His bloody red sneakers slammed against the asphalt repeatedly as he sprinted down the trash cluttered road, praying that he wouldn't trip over his untied laces. His heart pounded rapidly against his chest as he struggled to breathe. A boisterous voice bellowed behind him, spewing out curses and threats, daring him to go on. He promised himself not to look back and the crude words eventually faded into oblivion as he ran and ran and ran.

 

Luhan just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luhan had an addiction to coffee. He would rather spend his last two dollars on a cup of coffee instead of buying real food to satisfy his aching stomach or new socks to replace his now tattered old ones. There was something comforting about the bitter, dark, rich taste of a freshly brewed cup of black coffee. He loved the way it scorched his tongue when he wasn't careful; he loved the way its sweet smell would fill up his nostrils until it burned.

 

Luhan sat alone, a paper cup filled to the brim with instant coffee in his hands and skinny legs hidden under baggy ripped jeans dangled off the side of the building. He tugged on the ends of his red beanie, pulling it further down as the wind picked up in intensity. He frowned as the ends of his black hair tickled his eyelids – he hadn't had a haircut in weeks.

 

Luhan shut his heavy eyes as he treasured the warmth of the rising sunlight grazing over his tired face. This was his favorite time of the day, five forty-five A.M. The city was quiet and the sun was just about to rise. He had conflicting feelings for the sun. It was beautiful, no doubt about it. It was able to turn the sky into an array of different colors, blue, yellow, orange, purple, and red. It gave off warmth and hope for a new day; it's bright complexion always seemed optimistic. But sometimes, it was just too hot, too bright, and too fake. He cursed the very same sun he worshiped that morning as he strode down the street, uncomfortably hot in his black leather jacket. His eyes would fall into two horizontal slits as he squinted, the sun was too damn bright. And he had always thought, if the sun represented hope or a new day, why did it always leave us at night?

 

“Did it too have something to run away or hide from just as we all do?” Luhan contemplated as he tugged on the hem of his jacket, concealing the long white line that ran down his forearm

 

“Hey red!” A soft voice called out, bringing Luhan back to reality. He looked in the direction in which the voice came from in annoyance. He squinted as he stared at the figure across from him. A girl with hair dark as night grinned at him as she carelessly swung her feet, smacking the side of the building rhythmically.

 

“It is far too early in the morning for any type of social interaction,” Luhan thought.

 

“Yeah?” He croaked, his eyes narrowing. Her face was pale as snow and even from the distance he could see her dark circles, ones that were possibly worse than his (something he didn't know was possible.)

 

“I hope you have a nice day today.” She called through cupped hands simply with another smile. She then swung her legs back onto the roof of the building and pushed herself off the ledge and back onto her two feet. She brushed off the dirt on her behind and hands quickly before smoothly walking away, disappearing into the doorway of the staircase. She didn't spare him another look.

 

And Luhan was left beyond bewildered by her strange behavior.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luhan sighed as he shoved his rough hands into his pockets, searching for that uniform white cylinder he craved. His skinny fingers wrapped themselves around said object and he pulled it out of his pocket with a satisfied hum. He immediately broke his steady stride and moved over to the ally, wanting some privacy.

 

Leaning against the side of the graffiti-ed brick building, Luhan pulled out a lighter from his back pocket. Putting the death stick between his chapped lips, he brushed his thumb against the wheel of the lighter, producing a spark.

 

After lighting up the cigarette, Luhan shut his eyes and inhaled the bitter smoke, feeling it slowly spread through his lungs. He held in the smoke for as long as possible; it immediately burning his lungs.

 

Ironically, Luhan hated cigarettes. He didn't like the taste, he didn't want to grow addicted to it, and he hated how it made him look. What he loved was what it did. He loved how it would set his lungs on fire. He loved being able to toy with death, because that was something he had almost complete control over-his health and life.

 

Did he want to die?

