It was overwhelming. The lights. The cameras. The noise. It was blinding. It was irritating. It was deafening. But I could do nothing of it. I could only sit there and pose, as many girls shouted and pleaded for autographs in the center of the plaza. Luckily, there was a barrier of guards around the photo shoot so no one could get in. I grinned as I stared in to the camera lens. My upper half exposed for the world to see and the intricate pattern of lines on my stomach revealed what would be considered a six pack.

My fingers intertwined through the navy blue locks of hair as I shifted into the next position for the latest magazine that was to be coming out. But my hair wasn't actually navy blue, of course. It was impossible. The color of the chalk was only for this shoot, but from a distance, it would be portrayed as my natural hair color.

I didn't actually like modeling; modeling was just a way to pay the bills, and it paid well for just posing and traveling everywhere. Traveling everywhere. That was my main purpose here. I frowned and my manager gave me a look, making me readjust my position. I could've chosen some other job. But I make poor choices, it is in my nature. Poor choices. I squirmed around in the comfortable pants I was in. Why did it have to be like this? Just focus on the shoot, you are doing fine. Just stare deep into the lenses and loose all thought.

The sun and I shifted in unison, slowly turning just so others could look at it and say "perfect". I buttoned up my black shirt as I stared out the window and out at the city-out at the sky-out at the setting sun. The layers of color just piled all around until it reached a dark black up above. I sighed as the faint image of a crescent moon began to appear, the little banana following me.

I stretched across the limousine's comfortable, leather seats. I closed my eyes and got lost in thought. Suddenly, there was a bump of some sort and I was thrown from my seat onto a cold, hard concrete floor. Concrete? I positioned my elbows onto the ground and lifted up my head to see my surroundings. Three guys stood around me, their shadows covering the blazing, setting sun behind their ears. This was pathetic. Again with these guys?

I lunged at them, grabbing at their feet but they only laughed and plastered my already bruised hand with the balls of their heels. Their smiles growing more wicked as punches were tossed around from fist to fist, blow after mind-numbing blow. Each one, worse than the other. There. In the corner, just out of my peripheral vision. He just stood there. He watched with sad eyes. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. Blood spurted from my mouth and onto the ground.

Did he not care? Even after all that I provided for him. After all the fights I saved him from, he could only stand there and watch his punishment taken out on me? Another kick to my ribcage and I screamed in agony. Not now. Yukio… my own brother.

Yukio. Yukio. Yukio. I glanced back up and lay on my side, facing the grand windows of my small apartment. Despite the money that I constantly made, I didn't want to waste it on something I didn't need. I yawned and stretched towards the ceiling and let my arms flop around the perimeter of my head. I plodded down the few step I had to take to reach the kitchen. A simple layout.

Once you opened the door, you could already see all that the apartment had to offer. A tiny dining table for two lay to the left, the kitchen off to the right and behind the black couch that faced the door and the television set that propped up against the wall. A brown coffee table was the only thing separating those two. The bedroom door facing the entrance of the kitchen, then leading to a single bathroom. It was the perfect atmosphere. Perfection. Shit. There it was again. Yukio being perfect again. Yukio. Where was he?

I turned the sign over and over in my hands. I don't know how many times. I don't know why. I just did. The bakery was supposed to be closed and I was the one supposed to be closing it. Fuck. I didn't know how to do anything these days. I never did. I only knew how to get straight A's and teach others how to not duplicate their wrong answers. But I can't change the past. I could only sit there and replay the burning memories that still reeled in the back of my mind. I should have chosen another profession other than making things that didn't even taste good. I don't even know how I still managed to stand in this high-quality bakery. I just did. Not even luck fitted it. What was the word? The word. Pity. Pity. Pity.

My fingers ran themselves through my black locks, tracing every memory that was engraved into my scalp. A handsome young person glared back at me through the glass. One that wore glasses at what looked like the age of seven. A boy peeking through the glass window, looking at the sweets that were delicately encased in frosting behind a counter.

"Two please," stated the man next to him. The boy looked next to him and saw another boy just about his age also peering into the rows of pastries. What was his name again? Robert? Rian? Rin? Yes, it was Rin. I can't believe the boy had forgotten the boy's name. How could he? How could I? I removed my tiny seven-year-old hands from the glass and took hold of the old man's hand, Rin taking hold of the other.

One at a time, we took turns washing our hands and I mounted on top of a step stool that hid underneath the sink for exactly this purpose. The warm water raced through my fingers, leaking out through the cracks. I reached for a towel that was handed to me by the old man, my father. I took hold of it and finally turned it so that the closed side faced outwards.

