....

The next morning started off early. Cars were already rolling past Jeno and Jaemins house, bikers were riding their way downtown, and people were on their morning walks or jogs. It was quiet for the most part, as the town was small in size and number. The only thing heard was distinct voices talking, birds chirping and the engines of motors booming. There was crisp air, and some sheer fog in the clouds. Spring was closing in, and all the leaves have already been dug into the ground of dissolved.

Jeno woke up early for some reason, staring through his window to Jaemins. For a moment he thought it was weird, but he had no other choice but to wait. Just then, the other boys window opened, and Jeno saw the boy was half dressed. Just like any other boy at their age, Jaemin was thin but had some meat to him.

"What are u getting dressed up for?" Was Jenos first words exchanged.

"It's Sunday. We usually go eat breakfast together." Jaemin explains, putting on a white button up.

"Oh," Jeno says. "That's nice."

"Yeah. What about you? What does your family do Sunday?" Jaemin inquires, putting on his tie.

"Nothing." Jeno answers, watching the boy tie his tie effortlessly.

"Nothing? Hm. W-"

A woman's voice yells itself into Jaemins room, and the boy scrambles to find his shoes.

"I'm late Jeno, but when I get back we can hang out!" Jaemin yells, and before Jeno could answer the boy was already out his bedroom door.

Jeno then diverts his gaze down below into the other houses front yard, and sees Jaemins parents walking to their car. They looked all dressed up in a blazer and nice white dress, and their hair was perfectly sat on their heads. Jaemin came rushing out, his hair flailing in the wind wildly. Jeno watches as his father laughs, and his mother roll his eyes with a smile on her face. Jeno felt the same feeling of a pinching at his heart creep up his spine, and he kept observing them with hollow eyes until they left.

Sitting their at the window, the silence developed Jeno once again. The only thing heard was the creak of his old house, and wind whistling as it passed him. He sighs softly as he lets his head fall onto his folded arms resting on the window sill, and closed his eyes to see darkness.

A vivid memory pops itself into his head of a woman cooking in a small kitchen, and the smell of breakfast filled his senses. It was almost as if he could feel the warmth he had during that time and day, and how the woman's smile never left her face. He remembers her putting bacon and French toast on his plate, and how she would heat up syrup for him and serve him like a waitress. The way the wind flowed through the now broken windows, and how the house seem to have life back then. Now the same wood that holds it up seem dead; simply restless.

Opening his eyes, the imagine blurred itself away instantly and instead all he saw was the opposite window. He felt his heart sink slowly, and his eyes droop slightly in realization of reality. He propped himself up, got to his feet, grabs his jacket off his bed and walks out of his room. Silently, he made his way down the dark hallway and stairs; being careful not the step on the broken glass here and there. Entering the living room, he looks around for signs of life or activity. Seeing it was clear, he made his way to the front door and walks out.

Grabbing a bike resting on the side of the house, he hops on and bikes his way down the road in front of his house. Riding down the smooth road pavement the cool wind flows through his hair, and nips at his sensitive skin. He makes a wide turn right, and keeps biking, until he enters an area where few houses were. He then arrives at his destination: the graveyard.

Getting off his bike, he lets it lean on the rusted wooden post, and walks down the now overgrown path. He passed many stones with names on them, and lets himself feel sorrowful. Walking a little ways down, he stops over a certain grave with a broken stone. The name was weary, and if you didn't know or look closely you could never make it out.

Jeno could, however, and let himself fall to his knees on the damp grass. He stares at the name, feeling an overwhelming emotion fill him. He leans himself all the way over, letting his forearms hit the ground and rests his head on them. Closing his eyes, he can only imagine his mother standing in front of him with those soft eyes and dainty smile she wore everywhere she went. The way her raven hair flowed effortlessly, and all her clothes were picked on purpose to compliment her pale skin.

Jeno sighs helplessly, and looks up again to see the same grave in front. He scoots himself onto it, and leans on the stone where his dead mother lay below. Oh, just how much he was filled with anger and sadness that he wanted to rage at the world sighs everything in him. However, there was nothing in him but fear and desire for love.

He wanted nothing more than to be looked at again.

"Here is that breakfast sampler, and I'll be right back with your coffee." The waiter assures, skating off to the back.

Jaemin and his parents were currently dining in small cafe they found off the route, and it was filled with old people and soft music that seem to flow with the 80's.

"Jaemin, tell us about the friend you made." The boys mother asks him softly.

"Oh. His names Jeno." Jaemin explains, taking a bite out of his pancake.

"Have you met his parents?" His father asks, filling his coffee with sugar.

"No, not yet." Jaemin admits.

"You two seem to have fun together. Do you like it here?" His mother inquires.

"Yeah. I do." Jaemin answers, feeling content.

"What about your studies? Been reading lately?" His father interrupts.

Before Jaemin could answer, his mother abruptly says something.

"Don't pressure him into studying, it's summer. Let him enjoy it." She declares, and his father only scoffs.

Jaemin decides to stay quiet, and eats his food thinking about a certain someone. He was anxious, for some reason, to get home and to his window.

Pouring more syrup on his pancake, he listens to his parents bicker back and forth.