Kim Jongin sat on his bed, staring out the window across the lawn.

He had lived at Scarlet Manor for 10 years of his life. He had explored all 120 rooms, all over, many times, but he had never been out.

'You could have been like me, Jongin. You could have been amazing. What happened?'

His father's words still haunted him. He hated that he couldn't forget them. What HAD happened? Jongin could have been his family's pride and joy, but...

He stared into the mirror. He had learned to face his reflection, but it still made him wince. What had happened, and why?

He stared at the sickeningly white patches on his tanned skin. His eyes were filled with sadness. He was thin and everything about him plainly showed what was wrong with him.

'My child has leprosy. My golden child is a leper.'

His father had never spoken to him without reminding him what he could have been. His 'golden child.' The pride of his family.

Instead, here he was locked in this room, hidden from the world so he didn't spread the dreaded disease. 

Doctors had long ago proclaimed him incurable. Part of Jongin had died right then, right when the doctor said those words to him. He had to live shadowed by the thought that in five years, he would probably be dead.

'What happened to me?'

Jongin turned from the mirror. He stared at his hands, one a pleasant dark tone, the other shockingly white. His eyes filled with tears and he collapsed on the bed, wishing he could just die right then.

 

 

Scarlet Manor, Leper Hospital since 1965

'Goodbye, Chanyeol,' his sister murmered. 

The 19-year-old stepped into his room. It was cold and empty, except for two beds, far away from each other.

'Why are there two?'

Sandara spoke from down the hall. 'You have a roomate.'

From one bed, another boy sat up.

'I'm Kim Jongin,' he mumbled very, very quietly.

'I'm Park Chanyeol... oh god this is gonna ,' Chanyeol groaned.

Jongin only sniffled a little as he lay down again. Chanyeol felt a bit sorry for him, he was obviously sensitive and extremely depressed by his illness. However, right now Chanyeol was more concerned with himself.

'I ing hate my life,' he sighed.

'Me too,' came from the bed.

There was a small silence.

'I could have been this and that and a whole lot of , but instead I'm this. I hate my life-'

'Me too,' again.

'Is that all you know how to say?'

'I'm sorry you're sad.'

Chanyeol's heart melted. 'I'm sorry for you too. Look, at least we're alive, right?'

'Dead would be better,' Jongin said.

'You're...gloomy.' Chanyeol sat down on his bed. 'You have a pretty good reason though. Does your mom ever come remind you of everything you could have been, just to make you feel bad?'

'My mom is dead,' Jongin murmered. 'But my dad does that.'

'I'm sorry your mom is dead,' Chanyeol said awkwardly. 'We can be friends, okay?'

There was a pause before Jongin's muffled response. 'Okay.'