 

Sometimes he pondered the idea of death, it didn't seem so bad. Living wasn't all that great. You woke up, slaved away just for enough money for a room to sleep and food to eat to keep yourself alive, for what? To do it all over again?

 

That wasn't living.

 

Living was Christmas morning when you were four, waking up to presents (or in Luhan's case a single present) and hoping it was what you asked Santa Clause for in the letter you sent out a month ago (With help from someone older of course.)Living was contemplating which bouquet of flowers to buy as you anxiously waited for the perfect moment to confess to that pretty girl you liked so much in high school. Living was racing down an empty high way in your freshly washed car, one hand on the steering wheel, one hand on the clutch.

 

Living was supposed to spark something in you, not wear you down.

 

 

 

 

“Smoking cigarettes is illegal for minors.” A voice brought him out of his trance. He exhaled the smoke slowly, watching it diffuse into the fog.

 

“You don't look a day over eighteen.” The voice continued. Luhan flickered his eyes over in annoyance, ready to tell the nosy woman to mind her own business but was met with the same pair of warm eyes he saw that morning.

 

“I'm twenty.” He said calmly. It didn't seem right telling a girl to ' off' no matter how rude she was. He wasn't raised like that.

 

“You're not gonna live up to twenty seven if you keep this up. You'll get a good five years left if you're lucky.” The girl frowned. Luhan just shrugged as he turned his gaze away, hoping to bore her away.

 

“So what's your deal?” She asked, forcefully removing the now half gone cigarette from his lips and throwing it on the ground. She pushed a black boot over it, “Dead parents? Failing school? Abusive dad?”

 

“What?”

 

“Everyone around here has got a story. But it's pretty much one of the same five.” She explained, “No one is here because they want to be and everyone is just trying to leave.”

 

“I'm here because I want to be.”

 

“No you don't.” She shook her head stubbornly, “You have got somewhere you want or rather be. Some people say Hawaii. Some people say school. Some people say the past.”

 

Luhan kept quiet as he contemplated her words. Is there somewhere he rather be?
 

“Well there is one place I was damn sure I didn't want to be,” he thought. He shrugged and fixated his eyes on the girl, now clearly looking her over. She was kinda pretty maybe even gorgeous if she washed her hair nicely and got a good night's rest. She had big black eyes, which almost seemed slightly purple if he looked too carefully. But the bags under her eyes were far bigger and almost as dark.

 

She was short, maybe five foot two, nowhere close to his five foot ten. But her hair seemed to go for miles. It was down to her waist, dark as charcoal, and slightly wavy. It flew everywhere, a few strands even daring to tickle his arm.

 

“Well for whatever reason it may be, welcome to the neighborhood, Red.” She shot him a smile, one that wasn't completely fake nor genuine. It was sincere, yet didn't completely reach her eyes.

 

He opened his mouth, ready to mutter a half-heated 'thanks', but before he could, she had her heels and strutted away.

 

“Weirdo.” He whispered to himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette. He glanced at his watch as he put the tube in between his lips, mentally sighing. Ten till eleven, ten minutes until his first job.

 

And in that moment, five years left of living almost felt like too many.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had gotten a job at a shady convenience store. No resume, no background check, nothing.

 

“Are you hiring?” He asked the bored looking grandma at the counter. She pushed down her newspaper slightly as she looked over him critically, her spectacles sliding down her frail nose.

 

“Eleven A.M. Till Seven P.M.” She said finally, returning her gaze to her gossip column, “You start tomorrow.”

 

“My name is Luhan, by the way.” He said softly and slowly. His eyes darted around the establishment; it was no where near fancy. It had your basic necessities like toothpaste, ramen, and beer but it lacked properly lighting (that flickering light in the back corner drove him nuts!). But at least it was clean. Somewhat.

 

“Great.” She didn't spare him another glance. With a shrug, Luhan turned towards the door.

