1905.

You live in a worn out orphanage, the antiquated building a maze of lengthy dim hallways and massive renaissance paintings hanging on every wall. An orphanage for the children of the wealth who had lost their parents and had barely anyone to turn to.

Lorenzo Zurzolo,a dark eyed boy you see in the corridors daily. Also, he's in just two of your classes - intelligent and good looking. He's only 16, but you're much younger. The classes take in kids of any age, ranging from 10 to 17.

He's normally acquainted with his shorter blonde haired best friend. He sometimes has a few other boys with him, mostly with white skin white, of course. It was an orphanage for the white, since other colors weren't seen as good. It was the 1900s, after all.

One day, you're walking through the never ending hallway. The lighting is dim, the orphanage has either dark red or a dim shade of sage green on every wall, mahogany wood lining it. There were many intricate designs on the wood too.

Then there's a sudden impact against your shoulder. You glance up to be met with the extremely sarcastic 16 year old, Lorenzo. His dark sleepy eyes gazing at you, his fit figure against yours as you take in his pale skin which deeply contrasts with his dark hair. He steps back.

"Sorry,"

He says dryly with a scoff, clearly looking like he doesn't mean it.