He runs as fast as he can and, for once, it is enough. He turns to a small alley and takes the left side to another one. Narrow and stone-paved, his feet slide on it until he finally opens a door. It's a small restaurant, empty at these hours. It is located deep inside the old town, one of these traditional building but its just half the side, maybe just two rooms. It's cosy inside, even only slightly lit. Seungyoon peeks around, glancing nervously before sliding in, closing the door behind him.

He takes a seat at the far end and exhales. When the waiter comes with the menu, he asks him water - tap water, the one that comes always for free. Because money is always scattered and, right now he has nothing, only a shadow, pale and exhausted of running, of escaping of trying to survive one more day without getting caught. But this place smells so good of food and coffee his stomach growls. He blinks twice, confused when he is served a wonderful portion of fish.

"I haven't ordered anything,” he says, totally confused. It’s not very probable that the waiter has served it to the wrong table, taking into account that Seungyoon is the only client at the moment. But the dish looks so appealing, so good, his guts tremble in expectations, even when he knows he can’t pay for it – not in a million years; not because it’s very expensive but because he is always tight on money.

"I know, but no client of mine will leave the place hungry,” he replies, leaving the cutlery on Seungyoon’s sides.

"I have... I can't pay for it, sorry," he says, looking all flamed and ashamed. The waiter chuckles, glancing at him, up and down.

"I can see that," he just says, though. Seungyoon eyes him, suspicious. "This is on the house," he explains, putting the plate that Seungyoon has pushed away back in front of him.

"Won't you get in trouble?" Because he is trouble – he brings disgrace everywhere he goes.

"With who?" he looks appealed, touched by his concerns but scoffs at him with half a smirk.

"Your manager? The owner?" he suggests, worried, looking around, expecting mayhem to be caused by him alone again. He is used to be the eye of the hurricane, to be the source of problems – all his life has been this way.

"Oh, that..." He lowers to reach Seungyoon's height and mumbles to his ears, "if you are so worried, maybe you would like to talk with the owner?”

Seungyoon nods. He really doesn't want to generate conflict, he is ready to go - hide somewhere else.

The waiter walks to the staff room and comes back a minute later, smirking. He comes to Seungyoon and smiles politely.

"I've heard you wanted to talk with me?"

Seungyoon raises an eyebrow, surprised.

"You are the owner and the waiter?" he wonders, in awe.

"And I also cook," he adds, cheekily, "but only when a running high schooler stumbles in," he is laughing now.

"I'm not a high schooler,” Seungyoon pouts.

"But you've been running away, haven't you?" he asks in a serious tone. Seungyoon doesn't argue, it is pointless, it is all written in his face; crumbled clothes and his heart is still beating fast and furious. And he keeps checking the door, shaking at any unexpected sound. “Let me get you a coffee, you seem to need one with urgency,” he offers, walking to the counter. Seungyoon watches him work. In all his life he can count with one finger the number of people who have been kind to him – and it’s up to his mother. The rest have only disappointed him, treated him like , used and abused him. But this man seems so delighted to be of help, to feed for free a total stranger – someone who could be a scammer, a robber, someone dangerous, - and, despite all, he has welcomed Seungyoon in, has served him well even when he is wearing rags and looking like crap. “What can I get you?” he asks, loudly, beating the grumble of the coffee grinder.

Seungyoon looks perplexed. He isn’t aware that there are different types of coffee – coffee is coffee, alone or with milk, that’s it. The man – Seunghoon, Seungyoon read on his tag, - comes back to him and sits with him, a menu popping from his hand. “Here,” he points to the drinks’ selection: there are too many.

“And you can make all of them?” he wonders, staring at the pictures.

“Identical to the displayed once here,” he says, all smiles and lined-eyes, proud. “But you look low on sugar. And fat,” he adds, looking at his bonny fingers and slender, long legs. “You are too tiny and slim. Start eating before it goes cold. Microwaving takes part of the taste away,” he urges him.

The first bite tastes heavenly. The second one makes tears afloat at the corner of his vision. Seunghoon, with a vanilla-looking drink, looks at him worried. “Are you ok?”

Seungyoon nods, a finger pointing to his, now, empty plate.

“It was delicious. Never tasted anything this good!” he explodes, all honest. Seunghoon’s cheeks turn rose, his lips in a straight line, all smile deleted.

