With tiresome morning lessons behind him, Kyungsoo was in the library, fulfilling his duty as student librarian. Unlike yesterday, the library had students and staff alike, meaning no special event was unfolding that lunch time. With a book in hand, he eyed the phone placed upon the tower of the desktop computer, his sister was right, the phone's former red display of drained power turned green, with a lightning bolt in the middle, signifying charging. He was somehow glad that it wouldn't die, even though he had very little use for it. He hoped that by the end of his shift, the phone would be fully charged. With that in mind, he returned to the story held in his hands; a novel of a woman in a mental institution; he was content with his life, but those moments, when he was maddened by their situation – the stress of loss, the fragility of their economic state, their descend down the social scale, it weighed upon him heavily. He found fascination in the stories of those who suffered harsher fates, under the torturous influence of their faulty brains; it made him realise that his life was quite comfortable still, that his mind kept him safe and sharp, and not attempting to kill him through an unspeakable disease like depression or schizophrenia.

After classes were officially over for the day, Kyungsoo walked to the auxiliary building at the back of the school, where the drama club was supposed to meet, or at least, that's what's the announcement claimed. At the rear of the school were two buildings; the theatre hall and the gym court. On special occasions, whether parent's evenings, or the school hosting a game, the buildings would be aburst with people, though normally they were locked and vacant, only to be used in seldom interims by clubs. The town had ample green space and natural scenery aplenty, where all had a consensus that doing activities outside was for the better.

Kyungsoo pulled the handle on one of the ornate double doors to the theatre and passed. Ahead of him, in the entrance hall, he saw the doors open, a make-shift paper sign hanged upon the door indicating a meeting, but not just for the drama club, for the dance club as well.

Kyungsoo entered the stage and descended down the passage, passing the rows of seats swiftly, as he made his way to the site of the stage. Near the stage, were groups of people belonging to each club. They were distinguishible by their clothing – the drama club members retained their uniforms, while the dance club were already in loose comfortable clothing.

“Kyungsoo, you made it!” exalted the tallest of both groups.

“Yes, sir,” He bowed to the man, the drama teacher, “sorry I'm late.”

“No problem, they're still making preparation backstage.”

“Backstage...?” Kyungsoo echoed, looking to the grand empty stage before them, bare of any décor or props.

“Yes, some members of the dance club and the drama club have created this beautiful merged project and I thought it would inspirational for everybody to see it.”

“Okay...” Nodded Kyungsoo, taking a seat in the third row centre, having a good look at the stage.

Whilst the groups conversed among themselves, Kyungsoo relaxed on the seat by himself, fiddling with the phone. He noticed no features that would indicate any prior ownership; it was pristine, not a scratch on any corner. There was no digital remain that would help his query; no pictures, music, video: It was indeed a brand new phone. Why would someone as strange as Lay hand him something so expensive? During his shift at the library, he looked for the boy in the reference material corner and saw nobody, like usual for that place of the library.

“Ah!” he yelped, startled by the vibration and bell chime emanating from the phone, the groups looked to Kyungsoo, “Sorry, I forgot to mute it.”

He lowered his head and looked at his lap where his hands cradled the phone. What he saw on the screen shocked him: It was a message from Luhan.

“How did he...!” he grumble to himself. He opened the message and read its contents.

LuLu:

“Kyungsoo, you won't believe what happened!!”

Kyungsoo:

“How did you get his number!?”

LuLu:

“Never mind that! You know I've been about a new computer?”

Kyungsoo:

“Yeah?”

LuLu:

“Months ago, I entered a contest when I registered my new photo editing software, and I was picked a winner!”

Kyungsoo:

“Congrats!”

LuLu:

“I won a brand new desktop tower!”

Kyungsoo:

“What?!”

LuLu:

“Yeah, with some sweet specs, I was like, wow!”

Kyungsoo:

“Really?!”

LuLu:

“I know! Screw that Lay kid, I'm a natural winner!!”

Kyungsoo:

“Right...”

Kyungsoo replied with a bright winning smile; was it him? Or was it once again, coincidence? Luhan was a good person – cheeky with a sharp tongue, sometimes naughty with witty comments but altogether loyal and nice, one of the few people Kyungsoo would trust with secrets, if he was a more interesting person.

The lights of the theatre darkened and Kyungsoo excused himself from his friend, asking him to text him later, or even call him with all the details. He placed the phone back in his pocket and focus all his attention to the events unfolding in the stage.

In the darkness, Kyungsoo could not fathom sight or sound. Then, out there, in the obscurity, a spotlight lit swiftly in the stage. At its centre, stood, what Kyungsoo recognised, was the sight of awe that was Yoona. Wigged into white flowing locks, and covered by white blanket, Yoona looked beyond the distance of the audience of her peers, into the place in her mind where she could vocalise the words of her character's soul. She stepped forwards, nearing the edge of the stage, and with a voice thin with fragility and resonant to all, nonetheless, she plead:

I stand before you, as a broken effigy of seasons

To bid my warnings, and grant wisdom to reasons,

The flow of time can only