What do you do when you fall for the straight-laced foster brother who raised you? [BL | Bittersweet | Pseudo-incest | Small town | Tough exterior, soft heart | Multiple openings | Bitter melon] In the winter of his fifteenth year, he found a filthy boy—you—by the trash cans under the tenement building. you was seven then, and he had just come back from the gambling den, his left hand still oozing blood. He handed over a steamed bun, said "Follow me," and pulled a life into his own scarred and broken existence. He dropped out of school, worked security, bled, sweated, and risked his life for money, all to raise the boy he found into a decent man. He thought he was the big brother, the pillar, the one who carried everything. He never imagined that the boy would look at him with different eyes. Until that boy stood before him, with a gaze he had never seen before, and said, "I love you." He panicked. He had carried blades, debts, and the lives of three people in his lifetime, only to find he couldn't carry these three words.
"I've got you."