Taeyong wasn’t used to this. This...being scared thing. It was foreign to him, making him feel like a visitor inside his own body, unable to find the way out once the fear shut the door, locking him inside. The past several months had been a rapid progression of Taeyong feeling on edge and unsafe, quickly losing a big chunk of what made him the boy so many people fell in love with before they even realized.

His smile that would send jolts of electricity from one person to another, quickly illuminating an entire room. His eyes that seemed to act as fireworks, lighting his face in a festive tone. And most of all, his free spirit, always running, learning, changing and stirring up those he touched along the way. To be around Taeyong was to be in the company of your own passion, your wonder and safe place.

But that well had been dry over the past four or five months since the stalking had started.

 It was small stuff at first like harmless love notes in his school locker or a box of chocolates at his front door. Everything was signed by Boy In Love. Taeyong had a lot of friends, a lot of crushes and a lot of fans, so really, it could have been anyone doing this to him. He even considered his somewhat newer circle of friends was just toying with him, trying to see how he’d react. He couldn’t count how many times he’d gotten a boquet of roses at school, only to immediately trash them, accusing Hansol of being the culprit. At first, maybe for two weeks, Hansol went along with it, but when things got darker...sicker, Hansol admitted it had never been him and strayed further from Taeyong, along with all of Taeyong’s new buddies.

Taeyong had gone from laughing off the stalking, to ignoring it, and then detesting it...and finally came the anxiety, the fear, the mental anguish. It started mostly when Taeyong began to receive photos of himself while showering or getting undressed in his room. Photos taken from impossible, far away and intricate angles. He began second thinking every move he made, positive it was all being recorded by some freak. It was difficult to count how many times he’d turned his room upside down, dead set on finding a mic or a camera. Each time, he only found old Gameboy games, spare change and dead spiders. Not much of a detail cleaner.

 Then, instead of chocolate, it was dead rodents and clumps of animal hair delivered to his front door. Finally, his father stepped in, getting the police involved after a three hour lecture about how Taeyong had waited way too long to tell anyone. There was no sigh of relief after Taeyong confessed to his fathe or the police, in fact, things got worse right away.

 Within a day of his first talk with a detective, Taeyong was followed home by a dark van, which attempted to run him over as soon as he noticed it’s presence.

Taeyong’s father was mugged after leaving a private gym in the midnight, his step-mom’s bank account information compromised, and their home was invaded. The stalker hadn’t done anything or even taken anything...it just recorded itself walking around, touching and smelling things, then sent the video straight to the cops, knowing it’d left no clues behind. That’s around the time Taeyong’s step-mom, Si-Yeon seemed to develop a large, unaplogetic resentment towards the boy. True, she’d never been very keen on him to begin with, but since then, she’d began going out of her way to spend as little time around him as possible. It’d been months since she’d even spoken his name out loud.

On the other hand, Taeyong’s father, Dong-Wook, the diligent businessman, smothered his son every moment of everyday like some heartfelt but itchy quilt you feel obligated to cover up with just because some old auntie made it for you.

 Dong-wook tried to mask his bright red fear with random trips to the GameStop, Knotts Berry Farm and Nordstrom where the small family liked to shop. Anything he could do to get Taeyong to show a flicker of his old self, anything he could think of for his son to crawl back out of the turtle shell he’d retreated into over the course of those months. And absolutely anything to make him feel like he was being a good dad, instead of some ghost of a man that spent all his time working for NCT, his overbearing and never satisfied employer.

But the only thing that Taeyong could seem to look forward to was school. Not school specifically, because all his friends and fans had disassembled from him, finding other, stronger guys to attach themselves to. It wasn’t so much school that he looked forward to...but Art class. And he didn’t even care about art! Who was Picaso? Taeyong didn’t have a clue. It could have been gelato for all he knew.

 It was his intructor that he wanted to see everyday. Jonghyun. An eccentric, unpredictable man with a mischevious, sometimes crooked smile and wide eyes placed right above like two shimmering ornaments on a fresh christmas tree grown just for Taeyong.

Taeyong had never thought of himself as gay, and he’d never felt a strong romantic attraction to a boy before, but Jonghyun wasn’t a boy. Well, anatomically he was, but Taeyong always felt like Jonghyun was more of a color, an energy, a power that he wanted to surrender to, while also holding onto for dear life. Life Taeyong missed.

Jonghyun would sing as he flitted around the classroom like a handsome, corky butterfly, or maybe a moth. Those are more masucline, right? Possibly neither. Jonghyun lit up when Taeyong would speak. It had been weeks of silence on his part, always nervous another student was going to take the opportunity to ask him about any new stalkings or findings from the incompetent city police.

