Star, star, star.

Dongwoon ducked his head quickly, shadowing his sleepy eyes with a dark curtain of dirty hair. That boy saw him. That boy who walked the neighborhood at night, who cried on this bench every evening, who seemed to have stars in his eyes. He saw him. He saw right into Dongwoon's soul and could see all his flaws, his faults. He wanted to run away, away from this boy who already knew too much, without even asking. He wanted to run away, away to a world where he could know his father was safe, a world where war was non-existent and where he could focus on just growing up, on being a son. On being a kid again.

"Sorry man, it's just that...I need to sleep. You understand, right?" Dongwoon grunted, focusing on maintaining his rough and tough exterior, not leaving any cracks for pity to enter, especially not from this stranger. Kikwang, who immediately understood the situation, gave him a quick once-over. The boy had dirty hair, bitten nails, and filthy clothing. But despite the lacking appearance, Kikwang could see a light in this boy. Like...like a star.

Star, star, star.

"Hey kid," Kikwang started. "Do you...um...have a place to sleep tonight?''

Dongwoon glared at the ground. He hated to admit the situation, that he had been kicked out of the apartment that he and his father had shared after his mother's death. The landlord(curse his fat, greedy ) had kicked Dongwoon out as soon as his father left the country. Dongwoon had been doing odd jobs, scraping up just enough to keep from starving. At night, he wandered the parks near his old neighborhood, hoping that one of the neighbors would take pity on him and tell him news about his father, whether he was healthy and...alive. He peeked out from his under his eyelashes at this stranger, wondering why this guy would give a damn where he was sleeping that night. He opened his mouth, preparing to yell at this nosy bastard, when he saw it. A bright light flashing in the older boy's eyes, bright enough to take Dongwoon's breath away, a flash quick enough to make him question if it had been real.

Star, star, star.

"No," Dongwoon replied sullenly. "Don't worry about me. I survived for a while before you came along." He his heel, pulled his jacket closer to his body and walked away. Dongwoon began to run across the park, feeling the night winds blow against his flushed face and the light rain wash the dirt from his long hair. He didn't stop running until he reached the children's playground, a bright island in a sea of darkness. Oasis. Dongwoon crawled into a tiny space between the slide and the ladder, a place that only he and his mother had known about. He strained to remember their giggles, any of her stories, any of her smiles. He couldn't remember anything. Would he forget his father one day, too? He laughed bitterly. Tucking his worn out sweatshirt under his head, he pulled out the only sentimental thing he had left from his childhood: a picture of his parents from 1990, before he was born. His eyes ran over the images while his long fingers raced over the familiar lines, searching hi parents' faces for any sign that they knew they would be leaving their son soon. He looked up at the cloudy sky wondering if his father could still see the stars. Dongwoon clutched the picture to his chest and let one more tear slip from his tired eyes before falling into a fitful sleep.

Star, star, star.

Kikwang wanted to take this kid home, feed him something, bring some color to his sunken cheeks and give him a place to sleep. But the brat ran off, muttering some crap about how Kikwang wasn't needed and how self-sufficient he was. If the kid doesn't give a about himself, Kikwang thought, why should I? I have enough to worry about without some egotistical parasite on my back as well. Kikwang walked slowly toward his building, dragging his feet the whole way. What would happen when he walked into the house today? Would his mother throw something at his head? Would she yell obscenities from her hospital bed? Kikwang thought wearily about his father. Bastard left the moment the diagnosis came in. Couldn't handle the stress, he had mumbled as he threw his clothes into a suitcase, couldn't watch it. Kikwang heard the click the cheap lock made and pushed the door open halfway, ready in case something heavy and dangerous was thrown in his direction. But the only thing that was thrown in the apartment that evening was silence. It echoed throughout the rooms, broken only by his mother's labored breathing, aided by a machine.

Kikwang crossed the front hall to get to the living room, to the prison of a hospital bed, to his poor, sick mother. He emptied his mother's bedpan, cleaned up her dinner and wiped the floor clean. Grabbing a dishcloth from the kitchen, he walked back to her side. Kikwang her waxy skin and patted the sweat from his mother's forehead. As a child, Kikwang had been very sickly, always falling victim to the latest virus that swept the classrooms of the local elementary school. Because his father's factory job didn't pay much, his family couldn't afford to take him to a hospital to be vaccinated or taken care of. His mother would spend days with him in bed, talking to him about the angels that lived in the sky, her childhood, and fairy tales that would always make them laugh at the end. Kikwang could feel the ache in his heart, yearning to make her laugh again. He leaned over the bars of the hospital bed that kept his mother from falling during her fits, and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

SMACK! Kikwang felt the slap in his heart before he could feel it on his face. He immediately began to back away. No one could ever tell what might happen when his mother really got going.

''VANDAL! SCAMP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE, YOU SON OF A ?! STRANGER! MONSTER DEMON!" His mother was unrecognizable, a tiny waif of fury, her fists shaking, She began to grab the objects on her bedside tables, her magazines, her cup of water, her picture of Kikwang, and began to throw them. He knew that unless she calmed down, her blood pressure would rise, which would throw off her medication. Although he didn't want to, he began to walk towards her slowly, hands out to show that he was defenseless and wouldn't hurt her. She quieted, watching him while still holding a picture of them in her hand, watching to make sure he wouldn't make any sudden movements. Kikwang felt his heart ripping out but still managed to keep a wide smile on his face.

"Uhmma....uhmma." He began. "It's just me, Kikwang, your son." Edging toward her bedside, he reached out to grab the picture frame before she hurt herself. Her eyes began to light up and a wild look appeared in the eyes that he loved so much. She pulled back her arm and struck Kikwang on the side of his head. The shock was immediate, the pain took longer to come. Kikwang knew that there was no use trying to reason with her that night and his heart broke at the thought. He stumbled through the house, blinded by his tears and curled up in a corner of the kitchen. From where he sat, he could make sure she didn't hurt herself, while still hidden so that she couldn't see him. His body shook with the strength it took for him not to scream, not to cry; the strength it took for him to look at his mother and know that she was not his mother anymore. Something warm fell from his cheek and landed on his lips. It was slightly salty and metallic, making him wonder idly if it was blood or tears. He didn't know. He didn't care.

Where were the angels tonight?

Star, star, star.