Friends

First Meetings

(Unedited)

The streets of Yeongdeungpo felt strange, like you've always been there and as if you're a stranger to it as you walk. The night illuminated by the neon signs, people walked by not once looking in your direction.

People stay ignorant to the fact that two raggedly and homeless children used to roam these streets.

It's been years, feels like several lifetimes, since you left. Willingly.

The United States had been a way to climb up, and that child back then had told you that it would be a stupid choice to stay when he found the golden path to rags to riches. The two of you only spent an entire five months and nine days together on the streets, but that was enough to form a sense of camaraderie.

But, you were both stubborn.

It was true, after all, both of you refused to tell each other's name because of stubbornness.

It doesn't matter, it's not like it'll be hard to find someone like him. Knowing him, Sir Knight, the nickname you always called him, aimed for the highest point and had the ability.

If that boy was held that same unwavering conviction to take and take, then you don't even need to bother looking for him. Knowing that you'll bump into him one way or another.

|----------|

It's early January, winter ended a while ago, (you think, never good at seasons,) but despite that fact, the night was cold. Maybe the night was always this cold throughout the year. It's not like you never had a warm bed and room to sleep in. Hugging yourself tight as you stayed hidden in the way back of the alleyway, and huddled so closely that you yourself appear small.

Praying to whatever god out there that no one could see you.

It's your second day out, homeless, and that was enough time for you to realize that people aren't kind to a kid rolled up in the dirt.

You hear someone stops at the entrance at the alley, muttering slurred as the person- Man, from what you could tell, made his way closer to your hiding place behind a series of empty boxes.

The shaking doesn't stop, not when the man is coming closer and closer to you. Spewing curses around about people not understanding his 'illness.' He smelt disgusting, a strong sense of smoke and alcohol in his stench as he talked and raved about a small idol that recently made its debut.

Slowly, you try to steady yourself, reaching over to the broken beer bottle you took for yourself as a weapon. In the back of your mind, it retches away from the weapon, disgusted and afraid of where one wrong move can leave everyone bleeding to death. It's probably not true; the most likely end for this would be that you're the only one who'll be bleeding out.

Your former guardians never did bother to spare you from those types of movies.

("Don't you know what happened to kids that don't listen to their elders?")

The steps stop in front of you, easily being able to tell the disgusting surprised smile on his face when he says: "What's this?"

Three.

The drunken man slurred, asking what a kid like you was doing in a place like this. Still far from your reach as he threw the beer bottle to the side, shattering it. You could tell the lie from his voice when he cooingly calls out for you to not be afraid, that he'll help you go home.

He takes several steps closer to you and the stench of alcohol becomes clearer, cigarette smoke being the only other thing that you smell. He gets closer and you know that you don't know this man, what he does or who he is- But you know yourself.