The more time Taeyong spent around Jonghyun, volunteering after school, coming to class early ,taking trips to the City’s Gallery and even exchanging emails with the teacher...the more he started to fumble and fidget with the match inside of himself, lighting sparks here and there until his flame was back. It was possibly hotter than ever, gaining heat and force from Jonghyun’s own, unique, opaque color. Yes, the stalker was still out there, but Taeyong stopped waiting in suspense for the next instance.

 With that new fire, came another. A real one. Like, a real, actual, burning fire. It seemed all the stalker wanted was to break Taeyong into dust, watching him blow away clump by clump until only a memory of the boy was left. The lower Taeyong got, the less the stalker seemed to mess with him. But as soon as Taeyong got a hold on some of his previous curiosity and wonder, the stalker got angry, sending notes almost every day again. Notes much less romantic than before.

You should kill yourself before I do, it’ll be easier on your family.

Taeyong refused to shrink again, wanting to remain as much like the reflection of himself he saw in Jonghyun as possible. But a couple weeks later, on a Saturday, he got to school in the evening for a group project, supervised by Jonghyun...and instead found the art department going up in flames.

Just like a fire, everything was wild and passionate...in the way that the Devil himself is passionate about you know, wrecking lives? Yeah, that way. No one had told Taeyong that Jonghyun was still inside the building, he’d just known. And just like that, he’d transformed back into that cunning, lightning bolt of a fox he’d once been, easily slipping past the moronic cops and getting into the building.

Again, wild passion, so untamed and manic that it was almost dream-like. The kind of thing that could only be illustrated or written about but never really seen in person because it was just that hard to accept.

Yet there it was. Or better yet, there he was. Park Jimin. No taller or scarier or freskish looking than anyone else Taeyong had encountered his entire life.

Of course at that time, nobody knew that was it’s name. Less than a day later though, the entire city would know his name. Less than a day later it would become less of a name and more of a descriptive word, an adjective...a color. Park Jimin, not the human, but the thing, the idea, the force.

 Immediately, Taeyong knew one way or another at least two of the men in that room were going to die, whether by fire or by man. Jimin was trashing the art studio, seeming unharmed by the swelling, cracking flames encompassing them. It was almost as if the flames were dancing with him, happy to lend a hand in the destruction of what was most precious to Jonghyun and Taeyong.

 Jim was throwing anything he could get his angry hands around, kicking and punching the already injured teacher in the face and gut, while he screamed a slew of cusses that Taeyong felt sick just hearing out loud.

You’re disgusting! And you can never replace them! Taeyong is meant to be with them only!

Jimin snatched up a hammer, his impish smirk painted in a vibrant hue. Before he could swing downward at Jonghyun’s head, Taeyong’s body was on top of Jimin. They wrestled, but there was no malice in Jimin’s hands, no desire to even pinch Taeyong’s skin. In fact, he was trying to hold him close, attempting to get a point across. All the anger and rage inside Taeyong was met with gentleness from Jimin that confused Taeyong’s swings and swipes. The freak wouldn’t stop staring whistfully into Taeyong’s fierce eyes.

Taeyong struggled, surprised how toned the creep was. With both hands, Taeyong choked the boy, hoping to see the head pop off or at the very least, a slither of....fear. SOMETHING!

Nothing. Just a vacant, content smile spread across Jimin’s face, as his sweaty, relaxed body laid there, letting Taeyong release every drop of hate into him.

It seemed like hours passed before the firemen burst in, snatching Taeyong off so quickly that they barely got an idea that Taeyong had been trying to kill him, not save him. Outside the now explosive studio, Taeyong watched in involuntary silence as Jonghyun’s body was placed on the stretcher, loaded in the back of the ambulance and moments later, just gone from his sight altogether. Unable to answer any questions or distinguish any faces, Taeyong sat on the ground while two men tried to get him covered and hydrated. But the only thing that got him on his feet again was the blurry vision of the monster Jimin being cuffed and placed into the back of a squad car. Still grinning.

Like a doe taking it’s first steps on some frosty strip of earth, Taeyong struggled away from the men, desperate to say just one thing to that animal smiling at him from behind the window.

“Let me go, let me go, I have to get to him!” Taeyong fell to his knees, bruising them right away. Just as fast, he was on his feet, determined to reach the car even if it wound up as the last thing he did that night. The car began to pull away, along with Taeyong’s one chance at comprehension. Looking back many months later, he’s not interested in understanding anymore.

Before the car picked up any real speed, Taeyong flung himself onto the back door, his fingers sore from the impact.  Somewhat face to face with his hunter, he spat the word out, along with his own saliva and tears.

