sixteen! Sometimes breathing is not only a source of life. In most cases, breathing equals to your internal pain that gets revived all the time you sip o the air. Your wounds open up again and you know they are bleeding with a new dose of agony and raving. But do you know that this is exactly what makes you are alive? You look in the past, and then you are glad that in this one second you can be here, carrying everything on your shoulders, no matter how hard it is, but you are breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Taeyong breathed in and out rapidly, ignoring the fact that it was ice cold. Partly worried that he might get sick, on the other hand, his organism was lacking more oxygen during the emotional state. The boy was looking for a second job for himself, desperate, he checked on all the newspaper advertisements, surfed on all the possible sites, and made sure he entered every building that needed a new worker. Nothing worked because he had a huge womb in front of him. 

At this point he was sorry for himself, the little money he gained as a librarian was barely enough to pay for the apartment rent, not even mentioning proper meals or new warmer clothes for the cold season. His palms reached out to press against the hard stomach through his worn-out sweater, ghostly caressing his child in consecutive motions under his low lullaby. He was humming a melody of disappointment in this life, but with a drop of hope that still keeps his desire to keep living for his son.

A baby was a present, it was his second chance to change his life, in a better way. A baby would carve him to a better version of himself. He was looking into the newspaper, looking for job suggestions because he was determined to get a second job, which would bring him enough money for the first period, till the baby is old enough to go to kindergarten. He wouldn't be able to work full after he gives birth, but give Jaemin education. And he prayed that his baby will never find out who his father was and what was he deprived of by living a poor life. He was afraid that he will be blaimed by Jaemin since his father is rich, and he will never live a better life. This was scary, Lee would give him all he had, but what if it's not enough at one point?

His life is a routine. Work. Home. Work. Home. Pain. Work. Home.

Entering his apartment, Taeyong's hoarse voice called out for his cat. He looked for it in the kitchen, but there was no single response, the pet usually responded and came to his hand all the time he called out his name. He would wait for him at the entrance of the apartment all the time, waiting for his human to give it food and affection, what else a cat would need. When he found the cat, it was laying on the floor, on the old carpet, Taeyong thought he was sleeping. Lee approached the animal, touching his face with the tip of his fingers, and he didn't know why there was no reaction. He leads his digit to his nose, only to notice there was no respiration. The pet was dead.

He didn't realize how the tears momentarily started to slide down his cold cheeks, and why everybody was leaving him. Taeyong's life was falling apart, shattering like old temples, like old pages of Egyptian scripts when you touch them. Now his pet was gone, what would he do alone in his apartment, who would bring a smile on his face when he comes back to his cursed apartment. For now nobody is going to wait for him home.

Grabbing his phone, the first thing he did was to message Johnny, who was the only person he still trusted. The pads of his fingertips smashed the screen, without back reading the typoes he made, and then sending the text.

"My cat passed away"

When Johnny heard his device buzzing on his glass table, he was still in his office. He didn't unlock his phone, yet just read the text that appeared on his screen. The man didn't care enough to reply right away, even if Taeyong was probably a crying disaster right now. Who cared if he was screaming, yelling? there were the four walls of his room listening to him. Consoling his undying pain towards the dead animal, right? Yet another idea was born in John's brain, he could use this to make Jaehyun feel miserable again. 

Johnny got up from his chair, spinning around and looking through his glass windows, leading the corner of his phone to his lips, meanwhile, they arched into a graphic smirk. The tall man was not your typical human, he was lacking pity towards those who were weaker, and if you look around you, everybody is the same weak and fragile. Some people have a high opinion about themselves for no reason, and it's annoying knowing that they do nothing but to be rude, and the rest are hypnotized and are ready to kiss the ground they step on. These people are used to attention, they are not afraid to show their true colors. They will be worshiped continuously. Have you ever met such a person? What makes the situation even more despondent is the fact that you can not change anything about it. It's the society. The hierarchy of those who hold money have built.

Then he was walking towards Jung's office. The hallway was huge, painted white like some describe the afterlife, with expressionistic paintings placed into expensive frames onto the immaculate walls. Johnny was relaxed as he stepped onto the red carpet that leads to the very end of the hallway. He ignored the secretary, pushing the door widely open, as the second hand was buried in the front pocket of the Burberry pants. His confidence was taking over Jaehyun's peaceful room. The sudden break into Jung's space, made him lift his eyes from the paper he was reading, with a blue pencil in his hand. Similar to an uninvited guest, Jaehyun couldn't help but exhale loudly. 

"What the hell, Seo", Jaehyun grew angry right away, bitting the inner part of his cheeks, slamming the pen onto the table while he leaned back into his leather CEO chair. "Nobody taught you some manners?"

"Look who's talking, from all the people in the world you are the last who should mention it", Seo's tone was parodying the whole absurdity of the situati