Cha Hyun-Su had never been read a story, never even watched one.
Stories were often made from memories or from someone's imaginative mind and soul. Hyun-Su, if you were to ask him, he'd tell you that he didn't have much of an imagination in his head, let alone in his soul. He'd tell you that his soul was rotten, that he didn't know what joy a story, a book, could bring.
He grew up with eyes cast to the sky, head tilted towards computer screens and body turned away from blood relatives.
Although, if he had ever been read a story, he was quite positive that he would remember it, that even if he was a newborn baby, even if his mind hadn't developed yet, he'd remember it. Unlinke everything else that was miserable and sorrowful inside of him, his memory was fast and strong. He knew that if his mother or father were to read him a story - whether it be a goodnight story or a random-sunny-day story - he knew that he would've treasured it and remembered it.
But Cha Hyun-Su didn't grow up in a family he wanted to grow up in and, unfortunately, when you were being born you weren't asked where would you like to go, what family would you like to have.
Hyun-Su sighed, the monitor in his hands heavy enough to slow him down. He stepped down the stairs in slow and listless strides; backpack heavy and half-open on his back, keyboard peeking from it like a forgotten treasure, green zip-up hoodie zipped to his chest and a great, lifeless frown on his lips.
Everything around him was way too green, way too lively compared to Hyun-Su.
As his eyes travelled from the ground to the long, tall wall next to him, he decided that from that day on he hated greenery. Why did it have to be so bright, so... alive? Did it deserve that? Did it deserve to look so happy while Hyun-Su looked gloomy and lonely?
