8:05 AM, 1385 S. Marion Street, Denver, Colorado, March 1st.

It is a lazy Sunday morning. The first day of Spring peeks its head and checks that it is safe to send its spring flowers out from under the thin blanket of snow still lingering and glistening on the moist ground. Bright green lawns already shout their color and their rejuvenation to the sky and the snowy mountain tops gaze upon the sleepy neighborhoods, just like the sun defying every creature on a microscopic level. The wind blows gently and the morning dew drips down shaky blades of grass. The air is fresh and smells of winter still but baby birds are flying and singing and sending winter away with its myriad of blankets, its old cold bones.

A small villa stands out among the green canopy and the perfectly cut bushes and vines running down its red and brown bricks. A baby bird stops by the window and peeks its head inside but the pale white drape obstructs its view. All seems still inside. A cozy fire still burns in the fireplace, lighting up sleepy paintings above the marble mantelpiece and adding a sickly orange hue to their landscapes, The wood crackles and is acompanied by a loud sizzle coming from the adjoining kitchen down the hall.

There are paintings everywhere, in fact. They adorn the walls, some are lain on the floor unfinished, the living room smells of fresh paint, of water colors. Pencils and brushes are overcrowding wooden containers, spreading across messy palettes in a hodge podge of mixed colors. There are paintings of exotic places, of parks at sunsets, balerinas, rowboats, mundane habits, human expressions and emotions conveyed with fingers and pencils and brushes, colors bringing nature's wonders to life. These are the works of a man who has seen a lot and travelled a lot, they hold a precious personal note that imagination alone cannot develop. That man is lying in bed under warm blankets, reveling in the smell of fresh linen and the comfort of a soft snorring puppy nestled at his chest. His black hair swirls on the pillow around his head. His jet black eyes gently open up, searching around him, as he shifts his position and turns to the other side, touching the cold sheets beside him and the shape outlined between the folds. The puppy is awake now too, his master's face. He giggles a bit, petting the small brown wooly poodle.  His arms are long, veiny and tan and his eyes puffy and over-worked, eyes who do not welcome sleep as often as they should. He finally hears the sizzle coming from the kitchen and now knows where the missing body from the sheets is hiding. Shaking sleepiness off and rubbing his eyes, he sinks his feet in his comfy slippers and walks towards the other side of the bedroom, onto the balcony, opening both doors enthusiastically and breathing in the last remnants of winter's once icy breath.

"Aaaaaahhh, spring is here! Monggu, come see! he shouts excitedly as the poodle hops off the bed and runs frantically to his master.

Jongin picks up an old camera and takes a snapshot of the view outside, he can only contain this moment like this, as much as he wants to paint this exact image, in a matter of minutes it would not be the same, the sun would be in a different position, the light would not fall in the same places, the shadows would dance to different tunes, everything would shake out of place. As much as he hates instant pictures that everyone takes, forgetting to look at the object and looking only at the screen, he sometimes has to capture beauty and keep it for later, for when his hands can convey it, enhance it, for when he can pour himself into it. Earth is beautiful and he is lucky to have seen so much of it, lucky that he can go anywhere he wants for free and with such ease. He feels like all humans should be given this opportunity. He has truly been blessed and he never takes this for granted. He has been on all the continents, faced Mother Nature's winds and hurricanes, its earthquakes and snow storms, he has seen floods and draughts, he has also seen happiness and sorrow, he has heard ancient bells atop gothic churches, observed astronomical clocks, plentiful hills and vinyards, mountains covered in snow all year around, he has marvelled at the Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the City of Lights at midnight atop the Eiffel Tower, the Aegean sea from the Greek shores and the whitest Greek vilagges contrasted by the vibrant blue sky reflected in the aqua marine and light green waters.He saw Big Ben and the changing of the guards in England, he has been seranated down the Venetian Canals under bridges and between houses as colorful as if they were straight out of Hansel and Gretel and made of sugar and candy. He stood below the giant redwood trees of California and felt like an ant, he lost himself in the jungles of the Amazon and the giant icebergs of Antarctica, the blinding white, the blue and turqoise of the frozen kingdom, the soft pink petals of the Cherry Blossoms in Japan, the solemn majestic beauty of mountainscapes and fields, the breathtaking autumn foliage in New Zealand.

