NCT Ten | Mafia

Dreamies Kids

One month later

Ten's P.O.V

They love video games and pasta. Winwin looks over at me from the other side of the couch and just rolls his eyes. We're out at his farm. We had this whole outdoor trek and meet-the-animals thing set up for the four boys who were stuck in that strip-mall basement, but they haven't gotten past the sweet setup in the living room.

Yuta shovels spaghetti and meatballs into his face like he's never eaten before in his life. Kun groans. "You're getting tomato sauce on the controllers."

"Got you!" One of the kids—Jisung —blows up Johnny's guy. Johnny's laughing, working the controls, vowing to get them all back. Being the baby of the group, Johnny connects with the kids best.

Miles—he's maybe thirteen—plays with sullen determination. He reminds me a lot of me. Angry. Hard-eyed. Zero trust. He was the oldest one, too.

The four of them know we were inside like they were. Years longer. They know we got them out, but we're not here for a thank you or some big fucking emo moment. We're giving them what we wanted when we got out. A place to be kids. To be their own kids.

Child protective services almost didn't let us take them out of the group home for this day-on-the-farm thing, but Wonwoo and Layla's dad intervened. They got a child psychologist on the case who told the authorities how healing it would be for them to hang out with guys who came out the other side of what they'd been through.

And the boys, they weren't talking. I mean, even more than they aren't talking here. They were clammed up hard, not trusting any adults. It didn't take a genius to realize we could reach them.

They sent a social worker along. He's reading in the corner.

"That's the first time I've seen them smile," he told me fifteen minutes after they got here.

The room explodes in laughter when Johnny goes down. I clap a hand on his shoulder. "Too slow, old man."

The kids laugh at him. They sound like...kids.

They're looking for homes for them. Two of these boys were orphans; two were runaways. Throwaway boys, all four of them. Just like us. Except they'll get lots of therapy and hopefully a stable place to grow up, unlike us.

I thought about taking them for like two seconds, but we don't have the life for raising kids. Not yet, anyway. I don't know whether we ever will. For now they deserve a stable life, not an abandoned hotel or a hidden cabin in the woods. Winwin wanders over to Chenle, sitting beside him on the sofa, all nonchalant like he's not observant as fuck. He's got something in his hand. A book. I can't read its title from this far away, but there are enough glossy pictures as he flips through the pages to show me it's about animals.

The animals gave him a purpose.

Chenle passes the controller to one of the other boys, then scowls down at his hands. But even from here, I can see his gaze shifting to that book with every turn of the page.

Winwin's a gentle man, something most of us can't really claim to be. Maybe he could end up adopting one of them.

In a few minutes the book is half in Chenle's lap. He's silent as they turn the pages, but it's something. God, it's something.

Kun takes over for Johnny, running the games. He's talking trash.

I have to hand it to Detective Wonwoo—he took point on the investigation. Dozens of guys have been arrested beyond what we saw that day at the club. City leaders. Business luminaries. Dirty cops. Wealthy heads of Franklin City's oldest families.