Teleporting is a Lifestyle
He let himself slip into the sunlight, letting himself go with the warm rays, guiding him to who knows where.
It was quiet. Clanking metal rushing with smooth speed underneath him, an old woman with a wrapped box in the clutches of her hands to his right. He let his gaze skitter along the fields of soft greens, a jade veil covering his vision. He couldn’t recall where he came from, his destination wasn’t clear either. He just knew he couldn’t stop. His last vision had left him on a rooftop, center of Taipei. He sat along the edge, feet teetering off the building made entirely of glass. He watched the sun go down, eyes steady as lights blurred his vision.
It wasn’t where the sun took him, it was the fact that the sun was always there. It was always filtering in one way or another, soothingly, gracing his skin with feathery kisses of warmth. It was no mystery as to why his skin was so dark. He would relish in listening to the symphony of life, time had no effect on him. Sounds of passing conversations, drizzles of shouts and punches of laughter. You could see his eyes were closed, more often than not. Because seeing wasn’t always believing. Empiricism wasn’t always something substantial. It was the nuance of it all, drafted from a possible world. His residence never settled in a home, because home was an emotion.
He had left Kim Jongin to live as any other being. He had parted with his past life, leaving him to enjoy memory loss and short novelties. He escaped into an alternative reality, a new beginning of sorts. He was open, left alone to saunter his way through the streaks of colored and nameless faces, of dim hues of monochromatic skylines—he was Kai.
[A/N]: Because Kai ends up being my inspiration for everything. Pretty short, but at least I'm writing.
Comments