In a tall, new building on a street in Itaewon, South Korea, where you spoke more Korean than K-pop idols and ate more sticky white substances than candy—Eunho relaxed into the couch. Lorenzo, the foreign boy who spoke fluently in Korean, slouched over. "So, how old are you?" He asked as he pulled nuggets of grass into a tiny bag. Eunho stared, clutching his doll as hard as he could. "S-seventeen.."
"Dope. I'm sixteen. Trying to pay back a debt," the alpha remarked. He stretched lazily and Eunho caught the faint little tattoo grumbling over his wrist and side of his chest. Words in a foreign language—screaming 'Amo la mia principessa, Liliana'—beautifully pressed into his olive skin with pink ink. Eunho swallowed. "I-I don't know why I'm here.." The omega blurred the lines between tears and a broken ship with the words. Lorenzo's hands stilled slowly before he regained his grip. He cleared his throat. "That's okay. They kidnapped me because I stole their shit. And took it all." His eyes walked over Eunho from his peripheral. And he licked his lips like any hungry teen.
Eunho's wrist twitched. "S..sixteen? Y-you..English? Speak English?" Eunho spoke brokenly in the foreign language. However, the alpha only glanced at him. "I don't speak it fluently, I know a few words."
"Wh—where you from?" In poor English, once more. He betrayed the nation by prejudicing reactions to the boy who just spoke Korean completely fluently to him. Said boy raised a brow.
"Italy."
"Oh. Korean..you can speak Korean?" Eunho asked. Lorenzo stared at him. At first, he was intrigued, but now—now, he just rolled his eyes, clutching the bag. "Wow, la splendida principessa è razzista. È davvero scioccante che non sembri nemmeno coreano." He said with a soft smile, disbelief bouncing off the edge of his tone. Eunho swallowed, sniffling loudly. "Korean..?"
"Yeah, I obviously know Korean if I was just talking in it, dumbass."
"S-sorry." Lorenzo only rolled the diamond eyes strapped to him and turned away. "Va bene, amico." He cursed quietly. He finished stuffing everything in tiny pages or in other things. Eunho's eyes traveled around the room. They weren't alone. The white walls were sparkling clean and the floor had loose socks and clothes, the marble moldy. The couch was flaky, the table in front of them was low, made for eating at funerals but being used to place elite drugs in tiny bags to sell for thousands, billions of won. Many euros he'd wasted on the tasty substance before finding something called E. Or cruschino, if he were rich and lucky. He was neither; hence his current situation.
Shirtless in the middle of a crowded room while a toddler sat across from them and gurgled down dumplings. His skin fret, sweat beading down the sun-kissed shoulders of him. Colored with freckles and soft blemishes of pink—he looked like an otherworldly painting. Eunho assumed that he was—just didn't get the country or language right. Lorenzo was used to it, but this was the prettiest thing—person—he'd ever seen. He coughed, covering his mouth with a fist. He glanced back at Eunho. "Devo smettere di chiamare le persone con dei nomi." He warned himself silently. It got a little hum. He looked up.
"Jia." He murmured. The three year old girl was glaring. She neatly set up her food. It's because she has OCD, they all say. Don't talk to her, they all say. But she stared at Lorenzo like he was ruining her night. He'd been ignoring her for the past five hours, yet, she would still huff and roll her eyes.
One of the omegas roamed around without pants. It was her mom. He was a host and definitely wasn't supposed to be in this office building, or on the floor. Poor little baby, was what Lorenzo first thought. But she threw a crayon at him for throwing his hoodie next to him. So.
"L-lo-lo." She had a little stutter, and didn't know how to say his name. Like most Koreans. Lorenzo huffed. "Yes, Jia?"
"Crayon."
"No."
"Listen to me, boy." The little girl snapped. Lorenzo peered at Eunho for help but the omega only frowned. "She's just a little girl," he murmured. Lorenzo rolled his eyes and took back to Jia.
"What—no."
"I'll tell my mom."
"Tell him, I don't care."
"You are evil. Scum," Lorenzo gawked. He looked around for help—he'd gotten some eyes by now. But most of them were laughing at the young harassment. He could only sigh. "Okay." He mumbled. He sighed and stood up, every inkling of degree in a grey bag Eunho missed. The alpha grabbed the sweater next to Eunho recklessly and threw it over himself. He yanked the bag up next, wrapping it around his body. He took the four bags he'd just finished and swirled around the table.
One of the men sitting near the clear doors to the expensive hallway swung his glass. "Lorenzo." The room quieted down, even the omegas playing tongue touch in the back. The teen followed the call and wiped his face. "I'll be back. I've finished most of this and it's," he glanced at the clock on the wall. "05:35. I'll sell it all and be back tomorrow." He whispered to the guy drinking an expensive whiskey. It was dark and sparkly, like his diamond Rolex. It must be the boss—Neither Lorenzo or Eunho knew. But, the big alpha sighed and called Lorenzo closer. Eunho stared hard, his chest heaving as his only company just left him alone in this scrawling room.
"Stai zitto. Sei sacrificabile quanto un cane; sei fortunato ad essere qui. Fai il tuo lavoro e ti terremo." Eunho couldn't hear it, but the man's arm dressed Lorenzo's shoulder and his words were silenced by the side. Eunho still caught the way Lorenzo froze a bit. Not as cocky. And maybe he wasn't cocky before. His eyes slammered up and he hummed. "Scusa, farò di meglio. Lo pulirò presto." He bowed his head. He wanted to walk away but the man's grip tightened. "La tua famiglia è morta. È inutile tornare da loro. Soprattutto conoscendo tua madre. Qui sei più al sicuro." Lorenzo's watered at the tone. Sharp and dismissive. He nodded.
"Yeah, okay."
And finally, he was able to leave.