I placed my hands on my thighs and pushed myself up, heading out and locking the door behind me, double-checking that the lights inside were all blended in with the black nightfall except for the emergency lights that were dimly lit at the back of the bakery, the bakery that wasted my life, the precious life that I could have been enjoying. Another profession. Hmm. I would have to take that into consideration.

I jogged through the winds that now cast across the city's most go-to place, Broadway. Trash bags lined the sides of the streets, but no odor filled my plugged noses. Cars, specifically yellow ones with black lines across its sides, lined up one after the other just to honk as though it would change anything. I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew it was so much easier to walk on the sidewalks. The millions in front and behind me seemed to know it as well.

A huge strip of New Yorkers lined in front of my path and they didn't seem to move. I eyed the strange crowd. This never happened. If it did happen, then it would be a concert. But how could it be a concert if no noise could be heard and in the middle of a small plaza? I would have heard of it if there had been. There it was. A noise. A noise other than the honking cars behind the blocks of buildings.

Buildings. That is what we were hiding behind. Buildings so old and full of cracks, as if were to go down with one blow. Towering above our heads were those leaning buildings, leaning windows, leaning cement. These buildings were our play toys. These buildings were our personal playgrounds. Us. I looked to my left and there he was. My brother. My hero. I looked at my feet. My disgusting feet. The pair of feet that would always run away. Run away from problems and fights.

I closed my eyes and gently placed my hands on my face, covering my eyes. I began counting. Counting. Just counting. I finally opened them and my feet began to run. Running. Running over and over. That seemed like the only thing that I could do. But as I turned the corner, my mind began racing. My pace, getting faster. My eyes, going wilder. I climbed up the crooked stairs, keeping a steady rate. Where was he? Where could he have gone?

Then I got it. My arm reaching out to touch his. His mouth in a smile. And I looked at my feet. A game of hide and seek. One of his favorites. But one of my least. I always ended up losing my older brother. My hero. I smiled. Running. Running back to him. My feet. My feet would always find a way back to him. Rin. Rin. Rin. A name screamed in my mind. Who was that? I couldn't remember anymore. Just a mystery, I thought, as I squeezed in through the tight crowd. Just then, a heavy body clashed into mine and both of us tumbled into the ground. Loud gasps could be heard as everyone rushed forward but hefty men blocked them and one picked me up with just one hand.

Where was he to protect me? Where was he? Where was this… this… Rin? Rin. My brother. My hero. Where was he? A warm, hot breath washed over my face and said something. I didn't know what. He kept repeating it and repeating it. Over and over again. My words were fumbled. My gaze wasn't quite clear.

"Just let him go, Bon. He meant no harm," A calm voice came from underneath me. It was almost playful in a way. A low hiss resounded from the body guard, carelessly dropping me in the meanwhile. "It's been a long day. I just want to get home," The voice stated once again. My breathe came quickly. I wasn't even hurt and I was already losing. Shit. Out in front of everyone too.

I kept my head down as the voice was escorted to a long, black limousine. Did I just bump into someone famous? When I finally managed to look up, everyone had already disappeared. I glanced at my watch underneath the lamppost. Seven: fifty-four. Fuck. I had left the bakery at seven: three. I slumped against a nearby tree. I still had seven blocks to walk. This was going to be a longer Friday than I had intended.

I finally reached the eighth flight of stairs that led to my apartment. For each flight of stairs, two apartment doors could be seen. Only two apartments sharing a whole floor. It was truly a breathtaking opportunity from the crowds of New York City. My apartment was located the highest out of the whole complex, along with the one beside mine. The one beside mine. I chuckled.

I easily reached into my front pocket and pulled out the key to my apartment. All rooms here looked exactly alike. I opened the door and a warm flush of air brushed over me. To the left -a little ahead- was a small dining table with a yellow flower in a rose in the center. To the right was an open-concept kitchen with gorgeous dark brown cabinets above a shiny orange-brown granite countertop. Laminate flooring spread all the way throughout the layout except in the bedroom, in which case, it was covered in a white, fluffy carpet. Right in front of the kitchen, more over to the right, was my favorite couch in which was black, identical to my neighbor's. Just in front of it lay a brown coffee table and just further down, out of sight from the entrance lay a big flat screen TV.

This is probably what Rin would like. The same size and everything. Well, that makes the two of us. The two of us. When was the last time we were together? Rin. Where was he?