Chapter One

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Yoongi silently stared out of the window for the entire car journey, his earphones shoved in and the music blaring as loud as it would go.

The damn things were broken, so they didn't play at full volume anymore, and if he moved too quickly and kinked the cables, they would cut out completely. He should throw them out, but they were the only access he had to music; without them, he'd lose his mind.

The woman driving kept looking back in the mirror, trying to engage him in conversation, but it wasn't working. He sat in the back seat with his hands tucked between his thighs, not saying a word.

The woman, Mrs Park, was used to this kind of behaviour from the boy.

They had taken journeys like this more often than she could count now, so it had become a routine.

Yoongi was a good kid; she knew he was, even if he pretended not to be. He always gave himself away.

The stoic, hard-faced attitude was a front for the soft boy inside, who still held the door open for her whenever they entered or left a building, despite showing anger and frustration.

He was broody and impassive but never showed terrible manners, even when he was so mad he wanted to scream in her face.

No. Yoongi was a good boy who needed someone to crack his remarkably thick shell.

It was part of the reason she chose this family and hoped the young boy wouldn't do anything to sabotage the placement.

The Kims were wonderful people who had tackled one of her most challenging cases, so she knew they were up to the challenge. They had taken in many short-term children over the years and one long-term.

Mrs Park glanced back at the bleached blonde, observing as he fiddled with his phone and twisted the jack plugged inside.

Thanks to the heavy traffic, they had been travelling for close to two hours, and the boy hadn't said a word. He just played with his outdated phone and the wires repeatedly.

It came as no surprise that those old earphones, which he had been carrying for the last four years, were finally failing.

But he never complained; he just got on with it.

Yoongi swiped through his phone as the woman drove, trying to keep himself distracted, but there was nothing to look at. He didn't have social media or friends to text; there were a few photos in his gallery, but no more than ten, and his music. That was it.

He sighed and slipped the hood of his jacket up again, pressing his head against the glass, letting the vibrations send him to sleep.

Yoongi woke to a tug on his earphones.

He opened his tired eyes and connected with Mrs Park as she stood outside the door, holding it open with a soft smile on her face.

She was kind to him and always had been since the day they met when he was ten years old.

The woman was the only permanent feature in his life these days. Despite his reluctance to talk, the woman always tried to engage with him, often just talking, so he didn't feel alone. He appreciated that. Yoongi enjoyed listening to her stories, even when he pretended he couldn't hear.

Sometimes she talked about her husband and daughter, non-descriptive details about cases she'd been working on or a movie she'd seen. Whatever came to her mind.

Mrs Park was always pleasant and had things waiting for him in the car whenever he moved homes; depending on the situation.

He'd climbed into this car thirty times, at least, over the last seven years. Today was that incredible milestone.

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