“It so sad that you are saying that,” he sighs, “you seem to have endured enough, and you are just a little boy...” he rambles, his eyes on Seungyoon, looking at him with pity and determination.

“It’s not that bad!” he feels that he has to assure him, “I’m just running away from a loan shark.”

“College tuitions?” he ventures. Seungyoon shakes his head.

“My mother’s house,” he explains, “she can’t pay the mortgage and asked for a loan. But her business is sinking and she can’t meet ends so... they are going after us. She is living with her sister and I’m on the run”, he continues and there is a hint of tiresome lingering on his voice. He is exhausted, has been escaping from them for a month, living out of little money he can collect singing on the streets, sleeping on the train station.

The first time his mother couldn’t pay, they broke her hand. The second time, it was Seungyoon’s turn: he lost his guitar and the savings for college. Not that the loan sharks minded – money is money, even if it’s a pile of coins. The third time they nearly rapped his mother. It was a miracle the police showed up on their poor, neglected neighbourhood. Back then they promised that next time, there wouldn’t be mercy. That’s why they ran away. That’s why they are after him, chasing him, hunting him down – and if they find him... oh, he will pay it hard, they will beat him until there isn’t a single bone alive.

Seungyoon doesn’t like the pity but, coming from Seunghoon, it feels warm, it feels real as if he is willing to help as if he can make a difference - and maybe he can because he looks determined, strong willing to aid him as much as he can, providing him with the first kind act in his whole life.

“You can work here,” he offers. “I know it doesn’t look like busy enough to need another waiter, but we have costumers for breakfast and dinner and Jinwoo hyung will like to have such a puppy around,” he says. “I can pay you money, feed you and keep you safe,” he promises, “and you don’t have to tell me your story.” It is reassuring, calming to have someone by your side.

Seungyoon is not an idiot. He takes the deal and moves to the staff room.

Jinwoo nearly kicked Seunghoon when he found out that he was about to inhabit the staff room.

“This is unhealthy and unhygienic! How can you offer such a to him?” he yelled, pointing out all the risks he could have to face. Not that he minded, sleeping with rats or the constant dripping from the tap, he has been in worse situations and, in here, he had a ceiling above his head, a stove to keep him warm, food and people who seemed to care. “He is moving with me,” and he didn’t admit a protest. And so he moved with Jinwoo, to his two rooms place.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks Jinwoo on their way home. It is dark, but Seungyoon is wary, looking around, stress bubbling up.

“Exactly because of this,” he says, holding his hand, his thumb dancing on his palm, reassuringly, calmly. “We won’t hurt you, we will take care of you,” he whispers to the stars, beaming. “That’s what we do,” he continues, “taking in lost souls and mavericks, feeding them, healing them if needed. But you look in one piece, which is good. I’m not that good healing humans,” he smiles. He presses his hand tightly against his and takes away half the pressure boiling inside his heart, tearing his mind apart with images of him and her mother on a ditch, bleeding, abandoned, dying and forgotten.

It takes ten minutes for Seungyoon to feel like home. The place is so neat and tidy, even when two cats show up, purring, jumping to cuddle with Jinwoo. They sniff around Seungyoon before welcoming him in, letting him pet their hairless heads.

“Let me introduce you to Bei and Rei,” Jinwoo says, proudly, a fatherly smile. When Bei rubs his head against Seungyoon’s thigh, Jinwoo nods, approvingly. “They are very intuitive: if you like them it means that you are a good person and that you can stay here as long as needed”.

In no time Seungyoon settles in his new routine: wake up, breakfast before opening hours at the café, talking with them, talking with Seunghoon who is always interested about his life and problems, always helping, always by his side, unnoticed, working with Seunghoon and Jinwoo, having fun with them, eating with them, sometimes games after closing while drinking beer and coffee, sometimes chatting for hours at the back office. Inventory at the end of the week, paycheck and tips every month, calling his mother weekly, explaining to her what he does, how great Seunghoon and Jinwoo are to him, how careful they walk around him in fear to scare him, how they mere presence is a balm to his broken soul – broken and mutilated and always in the run, - how he has settled down, finding people to call his own. Seungyoon sends her half his money and, with whatever his mother is working on, they are managing to pay back the loan – through Seungyoon can feel the moneylender around, sneaking, waiting for the moment that Seungyoon will be unprepared, unworried. Even with Seunghoon, tall and strong, he doesn’t feel at ease, he is restless, his sight always travelling around, searching, scanning, always in a hurry on the streets, skirting, tiptoeing. It breaks Seunghoon’s heart.