But he does not need all of the world to be happy. He does not need all the wonders of this planet, its vastness, its naturally-sculpted beauty. All he needs is this. His paintings, this house, this puppy...and the person cooking breakfast in the kitchen right now. Although he misses the other ten. And he gets homesick. But this is his home now. He starts to think about the noisy cook across the hall, the person that laid beside him all night, making sure he is okay. He had been a bit sickly as of late and Kyungsoo was always worried and acting like an annoying mom. He started thinking about Kyungsoo. He now knew for sure that at least eight of the other ten had spread apart, they were all living their own lives and he dared not interfere with them too much. He had let them discover their own person, that version of them that blended in as a human on Earth. They seemed happy so he chose to just check in every now and then, but always hidden in the shadows, always invisible to them, although some could sense him more than others. Sometimes he so badly wanted to approach them and to talk to them about their planet and everything that had happened. He wanted to find the missing two. He felt guilty. They had all stood their ground and they were trapped and punished. And they should have never left without them. He shook those thoughts away because they hurt too much. The delicious smell from the kitchen drew his attention.

He approached the kitchen door on his tippy toes, his tall skinny body as well as his mouth and nose covered by a soft maroon quilt, making him look like a cat burglar. He cracked the door open ever so gently and gazed inside at the young man facing the other way, an apron around his body, spatula in hand, shaking his arms and humming a soft tune. He loved his voice so much... He felt a warm feeling in his heart. Kyungsoo had been his whole world ever since they had landed on Earth. He was like a parent at times, like a brother, like a best friend and even like a life partner. He was like a teacher and like a pupil. His presence was comforting. As adventurous as Jongin was, he had to painfully admit that he was dependent upon Kyungsoo. This tiny, fragile little figure that seemed so breakable, so pure, like a feather escaped from a new pillow and floating away through a window, carried by the breeze. And still he loved to mess with him. Turning around, he went back to the bedroom and opened the drawers where Kyungsoo kept his clothes. Inside was a perfect example of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Everything was color-coordinated and neatly arranged, everything in its right place. And Jongin just loved messing it up every now and then. Smiling wickedly, he threw some of the clothes onto the bed as Monggu, the puppy, jumped up and down trying to catch the flying T-shirts and socks.

"Breakfast is...." Kyungsoo stopped, mouth wide open, dead in his tracks, apron on his waist and spatula in hand. His big doe eyes opened even wider and his left eye brow went up as his smile turned to a pout and his lips curved downward. He looked annoyed as Jongin started giggling and running from him, Monggu running around him in circles. Reds are mixed with blues, grays with whites, socks separated from their pair and jumbled on the floor, complete chaos! Jongin was laughing as if he were the devil and Kyungsoo was now chasing him with murderous intent.

"You know you are going to tidy all this up, right? Kyungsoo was not amused.

"And what if I don't? I don't have the compulsion to clean, unlike you. Thank you for breakfast though! Jongin ran past Kyungsoo straight to the kitchen, no longer being able to resist the amazing smell, his deep melodic laughter echoing across the hall.

Kyungsoo trailed behind him, looking miserable and resisting the compulsion to clean everything, picking up his clothes and placing them in a laundry basket. He picked up Monggu too and petted him gently, letting him sit on his lap as he sat down for the breakfast he had made. There were scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon and sliced up tomatoes and onions, a tall glass of milk and freshly brewed coffee with creamer. In the center of the table were warm blueberry scones, homemade by Kyungsoo. He took pride in his cooking skills and often pondered how Jongin would probably starve without him. And he was acting like such a spoiled brat today!

"Seriously...Thank you for breakfast! I...I am sorry for messing up your clothes, you know I just like to tease, right? Jongin looked genuinely apologetic, looking down and clasping his hands as if he were about to start praying.

"It's okay...as long as you help me clean. And pick up those brushes! You are going to get paint on the floor and we just had our floors done and then I am really going to get mad!" Kyungsoo's ears were getting red. Jongin thought to himself how cute he looked when he was mad, his cheeks swelling up in his pout like a squirrel munching on an acorn.

"You're not going to go out again soon, are you? You keep popping in and out and visiting the others..."