 

“I hope you know how to use a gun. Or at least how to defend yourself.” She laughed hoarsely before falling into a fit of coughs. Luhan paled as he shut the door. “You're here now,” he reminded himself, “You have to learn how to fit in to this new life.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luhan hated night time the most. Especially when he wasn't tired enough to knock out cold the moment he hit his makeshift bed of yoga mats (his landlord just shrugged and told him you get what you pay for.) Most of the time it was fine, he worked practically all day with little to no food in his system. When he finally got home around one in the morning, he was far too tired to do anything but sleep. (Though there was nothing really to do in his “home” anyways.)

 

 

However, on the rare occasions he wasn't too tired, Luhan found himself blankly staring at the dull white ceiling above him. Cold. Lonely. Exasperated. That's what he felt. Time. Time was dangerous. It enabled you to sink into your thoughts, which could either be good or bad. Sometimes he would think about what if it would be like if he finally got his together, go back to college, get a girlfriend, maybe even a dog. That's what his thoughts always started out with, positive dreams. But when he had too much time on his hands, that is when he starts to over think. He starts to doubt himself, was this the right choice? Would he ever make it out of here, or was this truly his new home? Would they find him?

 

Then he starts to remember.

 

The cruel words, the murderous glares, the violence.

 

Luhan doesn't get any sleep during those nights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Morning, red.” An obnoxious voice called out.

 

Luhan tore his eyes away from the rising sun to glare at the noisy girl in front of him.

 

“Stop calling me that, won't you?” He frowned. He had not worn his beanie today.

 

“What else am I supposed to call you?” She called back, taking her seat by the building's ledge.

 

“You could always mind your own business and let me be.” How can someone be so social and loud this early in the morning? Luhan sipped his coffee wishing he had made more.

 

“Caffine and cigarettes?” She sighed, “You're really asking for it kid. What's next? ? Are you trying to get addicted to anything that starts with a C?” Her black hair flew everywhere, masking her face. She struggled to tame her mane with little success.

 

“You are thinking too much.” he rolled his eyes. He wasn't even addicted to cigarettes. He had one maybe once every two days, but he never needed one to the point where he could kill. Now coffee on the other hand, he would readily admit addiction.

 

“I can't hear you so well.” She yelled, “The wind is too loud.”

 

Luhan shrugged and thought to himself, “Good.”

 

Her delicate eyebrows furrowed together in determination for a moment before she sprung up from her spot. She skipped over to the  right side of the building and stared at the building next to hers. She planted her hands on her hips for a moment before taking a few steps back. Luhan watched in alarm as she ran forward, jumping five feet over onto the building.

 

“Are you crazy?” He yelled, “Do you want to die?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing.” She replied, walking to the opposite side of the building which was adjacent to his. She pulled her hair to one side and stuck her tongue out, effortlessly hopping over the four foot gap between the buildings.

 

Luhan gaped at her and she walks over to him casually before plopping down next to him.

 

“Name is Akemi, but I just go by Ami.”

 

“You're Japanese?”

 

“Nah, but my grandparents lived in Japan for a while and they named me. It means sunrise or dawn.”

 

“Explains why you're a morning person,” Luhan mumbled.

 

“Well, you don't look so Korean. Where are you from?”

 

“China. My name is Lu Han.”

 

“Weird surname, deer?”

 

“Don't remind me, I used to get teased for it in elementary school.” he shivered.

 

“Well, nice to meet you Luhan. I hope you'll tell me how you found yourself in the red light district of Seoul one day.” Akemi stood up with a grin and gave him a salute before taking off, flying over building ledges. She sent him a wink before disappearing down the staircase of her building.

 

“Does she think she's a monkey or something?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you leaving China for college?” Yixing asked.

 

“I'll probably end up going where ever my parents want me to go. Though it would be nice to get away from China. I'm sick of it here.” Nineteen year old Luhan replied.

