“Honestly, how are you running the gallery this year? You know nothing about art,” Kai heard his friend, Sehun, say through the phone. He stopped walking for a moment and scoffed before continuing and talking back.

“I know plenty about art. You’re talking to a prodigy, remember?” Kai brushed down his expensive suit, in a business manner, even though Sehun couldn’t possibly see him. He turned the corner of the busy street, eyes glancing around to catch the sign of a restaurant he’d yet to eat at but had a reservation for. He’d just returned to Korea after a long trip in America, his parents had sent him on for dancing auditions. He hadn’t been auditioning but was rather a guest judge of sorts for many schools. Having started dancing soon after figuring out how to put one foot in front of the other, he was a professional, and yes, a prodigy.

“Like you ever let me forget,” Sehun rolled his eyes, opening his fridge and hoping Luhan was grabbing take out. Hearing Kai brag was making him hungry. Maybe if he stuffed his face, he’d forget his talented friend and his big trips to judge the less talented. “Besides, dancing is not the same as painting. You know nothing about painting.”

“What’s to know? All I have to do is pick out nice looking stuff,” Kai dodged the insult and looked up, noticing the sky was turning grey, not a good sign since he still didn’t know where exactly he was.

“Nice looking stuff? Oh, the terminology. You clearly know what you’re doing,” Sehun laid the sarcasm on thick.

“Hey, party pooper. I’ll call you later, I need to look up directions,” Kai said before Sehun could make another snide comment. He was totally going to rock the gallery. Even though it was a month away... and he hadn’t started planning anything... But what was to freak over? The world held hundreds of painters, he’d find one. He only needed to find one.

“Alright, bro.” Sehun said in his best American imitation. “Bye.”

Kai ended the phone call and searched, Joh-eun Eumsig, the restaurant's name, in a browser. It only took a second for directions to load.

“Thank you, technology,” he whispered, slightly pumping a fist in the air and turning right, just as it started to rain.

“Oh, great,” he gave a small sigh, squinting up. Looks like this could be a real storm too. He was so busy looking up, he didn’t notice the boy sitting in front of his feet. And since he didn’t notice, he promptly tripped, falling to the ground in surprise.

“Really?” he asked himself, hands holding him up so his face didn’t smash into concrete.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked from behind him.

He awkwardly turned around to see who was speaking, only to squint because he didn’t see anyone.

“I said, are you okay?” the voice repeated, but still Kai didn’t see anything but a shifting black bag.

“Is that a talking bag?” he asked out loud, crawling closer to it only to yell as a head stuck out.

“You must not be okay, if you think bags can talk,” the voice said, only this time from an actual face.

A hand rose to Kai’s chest in shock to calm him down, as he registered the sudden head. Big, dark, eyes stared at him. It was a boy or a man or something in between. He looked about Kai’s age but skinny in an unhealthy way. He had a lot of brown hair too but it was unkempt and in need of a good salon shampoo and condition. His skin was pale like moonlight and the rest of his body was still in the weird bag thing.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” Kai stuttered, sitting up, so one knee was on the ground and the other was ready to push him to stand.

“It’s okay. People rarely do,” the boy said, matter-a-factly, pulling his head back in the crookedly made hole, so his face was away from the heavy raindrops now coming down.

Kai immediately felt sad at this comment. His mind trying to process the situation. What was this kid doing in a bag?

“You should really get going,” the boy said, “It looks like this could be a real storm. You’re going to get sick.”

Kai tilted his head, curiously, at the boy’s concern. He was going to get sick? This boy was going to get sick. No way would a plastic bag be enough to keep out water fall like this.

“Are you...” Kai began, but he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t come off as rude.

“Homeless?” the boy asked, eyebrows raised. “Yeah.”

Kai still didn’t know what to say, only it was starting to rain harder and he felt he had to be here for a little longer. He scooted over, under the flimsy blue canopy, attached to the building next to them.

“I’m Kai,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand.

The boy looked at it, then at Kai, then at the hand again, before glancing around them and snaking one of his own, uncertained, hands from the bag.

He grasped Kai’s tightly and shook, as they both bowed to each other.

To Kai’s surprise, the boy’s hand wasn’t at all that cold. It was probably retaining some warmth from the circulation of body heat rotating in the plastic blob.

“I’m Kyungsoo,” the boy said, shyly, retreating his hand back in it’s home. Or his home, Kai thought.

“Nice to meet you, Kyungsoo,” Kai smiled. He looked around Kyungsoo and noticed a pile of brown papers with scratches on them. “What’s that?”

Kyungsoo looked over to what Kai was eyeing. His face turned a light shade of pink before he moved over and pushed the papers out of view.

“N-nothing,” he stuttered, nervously.

Kai frowned. He wasn’t close enough to demand to see but he swore it was a picture of some sort.

“You draw?” he asked, politely.

Kyungsoo looked down at the ground and said, “No.”

They remained silent for a moment before Kyungsoo added, “I... I paint.”

“Really?” Kai said, interested. “What do you paint?”

“What I see, mostly.” Kyungsoo said, head inching out the bag again. He hadn’t talked to someone this long in years. Most people yelled when they talked to him, yelled about him finding another place to “loiter” at, said things like he was worthless. Sometimes they spit on his bag, one time they burned all of his paintings.

“That’s cool,” Kai nodded. “I’m into art too.”

“What kind?” Kyungsoo asked, curiously. Because of his situation and limited conversations, he hadn’t discussed art in years either. He missed it. He missed the creativity and the brotherhood of fellow artists. Even though he still considered himself an amature, his whole life hinged on art. It was his best friend and to hear someone talk of it, was always special.

“I’m a dancer,” Kai said, only not with the confidence he reserved with Sehun. He was more modest this time, unsure if he should admit just how good he was.

“Like professionally?” Kyungsoo asked, knowing the difference between saying “I dance” and “I’m a dancer.”

“You could say,” Kai shrugged, like it was no big deal. Even though he’d performed at the most prestigious award shows and had shaken hands with legends.

“That’s cool,” Kyungsoo mimicked him and smiled.

Kai noticed him lightly shake in the bag and then he realized he was shaking too and completely wet and yes, probably going to get sick any minute.

“Hey, Kyungsoo,” Kai begun, without even knowing what he was about to say. “Would you care to eat with me?”