Baekhyun stared down at his phone’s screen and looked up eyeing the houses he walked past. His stomach felt tight as he looked at each home if they could be called that. The walls of some seemed to be crumbling, most looked abandoned. Some of the windows were broken out of others or covered with construction tarps. He heard cats screeching in alleyways, and watched as chilled winds blew trash along the crack sidewalk he walked upon.

He shook his head for the thousandth time since he had entered the neighborhood. His eyebrows scrunched up; as he once again checked the address on his phone and looked back at the street sign. This isn’t right. It can’t be right.

But no matter how many times he looked behind himself to will that street sign to change, it never did. This was where, according to the school records, Park Shinae lived. He continued walking down the street, watching his step until he looked up and the number plastered on the front of shabby crumbling home matched the one in his phone.

He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the home. Memories flashed before his eyes. One of a crisp small home, a perfectly manicured lawn with some of Shinae’s toys sprawled across the yard. Her bike leaning against one of the shrubs making it off-kilter, ruining the symmetry of the lawn. Baekhyun remembered it was one of the biggest points of contention between her and her mother. Shinae had a loving home, but her and her mother were constantly at each other's throats from what he remembered. 

But staring up at this house it was the complete opposite from that home. The walls were made of crumbling dirty bricks. The parts that weren’t exposed were covered with an overgrown patch of ivy that seemed to choke everything in it’s path. The lawn was patchy and dry. Glass bottles littered everything, some shattered to bits, others whole and looking old as they seemed to make permanent homes in the patches of exposed dirt that popped up between the dead grass. 

The walkway to the front door was even tilted and broken. Weeds sprung up between the cracked concrete, almost swallowing the broken slabs whole. One more time he looks down at his phone to make sure that he’s at the right place. 

He is.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket, readjusted his backpack against his shoulder, and made his way to the front door. He stepped over the bottles and did his best to avoid the patches of dirt.

He had finally made it to the front door. A doorbell hung off its spot, rendered useless, a bundle of wires holding it in place as best as possible. He sighed and balled his hand into a fist before raising it hesitantly, he made to knock on the rotted front door. But his hand stayed in place, shaking, he couldn’t do it. He dropped his hand and looked down at his perfectly white shoes, noticing the smallest scuff of dirt. He found the urge to scrub it clean right then and there but shook away the urge. 

No, he came here for a reason. He was going to knock on the front door and get to the bottom of all this . He could already begin to understand why Shinae wouldn’t want to come home. But this couldn’t be her home. He remembered her family, and how they used to live. They weren’t rich by any means but they were happy and had a nice comfortable home. This was a joke.

He squeezed his hands at his side and finally knocked on the door. The sound it made was too loud. He found himself being too loud and large lately and it made him feel uncomfortable. But no sound came back. He took a deep breath and knocked again, this time following it up with,”Hello? Anyone home?”

This time something did happen. He heard a faint thump, followed by a muffled voice and then some glass shattering. Moments passed before the door swung open haphazardly and he got struck by the musty smell of mold. The man that greeted him sent a jolt of wicked familiarity shooting through Baekhyun’s spine. This was Mr. Park, Shinae’s father. But he reeked of alcohol. His once trim and styled hair was now peppered with white, it was long and greasy too. His skin sagged, and his eyes were surrounded by a sallow yellowish color. He didn’t look right. He swayed as he stood there and swung his head about in an attempt to meet Baekhyun’s steady gaze.

“Whaaat,” he coughed-his words slurred. “Whatt a ya wan?” 

Baekhyun blinked, cleared his throat, and stood up straighter trying to hide his shock. His plan came flooding back to him and he quickly said it, “I’m here to collect photos of Shinae for the senior portion of the yearbook.”

Mr. Park blinked a couple of times. His knuckles white against the door frame, his hands digging into the rotted wood seemed to be the only thing holding the old man up. Then he nodded before stumbling backward away from the door letting it swing open with a thud.

Baekhyun swallowed, and took a step forward. The home was littered with crushed cans. Empty or half-full bottles of beer were tipped over and staining the floor. But there were already stains that seemed to have sunk into the ground from years of neglect. Mr. park stumbled away, his hands grasping at random things to keep him upright before he landed on a musty couch. The center was so bent and sunken, Baekhyun figured the man rarely ever left the spot. It was like it had molded to his very body. He grunted sleepily, one hand sprung out grasping blindly for another bottle the other raised and pointing down a narrow hall.

“Ha room su thatta wa,” he grumbled, taking a swig of beer,” Dot ya’ll find a thing though-she never aroun’.”

Baekhyun nodded and quickly made his way down the hall. The place was dark and grungy. No lights were on and the only bit of light came from the dirty windows. He had a hard time stomaching the smell of the place. He couldn’t believe that Mr. Park could stand to stay in the stench and filth. He finally found a room that had the door slightly ajar. He pushed his way in and was once again left shocked by what greeted him.

He shut the door behind him, grateful that this room at least didn’t smell of years old alcohol mixed with mold and mildew. It didn’t have much of a smell, but the space was oddly cool and still. He couldn’t really call it a bedroom even. There was a bed but it was bare of any sheets. A pillow or two were set at the head of it but it was clear nobody had slept there in a while. The floor was bare of anything other than an old rug. 

