“No!” Someone pulled him back. Minho landed on his back and the stranger leaned over him. “What do you think you’re doing?! You want to die?!”

                Minho stared up at the man, who was probably no more than ten years older than him. He said nothing, appalled by this stranger’s concern for him.

                The stranger shook his head. “Never mind that, you’ll catch a cold if you stand out here near a river with no shirt on.” He held his hand out to Minho, and something made Minho grab it. The stranger helped Minho up, draping his coat over Minho.

                They hobbled somewhere, the stranger leading the way. “What’s your favourite food? I’ll make it for you”

                Minho shook his head. His father wouldn’t want him to eat at someone else’s house. His father wouldn’t want him to eat anywhere, but especially not at this man’s house.

                “Are you sure? You look pretty hungry,” he insisted.

                Minho decided that if he threw it up afterwards, his father wouldn’t be able to tell he’d eaten. He chose a random food, since he’d never really thought about his favourite food. “I-I like chicken…” his let his voice trail off.

                “Excuse me? Chicken? Chicken?!”  The stranger’s face was plastered in a perfect grin. “I LOVE CHICKEN!” He put his arm around Minho’s shoulders and dragged him to his favourite chicken shop.

                He went to order the chicken, leaving Minho at a table. People looked at the dishevelled teenager, but he was used to the stares. He’d only now realised his shirt was off and the bruises were visible to anyone who would look at him. He shifted the coat around him to hide them better.

                The stranger looked back, noticing the deep purple marks. Those are recent. He saw red marks those are older… and some yellow-green wounds on the side those must be ancient. How long has this been going on?

                He got the chicken and sat across from Minho. “You know, if you want to, we can go to my house and eat the chicken there,” he offered.

                Minho nodded. He didn’t know what would happen if his father saw him eating in a public place. They walked the short walk back to the man’s house, and Minho tried not to show his pain when going up the stairs. The stranger noticed, but didn’t say anything.

                They began eating. Minho only ate a drumstick in the time it took the stranger to eat four. He was genuinely amazed by the man. His only explanation for the rapid consumption of the fowl was the sentence he had thrown out there.

                He spoke up. “C-choi Minho. I’m Choi Minho”

                The stranger looked up and gave him the warmest smile he’d received in years. “I’m Onew,”

                Without thinking, Minho said “Hyung?”

                “Hmm?”

                “How do you say “tofu” in Korean?”

                Onew thought for a second. “Dubu,”

                “C-can I call you that? You remind me….”

                “Ah…. Yeah, you can.”

                “Thank you, hyung”

                Minho told Onew about himself a little, never revealing the home secret he carried. He told Onew that he was half English-half Korean. He’d never been to Korea before. His mother died when he was six years old. His father remarried when he was eight. His brother was born when he was nine. He moved to Korea two days ago.

                Onew listened, completely intrigued. He noticed what time it is, seeing as it was almost time for high school students to be let out of class, he told Minho he should go. Minho agreed. Onew asked him for his phone number, programming himself as “Lee Jinki”

                “It’s my real name,” he stated.

                Minho nodded understandingly. He programmed himself in Onew’s phone. “Choi Minho”

                When he left the apartment building, he looked frantically for some bushes. When he spotted them, he commenced the vomiting he was so used to. He hadn’t had this much food in a long time, so the force of it caused tears to pour down his face.

                He wiped his face, trying to look as best as he could before walking off to school.

                Onew had watched, through his window, Minho’s retreating form. He was completely shocked when he saw what Minho was doing to himself, and even more shocked when Minho acted like nothing happened. He definitely wanted to keep an eye on this kid.