 

“So, what's it gonna be? Doctor or Lawyer?” Yixing teased, “Your parents give you so much freedom, I'm jealous.”

 

“I don't know.” Luhan answered truthfully, “I don't really want to do either.”

 

“I don't want senior year to end.” Yixing sighed, “Can you imagine? We're getting old. In no time we'll have jobs, wives, and even children!”

 

“Yeah, it seems like just yesterday we were flying kites in our backyards and jumping in pools.”

 

“That was yesterday you idiot.”

 

Luhan shot his best friend a cheeky smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For twenty years of his life, Luhan was no different than a giant puppet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Sorry, we're just about to close.” Luhan said in a bored manner as he heard the bell hanging from the door go off. He didn't bother looking up, he was far too occupied in organizing the cigarette boxes alphabetically.

 

“I'll be quick.” A feminine voice replied with haste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A five dollar bill slammed down front of him and Luhan looked up in surprise.

 

“Trojans. Keep the change.” The girl yelled half way out the door. He had caught a glimpse of the back of her head a moment before she disappeared into the night, her black hair blending seamlessly into the darkness outside.

 

Luhan shrugged and dropped the bill into the register before going back to organizing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Stop smoking.” Akemi demanded, ripping the freshly lit cigarette from Luhan's mouth and throwing it over the ledge of the building.

 

“You can't afford the medical bills when you get lung cancer.”

 

“Maybe I don't care if I get lung cancer.” Luhan muttered stubbornly, “When did you get here?'

 

“Hoped over when you were lighting that stupid thing.”

 

“Oh.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Don't you have something better to do? Someone else to bother?”

 

“Actually, according to my schedule I'm supposed to bother a man named Luhan while watching the sunrise everyday from fifty forty-five AM till six AM. Approximately.”

 

“You're a weird girl Akemi,” Luhan shook his head, “I think you ought to be a little less fearless.”

 

“Ami.” She corrected, “And what's there to be afraid of?”

 

“Akemi.” Luhan insisted, “I don't know. Aren't you a bit concerned about missing your jump? Or maybe I could be a psycho killer or serial . You shouldn't talk to strangers. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?”

 

“Yeah, but I follow my own rules now.” She rubbed her hands together, “Plus you had that face. I knew you were safe.”

 

“The baby face might just be a decoy.”

 

“No,” Akemi rolled her eyes, “It's not that you look twelve, it's that look on your face. It's different from anyone else's who is around here.”

 

“Different?”

 

“Yeah,” Akemi looked at him seriously, “You still got that hopeful glint in your eyes, despite your Russian Roulette of an addiction and lack of sleep. Everyone here has long lost it.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“Just look at me, what do you think?” She flashed him a small smile, “See you tomorrow, Lu Han.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just what made things illegal? Why were certain drugs or under aged drinking illegal? Who cares if you're addicted to crack, that's your problem. Who allowed the government to stick their noses into the people's business and tell them what they could or could not do. It wasn't like a little law would stop them anyways.

 

And why was suicide considered a sin?

 

Should it be your own life? Something of your responsibility? It was up to you to do whatever you wanted with it.

 

No, suicide is a sin because it's the only thing you have complete control over; you're beating God at his own game.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luhan's friends would laugh if they found out what Luhan has doing. “You're kidding right?” Would be their initial reaction. Who would have ever thought the studious, obedient, filial Luhan would not only NOT be on his way to being a doctor or lawyer but working at a convenience store at the edge of one of the sketchiest places in Seoul, South Korea.

 

 

 

Luhan was a rich kid, he wasn't going to lie. He came from a wealthy and influential family. His grandfather had been one of the few people that helped industrialize China, owning an enormous rail-road company. Although railroads weren't all too common or in demand anymore, it still left him a hefty trust fund. (Or at least it used to.)

 

His parents were very traditional. Strict and authoritative. They expected nothing less than perfection from their only son, throwing him into several different activities at a young age. Piano at five, soccer at six, clarinet at seven, and language classes at eight.

