Inspired by: Hector Berlioz's "Symphonie Fantastique"

He killed him. 

Kuhn killed Jinhoo. 

He didn't mean to. 

But the blood on his hands say otherwise. 

It all happened so fast, Kuhn didn't have time to think but he killed him. 

Kuhn killed the man he loved with all his heart, Jinhoo. 

It was funny how this story started. It was funny how they met and how he fell in love with him. It was funny how Kuhn resolved his unrequited love with blood. 

But Kuhn couldn't laugh. 

Let's go back to how it all started, the first act, the first movement of this twisted symphony Kuhn created.

Let's start with No Sul Il, an artist who could both write and paint. He was never a famous artist though. He was an ordinary artist in Seoul, with nothing more than passer-bys as customers. He was contented with what he had though. He was contented living by his passion. He lived normally, as normal as an artist's life could be before the most perfect being, Kim Jinwook arrived. 

Kim Jinwook was an actor. He was a famous one at that. He had taken lead roles as if they were clothes on sale. Most Koreans knew who Kim Jinwook was, more of who Jinhoo was. Jinwook, after all, took the stage name Jinhoo. All they knew was who Jinhoo was and not who Jinwook was. But what made Sul Il, or preferably called Kuhn, fall in love was Jinhoo. The Jinhoo who was so passionate with his acting that even Kuhn's cold heart moved. The Jinhoo who smiled a lot and showed the crowd a new side of him every time. Kuhn also loved another thing about Jinhoo. He loved art as much as the artist. Jinhoo was one of Kuhn's many customers. He often frequented Kuhn's stall and would buy at least one painting or he would ask a copy of Kuhn's latest poem. 

But Kuhn knew how hopeless it was to love a celebrity as famous, as perfect as Jinhoo so he decided to move on. When he realized how deep his obsession was with Jinhoo, he closed the store and decided to go to this party most artists frequent to every year. Kuhn knew he would forget about Jinhoo and dance the night with another man in the party. Once he arrived, he talked to every person he could talk to but his tries were in vain. Every person he danced with reminded him of his bitter love. 

After a few hours into the party, he gave up trying to move on and decided to walk his way to his apartment. Maybe a walk would make him think about things more. As he walked, he saw two lovers exchanging words of love. What made it worse was those two lovers were both men, only making Kuhn think about Jinhoo more. He heard the lovers whispering sweet nothings and words that would make a single person barf but Kuhn only felt longing. He wanted to have Jinhoo all to himself. But at the same time, Jinhoo was somehow a bad influence in his life. If Jinhoo didn't arrive in Kuhn's life, he wouldn't get this troubled and confused.

At last, Kuhn reached his apartment. He quickly changed his clothes and jumped into bed. Maybe a good night's sleep would work. But he found himself wide awake until the roosters signalled the morning of the next day. He stared at the dark ceiling and watched the sun's rays penetrate his small dark room. Kuhn knew the thought of Jinhoo kept him awake and he blamed the actor for this. He cursed it all, everything, from the fact he fell in love with Jinhoo to the fact he couldn't think of anything else but Jinhoo. 

Kuhn slowly rose from his bed and got ready for the day ahead. He grabbed something from the drawer of his side table before going out of the apartment. He stared at the bottle of opium before him, thinking of how logical this might've looked like. A drug could make him forget about Jinhoo, even just for a few minutes. He hoped he could forget Jinhoo. 

Kuhn reached his stall and opened his shop. He noticed how all of his paintings portrayed love as a neverending hell, as something you could never get out of. His paintings shouted the same thing. Love was an eternal punishment, which was true in his case. While there were no customers, he pulled the bottle out again and stared at it. Everything next was a blur to him. 

All Kuhn could remember were Jinhoo's cries for help and for mercy but Kuhn couldn't respond. His body was moving by itself. Kuhn was telling Jinhoo something but he couldn't hear himself. Kuhn was sure he was already shouting at Jinhoo but he couldn't control himself. When Kuhn was able to control himself, it was already too late. 

Jinhoo was dead. His blood was slowly spreading on his shirt. His body was sprawled on the wooden floor. No one was there. It was only the pair. And only one was alive and it was Kuhn. 

Kuhn killed Jinhoo. He just murdered the love of his life. Maybe he did deserve it for distracting Kuhn all these times. Maybe he did deserve it since Kuhn thought he didn't feel the same. 

But that didn't change a thing. Kuhn murdered Jinhoo. Kuhn was a murderer. 

After the incident, Kuhn called the hospital and the police. He surrendered himself. He should be punished for the sin he had committed. He should die in the hands of the law. Everyone, especially those who knew both Jinhoo and Kuhn, were shocked. Kuhn could still hear the curses people told him. He could still remember their glares at him. Even in the prison cell, everything was still clear to him. Everyone hated him. 

But that was not the most haunting thought. Even in death, Jinhoo's smile haunted Kuhn. His laughter still rang in Kuhn's ears. Kuhn could still imagine the softness of Jinhoo's hands. He could still imagine Jinhoo buying paintings as usual in his stall. Jinhoo still haunted him eventhough he was dead. Soon after, Kuhn couldn't take it anymore. The guilt ate him alive. It hurt him every time people tell him he murdered Jinhoo. 

Kuhn soon decided it was going to be his last act, his last movement for this twisted symphony. When every prisoner was asleep, even the officers were asleep, he pulled out a knife he snuck out from the kitchen. He stared at his reflection in the blade. He knew it was the face of a monster, the most vile creature out there. He took a deep breath before stabbing himself in the chest. He felt what Jinhoo might've felt. It hurt so much and yet, it wasn't the most painful thing that happened in Kuhn's life so he continued to stab himself. 

The blood slowly flowed from his chest to his clothes. And soon, his hands stopped going back and forth, in and out. His hands rested on the handle of the knife as it slowly slipped from where Kuhn stabbed last. Finally, it was over. The suffering was over. Kuhn finally forgot about Jinhoo and he finally created a masterpiece everyone in the world will find out sooner or later. 

The most fantastic symphony the world of murder ever laid its eyes upon.