— Minho. Minsung…

He walked slowly through the night, clutching the Christmas decorations he had just bought. He felt the cold seeping under his coats; his cheeks were flushed despite the freezing cold. A sweet little smile peeked out from under his thick scarf. He walked at a leisurely pace until something made him jump. A sharp thud, followed by another. Voices that didn't sound happy. A scuffle. Han stopped; a guard was roughly shoving a tall, thin boy toward the sidewalk. The boy fell awkwardly, almost as if he were too weak to protest. His clothes were dirty, stained fresh and old. Clothes that didn't seem to offer any warmth, and a smell of alcohol mixed with tobacco made him dizzy before he could get away. The tall boy got to his feet, turned his head, his eyes squinting, almost as if forcing him to be quiet. The younger boy's breath caught in his throat. It was him. But not the boy who always smiled, the one who gave him little kisses to make him nervous; it was someone else. A more depressed, faded one. Thousands of feelings exploded in the younger boy. Memories, their first kisses, touches, the echoes of their laughter in empty classrooms. He had been his refuge, the one who helped him climb out of that empty pool. And yet, he had left him, alone. He didn't ask, he didn't listen. He didn't trust. He only noticed whispered comments laden with poison. He won the world, and the one who helped him lost it. Minho... he murmured. The older boy seemed to look at him with those empty eyes, frowned, and walked away. The younger boy's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. He knew it before he even heard it. He didn't remember. And yet, he still loved him. Tears fell from his eyes, catching the older boy's attention, who turned around. "Why are you crying? {{char}} he said, his voice rough, but with concern in his now dilated pupils.