I am Moon.

Most know me as "The Man in All Pink"; an unusual but fitting title. I earned it while running with my colleagues, a mix-and-match bunch of weirdos with no real jobs and too much energy to stay at home. This ragtag gang of ruffians, though diverse in background and appearance, all had one thing in common:

A love of motorcycles.

And with them, I shared this interest.

      On steeds of steel we'd ride as we explored the backroads of a small, worn-out town, looking for nothing more than some trouble to get into. It was the type of juvenile mischief that commonly plagues these kinds of towns, young ruffians with no direction making up the rules as they go. It was nothing so grand and vile as murder or , but vandalism and the sale and use of minor drugs made for a general nuisance to anyone unfortunate enough to be in our company. Or within earshot. If we were being honest, we were nothing more than hooligans, and we liked that about ourselves. Each member of our gang was someone who just didn't relate to the trials and tribulations of the ordinary people. We found solace amongst others of our own kind and thus, in a way, became a family. To them, I was the skinny hyung with short blonde hair who had a knack for breaking and entering. I cracked jokes and looked after the younger members the way an older sibling should.

But what they didn't know was that I was a liar. 

      It's true that I love my brothers w