(BACKSTORY)

(47) SEHUN I

Stealing had always come easy for Oh Sehun. Though, it's mostly because he’s never exactly had a choice - it was either steal or starve in the family he came from.

No one ever really approved of it, though. No matter how many struggles inflicted onto his mother and aunts and plentiful of cousins, never had stealing been something even discussed in the slightest bit. Now, Sehun might as well call it all a sport of sorts.

It was wrong, but his family took whatever he'd bring back home, refusing to speak about the subject or where he'd went to snatch it up. Because, despite feeling a little guilty, they needed it.

By this point, their only chance at living was through Sehun and his ability to steal.

The bricks in the abandoned apartment they resided in begin to crumble from age, air filled with the pungent odor of moss and rain, or dust and rust. It was the best the ghettos had to offer, and they're grateful they even have a roof above their heads, even if it's broken and light peers through the cracked cement.

A few months earlier, they were stuck outside of buildings, supported from the rain by mere cardboard boxes that would deteriorate within half a week.

Sehun doesn't know the answer to why they're so poor because it had just always been this way ever since he was born.

He started off small: from the candy stores and outside sale stands to bigger stores that sold much more food. It was easy, and everything he stole more or less fit into the worn out bag he carried everywhere.

It was one day where something caught his eye on his way to steal some clothes in the local shop: a big, clear case full of glistening jewels. As he passes by and glances at the case, a moment of awe dawned upon him. Almost as if in slow motion, the jewels glisten in the light for minutes within that one step he took. Eager, he continues walking with a quick pace, planning out his catch as carefully as possible.

He's never tried stealing something as expensive as this. He's also a little nervous because of the security cameras pointing in the general area, threatening him, urging him to go on. He gulps, looping around the cloth racks to conceal himself.

At first, he's contemplating about whether or not to actually continue with the plan. The risk was too big. If caught, not only would he be in trouble, but his whole family as well.

So he seriously mulls this over in his head until he's got the perfect scenario straight, but it's incredibly hard when there's no way to open the box. That is, until he sees the woman open the box herself to show a customer one of the latest imported jewels.

He casually makes his way back to the front of the store, doing his best to not seem suspicious to those around him. Though, it is a bit hard considering how he's kind of dirty with dark, messy hair and dark clothes, a great contrast when compared with his pale white skin.  

Grabbing on tightly to the frayed straps of his old backpack, he took a long look at his reflection in the mirror, waiting until his wavering intent turned solid.

Sehun hadn’t even passed through the doors before he felt himself being thrown to the floor. His arms were restrained and dirt flew into his mouth the more he panicked, shallow breaths quickening as the pressure of a man smashed him into the concrete. He didn’t understand what was happening. Sehun hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of the precious jewels inside before he was found out.

Two men dressed in overly adorned suits kept their mouths shut, though Sehun could see the malice in their eyes as one of them continued to drive his body into the floor. Sehun could feel a knee pressed down against his spine and was amazed it didn’t break.

The pain was excruciating. He didn’t know which was worse; The ache in his ribs from the floor threatening to crack his bones or the sharp point being dug into his back.

Eventually the heavy weight had been removed and Sehun hadn’t wasted a single moment before bolting out of there. Being a young boy, he wasn’t able to get far. The man looked at least triple his age, and Sehun only being ten at the time was met with utter defeat as he was thrown to the ground yet again.

He’d heard about it while being detained in a police car later that day. About how the two men hadn’t even thought twice about almost mauling him just because their employer thought he was a ‘bad influence’ on their business. Sehun thought it was stupid that he had been caught because they thought he was going to steal something from the store.

For the record, he was. But the fact that they had managed to tarnish his record of safe looting hurt his pride. From here on out, he will only have to try to become better.

When they ask him for his parent’s phone number, he presses his lips together in a frown. They don't have a number, let alone a phone. For goodness sake, they didn't even have a proper roof above their heads! Sehun secretly grumbles to himself, answering with his silence.

The officers ask him where he lives next, to which he also doesn't know how to answer. He grits his teeth, eyeing the town buildings that pass by with squints.

“I don't think he has a home,” The passenger cop whispers to the driver. Sehun’s eyes shoot to them in a sharp glare, dignity burning to the end of the wick within him.

“What's your name?” The driver asks after a long, chilling pause. Yet again, Sehun has no answer.

He does notice that they're nearing the end of town, where his family resides in the old run down and abandoned apartment building along with many others without proper homes. He grits his teeth at the sight, eyes darkening until one of the cops let's out an “aha!” and the driver pulls over.

The passenger, the one with the somewhat softer but still stern look, turns in his seat and looks into Sehun's eyes as he begins to shrink in the back seat. He gives him a small grin.

“So this is where you live, huh…” He mutters. “I figured. All people like you tend to live in the more remote areas of town.”

A seat belt unbuckles with a click, followed by another. The next thing he knows, Sehun's door is open with the two officers waiting outside for him to follow.

It's difficult to get out of the car with his hands cuffed,  but he manages somehow- not without scraping the metal cuffs onto the black exterior, though. The more strict and stiff-ish cop groans and grits his teeth, but overall lets it go because he knows that he's just a kid, after all.

And so they make their way into the building, and Sehun eventually gives up all hope, deciding to lead the way to where he normally resided when he wasn't running about through the town.

