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It'd been 7 years since Sicheng had gone missing.
7 long years of waiting, hopeless wandering, doubtful cancellation. He swore for so many months that Sicheng would come back soon, that he knew he was still alive.
They had been together for a while, they started dating when Sicheng was 18 and Yuta was 20. Now Yuta was 28 and Sicheng was 26, and they'd become quite accustomed to each other. Used to the lifestyle that they had together.
They decided to go on a trip to celebrate their 8th anniversary, road-trips were something they bonded deeply over. That one-on-one time, just talking, made them feel even closer. They had so much in common, so much to talk about, and it really showed in their conversations.
They weren't just a couple, they were best friends. Like one mutual unit, it was them against the world, nobody else mattered when they were together, because nobody understood them quite like they did each other.
It all happened so quickly; It was midday, and Yuta was pumping gas at a busy gas station, Sicheng ran in to grab some snacks. His last words to Sicheng haunted him. "Winko," a nickname that only Yuta called him. "Will you run in while I pump the gas"
He was in Yuta's field of view most of the time, until he wasn't. In that split second, something happened. Yuta had chest palpitations, feeling that something was wrong.
He ran into the small store, looking around for Sicheng in a panic, but he wasn't there. It was as if he'd vanished into thin air, the snacks he had in his hand were on the ground, as if he'd dropped them. And if Yuta didn't ask him to go in, he wouldn't have gone missing.
It'd become daunting, every month they'd look, and find no trace of him. They'd search high and low to find him, teams composed of hundreds of people, professionals even – but they never found Sicheng, not once.
After two year or so with no results, they gave up. People stopped caring and moved on, but not Yuta. His friends felt sorry, not only was he unable to move on, stuck in the purgatory of limbo, but they all believed that Sicheng was dead.
Going on three years with no answers, Yuta still didn't subscribe to that. He could sense Sicheng's life, could sense that he was out there. So much so that he conducted his own search, his own means of finding Sicheng in the meaningless void of nothing.
He started by talking to the cashier at the gas station, interviewing what they saw. Even if the police did so themselves, Yuta felt he could earn more by doing so himself. Plus, with someone like Sicheng, nobody cared if he was a victim, he was still a lower class of individual than the straight white girl with doe eyes, and it left such a bitter taste in Yuta's mouth.
The fact that the police, the people who were supposed to save Sicheng, deemed him a lower rung on the latter because of his race, his lifestyle, it sickened him. Because to other's, Sicheng was just some twink with coloured hair, but to Yuta? To Yuta, he was everything.