A solid white desk sat in a corner, a stack of paper and folders were set upon it in an orderly fashion. A thick layer of dust coated everything. It was clear that Mr. Park was right, Shinae was rarely ever around. Everything was bare and stripped of any personality. Her closet seemed to be the only thing that had been touched or disturbed in years.

He recognized a dirty pair of sneakers as well as a soft blue hoodie that lay crumbled on the floor of the closet. Some of her hangers were bare and empty, others were bulging with fresh clothes. A pile of dirty ones lays tossed to the far end of the closet next to what he recognized as her backpack. He nearly started at the sight of it. 

He never even realized she never brought it to the apartment, but there it was sitting like it was waiting for him. He dropped to his knees and reached out to grab the pack. He was startled by how heavy it was, he knew how it heavily sagged against Shinae’s petite form anytime she was at school. But this seemed absurdly weighted, he quickly ped the pack and was shocked to see it full of clothes. 

He knew he shouldn’t pry but he was still reeling from taking in the entirety of Shinae’s home. This wasn’t what he had pictured at all. He came here to figure out why she didn’t want to return home and he understood why now. But taking all of her room in, it was clear this wasn’t where she spent her time. His curiosity was urging him to dig deeper, so he did. His fingers dug into the soft fabric of her uniform and he pulled it out tossing it onto the floor next to him. 

More fabric laid at the bottom an envelope stuck between the folds. He grabbed the thick envelope along with the other uniform and pulled it out. The shirt he held unraveled, its pastel green fabric sported a small cafe logo on a little chest pocket that settled on the front. The pants were darker in color but still matched the shirt almost perfectly. Did…did Shinae work?

“Impossible,” he muttered. His hands flew to the thick envelope the flap easily lifted up. A stack of cash fell out. Baekhyun grasped it quickly counting every dollar and stopped at the last one. This was nearly enough to pay for the first semester of classes. 

He heard the soft rumble of snoring slip through the cracks of her bedroom door. He doubted the old man could hold a job for long in his condition; if he could get hired at all, that would be enough of a miracle. But Shinae couldn’t have been the one paying for the house and school…could she have? 

Baekhyun shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He came here only to figure out why Shinae didn’t want to come back home. He looked around, the answer was obvious now. If she came back to this house in her state, she’d easily get sick. Her drunken father would accidentally crush her, drop something on her or just forget about her altogether and she’d most likely wind up dead in a matter of days. 

He sighed, quickly shoving everything back into her backpack and putting it back in its place. He looked around the room once more, taking in the bare bed. Where did she sleep at night if not here? How many hours did she work and save up in order to pay for everything she had…more importantly, where was her mom?

Baekhyun remembered so much of his childhood with Shinae by his side and Mrs. Park was a huge part of it. She was the more strict of the two parents but her love for Shinae was pretty obvious. Though, Shinae, herself never seemed to acknowledge or notice that love. Mrs. Park was a perfectionist but not to the level Baekhyun was used to-she was kind. She was constantly making snacks for the pair when they had been out all day playing in the summertime. She had always been consistently welcoming to Baekhyun no matter the day or time he would come over to visit.

So where was she now? It seemed unlikely that she would just up and vanish. Even more unlikely that she has passed away. He knew that if it had happened his parents would’ve known and mentioned it in passing to him. Where was Mrs. Park? 

He stood up, dusting his pants off feeling his skin crawl. He knew her room looked fairly clean but just being in this rotting house for a moment longer made him nervous. He turned to walk out, shoving past her door and back out into the hallway. He looked at the crooked frames that hung on the wall, the images so obscured by layers of dust. He pulled one of his pristine sleeves down and rubbed some of the dust away. He had to swallow hard to prevent bile from rising up the back of his throat with the action. 

What greeted him was a familiar image of a young chubby-faced Shinae, dirt smeared all along her cheeks and clothes. Her small mouth pulled back in a smile pocked with holes from missing teeth. Next to her stood the familiar silhouette of Mrs. Park but her face was covered by a spiderweb of cracks. The image had been intentionally destroyed. He looked over to where Mr. Park lay passed out. A bottle tipped on his chest, the potent substance staining his already ruined top. His mouth hung open, more sloppy snore popping free from his mouth. 

Did she actually…walk out? He knew Mr. Park was the more fun one but he was never an alcoholic or unbearable. Or at least Baekhun never noticed it. He was always an attentive father, always. What happened? When did Shinae’s family fall apart?
 
He looked once more at the tarnished photo before turning to leave. He tiptoed past her father and walked around all the trash and bottles before he grasped the front door handle and slipped out. He shut the door and turned to look at the barren view of the neighborhood. He couldn’t get rid of Shinae, that was more obvious now than ever. This home was a danger to a normal person, let alone someone her size. He had to keep her for now. 

He sighed, walking away from her house. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had just uncovered. Shinae had a job after school which wasn’t allowed per the school guidebook. She also clea