For Zico words are everything.

A tool to lie, a weapon to kill, a key to open doors that should remain closed.

For Kyung words are nothing.

A movement of lips he learned how to read, a sound he will never be able to hear and a reason why he'll always stay inferior.

Fighting for what he desires is what Zico's used to since early childhood. For someone deprived of parental support and care things like that are a cold principle, like a friend repeatedly drowning in quicksand that catches his arm just when he's about to disappear forever. The kind of burden that never goes away, instead hiding somewhere at the back of his mind and breaking out of his brain under the cover of darkness when he feels all alone in an empty room, shivering under a pile of thick woolen blankets.

Zico's an independent university student now, you might say. Skipping more or less 2/3 of all the courses he's supposed to take and sleeping through the rest, too tired to lift his head after yet another night of wild partying with his peers, girls and bottomless glasses of whiskey.

It's all perfectly fine and Kyung's just a meaningless ''someone'' when they meet; a quiet stranger that invades his life like everyone else.

Except that he's not just anyone.