Stars.

There are so many in the sky, twinkling in the distance. The night is draped over the valley, obscuring inconsequential details, a gentle summer breeze sweeping over the grass blades and tickling his skin, dulling all other senses. He is all alone, sprawled on his back in the midst of the field, absolute, tranquil silence and solitude surrounding him; the idleness is a welcome change, comforting. The horizon runs as far as his mind will take him, midnight velvet unraveling in every direction. The sky stretches black and blue into the universe, endlessly vast and dotted with tiny silver lanterns of hope, floating steadily and peacefully.

It’s a beautiful night for stargazing.

Chanyeol loves the stars, how steadfast and serene they are, and he loves that the universe is so wide. It holds so much beauty and pureness in its cradle, so many miracles, and a place for everyone. Maybe, somewhere out there, there is a place for him, too. A better place and a better future, perhaps even a miracle. He longs to find that place, but he is still bound to his native land, to that faint outline of a forest and a city far away on the horizon. It is all he knows at the tender age of six, but he dreams of a greater world and the many fascinating creatures inhabiting it, the enthralling emotions waiting to bubble in his heart.

He sighs longingly and peers deeper into space, his wide eyes mapping out the constellations he knows and picturing the flaming and frozen, radiant nebulae beyond the Milky Way. There is a massive world all around him which he can’t even fathom, woven of destiny threads and accidents that make perfect sense; everyone and all belong here. There must be a place for him too somewhere, there must. He is just a little different and he will need to find an equally unique place to belong.

He knows it’s out there, perhaps far away, perhaps not. What if there is someone already there, waiting for him? Someone who will accept what he is, love him for who he is, someone who won’t abandon or hurt him. It’s his little heart’s most sincere wish.

A distant bell chimes, resonating in the silence, and suddenly there’s a change in the air. Chanyeol startles, the silence of the valley turning stale and stifling, the darkness of the night becoming a black mass threatening to swallow him. His solitude cages him in, leaving him helpless as his ghosts pay him the customary visit, with sharp teeth and cold claws, silent and lingering at the edges of his vision like smoke. The ground feels cold and the grass prickles his skin like thorns, the stars in the sky gather and fly away; he knows this haunting feeling turning in his stomach and scratching at his lungs. There is only darkness everywhere.

It’s coming. He has to run.

He tries to stand up but he can’t move his arms or legs; there is something sticky and wet pooling underneath him, something so disgusting that makes him cringe as he writhes on the ground. He has to run but he can’t. There is a collar of insecurities choking him, a chain of fear linking him to an abyss too sinister for his young eyes. It’s too late to escape and he can only fight against himself, tears of dread and despair forming in his eyes. He can faintly hear the familiar screech, the agonizing cries which will soon grow deafening, and he kicks at nothing blindly, his hot tears overflowing. He tries to scream but no sound comes out of his lips; he tries harder, to no avail. The ground shakes and opens.

And he’s falling.

Chanyeol wakes up with a scream on his lips and tears in his eyes. His heart is racing in his chest, his forehead is drenched in sweat and his stomach is twisting in his gut uncomfortably. He cries out until his throat is raw, and then it turns into a sob; he sits up, forcing the bile down and trying to recognize his familiar bedroom in the darkness. He throws away the heavy covers and hastily wipes away his tears with clumsy hands, jumping out of his bed and running to the window for some air. He opens it as fast as he can, tiptoeing to reach the clasp and tearing it open, leaning outside to breathe in as much air as his small lungs can take.

He’s okay. He’s okay, everything is okay.

He tries to calm down, slow down, shudders running through his body. He’s okay, he’s safe. It was just another nightmare. He grits his teeth, but it’s less about the cold and more about the barren feeling inside him. Sometimes he feels so foolish to think he can escape his dreadful dreams; they’ve been visiting him every night ever since he can remember himself. It’s a miracle he sleeps at all, but he can’t stay awake forever. His body is so confusing sometimes. Sniffling quietly, he wipes a few stray tears from his cheeks with his sleeves and presses his hands against his eyes, willing away all the ugly and scary images lurking behind his eyelids. He’s safe.

