Forget Me Not || Minsung

8

4 years ago before Forget Me Not was formed.

An 18 year old boy kicked out of the house by his parents for being a disappointment was now wandering the streets as a 20 year old man, selling song lyrics to pay for food. It wasn’t easy, especially when the weather turned cold. But it was much better than listening to his parents use slurs on him and shout at each other over their son before sleep.

The outside might be scary but it’s not dangerous.

“This is not what I fucking asked for, asshat!” yelled an unsatisfied client with a lyric sheet crumbled in his hand. A startled Jisung stepped backwards.

Okay, maybe it is dangerous.

“Look man, you asked for a rap song about street life so I gave you one,” Jisung tried explaining. Unfortunately, the guy wasn’t having it.

“Yeah! But it’s all depressing and shit. I want it to be badass.” The guy dropped his head back and let out a breath that could be seen by the cold temperature around them. He looked back at Jisung and moved his hand that was holding the crumbled paper, in the air. For a quick second Jisung thought he was about to get hit.

“Whatever, dude. I’ll take this but I’m only paying half,” he said and roughly gave him the money. It was barely anything but enough to get some food for the evening.

The moment the client was out of sight, Jisung slouched against the wall and shut his eyes. He breathed. That’s the only thing he was actually good at.

Suddenly, a reminder popped in his head. There was another client waiting and then he could call it a day. Maybe this one would be a success.

Jisung reached their agreed location, a park, and instantly saw sketchy looking guys below the streetlamp. There were three of them.

“Are you here for the song?” he asked and tried to look as emotionless as possible. Such a lifestyle saw emotions as weakness.

The guy in the middle stepped forward. He seemed like their leader.

“You’re J.one?”

“Yes.”

The three men exchanged looks and it was too damn late to make a run for it when two men from the sides quickly held him down. Their leader wore a sick grin and searched Jisung’s pockets.

“What the fuck, man?” he asked in panic. The leader guy pulled out a few lyric sheets he could find along with his earned money from this week. Jisung felt so powerless. Without the lyric sheets he could survive. It wasn’t a big deal to write more. But the money. Without that he’d be found dead somewhere out of starvation.

“C’mon, take the lyrics but leave the money!” Jisung shouted. He tried getting out of their grip but they only held tighter. They laughed like sick pricks.

“What is this?” the leader asked as he looked at the papers in hand.

“Those are just some crappy words. I’m disappointed.” Then he gave his men a sign and Jisung felt the first blow go to his stomach. Then a kick to his knees, forcing him to fall. And a few more kicks after that.

It hurt.

“Hey!” a male voice shouted and the kicking stopped.  “I got you on camera and I will bring this to the authorities if you don’t get out of here right this moment!” One of them landed another kick to Jisung’s abdomen and the men immediately scattered.