The street was busy–the sun blaring down, laughter and chatter echoing from vendor to vendor.

This was Minho’s life now. It has been for the past few months. Not of his own accord, not at all.

He had been kicked out of his home not long after he turned eighteen.

His home life had always been rocky. Not quite rich, but not dirt poor either–his parents were religious and heavily strict.

He’d learned from a young age how to walk the tight rope. He slipped up when they caught him talking to a boy.

They’d sent him out with his things that weekend.

Ever since, he’d learned the hard way on what it was like to survive.

An older lady running a merchant’s booth had allowed him to take over the booth for her–she was older, definitely wanting to retire, and took pity on a poor boy.

It wasn’t a lot. But it made him enough to feed himself and the cat that hangs around the booth.

That’s all he cared about. Not that he didn’t have a stable roof over his head, not that he didn’t have anybody in his corner–just that he was alive and still kicking.

Even if he hated the sun burning down on him. The pity looks people gave him when they saw his dirtied clothes.

He didn’t like the pity. He didn’t want help.

Especially when a boy his age approached the booth one day.

Tanned skin. Round cheeks. Clean, neat, undoubtedly expensive clothing. Minho almost bristled at the sight of him.

His eyes had lingered over Minho’s worn clothes, the sleeping cat on the table nearby. He’d bought one of the items–a little themed wind-chime that hung off the canopy.

He’d given Minho significantly more money than it cost.

“Keep it. You seem like you could make use of it.”

Minho stared at him. “...I don’t need a hand out.”

The other boy just shrugged and offered a small, gummy-smile.

Minho muttered under his breath about privileged boys as he walked away.

It stung a little bit. While the money would help, he really didn’t want to accept free money. He felt like it would come with unspoken terms he wouldn’t be able to meet.

It made him feel..less than, maybe. It made him acutely aware of his own situation, of his inability to pull it out of it.

Then that boy kept coming back.

Always with the perfect outfit and the warm smile of his.

He was quiet at first, just coming by to buy some trinket that had no real purpose.

And he always gave a little extra money than was necessary.

It irritated Minho. He didn’t understand why the other was doing it. What he wanted from him.

He learned the boy’s name was Jisung.

He learned that he came from a rich family, the complete opposite of Minho’s home life growing up.

Jisung, after Minho’s initial irritation seemed to fade at the sight of him, began making small conversations when he would come by.

He’d use the cat as an excuse to stay.

“He seems lonely.”

“He’s fine.”

“Fine isn’t good enough.”

And for some reason, Minho would let him stay. Albeit not without grumbling under his breath.

It made Jisung grin every time.

They weren’t quite friends, but Jisung was beginning to find some solace in his time here.

His parents were strict and relentless. They’d kill him if they found out he was spending time with a boy, a merchant one no less.

It didn’t stop him, though.

It also did not stop him from the blossoming feelings in his chest.

Minho had no idea. He just thought it was some kid pitying him and offering his company.

It was another hot day. Minho felt icky from the humidity, barely any people had stopped by, and he was tired.

Soonie was stretched out on the table in his usual spot. Minho had his head tilted back in his seat, eyes closed underneath the hat balanced on his head.

He heard a clatter, followed by a: “Oh, shit, sorry kitty.” and an irritated meow.

Minho sighed.

He reached up to slide his hat off, spotting that familiar squirrel-like face again, carrying a couple bottles of water and fumbling to set a trinket up right.

“What’re y’doing here?” He grunted.