The city is still slumbering outside his window, silent and still before the dawn, lingering on its last dream. Sparse streetlights are still alight like artificial fireflies in the distance, closed curtains and locked doors line the household fronts, beautiful gardens are waiting to bloom in the sun and soft shadows lurk in every corner of the cobblestone streets, curling their way to the upper city. The moonlight is fading in the sky, receding with the night and stars, to give way to the first sunrays. It’s always the twilight hours, when his body gets indecisive, that his nightmares are more vivid. The air is chilly, biting his cheeks, but it will be a warm and sunny summer’s day once the sun rises above the horizon.

He sighs tiredly, one small fist rubbing at his sore eyes as he takes out the little talisman his mother gave him. He doesn’t bother glancing at it a second time, ripping it off his neck and throwing it on his pillow. It didn’t help him any more than all the other things they’ve tried to ward off his bad dreams. He was born like this, he can’t escape it.

“Honey, are you okay?” his mother’s voice calls quietly, and he spins around to find her half awake and leaning against the doorframe. Her long brown hair is messy and her large eyes are glassy with sleep. She is used to waking up from his screams in the middle of the night, but she still makes an effort to check on him, unless she is too tired to stir. Chanyeol has learnt to take care of himself.

“Just a dream” he whispers. He doesn’t run to her for comfort or cry for reassurance, like any child would do. It’s not because he is a brave child, like some might endearingly assume; it’s because he knows. He can’t find what is not there. His mother simply nods in understanding, gathering her night robes closer to herself to keep warm; she never asks about his nightmares, and he’s not sure he wants her to.

“Do you need anything?” she offers, but he shakes his head; he feels much better now, she doesn’t need to worry. He will go back to sleep soon, until it’s time to wake up and get ready for school, like he does every day. She presses her lips thoughtfully, her eyes wandering to where his protective trinket should be hanging around his neck; even though she notices it’s missing, she doesn’t say anything about it. “Close that window before you go back to bed” she reminds him, like all concerned mothers do, before she slips away to her room and he is alone again.

Chanyeol folds his arms on the windowsill and rests his head there, eyes gazing at the idle city below. He walks these streets every day, therefore they hold little interest; the streets of the upper city are much more impressive and appealing, but he can only see the tiled roofs ascending the hill from his window, nothing of the wealthy streets and grand mansions, or the colorful markets. The sky is empty of stars and colors at this hour, bleak and lukewarm, and the blankness reflects inside him. Everything is silent and still, unremarkable; his eyes start drooping drowsily, so he closes the window, ready to return to his bed and seek warmth and sleep under his covers. The window clasp is sometimes difficult to latch, but this time he fastens it with no trouble at all, and he bounds under his duvet right after.

