When he woke, he was cold. He was so cold, he was numb. It hurt, hurt worse than being hit by a car. The ground was hard beneath him, concrete, snow, and cigarette smoke. There was a puffy jacket covering most of his face and chest, and he wanted to go back to sleep. Slowly he felt the fingers running through his hair, and the sound of the city behind him. His head was on someone's leg, and they were speaking softly. He reached with numb fingers for the jacket and pushed it away.

"Ah! You're awake! You speak Korean, right? I couldn't find any ID on you, so I wasn't sure." The man was older than him, his legs just as cold underneath his head. Jongin slowly sat up, aching, rubbing his palms together. The man continued speaking, and he could just barely feel him fixing his hair. "You've been out for a couple of days. I've been dragging you around, trying to get you awake to eat, but you were out." he shoved a stale piece of bread into Jongin's palms. The man smiled affectionately, taking his scarf and wrapping it around Jongin's neck. "The younger generation deserves to be warm."

He told him everything from practically the second he stumbled upon him. He had bruises on his knees, which the cold had numbed. He was badly bruised, and Jongin was when he found him. He didn't question anything, simply dressed the boy with his extra clothes, and carried him along as he went. He was told he had bruises on his face, but the man had no mirror to show him. His lips were bloody, and his palms scratched up when he was found. Jongin felt dirty, no memory of the past few days or what happened when he jumped. He rubbed at his arms, still cold as the man wrapped an extra blanket around him.

They were in New York. It was 2010, and the man's name was Joonmyun. He had dirty black hair that reached his shoulders and hadn't shaved for weeks. His eyes sported dark circles under them and his lips were so chapped they were bloody. He placed a ball cap on Jongin's head to keep the snow off his cheeks. Jongin glanced around as he chewed the stale bread. People walked past them, shoes loud against the cold concrete. Joonmyun held a small tin cup with a few coins in it, begging. Jongin sat, back against the cold building, and watched with wide eyes.

He could leave. He could find money, make a phone call, and Wufan would come get him. One hour, take or give some. He could be warm at home in Wufan's arms with a cup of his favourite Chai tea watching cartoons. And Wufan would be so mad. So, he allowed himself to be pulled along by the man who whistled as they trekked through the snow and the crowds, with barely any shoes on, and thin jackets that held little to no warmth. Jongin shook almost violently, not used to being so cold. The man carried him through some streets, Jongin wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. He whistled and hummed jazz tunes as he walked, occasionally pointing out land marks to Jongin.

They slept under the bridge, Jongin's head on Joonmyun's stomach. He slept restlessly, not used to freezing. He shivered in his sleep, and dreamt of warm climates. Beaches, summer, Wufan. When he woke, he was alone. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and stayed alert. He was terrified, alone, and cold. He wanted to go home. Around eleven, people began to crowd under the bridge. They poked and prodded at him, pulling at his hair, pinching his cheeks and tugging at the collar of his shirt. He fussed, and yelled, and pushed, but only some stepped back. At one point, a young man sat next to him, pulling him close, and no matter how much or hard Jongin fight, he kept his grip around his waist.

Only when Joonmyun returned with a bag of food did they all scatter. They scattered quickly, eyes wide and tripping over their feet to get away. The young man kissed Jongin on the cheek, giving a smirk to Joonmyun before fleeing as well. Jongin remained terrified though, because the look in Joonmyun's eyes was murderous. He sat the food between them, picking through the bag. He would toss food into Jongin's lap, but he was too afraid to move, possibly too cold to move. He stayed there frozen, literally, as Joonmyun dug through the bag.

Joonmyun was bloody. His hands were covered in it, a dark red that was slowly drying. His shirt was stained, and he had splotches on his face and neck. A bruise was forming on his cheekbone, and there was a deep cut above his eyebrow. He bit his lip so hard it bled into the hair around his chin. His pupils were blown, and he pushed his bangs away, hand shaking. At one point, he stopped. He froze all his movements. It was so quick, Jongin screamed. He quickly covered his mouth, and stood up, the food in his lap crashing onto the frozen ground.

"I-I need to g-go- I- ...call my-"

"You're not going anywhere." Joonymun didn't even look at him. He began to put the food back in his backpack. His bloody hands staining it all. He collected Jongin's share as well. Only once all the food was away did he look up. "You're not going anywhere, so sit down."

Jongin felt frozen. He shook with the cold and as well with the fear. He stared, eyes wide at Joonmyun as he too stared. "Sit the hell down." Joonmyun murmured with a slight growl in his voice, his eyes never leaving Jongin's. Jongin sat down as quickly as he could, possibly bruising himself in the process. Joonmyun smiled, but something wasn't right. He took an apple from his backpack and shoved it into Jongin's mouth. "Eat up, you're too skinny."

The taste of blood was overpowering. It was cold, and rotting. It hurt to chew, and hurt to breathe. It was so cold and Wufan would be so mad.

a/n: I apologize again. I hope this update is good.