Dreaming boys

★Lonely thief

-𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿-

All places, and events have been invented by me. My intent is purely to entertain the reader.

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My story begins in the narrow and crowded streets of a city that never really felt like mine. Simply because Italy wasn't my place. I was born and raised in Korea and now I was alone. Every morning I wake up in a cold and empty house, with the constant thought of my sick mother, whose medical needs absorb every single cent earned by my brother.

The sunlight filtered weakly through the worn and torn curtains of our "modest," not to say poor, home. The landlord hadn't kicked me out yet and I was grateful for that. The noise of the city was a constant reminder of the lives flowing around me, while mine seemed to be standing still. My older brother, Jisung, worked hard and studied at college thanks to a scholarship, hoping to build a better future for us. I, on the other hand, had to face the reality of not having enough money for our mother's care, nor for health insurance, nor to live a life worthy of a human being. I hardly ever go to school; when I did, it was a nightmare. I was often excluded and, since I am not good with words, I had no friends. But I still had my family.

"There's nothing to eat..." I said just waking up while scratching my head. I closed the fridge and wandered around the kitchen looking for something edible. I often talked to myself; I suppose loneliness was driving me crazy. I loved being alone, but not in that sense.

"I can't go to work... who would hire a fifteen-year-old without experience... Damn." I sat at the table thinking about what I could do. "I have... 1 euro and 50 cents. I need to go grocery shopping." I sighed while playing with the coins. "I have to live or survive in this damn city," I yelled frustrated. Then silence fell, or at least my stomach spoke for me.

The only thing that came to mind was stealing. After all, I would only take something to eat, nothing too big. It wasn't difficult; at least everyone must have stolen once in their life. Decided, I got up, grabbed the first clothes I found, and started walking through the streets of that small town. Then my gaze fell on a grocery store. My heart was pounding as I walked in, pretending to look at the shelves. I decided not to overdo it: I simply took some packaged ham and toast, put them in my backpack, and made another round before leaving. When I had finally walked away, I breathed a sigh of relief.

That was just the beginning. From that day on, I began to steal regularly: grocery stores, bars, supermarkets, and sometimes even luxury stores. I resold the stolen items to get money, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I got caught. Even though I considered myself a really good thief.

One day, as I was leaving an electronics store with a pair of earbuds hidden in my jacket, intending to resell them, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. Ok, maybe I should have just stuck to stealing food or essential items to live. I had completely lost my mind. I turned around abruptly and saw a police officer staring at me with a stern look.

"Really? The police? Couldn't it have been a clerk," I whispered to myself. I was screwed.

"Take off the jacket." The officer spoke and I slowly looked up. I could run or I could simply apologize and put the earbuds back. Obviously, I decided to run. How did I think it would work? In fact, the officer restrained me. I had been caught. How stupid. The officer found the earbuds and other things I had stolen that same day.

"You know stealing is a crime, right? How many times have you done this, kid?" said the officer looking at me. I didn't answer.

"It doesn't matter if you talk now or later, I'll have to take you to the station anyway... I bet these things are stolen too, correct?" I sighed and looked down. "I-I'm sorry." The officer escorted me to his car.

"I don't do it for myself... I have a sick mother and we need money for her care. My brother works and studies, but it's not enough. I... had no choice." I added later, with tears in my eyes.

The officer, intent on starting the car, turned to look at me and remained silent for a moment. Then his gaze softened. "What's your name, kid?" I wasn't ashamed of what I had done, I just wanted to get out clean. My mother didn't need to know her son was a criminal.

"Hyeongjun... My name is Hyeongjun."

"Listen, Hyeongjun, your situation is difficult, I understand. But stealing is not the solution. I can't let you go like this, but I can do something to help you."

At the station, the officer made some phone calls, did some research on me, and after a long conversation with someone, looked at me again.

"I spoke with a community for troubled youth. It's a place where you can have a roof over your head and maybe find a better way to help your mother. It won't be easy, but it's an opportunity." The officer knew that if he let me go free, I would continue stealing, and even if he prosecuted me and sent me to reform school.

I accepted because I couldn't oppose it, not knowing what to expect. The officer informed my mom and when she found out about my thefts, she started crying. I kept apologizing to her on the phone, repeatedly telling her I was sorry and that I didn't do it out of malice. I promised her I would change. When I arrived at the community, I was welcomed by educators and other kids who were... like me. And maybe, after all, I wasn't as alone as I thought.

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