I lie in my bed, trying to make up my mind, The clattering of feet and loud, slurring voices woke me up at this time and aroused my curiosity. I've lain awake, trying to decide if I should go outside and take a look. It's probably nothing, more than likely just some hung-over ahjussi's messing about in the night.

Curiosity killed the cat they say. If I was a kitty I would be dead a million times over.

The cold hits me like a pile of bricks as I slowly open the front door. A shiver runs down my spine and I jump in place, trying to adjust to the sudden temperature change. I peer into the darkness, the only source of light being the moon. I'm about to head back inside when I spy a particularly large shadow by the alley's main dumpster. The ground feels like ice beneath my feet as I carefully tiptoe closer, straining my eyes to make out what is nearly hidden from view. I stand about a metre away as I squint my eyes, hoping I'm seeing wrong.

A long, lean figure is huddled against the wall, a hood almost fully covering a tussle of ruffled, bleached hair. The exposed skin is a bright white contrast against the black of the night. Their eyes are closed and they appear to be sleeping. Well, at least I hope so.

One day I believe I really will die because of my curiosity. I dare to move closer still, close enough for me to lean in and brush the figure's face with the back of my hand. I shoot backwards, as if I've been electrocuted. I thought the weather was cold, but this person is colder still.

My parent's will kill me if they ever find out what I've done. Firstly, I bent down and picked up this person in my arms, struggling a little with his wiry frame dangling in all directions. I then took him up to my door and as quietly as possible into my house, not wanting to wake my parents. I feel quite scared for two reasons. One, my mother and father would shoot me if they caught me taking in a random stranger off the street into their home. Two, the figure in my arms is not responding to any of my actions. He could be dead, as an extreme case, for all I know.

After a long struggle back up the stair case to my room I dropped the person on my bed, my arms in absolute agony. Being sneaky and strong at the same time is not a good combination. I flicked the light switch and took to examining the...

Boy?!

He couldn't be any older than I am. He has pale, young skin and a sweet face. His lips and nose are tinted purple, which reminds me why I took him inside in the first place. Luckily I did, or my father might have found a dead person at our door. Not the best way to start your day.

I awkwardly pull away my duvet and kind of 'push' the boy underneath it. I then open my closet and cover him in as many blankets and sheets as I can find. I then find my sleeping bag and roll it out on the floor. I decide to leave the light on in case he wakes up any time soon, although I don't think that's likely. I feel like I should do something more but I can't think of anything else that would be helpful. As I mentioned, my parent's would kill me before they agreed to help.

I lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. I randomly let out a laugh. Sometimes I surprise myself. Most people would freak if they found a boy in this state like I did outside their home. I took it on as if it's a regular, everyday task. My utter calmness surprises me. Although I am mostly settled, there is something niggling in the back of my mind. I really do hope he's alright. He's cute, quite pretty actually, and explaining an ill, sick (or worst case scenario: dead) male in my bed when I wake won't be the easiest thing to do.

My parent's will think I've become a psychopath.

Where the hell did Jong come from?

I don't know. Don't ask me.