Do Kyungsoo wasn't always alone. He had Do Kyungsik hyung. A person that tansformed a cage into a house, a house into a home. He filled the home of Kyungsoo and himself with laughter and joyfulness. Nothing seemed to be in the way of Kyungsoo and Kyungsik's happiness. But nobody knew it was going to be Do Kyungsoo himself that would end up breaking everything that made them smile so much...

With Kyungsik gone, the love filled home turned into a house, a house into a lonely cage. Everything about that home Kyungsoo and Kyungsik once shared had remained the same. Kyungsik's room was still untouched. The foods Kyungsik had cooked wtih Kyungsoo long time ago stayed inside the fridge, untouched. Anything that still had Kyungsik's scent on, Kyungsoo kept it untouched.

Do Kyungsoo didn't know how to live in this world without Kyungsik hyung. No, cross that out. He knew how to live in this world without Kyungsik hyung, he simply didn't want to live in a world that no longer consisted of his older brother. A home without Kyungsik hyung wasn't a "home" anymore to Do Kyungsoo.

January, 14th, 7:30 a.m.

Outside weather: Sunny with chance of Kim Jongin bothering me 24/7.

I sat across from Kim Jongin between my kitchen table with a two bowls of rice and two bowls of seaweed soup from near by store. There was that same loud rock music that Kim Jongin listend to every morning, blasting out of his speaker. And there was me with scrunched up eyebrows and my mouth curled up in disagreement.

"Can't you turn that nonsense off for once?!" I yelled in order to be heard over the loud music. The fear that I once felt from this teenage "gang" member were long gone. It turned out that the so-called the "infamous gang members and their wannabes" that "supposedly" were drug dealers, were just couple of kids that loved rock music. Our highschool was currently afraid of group of kids that loved this nonsense called "rock music".

"If I turn off the music, are you gonna finally sing me a birthday song?!" Kim Jongin yelled back at me in reply. Kim Jongin, the innocnet, rock music loving alley cat. That was who he really was. Not the scary highschool drug dealer.

But by now, you might be wondering what the heck I'm doing sitting across from Kim Jongin eating breakfast. How I learned so much about him and why he was demanding me to sing him a birthday song.

To explain, I need to go back to the night of January 12th. The night Kim Jongin stepped into the cage I locked myself in for as long as I could remember...

I stood outside my front porch, staring at Kim Jongin nodding his head back and forth to the ear spliting music splilling out of his portable speaker. "What the heck", how come every time I met him, that was the only thought that came up in my head? Oh, because its not everyday that you see your highschool gang member sleeping on the ground of a dark alley and sitting on top of your kitchen table.

This time, I wasn't even scared at the mere presence of Kim Jongin. Last time I saw him, it was kind of freaky, but this time it was Kim Jongin that was invading my space, not me. 

Fight or flight or stay. It wasn't really my choice to make. I would be killed before I could even throw my first punch, so fighting was out. Why should I be the one running away from my own house? So flight was out too. Stay? After seeing Kim Jongin sitting on top of my kitchen table... I don't know if that was the smartest choice. But it was the olny choice I had left.

I didn't want to face Kim Jongin nor talk to him and most of all, get him out of my house. I ruffled my hair in distress as I walked slowly toward Kim Jongin. His eyes were half closed as he was completly lost to the music.

"What if he killes me? What if he kicks me out of my house? Wait... what if he's a robber?!" My mind was going through all the possbilites of why Kim Jongin was inside the only place I felt little bite of safety. The place that was filled with Kyungsik hyung.

"Wait... is that the fried rice Kyungsik hyung made?!" As I got closer to where Kim Jongin was, I saw an empty food container that was once filled with fried rice long time ago.

That was when I realized Kim Jongin's eyes weren't half closed because he was completly lost to the music, instead he was half lost in unconsciousness. His face was ashen white as cold sweat covered his entire body.

It didn't matter who Kim Joning was, I wasn't goni