Ever since his brother left three years ago, Saeran had forgotten the feeling of what little happiness the two of them had together. Slowly, he soon forgot what his brother's voice sounded like. He would find some comfort by staring at his reflection in the broken piece of mirror that he had kept as his little treasure. The more times he saw his face, the reflection of his brother, he would remember their promise; they would get out of this hell together. However, no matter how much he prayed or cried, Saeyoung never came home. Soon enough, he lost hope; hopelessness turned into misery, and all that pent-up emotion curled up into a flaming ball of anger inside his chest. Why did Saeyoung leave him? Was it because he was weak, and that his brother saw him the same way as their mother did? The weak, obsolete twin?

    He was now fourteen, and yet the only world he knew was this four-walled prison where his drunkard of a mother resided. When was it since he last saw the flowers outside? He couldn't remember anymore. Her beatings became his meals; his aching wounds painful reminders that he was still alive. He hated waking up; he hated breathing, yet he couldn't disappear. Every time he was tempted to, his brother's smiling face would flash before his eyes. A bitter laugh escaped him. Even after such a long time, he still clung to that hope that he would come back, and the two of them would be happy in their own corner of the house. That was all he ever wanted.

But Saeyoung had told him that bad boys never got what they wished for. Did that mean he was bad? Was that the reason why Saeyoung abandoned him?

    The sound of glass breaking in the other room stirred him awake. Unconsiously, his hands traveled to the nasty welts on his back, still purple and bruised from one of his mother's recent rages. He didn't mind; his mother had only beaten him whenever she thought about Saeyoung, and it made him a bit happy that the memory of his loving brother, his affections, had been real. It reminded him that he also had been happy, once. It gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, Saeyoung would return. 

    I miss you, hyung.

    His mother died later that day, having overdosed on anxiety medication. He had found her splayed on the couch as usual, but the foaming of and the grayish pallor of her skin told him that she had been dead at least since last night. He did not cry; he felt no affection to this woman who bore him. She had never shown him love, and he had given up long ago asking for it. He had accepted that he would live his life never getting the love he craved from anyone, and Saeyoung had been enough. But if even is brother, the source of his hope, abandoned him. He had stopped praying to God; if He existed, then why was he making life so hard? Why would God take away his only source of light, the reason he kept on living?  

 Hyung, why did you leave me? 
 

Come back. Please.