“Chaos is an angel who fell in love with a demon” - Christopher Poindexter

A small golden flower lay on a dark piece of wood, contrasting. Its golden petals were slowly beginning to mirror the solemn wood it rested on.  Darkening around the edges, depression was beginning to seep its way into the plant.

Contrast. It was all about contrast.

The flower remained untouched. Kibum feared he may taint it.

Jonghyun’s words shook him. The knowing look in his eyes told volumes about an untold truth Kibum didn’t want to know.

And so the flower and the truth remained untouched.

Kibum slowly paced through the kitchen, stopping to adjust the nearly empty paint tins on the counter.  

They had a certain appeal to them. Empty. Soulless.

Looking at them was like looking in a mirror. A distorted and broken image stared back at him.

A clock kept pace somewhere in the house. Counting down the seconds until death.  Until life. And time would continue regardless of both of these things. As it cruelly does.

But more relevantly, the clock was ticking down until breakfast. And Kibum’s foggy brain did not appreciate the tauntingly casual speed it moved at.

 His pacing slowly receded and he took a seat in front of he now-cold cup of coffee. He had run out of paint and he was running towards insanity. He was bored. And there were still 5 hours until breakfast.

 And so he sat.

A sketchbook lay open a few feet away from him, disregarded on the floor. Empty and half-finished pages created the small void of memories.

Kibum got up again. The half-finished cup of coffee dangled from his fingers. He glared at it as he deposited it in the sink.

He moved to the lounge with the resigned nature of a slowly wilting soul. The TV was still on. And although it was blaring through the house, Kibum didn’t hear it. He was listening to the words that were said. But he didn’t hear what they were saying.

“–was murdered at 9 O’clock yesterday evening. Police are still unsure-”

A mumble of torment crawled out of the lifeless reporter’s mouth. It was an empty string with no feeling. The neutral sounds of life in the background sounded like deafening static.

It was an endless tune tirelessly awaiting a crescendo.

He fell backwards onto the couch and blindly grabbed for the remote. Upon finding it, his fingers instinctively moved for the mute button as they had one thousand times before.

Stiff bodies moved without empathy as they drifted across rainy streets.

Lifeless.

Purposeless.

Not finding the empty movement of lips and silent expressions so appealing, he turned the television off completely, the black screen a sedative which instantly calmed him.

He relaxed into the couch slowly moulding his body into the structure, reality melting into rain.

When the lucid feeling of floating started taking over his mind, a sudden flurry of knocks at the door immediately caused panic to spread through his body. He jerked up on the couch, almost falling off of it in the process before stumbling to stand. A wave of dizziness passed over him and he raised his hands in both defence and hopes of steadying himself.

“Who the hell is knocking at one in the morning?”

Instantly the news report came flooding to his mind.

 

Murderer?

Assassin?

Serial killer?

All the possibilities that sprung to mind ended in death. And so phoning Jinki didn’t seem like an awful plan, although, Kibum reasoned, Jinki’s only hope at saving either of them would be talking the killer to death. He was good at that.

Dizziness gone, he relaxed his hands slightly in thought. Bravery and sense argued with each other as he lifted a foot and placed it a small step closer to the door rather than the phone, which, unhelpfully, was in the opposite direction. Every step drew more hesitation and more courage and the possibility of an assassin waiting outside seemed less likely with every step. But he froze when another round of urgent knocking filled the silence.

“Kibum.” A voice hissed from outside.

Recognition instantly flooded Kibum. He sighed in relief and quickly covered the rest of the distance to the door. But when he carefully opened it he was still surprised when the owner of the voice stood there.

“Jonghyun?” He breathed out uncertainly.

In essence this situation was as bad as any serial killer. The look in Jonghyun’s eyes was as sharp as a knife.

Jonghyun stood there, in the freezing cold with hard eyes. He wore painfully thin clothes that were not suited to the winter. He looked scrutinizingly at Kibum.

“Can you keep a secret?” He finally whispered.

Kibum blinked. He slowly nodded his head, concern fluttering through his body.

“I-” He started, looking at Jonghyun’s arms, positioned behind his back.

Maybe Jonghyun was the serial killer?

“Move. I’m bloody freezing.” Jonghyun hissed through clenched teeth. He suddenly moved forward causing Kibum to shoot out of the doorway. Jonghyun kicked the door shut behind him startling Kibum further. He turned aggressively to face Kibum who stared at him in shock as he backed away slowly.