He doesn’t notice something slipping through the window and then hovering quietly in the shadows.

~~~

“Come on, let’s go with the others! I don’t want to be picked last!” Chen complains, hopping on his heels impatiently next to Chanyeol. Chen always complains, but he always stays behind with Chanyeol anyway; it doesn’t matter that they both know Chanyeol is the one who always gets picked last. The children of their class spill boisterously into the open field, eager to start their games under the watchful gaze of their teachers. Spring school trips are the most enjoyable of the year; the weather is ideal and the children can play to their hearts’ content.

“Ah, go go! I’ll be right behind you!” Chanyeol dismisses his shorter friend, kneeling down to tie his shoelaces. He can manage to catch up with the rest, his friend doesn’t have to wait for him too. Chen looks at Chanyeol and then at their scattered classmates, considering his options with a troubled frown marring his forehead.

“I’ll save you a spot in my team” he decides, nodding to himself dutifully. Chanyeol agrees easily and Chen bounds to the nearest group of children from their class, charming them with his best smile and leaving Chanyeol to struggle with his shoelaces. He tries to tie a knot as fast as he can with restless, clumsy fingers. Bunny ears, loop, pull. He gets it right the third time.

True to his word, Chen already has a spot in his team reserved for his best friend; the rest of the team don’t seem very happy to have him, but Chanyeol feels happy to join them, because he hasn’t been picked last this time. This is the very first time, ever! A short girl who wears gigantic glasses is picked last instead; Chanyeol sends her a compassionate smile, knowing firsthand how disheartening it feels to be unwanted, but she wrinkles her nose at him, as if revolted.

The truth is, he’s unwanted all the time.

Any sour mood is easily forgotten when they start playing games, chasing after each other and exploring. Everyone loves field days, because they get to camp outside, away from the familiar, boring school walls and difficult lectures, and learn while running around excitedly and playing games instead. The entire school participates in the four annual fieldtrips; everyone’s favorite field day is the one in spring, because the surroundings are beautiful and welcoming –the entire class was sick for a week after their last winter excursion. But the older children don’t roam around in the valley like the younger ones do; they follow their teachers to the woods, the older they are the deeper they go, and Chanyeol is not sure what they learn there but it seems awesome. Every year he can’t wait for next year’s field days.

Staying in the safety of the beautiful sunlit field with his classmates, Chanyeol’s team wins almost every game, and they stop only for lunch. Chanyeol eats his sandwich seated on the grass next to Chen, the two friends sitting on the side and bickering playfully under the shade of a tree –sometimes too much sun makes Chanyeol feel tired and he needs to rest for a bit. Their teachers advise them to wait for an amount of time before resuming their games, so the children scatter and lounge on the grass, conversing animatedly and giggling, or quietly watching nature’s wonders and the blooming flowers.

Their teachers send Chen to a group of children who seem to be studying the grass, but Chanyeol is begrudgingly excused due to his sunlight sensitivity. He hates missing the fun, but he knows better than to argue with his teachers. He ventures out on his own soon enough though, scooting to the edge of the shade when no one is looking, and then crawling over to a lone purple flower, blooming nearby. It’s an anemone; he recognizes it from the pictures in their herbology book. He is busy examining the delicate petals and their vibrant color when something unexpectedly blocks the sun. It’s a shadow, but Chanyeol doesn’t have a shadow. Fearing it’s one of his teachers who has caught him disobeying their order to stay in the shade, he turns his head slowly, eyes wide and wary. He inwardly sighs in relief when he finds out that it’s not a teacher, just four of his classmates standing behind him.

“Hey Park!” one of them calls a little harshly, staring at him intently when he mouths Chanyeol’s surname as if it were an insult. They all have their arms crossed across their chests in a defensive way, a couple of them are frowning too, but Chanyeol is used to this. Hardly ever someone approaches him voluntarily, and when they do, it’s never with a smile.

“Hi” he whispers back with an unsure, cautious smile. These children are making him nervous with their intimidating stance, but he doesn’t want to be rude to them; deep down in his little heart, he’s always hoping that someone will ask to play with him and be friends. Chen is the only one who wants to play with him and be his friend. He is not used to talking to people.

“You’re dirty” the boy who called him before says, eyeing him in disdain. Everyone else does the same, wrinkling their nose and agreeing with not-so-subtle ‘ew’s. So, they don’t want us to be friends then. Chanyeol tries to shrink into himself in shame after their accusations, hiding his dirt-stained hands between his knees.

“It’s field day…” he argues weakly, blinking up at them. His pants have grass stains on the knees and his skin is dirtied with soil and sweat, his hair possibly has twigs in it since the earlier games and there is no way to hide everything that is amiss in his appearance; it’s a far cry from his proper and tidy look this morning. But he’s not the only one! Everyone gets dirty on field days, it’s part of the fun! Even those very children, who are looking at him so appalled in this moment, are dirty themselves –some even dirtier than Chanyeol. He doesn’t understand.

