If you were to look at him from the outside, you'd probably deem 16 year old Lee Injun nothing out of the ordinary. After all, the Seoul resident does well in school, he helps his parents around the house since he's the only child, and sings when he's not busy. The voice he was gifted with is quite magical, and he can also beatbox really well, both of which has waves of girls wanting to date him. But he refuses them all. It's not that he thinks he's too good for any of them, he just thinks he has better things to do than cater to a girl's fragile heart.

Injun is also bored.

Day after day, month after month, year after year, all of it seems nothing but a blur to Injun. A blur all of the same boring shade, none of it more intense than the next blurry strain, none of it standing out. Even at such a young age, Injun can feel the monotony draining all of the energy from him, despite the burning passions within him. Sure, he may love singing and music in general with all of his heart, but is that enough to counter the everyday? Injun doesn't think so. At this point, even love has lost its luster to him. But something big is going to happen to him, and although he cannot know it, he somehow feels it. The seemingly meaningless pound in his heart, the slight chill ticking the back of his spine, all of it calling to him.

"Everything's going to change."

Injun woke up in the middle of the night to his parents' fighting again. Most days, he wondered why the hell they hadn't filed for divorce yet and make them all happier. The boy was initially guilty the first time he had thought that, but his near complete eradication of emotions as a defense mechanism robbed him of that uneasiness. Although his parents would try to console him, it was too late. Injun had no need to forgive them when he had ceased to care what their problems were. He would always love them, but he had trained his heart to be oblivious to any more pain; and any that would manage to make it in would be seeped out by blood he drew by his own hand. Of course, the cuts would only be made where they would be easily hidden, lest he be admitted to some loony bin or therapist. The best therapist he knew was his razor. He didn't care if people judged him for it, for he didn't care anymore, but better to avoid the fight that results in revelation.

As Injun was trying to get back to sleep through the clammer, a bright flash made it through his closed eyelids and he shot up. There was no passing car, and his door was still closed. He had learned to lock it at night after his drunken father came inside and vented all his anger on his son. Injun waited a few seconds for a second flash to find out where it came from, but it never happened. The strange incident was soon pushed in the back of the boy's mind, and he continued his struggle for sleep.

The next morning at breakfast, Injun wasn't surprised to find his parents sore from the previous night's physical exertion. It was almost funny to him that they got so into their fights that they would be sore afterwards. In fact, Injun would probably be laughing if it weren't for the fact that these were his parents. Many mornings, he would find himself grateful for being an only child, so no others would go through the hell he did. Injun could imagine himself being protective to any younger brother or sister he would have had, but he thankfully didn't have the extra burden. He was content to bear all of this alone without any siblings to share it with. This wasn't something he'd wish on those he would love so much.

"You need to hurry, Injun," Mrs. Lee commented as she sipped her coffee. "You have some midterm tests, right?"

"Yeah, I do, mom," Injun shoved the last of his eggs into his mouth, smiling a trained smile afterwards.

"Are you nervous?" she asked again.

"He shouldn't be," Mr. Lee said, eyes still glued to the newspaper. "That is, if he studied well."

"You know me," Injun said to both of them. "I've been studying for today if you two cared enough to notice."

When Injun walked out of the door with his backpack and jacket, he exchanged "I love you"s with his parents and tread to the bus stop. The light chilly wind blowing on his face made his cheeks start to get red. He hoped the bus would get there soon. Or not, Injun hated the bus. All of the boistrous boys and girls, all his age, chattering and playing enthusiastically as if school was actually something to be happy for. Still, he would take that over his parents' commotion.

Right as he was going deeper into his thoughts, something flashed like his experience last night, but it was strange. Even though it was a considerably bright flash, Injun had no need to shield his eyes, nor was there an ache in his eyes after an exposure to bright light. The flash came from above and Injun looked up, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He looked around to ask someone if he or she had seen it, but none one had their eyes to the sky. Was Injun really the only one who saw it? But it couldn't be, it was very bright.

"Getting in or not?"

Injun's head shot down from the skies at the bus driver's voice and he apologized before running inside. Amidst the usual clamor, Injun slid into an empty seat and looked out the window. There was an unidentifiable feeling filling him, but he couldn't place exactly what it was. Through the streets of Seoul, amidst the busy people, his destiny was approaching. Injun unknowingly sensed it, but the big feeling was so foreign to him that he couldn't possibly have suspected anything.

Through the halls of school, Injun made his way into his first class: math. One of his only friends caught up to him and tapped his shoulder. The other boy's masculine smile and husky voice, from which his nickname was derived, always caught Injun's attention.

"You invest a lot of time preparing for a storm," Husky chuckled, "only to find that your shelter is only as strong as your shaky foundation."

"Yawn," Injun smiled evilly, his friend reminding him that he has emotions. "Don't you ever say anything normally?"

"Only he who has a weak stomach cannot take the rich ambrosia of the gods," Husky rebutted, albeit incomprehensibly.

"Whatever, just walk with me."

"No matter how many times I've studied," Husky activated his regular teenage speech, "I can't feel ready. Seriously, it's bad enough that I have to take care of my baby brother, but having to study when he's in his terrible twos is just torture."

"You'll do fine," Injun patted his back. "Just...take your time."

"I'm afraid I'll answer 'What's the proper answer to a Prince's decree?' with 'Turn the baby on his or her back and pat until the obstruction pops out.' That's the way my brain operates."

Injun let out a hearty laugh, one many of the people he knew didn't hear a lot, and turned to his friend. It was at times like these that he was most thankful for, when Husky would turn his heart into something resembling his childhood days, full of joy and passion. But it was also the moments that had him long to be carefree again, impossible as it may be at this point.

A hand put a feather light touch on Injun's shoulder and he stopped. He turned around with a frown to tell whoever this was to buzz off, but there was no one behind him. Only Husky was standing beside him. Once again, Injun felt that big strange feeling in his guts, but brushed it off when Husky asked what was wrong. They made the rest of their way to class and sat down.

Injun could almost swear he saw the same kind of light from the bus stop.

None of the tests were particularly hard, so Injun felt confident about them as he came home to wash dishes, which were equally as easy to do. So, with everything done and no homework, Injun retreated to his room and strummed his guitar. While he may have supressed his feelings for years, they always managed to come out through music. A song that he had been working on flowed from his lips, which flowed from his heart. Years of hurt and self-oppression were crammed into three minutes of song. Tears formed in his eyes and he took the opportunity of being alone to cry, and he didn't even know why. Perhaps it was because of the way his mind immediately brought him down for having his GPA drop a tenth of a point the month before, or was it from wishing that his parents would bring happiness for once? Whatever the reason, Injun wanted to cry, so he did.

The tears that he had suppressed for years came out, washing his soul. It wouldn't last long, however, because he couldn't let anyone see a moment of weakness. He was supposed to be the strong, perfect one. Everyone depended on him to be the pillar when they all collapsed, and he had no chance to break down. The unfazed mask he had sworn became attatched to his face was suffocating him, and he knew it.

Suddenly, two warm arms wrapped themselves around Injun. The boy was extremely startled and shot backwards with a yelp escaping his lips. Injun looked up and was surprised to see a man not much older than him smiling warmly, almost wanting to say something but refraining from doing so. This man was pretty, but held an authority about him that didn't belong to one so young. He also seemed to glow with a strange light.

"I apologize," the man chuckled. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Wh-who are you?" Injun stuttered.

"My name is Jin."

Still confused, Injun frowned and opened his mouth to ask what he was there for, but Jin didn't wait for it to answer.

"I'm your guardian angel."