Today 

God, did he feel bad for him. 

Ki had smiled at him and was about to take a picture of the sucky football player before he tripped over the football and face planted in the mud. After which, one of his teammates that had been running behind him tripped over his laces or something like that and landed on him.

Which, Ki had to admit, looked pretty damn gay from his position behind the fence.

And sure, the moment had been pretty funny, but Ki felt like it was his fault. If he hadn't smiled at the passing footballer maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have tripped over the football. And face planted in the mud. And got his kit absolutely dirty. And wouldn't have been kicked off the team.

Ki walks down the street, earphones in as he finger-drums in the air along to TØP's 'Chlorine' and the sound of traffic played in the background. The sun beats down on his back and Ki felt some sweat coming on. He wipes his forehead with his sleeve. His whole entire outfit was black. Even if it was summer, he'd wear black. Even if he was set to pass out from the heat and his mom was insisting he wore something light (but still brought a jacket in case it rains), he'd wear black. That's thing about himself that he's realised. He's stubborn and sure, sometimes stubbornness can become perseverance, but his stubbornness and his personality in general is the reason why his mom always downgrades him. Why he barely has any friends. Why he doesn't think he's worth the time.

Ki checks his phone for the bus times and groans in complain as the screen reads out a time over 30 minutes. He checks his wallet quickly and pulls out a £1 coin.

"Good enough." He sighs, darting inside the nearby corner shop. Rows and rows of 70p chocolate bars line the shop counter, mirrored by bottles of off-brand Coca-Cola cans sitting in a fridge on the other side. Walking over, Ki scans the fridge shelves for a bottle of cold Lychee Mogu-Mogu, considers the price and if the beverage is really worth the money and takes it to the counter.

The shop owner glares at him as he approaches and immediately holds out a hand to accept the money. Ki places the coin in his hand and watches the keeper enter the money into the machine with his chubby sausage fingers. 

"Want a bag." He says, posing the words more like a statement than a question. 

"No, thank you." Ki takes the bottle. The shopkeeper leans back on his stool and Ki walks out with his bottle of Mogu-Mogu, fiddling around with his tangled earphones in when he notices a certain mud-covered boy walking a few steps ahead of him. He has large, bulky red headphones on and Ki can almost hear the scowl as he attempts to wipe off the mud that's covering him. 

"Stupid!" He yells, throwing small handfuls of mud at people's garden fences. "Stupid, stupid! I bloody hate this!" He throws his arms up in the air. "Your mum's gonna be so happy with you when she gets back from deployment! 'Oh my god, Isiah! What on earth did you do with your life whilst I was gone? Eight months and you've already effed yoursef up better than Guy Fawkes, goddamit!"

Stalking was not something Ki had ever supported, not even Misumi shoving several editions of 'Killing Stalking' into his face had changed his opinion, although, he had been very impressed with the art style. But he felt like he recognised the face, the voice with the slight accent. The subtle dimple on his left cheek that Ki couldn't quite put his finger on. 

The road was unusually busy, with the chunks of metal zipping back and forth in straight lines, in straight rows. Ki frowns, 'Something must have happened' he thought. The boy in front of him doesn't seem to notice the noise or the fact that the zip of his backpack was open and that his clothes and other items were spilling out onto the ground. Ki steps forward and picks up everything that drops onto the pavement like the good member of society he is and stares at the football shirt. '23 Afwerki' The silver symbols were stitched into the back of the blue and white 'Niles' football kit. 

'23' Ki smiled at the number. 'My birthday'. He looks up and notices they were approaching a zebra crossing. "Hey, number 23! I think you dropped your k-"

'Isiah' steps onto the zebra crossing, oblivious to the car racing at top speeds towards him. Ki quickly takes action and grabs the top handle of his backpack, yanking him backwards. 'Jesus, he's lighter than I thought he'd be!' He thinks as he pulls 'Isiah' back onto the pavement. 

"Oi! Let go of me you absolute twa-" The boy looks up at him with wide brown eyes, his mouth quickly twisting into an 'O' shape. 

"You were about to get hit by a car?" Ki raises an eyebrow. "You might want to take those headphones off, or at least lower down the volume, so you can hear if anything's incoming." 

The boy notices Ki holding his football kit and quickly holds it forward. The boy opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly furrows his brow and grabs the kit from him, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and onto the floor, stuffing the kit back inside. He tries zipping the bag back up, but the zipper breaks off, completely busted. 

"Goddamit." 

"Don't worry, I've got a plastic bag in here somewhere..." Ki mutters, crouching down next to him. He opens up a side pocket of his bag and pulls out an orange plastic bag.                             "Here, lemme help you with that." He takes the muddy kit and folds it up on his knees, neatly placing them inside the Sainsbury reusable. His lanyard drops out of his shirt pocket and the boy picks it up. 

"Rhee Weon-kee. Niles Sixth Form." He turns the ID card around in his fingers, before glancing up at him. "You a senior?"

Ki nods. 

"Same. I'm studying PE, Geography, History and Spanish. What about you?"

Ki ties the handles of the plastic bag and holds it out to him. "Biology, Chemistry, Law and Photography. Only one of which, should I mention, my mom approves of." 

The boy takes the bag and the duo both stand up. "Damn, you must good at creating stuff then. All I do is write essays about dead English monarchies, speak in foreign tongue and fail my exams." He smiles. 

"Well, I don't think knowing how to take good angles in shots will help me get into St George's So even if your grade levels are lower than my self-esteem, at least you're better off than me." Ki shrugs. 

"Wow, deep much." The boy sucks air through his teeth.                                                                                    "Always." Ki smiles. "All the depression."

The two boys smile each other in silence, with Ki noticing the not-so-subtle height difference. 

"Errr..." The other boy scratches his head, "This is awkward."                                                                            "Social anxiety, amiright?" Ki laughs and the boy almost, almost seems to blush. 

"Umm, here." Ki takes the other boys's hand and curls it around the plastic bag. "That's yours, not mine, you can take it." He coughs, his eyes looking everywhere but to the person in front of him. 

"For a tall, socially anxiety-ridden photographer, you certainly seem to have some inborn humor, Rhee." The boy smiles, before holding out Ki's lanyard and ID card. "I'm Issa." 

Issa. I've heard that name somewhere, I swear.

"Weon-kee. Call me Ki." He shakes his hand. "Rhee's my last name. It's just put first on there, coz, y'know. Korean stuff." 

"So you're name's Ki Rhee?" Issa raises an eyebrow, pulling his hand away and stuffing it in his pocket. "Like, kiwi? The fruit, kiwi?"

"Whatever you'd like to call me, Issa." Ki shrugs. "Pleasure to be of acquaitance." 

"Oh, we're getting fancy now, are we?" Issa smirks, before curtseying. "Well, then, I wish you a very large saluation." 

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Nothing in my life makes sense." 

"Alright then." Ki fiddles with the strap of his watch. "I shouldn't keep you here for too long. Try and not get hit by a car in my absence."

"Advice noted." Issa nods, before clutching the plastic bag to his chest. "Got it." 

The pair start walking their opposite ways, before Ki turns around again. 

"And Issa?"

Issa turns around to look at him. 

"Yes?"

"Maybe next time I see you. I'll have some better shots of you playing football." 

Issa guffaws, before shrugging. 

"Sure, whatever, Kiwi."