“He means on the inside” another boy clarifies, pointing at his own chest as further indication. Chanyeol’s eyes widen.

“I-I’m not…” he whines, his chest constricting in protest. He feels so sad; why would his classmates call him dirty on the inside? They don’t even know him. Chanyeol’s only solace, when people avoid him or say bad things to him, is that he is good on the inside. He tries very hard to be good on the inside, every day.

“Yes, you are; so unclean” a girl insists this time, wrinkling her nose in disgust and turning to the other girl. Chanyeol pleadingly looks into the children’s eyes, hoping to find a tiny proof that he’s not as ghastly as everyone seems to believe. But the eyes looking back at him are hard and cruel. His stomach drops.

“My mom says you’re a vampire” the first boy calls out loud, drawing the attention of a few stray children without groups nearby. Chanyeol bows his head in humiliation, biting his lip to conceal the pain. His fists are trembling at his sides full of regret, and he closes his eyes wishing that the boy’s words were a lie. If they weren’t true, he wouldn’t have to live this way. The silence stretches into seconds that feel too long and heavy in his heart. The boy starts tapping his foot impatiently. “Is it true?” he demands sternly.

“Only half…” Chanyeol lets out with a shaky breath. He knows he can’t hide the truth; everyone knows. His mother is seen as another elf in the crowd, seldom reminisced in stories about forbidden love, but her story is widely known, it’s been scandalizing the community for years, and everyone points a finger at Chanyeol; the hybrid child. That’s why Chanyeol needs to know he is good on the inside, no matter how bad his outside might be.

“You drink blood? You kill?” the girl who hadn’t spoken so far asks, her tone more desperate to know than accusing. She might be the only one who looks like she doesn’t want to believe all the bad things she hears about Chanyeol, but she is also the only one who looks so obviously afraid of him. Chanyeol tries to hold her gaze.

“No, never!” he says clearly, hoping she will believe him at least. The girl averts her gaze, still scared, and Chanyeol’s hope is crushed to slivers. It becomes difficult to hold back the tears that brim behind his eyes, his heart aching and his chest tightening in desperation.

He is half vampire, yes. But he doesn’t drink blood –that’s gross! Where would he find the blood in the first place? His mother cooks like all the other mothers and he eats like everyone else. And he doesn’t want to kill! He’d never hurt a fly. Elves are creatures that cherish life, they respect the balance in nature, they help and protect all beings. Just like the others, he thrives in the light of life from the universe, not in the shadows of death. He has never harmed anyone; but they’ll never believe him.

“But everybody knows vampires drink blood and kill! It’s so disgusting” one of the boys claims, and Chanyeol hides his face from them. All of them will never believe him. All of them think he is dirty.

“You are never going to drink my blood, Park! I won’t let you!” the braver girl exclaims, stomping her foot imperatively. I don’t want to drink your blood. I don’t want to hurt you, or anyone else, he wants to say, so that all the children gathered around can hear, but he chokes on his voice and only a sob comes out of his lips, his shoulders trembling.

“Or mine! I’ll hit you if you try!” someone threatens, and he doesn’t even know who; it doesn’t matter.

“You’re disgusting!”

“Never touch me again! You’re dirty!”

They keep yelling and yelling at him, they keep hurting him with their words and, unknowingly, they’re lighting a fire inside him, which hurts more than anything else. It’s begging to be let out, to char its way out of his chest and end this, but he squeezes his arms against himself and bites the cries behind his teeth. His head is spinning and his ears hurt, his cheeks are wet with the first tears and his thoughts keep spiraling down towards the terrifying abyss of his dreams. He doesn’t want to be here.

“I…I’m sorry…” he mumbles brokenly, pushing himself to stand on his feet. He doesn’t know what else to say, how to apologize for being what he is; but he doesn’t think anyone would care in any case. He wills his legs to move, to lead him away from this place. His eyesight is blurry with unhindered tears as he breaks into a run, his head is swimming, and he doesn’t know where he’s going. He just wants to get away from all the children calling him names and tainting his innocent soul, so he stumbles with all the might in his body, like a drowning man clutching at a straw.

He drifts into the woods at the fringe of the valley, step after step carrying him past greening shrubs and trees. He usually doesn’t dare go very far into the unfamiliar woods, the stories of residing monsters and evils recited from storybooks ringing in his ears clearly, but he doesn’t know how deep into the forest he’s already gone this time, too distraught to notice. He wipes his tears hastily and blinks at the unfamiliar surroundings, a tinge of fear mixing with his hurt and sadness. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he decides to climb up the tallest tree around, to hide in the protective embrace of its branches.

