I am actally writing this comment after I wrote my third chapter :D It's because I read my story yeasterday, and I admit - it sounds like one of those death-fics :'( But please don't worry everyone~ it WON'T be a tragedy (as I have already continuously said it) but people are STILL asking me over many websites XD Okay? Then okay - let's all plunge into the world of SHINee :D

He wanted to die.

Even in his tender age of nine and his complete innocence failed to protect him from these thoughts. Everyday, it was the same prayer: ‘let me die in my sleep, or get me out of here’. But he normally chose to say the first – because it was the more likely of the two.

People come and go in the orphanage everyday: Members of the public, charity workers, council officials… they all come to see well-looked after children receiving nutritious food, good education and love – And they do, they come cautiously and go happily, gratefully donating generous sums of money to the president. And off they go, never looking back – and not feeling the need to.

They never look back. They never notice the pleading eyes of the ‘well, happy and fed’ children that they had just spoken to, hugged, or their hair. They never notice the ugly bruises decorating their bodies under the clean, bleach-white uniform. They never notice the occasional muffled up shouts of pain from the basements. They never notice that the metal rods, wooden drum sticks and long horse-whips were not just for the ‘different-cultures’ display board. They never notice the hollow, lifeless blank look the children throw at them when they’re not looking.

They don’t notice. And Kibum wished, so very desperately, that they would notice for once. But of course they would not, and every time a visitor pinched his cute cheeks, his luscious black hair, or smiled at his delicate figure. He would linger at the bathroom for hours afterwards, looking at the razor carefully stored inside the president’s cupboard. He would probably die very easily if he touched that cupboard – either in the hands of the teachers, or by the actual razor itself. During these long visits, he would very nearly touch the cupboard, his dull heart fluttering with excitement at the prospect of freedom. But always, something kept him back, a part of his mind pulling him away from the razor. His brothers. They were the sole purpose of his life – without them, he was meaningless. They were the reason of his sanity in this asylum. They were the name that he screamed for help when the president forcible entered him for the first time. It was them who had stayed up the whole night trying to comfort him after that, hugging him close and kissing his head. ‘Jonghyun. Taemin.’

Kibum woke up that day, as with every day, by the shrill bell next to his bunk bed. And as there was a guest planned for the day, he was called down to the bathroom, was scrubbed vigorously and dressed in the bleach-white ‘uniform’. Why him? Because he looked the part, had the least amount of bruises, and was the easiest to threaten – the moment he reveals the orphanage, Taemin and Jonghyun would feel the brunt of the force. He shuddered in the waiting room, the memory engraved into his brain permanently.

He entered the room the caretaker was pointing to. Jonghyun-hyung was on the floor, just like a broken doll. He ran to him, a sob from him breaking the heavy silence. Crimson stained everything. His clothing, his body, his face. Nothing was left out.

‘Ki-Kibum-ah…’ he said, smiling weakly up at him. ‘Well, done – you showed that bastard! I heard the whole thing from downstairs…’

He cried harder, gently wiping off the blood on his beloved brother’s face. ‘Sh-shut up! This is all my fault… If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t…’

Jonghyun silenced him with a finger. ‘Shush… it isn’t your fault at all… I’ve been getting on that bastard care-taker’s nerves for ages. He was bound to do this sometime or later…’ he smiled softly, wiping off Kibum’s tears. Kibum smiled gratefully back at him and kissed his bruised lips gently. His smile quickly faded when Jonghyun suddenly leaned sideways and threw up blood, his eyes rolling back as he fainted onto his brother’s lap.

He felt his vision blur when he remembered his brother’s abused body. He clenched his fists forcing back his tears – that was why today was important. He would happily die than seeing his brother in that kind of state again. No matter who the visitor was, he would be the perfect role of a happy orphan.

He waited patiently, gently rocking on the soft leather sofa. Kibum savoured his moments alone – it was a rare gift. He relaxed his body against the sofa and ran through his lines mentally. ‘Hi! My name is Kim Kibum, and I’ll be your guide today!’ He would walk through the corridor and walk upstairs.‘This is where our beloved teachers rest when we are too much for them! Oh hello Mrs. Cho!’ He would ‘bump into’ their ‘beloved’ homeroom tutor. ‘This is our teacher!! She’s the best teacher in the world! She’s so kind and loving!! We love her so much, and we treat her like our own mother!’ He felt slightly sick, but pushed it away with mental image of the fainted Jonghyun. He had made up these lined up by himself – The witch was so stupid and gullible… she always think that he was speaking the truth! But it was all for the well-being of his brothers – so sacrifices had to be made.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by light foot steps coming from the gates. Kibum tensed instantly, and arranged himself naturally on the couch. The door opened slowly, revealing the guest he was dreading.

Kibum gasped, momentarily forgetting everything around him. Soft almond eyes, willowy, lilted figure, short wavy black hair and a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips… She was too perfect. And it hurt him just to look at her, and know that she would also never look back like the rest of the people.

They stood, staring at each other across the waiting room. The girl broke the awkward silence with her soft, steady voice: ‘Hello.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m the new part-time carer for this establishment… Are you one of the orphans that I’m going to take?’   

Kibum managed to nod - if a jerky twitch was considered a nod anyway.

She smiled at his answer, and he felt the room go brighter at her sheer presence. ‘Well, aren’t you going to say something to your new teacher?’ She waited for an answer, but try as he might, he could not say anything - his body was no longer his. ‘You’re the shy type, huh? Let’s start off with a name shall we? I’m Youjin – You?’

‘Ki- Kibum! Kim Kibum, Miss Youjin…’ he managed to choke out.

She laughed at his use of honorific. It sounded like little chimes to him, gently swaying to a light breeze. ‘Just call me noona. Okay?’

‘O-Okay…’

Maybe he didn’t want to die after all.