“Ten for a throw, fifteen til noon.”

Yoon Jeonghan studies the scraggly elevator boy in front of him. How can someone like this be working in such a high-class hotel?

But he decides to humor him.

“A throw, then.”

“I’ll send someone up to your room. Which one are you in?”

“Two-thirteen.”

The boy bows him out the elevator. Unseen, Jeonghan smiles somewhat pityingly.

Ah, poor boy… but he is only trying to support himself, I suppose.

Jeonghan throws his heavy winter coat down on the plush bedding and checks his silky hair in the polished mirror.

“Might as well look a bit better,” he says to himself, a bit ironically.

A timid knock at the door. Jeonghan smirks at his reflection one more time before throwing open wide the door.

His arrogant mask falls away into pure shock as a young boy with clear features stands, drenched in rain, not meeting his eyes.

And his hair… is so similar to his own, falling down to his shoulders.

But this boy’s hair is a dark brown as opposed to his light.

“Th-the elevator boy said it was this room…” the boy ventures quietly, rubbing his elbow.

Jeonghan snaps back to his senses with an unfamiliar feeling.

“Oh, oh yeah,” he says, allowing the poor boy to enter.

He notices how the younger’s eyes take in the entire room in one sweeping gaze, assessing, judging. Suddenly, Jeonghan feels ashamed.

Ashamed of his wealth, taken for granted.

Stripped to the core because of this one boy.

“What’s your name?” he asks, voice harsher than he meant, holding out a towel.

The boy flinches, not taking the towel.

“J-Jun.”

“That’s not your real name.”

“…no.”

The other’s hair is nearly black from the rain, and he looks down at the floor, face a blank mask.

Jeonghan wants to gather this boy into his arms, his hair, and tell him it will be fine.

But he does not.

It is obvious that this boy, Jun, is afraid of being touched.

So he sits, and gestures to the other to sit as well.

Jun does not sit.

Jeonghan sighs slightly and runs a hand through his perfect hair.

“Tell me, what is your real name?”

Jun shakes his head, ever so slightly.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

There must be a hint of malice in Jeonghan’s tone, because Jun’s eyes are so subtly fearful.

“Cannot,” he says, just as quietly, but with force enough.

Jeonghan smiles.

“A rebel,” he says. “I like you.”

Jun looks up sharply.

“How old are you?” Jeonghan presses gently.

“I…” Jun’s cheeks flush. “Seventeen.”

A flicker of surprise springs to life in Jeonghan’s eyes.

Even he himself is only eighteen.

And yet this boy, one year younger than he…

Gives up his body…

“Why do you do this?” he asks, pain tinging his voice.

Jun must hear it too, because his gaze softens and drops again.

But he does not answer.

“Why??” Jeonghan pleads, restraining the urge to take the boy’s hands in his own.

“Family…” Jun finally breathes, softly. “And school…”

And for the first time, Jeonghan notices that Jun is shivering.

Shivering uncontrollably in the spacious hotel room.

He grabs his coat and slings it over Jun’s hunched back, forcing the boy to sit.

Jeonghan kneels beside the chair, and Jun does not protest.

How cold he must be…

“How many times?” he asks, knowing Jun would understand.

Jun shakes his head and closes his eyes.

Jeonghan cannot comprehend, but then Jun slips up his sleeve, and everything is clear.

Oh, so clear.

Because Jun’s arm, oh, his pale, delicate arm, is covered in dark bruises, purple and green.

Jeonghan’s eyes cannot take it in.

His mind cannot process.

Who would want to hurt this beautiful boy?

Jun is watching him quietly, eyes full of pity.

“Many, many times…” he whispers.

And Jeonghan understands how hard it had been for him to trust.

To trust enough to show him this.

This, his darkest secret.

Jeonghan pushes back the collar of Jun’s worn sweater, exposing more, much more, much worse.

And Jeonghan cries.

The tears come involuntarily, and Jeonghan finds himself crying into Jun’s sharp collarbone – oh, how little does he eat? – and feels Jun’s soft hand on his hair, it.

Assuring him that it is nothing.

Telling him it will be fine.

Jeonghan raises his head, grabs Jun’s hand.

“No!” he says forcefully. Jun looks taken aback, and fear enters his eyes.

Fear of losing this trust he had just put into a stranger.

“No!” Jeonghan repeats. “You will not be fine! Look at this! What is this??”

And then they are both on the floor, crying.

Jun’s tears fall into Jeonghan’s hair.

Jeonghan’s tears drench Jun’s slowly drying pants.

“I have to,” Jun gasps between sobs. “I can’t do anything else, and I-”

“Yes, you can!” Jeonghan’s eyes, red and puffy, are nonetheless fierce.

Jun backs down again, old fear and panic taking control.

Jeonghan takes him by the chin and forces him to raises his head.

Brown eyes gazing into brown.

“I’ll help you.”