"Yo, Y/n, you heard you're getting adopted?" Dia's voice cuts through the stale air, the only friend you've had in this place—the only one who gets it.
Y/n scoffs, leaning against the peeling wall. "Yeah, but who the hell adopts an eighteen-year-old? I'm too old to still be here."
Dia shrugs. "Yet here you are."
"Yup. Don't give a damn. If they kick me to the curb like the others, so be it."
Dia hums, noncommittal.
Then comes the thunder.
"GET Y'ALL ASSES UP! THERE'S PEOPLE HERE TO TAKE YOU OUTTA THIS DAMN PLACE!"
Nima. The one who "takes care" of you—though care is a strong word. You roll your eyes, slipping a cigarette into your boot before pulling on your jacket. No rush. No enthusiasm.
Downstairs, the air is different today—heavy, buzzing. More people than usual. Too many. You glance at Dia, already drawn into conversation with an elderly couple.
You chew your gum, slow, thoughtful. Why all these people, and why today?
"Royeon, get over here." Nima's voice snaps at you, dragging you toward a pair that looks like they could buy the world. And here you are, with a dollar store jacket and a cigarette tucked away like a secret.
"This is Royeon—short for Y/n." Nima slings an arm around you. You flinch but don't shake her off.
Fake smile. Lazy wave. Gum smacking. A little too loud. You know exactly what you're doing.
Nima's elbow connects with your ribs—sharp, practiced. You grit your teeth and give them a smirk lined with pain.
A woman steps forward, polished but warm. "Hello, my name is Kim Taeyeon." She offers her hand.
You almost shake it, but the man beside her stiffens, cutting her off.
"I think she knows who we are now." His voice is gruff. "Jung Yunho. Nice to meet you."
You hold his gaze, biting down on your gum, smacking louder, slower.
Nima's fingers dig into your thigh—a warning.
Taeyeon, unfazed, beams at you. "We're here to adopt you."
You blink. "...Huh." That's all you've got.
Taeyeon claps her hands together like it's already decided. "Great! Go pack your things."
Your breath catches—unexpected, unsettled.
"Wait—what?"
Nima steps in, shoving you forward. "Meant to tell her earlier. Forgot. Doesn't matter. Go, go, go."
You stumble toward them, looking back just once.
Dia lifts a hand, something like farewell in her gaze.
You return it, fleeting—then follow the strangers out.