She grew up strange. She was definitely Asian; there was that angle to her eyes and paleness to her skin. The rest of her was a walking contradiction. She had red gold hair, almost a pinkish orange when the sun hit it. Her eyes were sharp and wide, a delicate pale green the color of sea-foam and new leaves and hope and hope and hope—
Her name was Sara. She was definitely strange. She didn't belong here. She was meant for better things.
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He grew up alone. He was most definitely Asian, he had the black hair and dark eyes and paleness to his skin. The rest of him was bitter and more of a child than a man. He was the lost sheep of the fold. He was the one everyone would give anything to find, give anyone up just for him. His eyes were cold and dark and made up of rage and hate and hate—
His name was Shawn. He was definitely alone. He didn't belong here. He was meant for better things.