—Prologue 2/2

Jongin POV

Bottle of Milk.
Three simple words that changed my insipid life. 

I remembered like it was yesterday.
Funny, today is January 14—my birthday.

January 13.
It was sunny with a hint of cold breeze in the air.
The day before my birthday. I would laugh at how uncanny that was but—

My mom told me to go and get some fresh milk just down the block from where we lived.
I was 5 years old at that time.

Even though I was a child back then, my life was nothing but a sack of history books—humdrum.
I was made to turn into someone that was independent and wise. For the sake of my future wife.

I'm not sure about that anymore. 

Looking at the still surrounding as if it was a painting itself, nothing catches my attention—like any other days.
But today was different.
In the corner of my eyes I saw a ghost.

Never mind.

His skin was as white as milk that I didn't even notice that he was holding a bottle of milk in his right hand.
I remembered how he passed by me with his little weak legs running one step at a time, making sure he won't trip any moment.
I remembered the way he was breathing. 
Inhale—Exhale.

Getting as much oxygen as he could.
His breathing was somehow rather usual though, but maybe that was just me. I'm not a doctor.

As he made his finally step, our little pinky brushes against each other without us controlling it. 
Then again, it could have been an accident.

But that was no accident.