“How much more you own?” he asks one day, four-month since Seungyoon has come into his life.

“What?” he is shocked by the question, he isn’t expecting it, not when they have never talked about it again – not after it was clear that Seungyoon was terrified.

“Look, I don’t want you to be stressed and worried. I like it far more when you are carefree and happy, running around like a puppy,” he says, his cheeks blooming. In between all those days, something has changed. Seunghoon looks at him with something new, something that it’s not pity or worries, something that baths Seungyoon with warm and care, something that makes Seungyoon wants to dance, to sing loud. Because Seunghoon is wonderful – has always been, has always thrown affection to him. When he is at the café with only Seunghoon – on the days Jinwoo is gone, - Seungyoon feels like the boy he was before the storm: joyful, cheery. “I think I would be more tranquil if you lived with me,” he says, out of nowhere. “I... Sometimes Jinwoo goes out with that disgrace he calls boyfriend and leaves you alone. I can’t sleep thinking about you alone, it is dangerous” he explains, shaking his head. Seungyoon wants to run to him, kiss him, diluted his worries, dissipate them in the air, promise him that he will be ok – that he is ok with him, only, truly.

“Only a few more months to cover the interest,” he says, beaming. “By the way, hyung, don’t call Minho a disgrace, Jinwoo is very fond of him,” he adds briefly.

“I don’t know why,” he laughs, ruffling Seungyoon’s curls. He has never been so spoiled, so well treated – and Seunghoon always cares to show him love and support, he has the doors open to do what he wants, leave them to purchase something else or whatever. But Seungyoon has found that this is his place, Seunghoon is his home, where he belongs.

Seungyoon can’t sleep.

It’s been four days since he has moved to Seunghoon’s – Jinwoo did throw a fight but gave up in the end, persuaded, perhaps, by Minho and the way his flat would be free for their mischiefs and misbehave, And he hasn’t been able to sleep a bit. But, how to when Senghoon is laying next to him, arms were thrown around his frame, caging him in a frenzy of movements and breathes?

At night he is even more handsome, his skin relaxed after a bath, warm and smooth and perfect. The moon covers him in black and white and he never has been more appealing, more kissable. And Seungyoon turns in bed, the mattress springing on his back and he can’t go on like this – he messes orders at work, he falls asleep on the ride to the café and Seunghoon is becoming wary, suspicious.

He lets a week pass by before cornering Seungyoon back home.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been distracted, sidetracked. I know there is something bothering you, I understand, but I can’t let you do such a poor job, honestly. I don’t want to scold you, I know you have it hard but...”

“I love you!” Seungyoon blurts up before Seunghoon can finish. He can’t bring himself to hear him being disappointed on him, his expectation ruined, his good deeds paying him dust. “I love you and I can’t sleep with you by my side and now I’m drowsy and sleepy all day and I’m sorry,” he keeps going, puking out all the words, without thinking. Because if he thinks, he won’t be able to tell him the truth, to spell him what is it inside his heart, all the love that he has storage and that he wants to handle to him – if he wants to.

“And I’m worried that you will fall asleep on the deep-fryer and burn your pretty face and I can’t go like this, I can’t focus if I’m concerned about you. I have Jinwoo looking out for you, but that leaves us with half a cook and half a waiter and, what?”

Their voices have collapsed, blended in a cacophony of falling explanations, a mess of words.

“I love you,” Seungyoon repeats. And Seunghoon says, too. Again, they both look at each other dumbfounded.

“I love you,” Seunghoon spells and Seungyoon follows.

“This is stupid. Shut up and listen, hyung!” Seungyoon says, seriously. “I love you, don’t repeat after me.”

“What if I want to? What if I love you, too?” Seunghoon is one who doesn’t takes commands.

“Then say it,” Seungyoon dares him, not that Seunghoon hasn’t already.

“Now I don’t feel like doing it,” he jokes, smiling brightly.

“Why not?” Seungyoon pouts, distracted by Seunghoon’s hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

“I like it better the way it sounds when you say it, that you love me,” he mocks, but not really. Seungyoon trembles, looking at him with stars waiting to combust.

They combust, flames igniting when Seunghoon’s lips brush his own.

“You better don’t be distracted today,” Seunghoon smacks his before opening the café. His lips are swollen and red but he has never been more alive, more refreshed, awake.