonging. He lived in his own shackle-down apartment with Sehun, rented under Jongdae’s name, and he was making enough money from selling his drugs and also working some odd jobs here and there to pay rent, and eat well for the first time since his childhood. He had never been happier.

But Jongin still had so many pent-up emotions. He missed his mother, and he was angry at her for leaving him. Jongdae knew this, and sat down with Jongin at the latest party, a cigarette in his mouth, and decided to teach him something new, something that all the new members were taught.

“We’re all like you, kid. Never had anything growing up. My parents threw me out when I was only fourteen.” Jongdae said, smoke pouring from his mouth. “There ain’t one of us here who didn’t have to scrape together a life off the streets. It ing , didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jongin replied, his voice hard with anger. “It .”

Jongdae smirked, taking another drag. “Yeah. That’s why we rob the higher-ups. The rich businessmen. They’ve never had to struggle for anything.” Jongin looked up at Jongdae. He didn’t call him hyung, even though he was older. “We don’t do that around here,” he had explained after Jongin had gotten a punch to the gut for calling Chanyeol his hyung. “Here, we don’t follow any rules. No need to call anyone here hyung. It’s just too...cultured.” Everyone had snickered, and Jongin had glowered, embarrassed.

“Those bastards,” Jongdae growled, and Jongin stared up at him in admiration. “People like them never know what it’s like to live in the gutters. The worst that ever happens to them is when the butler is late to bring them their afternoon drink. Oh, the struggles!” He had spoken in a horrible, mocking sarcastic voice. Everyone in the apartment laughed at Jongdae’s mockery, some spitting in contempt afterwards.

“That’s why we always go after them,” Jongdae went on, malicious glee in his eyes. “To teach them a lesson. Just because they’re rich doesn’t mean we can’t still hurt them. Or make them suffer. No matter how much money they all have, we’re better than them. Because we’re the tough ones. Because we can always take care of ourselves, no matter what. We don’t need no ing butler.”

“Yeah,” Jongin said in agreement, feeling all his hate transfer to the man he had just robbed that day. There had been rabid fear in that man’s eyes; Jongin had felt powerful being the reason for that fear. Stupid, fat, soft-lived businessman! Jongin’s thoughts grew harsh and ruthless. Just like the others.

Sehun smirked, sharing a knowing smile with Jongdae. His best friend was finally growing up into a man.

-

Nineteen-year-old Kyungsoo entered his second year of business school, feeling numb and practically lifeless. The words, numbers and figures taught to him by his professor pounded into his skull, and he worried he would never make any sense of them. He didn’t enjoy anything he was studying. And he was lonely. He was acquainted with a few of the other students, but felt as though he was simply charading at cheerfulness as they all discussed their studies. He always declined invitations to go out, not that they came very often, as every student was seen as competition before friends.

Kyungsoo had only hoped that life would get better after high school. He had dared to hope that after becoming an adult, his father would finally start showing him familial love and companionship, or that he would finally meet people who could be his friends.

His mistake.