 

He went to the only best schools in Beijing, always top of his class. His future looked bright, everyone thought he was the perfect boy. Boys were jealous, teachers were proud, girls swooned, and other parents wished their kid would be like him.

 

But they never looked deep enough.

 

Asian parents never really understood the idea of “mental illnesses”. To see a psychologist or psychiatrist meant only one thing: You are crazy. There is only such thing as physical illness, which explained why they merely brushed off Luhan's horrible anxiety. (Though they didn't seem too care too much about his permanent dark circles, insomnia, or constant flu like symptoms either.)

 

Doctors blamed it on all the pressure everyone put on him. They told him it was okay to make mistakes or relax sometimes. If you are too hard on yourself you have a lot of built up tension or anxiety which could be really dangerous. They told him to talk to his parents and ask them to ease up on him.

 

Doctors may be smart, but do not understand how Asian parents work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Luhan hasn't had a panic attack since he's set foot in Korea.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“If you could be doing anything, anything at all right now, what would you be doing?”

 

Luhan pondered Akemi's question, he was now used to her vague and random questions and abrupt entrances and exits by now. He didn't even bother telling her to go away anymore.

 

Would he want to be playing soccer with his friends back home? Would he want to be in college like all his peers?

 

“Watching the sun rise.” He answered honestly a few minutes later.

 

“Good answer,” She nodded, “Me too.”

 

Luhan sipped his coffee in silence, groaning as the hot liquid slid down his throat.

 

“Why do you smoke anyways?” Akemi crinkled her nose, “It stinks.”

 

Luhan shrugged as he made a mental note to wash his jacket, “Smoke is pretty.”

 

“Not a real reason, but I'll accept it for now because I agree.”

 

“Everything good or beautiful in life either kills you, makes you fat, or is illegal.” Luhan pointed out, “I'd rather live a short life the way I want to than a long one miserably.”

 

“So is this how you're living your life?”

 

“You got me there. I'm still working on it.” Luhan grimaced, “What about you?”

 

“I've been here a while.” She sighed, not answering his question, “See you.” He watched her long dark hair fly as she hops back to her building's roof.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We've narrowed it down, would you like to go to Seoul National University, Beijing University, or Harvard?”

 

“I-”

 

“And can you decide which profession you want to go into yet? It's better to state now whether you want to apply as a law student or medical student. I think I've been quite generous on time, you need to decide by now.”

 

“Father, I want to become a teacher, not a doctor or a lawyer.”

 

“A teacher? Well, I suppose we might be able to find you a job as a professor at-”

 

“No, I want to be a teacher. A high school teacher more specifically.” Luhan cringed as he waited for this father to explode.

 

The heavy metal utensils slammed against the glass table,“Luhan, teaching lower level education is not a respectable job. Leave those jobs to those who aren't as brilliant as you.”

 

“But-”

 

“You're really spoiled, do you know that? Children would kill to be you. You have the brains, the discipline, the work ethic, and the money. While people worry if they can afford college or not here we are telling you we can send you abroad easily!”

 

“I have the grades for full scholarships, you aren't helping me.”

 

“Don't talk back to me.” Luhan's father stood up from the table, “You have no say in this matter any more.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How old are you Akemi?” Luhan dared to ask. He had been curious about her age for a while among other things she seemed to never mention. She always had questions but never had answers.

 

“I'm nineteen.”

 

“Oh, so I'm older.”

 

“I'll be twenty in two months.” She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

 

“So what is a young girl such as yourself doing hanging out at the edge of the red light district?”

 

“I've been here for a while, I wouldn't know how to deal with life if I went out there. I'm slowly transitioning though, I used to live in the heart of the red light district, it's a lot scarier over there.”

 

“Do you have family here with you?”

 

“Kind of,” she adverted her eyes, “I guess so.”

 

“Oh.” Luhan dropped