The wallpaper on the walls is chipped, the elevators are out of service, windows are broken and there is no longer anyone tending to the manager’s office in the very front.

As he made his way through the dusty, murky hallways, he could hear others who lived in the building as well. For the most part, it is silent, but it isn't rare to hear children crying and some serious family talking every once in awhile.

It almost makes Sehun jealous, because he’s confused on whether or not to really trust his family. On most days, Sehun finds himself contemplating his very existence and it's importance, and he eventually deems it as vital for his family’s sake. For his own sake.

Other days, he's too busy actually doing the deed to really think about it.

“I came here for a case before,” The calmer officer admits. “It was similar to this. Three young boys. They got away in the end, though…” He wrinkles his brow.

Sehun tilts his head at the irrelevant fact, but keeps going nonetheless. Eventually, they have to move out of the way of debris constructed of dilapidated furniture that would probably break at the touch.

He understands that the officer is just trying to make small talk so that he could understand him better, or maybe to get some more information out of him, but it's no use. Sehun refuses to talk. He has no need to.

The memory of his voice is a bit hazy, and there is difficulty even remembering it.

A few more rooms down, the entrance to his room was within eyesight. He halts his pace momentarily, bites his lip, and continues, slowly this time.

When he arrived in front of the door, he stepped to the side, letting the officers take care of the rest.

Inside, his family shows a mix of expressions: confusion, shock, and in the end, it’s something more difficult to read. Rather, they don’t talk at all until the officers finally ask,

“Is this your son?”

It’s quiet for a really long time, but after a few glances at the others, Sehun’s mother finally looks up to the cop and shakes her head.

“We don’t know him,” she replies, getting closer to her sister and her children. “We’ve never seen him before.”

This makes Sehun’s fingers twitch, thumb impulsively pressing down onto his already cracked joints and nail digging into the skin.

The calmer officer begins to pace the room, examining and taking in whatever there was which wasn’t exactly much. A good amount of it are things that Sehun had stolen from previous runs, scattered around the house in rappers, or a bunch of piled clothes serving as a mattress of sorts.

Clearing his throat, the officer asks, “Are you telling the truth?”

The fear in the eyes of his relatives have Sehun filled with some sort of hope, but when they shake their heads again, all of them this time, he presses down onto his joints even harder.

At that moment, Sehun realizes something: This family didn’t care about what happened to him. They only cared that he came back with something in his hands. And for as long as he did that, they would let him stay and rest, only until he had to go back out again.

It was more of a passive thing for them to do, but it still somehow gave him responsibility in the family. Now, though, he’s starting to think differently about what exactly is considered “family”.

The officers furrow their brows, looking back to him with puzzled looks glued to their faces. Sehun doesn’t have a reply, but his expression is full of rage.

Shoving his fist into the pockets of his hoodie, he grabs out whatever wrappers, food and coins he can carry and throws it all directly in front of his family. When they scramble on their knees to take whatever they could, he knows he should have known better. Frustrated and angry, he turns completely around and marches straight out of the door. Eventually, he’s running with all his might, hot vexed tears streaming down his cheeks until he’s as far away as possible. At this point, the police don’t even try to bother him for what he did- their only real job was to him home, anyways.

Not like he had a real home to begin with, though.

It was weird, being in a family that was so already broken up that it was natural to just go on his own all the time. From the start, it's never really been about love, or bonding and happiness; there was no real happiness, the love was replaced with gratitude for stolen table crumbs, and bonding came with silent exchanges of stares and huddling during cold winter nights.

Still, though: Sehun was afraid to admit that maybe, what he had wasn't family at all. What he had was the life of a tramp who's only real pastime was to pilfer scraps of half-eaten plate lunches and necessities needed to survive.

He's unable to learn about how to life properly as a young boy until he reaches eleven years old.

Weeks later, when he's just getting back into the swing of stealing like he used to, he's walking down the streets in the late afternoon nearing evening. The sun begins to lower into the silhouette of the many motel and apartment buildings lined up one side of town, and the sky disperses from a tinted blue to purple, orange and pink. The clouds spread out in thin slices, stained pink and marmalade around the edges where the sun hits.

Sehun prefers this time of the day better than anything else, because it is when the wind is the most calm and the hustle and bustle comes to a halt.

It's the time of day where he usually takes a break from running around in secrecy, the best places according to his list being rooftops of buildings, a bench in the park in the middle of town, or the cliff past the fences that looks over it all. It's his favorite place to be, especially with the constant warm breeze and fresh air of the nature un-destroyed by the industrial era. This still applies, even if the walk home is a big lengthy and the soles of his feet hurt in the end.

But today, instead of heading in that direction, something else catches his eye: a man with a luxurious style, walking smoothly with a briefcase clutched in his right hand, and following up the grip is a glistening, golden watch. Sehun's ears nearly perk up, eyeing the accessory with a new found hunger he hasn't felt in a long while.

Generally, pick-pocketing was a tricky skill that Sehun felt was too advanced to his displeasure. The last time he did it, he came back home with a swelling bruise on his cheek and sore legs that carried him home hastily.

But something about this watch has Sehun on his toes, and it's not just because it's gold. And within him, he's found the spur of theft begging to be put to the test once again even though he knows that it'll all end badly.

Steps light and posture laid back, he trails this opulent man from a distance