This particular legend had always fascinated Sehun. It was the one written in Sehun's favorite story book that his mother used to read to him all the time. You'd think that as a kid of 6 years old, he would grow tired of the repetitive story.
But no. That book was the one he'd ask for every night before he went to bed, and his mother would simply laugh at him and jokingly ask if he was tired of it yet.
Years later, however, Sehun is 17 and in his last year of high school, and his mother is in a better place.
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Sehun is sitting on a bench outside. He's at the park, his favorite one, with the small slide and swings covered in a thick layer of snow. It's cold, and he forgot his jacket, but he figured that possibly freezing to death was better than going home.
Going home meant yelling, going home meant violence, going home meant listening to his father's drunken slurs as beer bottles smashed to pieces on the wall near Sehun's head. Usually he'd lock the door to his bedroom and hide under the covers, but he had gotten home late that night. The bruises on his thin wrists spoke for themselves.
Sehun smiled a little to himself as he silently watched the purple markings. He wondered if his mom was disappointed in him because he was unable to defend himself. For running away. He dismissed the thought quickly. That kind of thinking wasn't going to help his cold fingers and blue-tinged lips. Sehun had been sitting there too long
He glanced around, blond hair falling into his eyes as he searched for a nearby building. He wanted to take shelter. It was really getting too cold but he didn't want to go back home just yet. He huffed in frustration when all he was met with was darkness. No lights to indicate that anyone was around, nothing to show that businesses were open.
Groaning in frustration, Sehun's rubbed at his arms and smirked. He could barely feel them. A sudden touch on his head made him yelp and jerk around, glaring at the one who bothered him.
A boy who, to Sehun, looked about college age (around 20-21, Sehun was sure), stood behind him. At first glance, he looked like a bodyguard or a mercenary. He stood at least 6'0", with tan skin that stretched over a narrow face and muscular body that made Sehun a little concerned for his safety. He had dark, narrow eyes with light bags under them that reminded Sehun of a panda, and a kittenish mouth that was pulled into a frown. His hair contrasted with his skin as it was a light blond color, with a shaggy mohawk that hung in his face and shaved sides. Sehun also noticed several piercings in his left and right ears.
"It's cold out kid," the man spoke. Sehun was surprised. His voice was kind and soft, not at all like his appearance. He had a slight accent that told Sehun he wasn't from this area.
Sehun grinned at him. "Yeah, I know."
The other raised an eyebrow at his answer but sighed. "Then why are you out here? You're turning blue for God's sake!"
Sehun averted his gaze back to the ground. He watched as the boy came around to sit beside him. His eyes were narrowed at him curiously.
"Come on now, kid. I don't bite. What's up?"
"You know, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," Sehun whispered, avoiding the question. He was startled when a hand was suddenly stuck under his chin. He glanced up to meet the stranger's gaze. "What...?"
"Tao," the other answered. "Hwang Zitao."
Sehun chuckled a little. "So you're Chinese? I noticed your accent," he mumbled. Zitao kept his hand up to Sehun stubbornly, willing the younger boy to take it. After a minute of staring, Sehun sighed and reached forward, eagerly grasping the warm hand with his stiff, cold one.
"It's nice to meet you, Hwang Zitao," the foreign words sounded strange on his tongue, "I'm Oh Sehun."
(TO BE CONTINUED.....)