‘Yup. This is it. This is how I’m going to die.’

Jonghyun sighed in irritability before ing his hand outward to Kibum’s chest ignoring the dramatic flinch he received.

There in Jonghyun’s palm lay a small brown bird. Its wing was twisted awkwardly, but it sat quite comfortably and seemingly painlessly in Jonghyun’s hand.  The small brown creature stared at Kibum with an intensity that seemed fitting, coming from the deep black eyes.

“Well?” Jonghyun whispered, clearly agitated.

Kibum returned his gaze to Jonghyun’s eyes looked through him as if he was glass. Those eyes seemed to be pulling apart ever secret Kibum had and tearing him down from the inside. He was at a loss for words.

“I- I don’t know?” He stuttered nervously.

Kibum stepped back.

“Hand.” Jonghyun muttered looking at Kibum intensely.

Jonghyun stepped forward.

“Give me your hand.”

Another step back.

“Wh-What?” Kibum shrieked quietly. All he seemed able to do was ask questions. His mind was fuzzy with lingering confusion.

Jonghyun took a series of strides forward and Kibum stumbled back. Jonghyun’s prowling continued, eyes never leaving Kibum who cursed when he came into contact with the mocking wall. He stopped far enough to give Kibum space to breath, but enough to get the message through; Kibum wasn’t going anywhere.

Jonghyun’s eyes softened as he stared at the scared man who was trapped in front of him. His face relaxed and he looked younger than Kibum had ever seen him. There was a distinct gentleness surrounding him and he screamed kindness. He let out a small breath.

“Kibum, hold out your hand.” He whispered softly. “I won’t touch you, I promise.”

Kibum hesitated.

Something flashed across Jonghyun’s eyes. So quickly Kibum could have imagined it. But a small trace of lingering hurt seemed to engrave itself on Jonghyun’s face.

“Trust me, Kibum.”

The prolonged look of sadness on Jonghyun’s face broke Kibum’s heart. There was a loneliness that spoke volumes in his tone. Emptiness.

And so Kibum found himself slowly lifting a willing hand to meet Jonghyun’s between their bodies. There was less than a meter between them and he could feel a slight trace of Jonghyun’s breath on his skin. His body reacted without him being able to feel the warmth. Goosebumps fluttered across his skin.

A sigh of relief escaped Jonghyun’s lips. He lifted his hand and it inched towards Kibum’s. Kibum remained still, desperate not to flinch as the hand closed in on him. Flashes of misspent youth ran through his mind as the hand drew nearer.

The hand moved in the same fashion theirs had. Deliberately and calculatingly. But there were no harmful intentions in this hand. This hand was gentle and soft. Long graceful fingers curled slightly as if to caress the air as it moved.

This was not their hand.

And so Kibum remained still until the hand hovered above his in the air, the small bird watching the exchange curiously. Painfully stiff, he held his breath.

Jonghyun stared at Kibum calmly. Solidly. Eyes holding his the entire time. They were soft and commanding, urging him to relax. Jonghyun’s eyes fluttered down slowly towards their hands which hovered only a few millimetres apart.

Kibum let out a shuddering breath as he watched Jonghyun’s hand begin to tilt, slowly closing the space between them. Jonghyun hesitated and his eyes flickered towards Kibum’s once more.

“Trust me.” He whispered once more before tilting his hand enough to let the bird gently slide into Kibum’s outstretched palm.

The bird landed with a soft exhalation from Kibum. The bird weighed so little he couldn’t feel the weight on his skin. The pressure of the living digging into his flesh. But it was there. And he was acutely aware of that fact.

He kept the hand straight, afraid of crushing the bird due to being unable to feel how hard he was pressing into it.

He raised his eyes to Jonghyun’s face to find they were already searching his. Jonghyun tilted his head slightly in an innocent puppy-like manner. He examined every inch and imperfection of Kibum’s face.

It was a neutral gaze. There was no judgment or animosity in Jonghyun’s eyes, but there was no trace of a positive emotion either.

 He was just looking.

Seeing.

 Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Kibum felt himself melting under the gazing; he felt exposed and self-conscious, yet the desire to let all his pretences wash away, all his walls crumble into dust.

And it was a terrifying feeling.

Suddenly the bird in Jonghyun’s hand gave an unenthusiastic chirp. Jonghyun’s gaze flu