“Why!” Taeyong cried, thinking he could break through the glass window with enough will power alone.

Still, with a complacent beam on his soft looking face, Jimin replied after several seconds.

You broke your promise to Jongin.

Limp and shattered for the third time that night, Taeyong dropped to his already bloody knees. With one hand, he tried to cling to the side of the squad car as it pulled away. How could a sick, heartless thing that Park Jimin even utter, let alone know the name of Taeyong’s former best friend? Especially since Jongin had been dead for eleven years.

Days passed with Taeyong being too shamed to visit Jonghyun in the hospital or even send his father with flowers. The guilt was like a gun to his head, destined to fire the moment he stood before the innocent art teacher. It was easier for Taeyong to just erase Jonghyun from his memory, or better yet, paint over him.

Jimin had admitted to everything readily, not even bothering with a lawyer. He was glad to tell police that he thoought Taeyong was scum for what he’d done to Jongin, pushing the former friend’s memory to the way background of his mind, and then filling up the available space with new family, friends and romances that Jimin couldn’t stomach.

He has to pay for forgetting Jongin.

Jongin wasn’t going to make him pay, so I did it myself.

“But Jongin, this boy you’re speaking of...he’s dead, Jimin.” The Detective had said all lethargic.

Not to me.

Taeyong and Dong-wook listened to the confession tape more than thirty times, blocking out the company of their lawyer and the detectives in the room with them. The more they pressed rewind...then play, the less it made sense. Dong-Wook couldn’t wrap his head around the insanity of such a young person like Jimin. The desire to want to harm someone that badly, without ever meeting them. He’d grown up an only child, adored and pampered by everyone around him, but also with a level-head, often seeing people for who they were at their core. Maybe work and divorce has drained that ability from him, because now that he was married to a young, y wannabe wife...now that he was forced to accept that he’d been using material things to sustain a relationship with his son, he felt awful. Like a wrecking ball coming from left field, Dong-Wook was dealt a heavy blow of inadequacy that no amount of money in his bank account or with his hot wife could combat.

Taeyong on the other hand couldn’t stand hearing the name of his dead best friend spoken by such a muddied and repulsive person. As if Jimin knew anything about Jongin! As if Jongin would ever know a psycho like that even if he was still alive. There was no correlation between the two in any sense, in any world. Still, it ate at Taeyong.

It’s not just me, you know? I could never have done all this alone. Hack his email, steal his mom’s credit card information and get his dad beaten up....

“Now is your chance to get some time off your sentence, Jimin. Tell us who you were parterned with.”

Unlike Taeyong, I don’t turn my back on my friends...friends are forever and they always come back to you one way or another.

“What do you mean by that?” The detective still had that drowsy tone, getting agiated looks from Dong-wook and the family lawyer. Would it kill the guy to sound like he cared about solving this case? Or was it already solved to him? To everyone? Was this the part was Taeyong was supposed to wipe a single tear dramatically and declare that everything was going to be okay? Because he couldn’t do that just yet.

Taeyong won’t get away with what he didn’t do....lock me away, I have nothing else to say.

Taeyong didn’t argue with Dong-wook when the man told him he’d be moving three cities over to live with his Uncle Heechul. He just needed to finish school somewhere that wasn’t practically a noose around his neck. Somewhere where nobody stared for way too long or drove extra slow past their home to sneak a picture of the ‘boy from the news’.

It was worse that bits and pieces of Jimin’s confession had been released to the hungry media, opening old wounds that Jongin’s parents were just starting to heal from. Now, even they had moved out of the city, unable to deal with it all taking over their daily lives again. Jongin’s older brother had made sure to leave a furious voicemail left on Dong-wook’s cell phone. Taeyong wasn’t meant to hear it, but his step-mom played it onoxiously loud one day from the home office, knowing Taeyong was in the next room. That’s the kind of woman she was.

 Taeyong nodded, refusing any help in packing up his room. “Friends are forever and they always come back to you one way or another...” Taeyong knew it was morbid to keep the quote written down, but still, he looked at it scribbled on the inside of his closet wall. Each day he’d see it and wonder when it was going to make sense. When was it going to click? As the week trudged by, he forced himself to stop thinking about all of it. That’s what survivors do, right? Move on? Get over it? Hm. Taeyong supposed he could do that. Really, it wasn’t fun being this way, he was ready to throw it all off his back and dive into something new.

But, it was ironic just how fast the quote had proved to be true.

 Taeyong was going back to the city where’s he’d grown up and met Jongin in the first place. The place were the three of them promised to always ‘rescue’ the other. Taeyong, Jongin and Jaehyun.