Jiyong dragged himself through his day with much difficulty, slowly growing more and more exhausted. He had gotten yelled at at least four times, but he had truly lost count. His body felt heavy and mind wooly, yet he knew very well that he still had to prepare some food for him and his brother. Or well, Luhan mainly. The last time he had checked the fridge, they barely had anything. 

The teenager let himself crash down on his bed, yelping when he felt something cold and hard poke his back. He slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position, turning a little on the bed. Just as he spotted the small object - a book - on his sheets, crystal-like tears gathered in his tired eyes.

Not much later, tiny little arms were wrapping around his dangerously slim waist.

"Jiyongie will tell me a story, right? After my tummy is filled..." Luhan said with sheer enthusiasm, quickly moving so he was hugging his older brother tightly."I wanna hear a story." he added.

"Don't worry, Lu, I will tell you one soon." Jiyong smiled through his tears, shuddering inwardly as he realised how much his baby brother had changed over the past few weeks or so. Luhan was so, so much skinnier - although he had grown taller, too. His eyes were framed by dark circles and his lithe body was covered in rags. 

"Good!" Luhan's cheerful voice was what broke his brother out of his dark thoughts. The older boy quickly forced himself to smile, shuddering as a freezing gush of air hit him suddenly: already, there were numerous small cracks surrounding the tightly shut window. The whole house had suddenly started falling apart when their parents left, much to the older brother's worry.

It was almost like their parents had everything planned when they disappeared.

Luhan was the one to break his musings once more, poking Jiyong in the ribs."Let's cook now!" he exclaimed happily.

Jiyong nodded slowly, a slow smile curling into his lips. He stood up and led the younger to the kitchen, biting into his lower lips as he looked around. Everything was broken, cold, seemingly untouched.

Of course, why would have he used the mixer when he couldn't afford fruits or vegetables? What could have he done with the many pots and pans that stood hauntingly on the well, contrasting with its yellow, when he was happy if he could use one daily? When all they h