"But you know something is not right....your dreams, Kyungsoo...you know most of your dreams come true. And you keep dreaming that the world is in danger, that its very existence is under threat, and you keep dreaming about our planet and I feel like they are connected and I feel like the others should know...don't you think? Jongin looked at him like a worried father, a father of 10 other children that had ran off from home and forgotten him. I think I will contact Tao first. He keeps travelling so he is hard to find but I am pretty sure he will be in Barcelona on the 18th and I can make contact with him there.

"You are such a stalker, I swear....How do you even know that? Are you delving into their lives a bit too much? I feel this is intrusive a bit...None of them know that you are there watching and making sure they are safe. As for the dream...maybe it is just a dream...Nothing has happened yet...Although I do have this sickening feeling in my stomach...but maybe I am just being weird...Our people have left us alone for all these years, why would they strike against Earth now? This is such a tiny planet compared to ours, just a pale blue dot on an infinite canvas of giants overshadowing it..."

"And yet when you were little you couldn't keep your eyes away from it. Remember? You used to sit there at the Observatory and look at it through a telescope and just wonder how people are, wondered how happy they would be if they knew we even exist, thinking they must feel lonely with no other proof of life out there, solely because they do not have the technology to see us yet. In a way...that is how it all started. Your curiosity and your eagerness. You instilled it in all of us"

"I know all of this! Kyungsoo said angrily, squeezing his fists above the table and looking down, frowning into his plate. And look at everything that happened....In a way I am to blame...I bet they all hate me in some way. Maybe, in the beginning, nobody wanted this. And what if Lu and Yifan are dead? Dead because of me...."

"Stop it with that nonsense!" Jongin placed his arm on Kyungsoo's shoulder comfortingly, feeling the sweat running down Kyungsoo's neck. He worried himself to death, his heart was too pure and his conscience too dirty. It was a mess he couldn't clean up so he just guilt-tripped himself endlessly.

"But you can't find them, can you? They never made it to Earth, they never made it out of that stupid trap we were thrown in, that ruthless maze having us running around like rats in some kind of diabolical experiment. We angered Him...and that is what He did...." Kyungsoo sighed as his eyes got teary. He felt a pair of arms wrapping themselves around him and Jongin's body heat like a pillow and a bandage for his heart. This just made him want to cry even more.

"I have found the others and we can look for them together, okay? They are alive...I just know it! I can sense it...even though it is you who can sense the others' presence and thanks to you alone was I even able to find them...you can sense what lies upon this Earth, but maybe their condition is somehow different. But they are here....They were too strong to not make it out alive...you have to believe that! We will find them together, okay? What do you want to do today? Where do you want to go? We can go together! Anywhere in the world! Take your pick!"

"No...I think I just want to lay down and watch you paint. I just want to stay in and feel the spring breeze. I am happy just being here..." As he was saying this, he felt like this peace won't last much longer and he just wanted to enjoy it.

Jongin smiled big, his pearly-whites appearing from under his full lips and his whole face lit up as his eyes got smaller and the puffiness under his eyes swelled up even more, tiny little wrinkles forming at the corners.

"Only if you play some guitar and sing to me while I paint! My creative genius demands it!"

Kyungsoo awkwardly lifted his arm to his ear and started laughing in a high-pitched tone turning into a cackle. Jongin answered with a deep laugh, punching his arm and tilting his head back. All was well with the world again. At least for now. Soon, he will pay Tao a visit. And then maybe Yixing. He felt he needed some healing. Teleportation took a toll on his body with repeated and frequent use.

As the fresh-cut grass and melted snow scents were carried by the wind inside the living room, Jongin was painting, moving his brush and applying gentle , creating frozen stills of life and Kyungsoo was singing softly, his fingers strumming the guitar strings. His voice was soulful and soothing, his notes were full and trickled down like honey, he closed his eyes and sang breathily, then powerfully, making little flourishes and adding unexpected nuances that tickled Jongin's ears. He could listen to him sing for an eternity. He had the voice of an angel, ever since he was little, he had this gift and it was only natural he used his gift on Earth too. With his singing and Jongin's painting they had managed to make a decent living. Kyungsoo thought "If only peace could last forever....but I see storms approaching that none of us can weather....Please....Please let us live....And please let them be alive".

"Jongin..."

"Yes?"

"Nothing...it's nothing...I am sorry...." he smiled and resumed singing.

"Don't ever die on me, Jongin...." he thought to himself.

7.613 miles away from Denver, Colorado, a man awoke in a cold sweat from the same apocalyptic dream haunting Kyungsoo.