A Way Home

His Story Part I

Every time he made it on the list, the nice couple would come see him. A lady in chic clothing. A man whose watch glinted whenever his hand moved in gestures while he talked, like it was addiction he couldn't stop. They were nice people.

Sehun remembered the touch of the woman's utterly soft hands. She smelled of powder and an underlying hint of blossoms. Walking around the vicinity with them he'd stare up into her defined face. A sharp jawline. Smooth, creamy skin the work of makeup foundation. On her cheeks blush a shade between orange and shimmer pink. Wavy mermaid hair hung all the way down her back resembling a stream of water with sunshine dancing atop its surface.

The man would say, "Honey, look."

"Oh," she gasped a squeal, "what a sweetheart."

His hand brushed air when she let go and raced over to his pudgy competition sucking his curled fist. Lifting the baby into her arms she rocked the baby against her breasts. Man and wife ogling over their new find.

"We've decided to change our minds," the man would say to the administrator.

That was the fifth time he'd been rejected in place of a younger child.

"Don't worry," the administrator would comfortingly press hand to his back. Slightly crouching to talk to him, "Your family will come soon."

We don't want him.

We don't want him.

So sorry, we've changed our minds.

The older couple. An old man and his baby-faced wife. A business suited man and his friend. The lady in purple flats with diamond studs, arm linked around her young husband.

Sehun had grown on the Angel grounds since birth. A Catholic church converted into an orphanage during the Korean war. The crown ridged stone artifact serving to shelter homeless children, lost children, and orphans. Little ones whose parents were missing in action, had died, or just abandoned them.

Sehun aimed for missing parents but he never knew. No one knew about his parents.

Growing up a stubborn child he had developed lack of social skills and a dangerous temper throwing plates. More than once dragged into the red room for isolation for being out of control. During a meeting with potential parents he'd flung a spoon into another child's face out of spite.

Unpredictable, he'd been nicknamed "Red eye" for his menacing gaze. The name stuck the stretching years and soon became a menacing mantra. All the children avoided him. Whenever he approached to play the scream of "The Red eye is here!" everyone would scramble away. Any mention of red and that was him.

At the Angel grounds he didn't have friends. No one wanted to be near him. They'd say, "He might stab a fork into your eye!"

Growing up into a skinny awkwardly boy Sehun had long arms, a height that made others look twice then away. His hair was unkempt only ever combed with his fingers due to the fact that, more often than not, his black Ace combs always went missing from his rooms. The orphanage essentials handed out by the administrating ladies in charge came from donation drives. Whatever he received was his belonging to keep...until it went missing.

In the mornings he'd catch the other boys chuckling in groups. Groomed, dressed in their best for visiting potentials. No guest mom and dad looked at him, the scruffy boy in weary sweats and a grass streaked t-shirt reading "I shitzu not!"

One by one the Angel kids left. Picked up, driven away. Their chores left for him to take over. Sehun often swept, wiped the dinner table clean, and helped set the table. New arrivals were either dropped off; crying babies, younger children walked in bearing wide, frightened eyes, their hands held by an administrator who would say, "It's ok. Don't be afraid. Think of this as your home. We will all love you here."