He finds a sturdy branch midway up the foliage and he settles there, curled close to the enormous tree trunk. He has always been good at climbing, but this time he got a few cuts on his hands from ascending, his mind too confused to pay close attention to the surface and texture of the bark. He barely feels them stinging, at least no more than his renewed b tears, because he feels so abnormal. No matter how much he tries to run away and hide, he is the same, unnatural child; Chanyeol holds his breath sorrowfully as his wounds heal before his eyes, his body regenerating the skin. Unnatural.

There is nothing left for him to do, nothing to hope for, as he sits in the tree and the sun slips in little glimmers through the leaves. He cries silently, curled in a little ball, hiding his sobs behind his hands. He cries secretly, lest someone finds him, because maybe it’s better if he is lost. He cries alone, with nothing but the rough tree and shaking leaves to comfort him.

Chanyeol cries and cries, for everything mean his classmates said and for everything bad they think of him, or do. Chanyeol cries and cries, for everything he is and everything he is not, or cannot be. He cries and cries, for a father he never met and a burden too heavy for his little shoulders. Chanyeol is unwanted and unnatural, born blemished and cursed on the wrong side of the universe.

Chanyeol is everything he doesn’t want to be anymore.

The sun falls gently to a sunset, the vibrant colors of the sky hardly visible between the leaves and twigs. Chanyeol is still crying and sobbing, tucked in his little hideout. As twilight progresses, small animals start appearing, scampering around to and fro near their nests, returning for the night or starting their forest rounds. Chanyeol’s tears subside, most of his energy spent. The animals don’t come very close to him, no matter their destination and their path; Chanyeol loves animals but they are always afraid of him, and it takes a lot of effort to approach them. He doesn’t have enough spirit left in him to try, so he simply watches them minding their business for now.

When the night has unmistakably come and the forest is dark, he starts thinking of home –not the one he should return to soon, expecting a lengthy lecture from his mom, but the one he’d like to find someday, a home that will truly fit him. He doesn’t know what it might look like or where it might be, but he will know when he finds it from the way it will feel. The hope of tasting such a feeling is always in his heart, it makes him anticipate every new day and dream of a better future, it makes survival worth.

Chanyeol is almost drifting to sleep when his ears catch a suspicious, ruffling noise nearby. His eyes shoot open immediately, his senses alert; perhaps one of his teachers has come to take him back to his house, or maybe it’s another nocturnal animal, but what if it’s a…monster?

“H-hello?” he whispers, voice trembling. There is no reply and he doesn’t pick up on any other sound, hard as he may try. He gulps, his little heart fluttering. Maybe it was a trick of his imagination. Maybe it was an animal leaving the tree. He sits back tentatively and shrinks in apprehension, his fatigue forgotten and replaced by nervousness. If he is alone, like his mind and senses prove to him, how come he doesn’t feel alone?

Long moments go by uneventfully, and Chanyeol is almost convinced to drop his vigilant stance, but then suddenly, the same rustling of leaves sounds again; and this time, it is closer. His heart throbs.

“W-who’s there? Who are you?” he demands, his voice louder and evidently nervous. He breaks into cold sweat, his senses trying to locate the intruder, but he can’t see, hear or smell anything! What sort of creature exists without evidence? C-could it be a tree monster? Chanyeol bites his lip so hard his eyes tear up, his arms gripping his sides and his knees shaking in fear.

Chanyeol feels his heart leaping for his mouth when he hears the shuffling again, and this time it’s so close he can see it, the leaves trembling over him in the darkness, not even a meter away. Whatever this creature is, it’s going to appear now, it’s going to land on the same branch, it’s going to drop out of the shadows, it’s going to come so close, it’s going to kill him and rip his heart-

“Stay away! Please don’t kill me! Ahhh!” his bloodcurdling scream echoes in the stillness of the forest, as he averts his face and covers his eyes with his hands. He doesn’t want to see a monster, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to become a tree, please, please, he’ll be a good boy!

But nothing happens. Chanyeol waits for something grossly horrible to happen at least, his body quivering all over, but there is nothing, as if whatever it was, travelling through the tree, has disappeared. He would have blamed it all on his imagination and his nightmares, had he not seen the leaves shaking with his own eyes. A creature was there for sure. But maybe it’s not anymore? Chanyeol’s limbs slowly stop shaking so much but his heart is still trembling in his chest like a leaf, as he braces himself, peals his hands away from his eyes and hesitantly chances a glance.

He is surprised but not spooked.

There is no monster standing in front of him, nothing terrible or frightening. His heartbeat regains its regular rhythm when his eyes settle on his nightly visitor. It’s a little boy, looking harmless, lost and just as scared as him. It’s not a boy he knows from the city. Chanyeol examines how the boy is balancing on the branch precariously, but still doesn’t dare to move closer, even though he had started benevolently approaching Chanyeol before the latter screamed bloody murder. The first twinge of remorse appears in Chanyeol’s heart.

The boy is small, smaller than Chanyeol and almost too pretty to be a boy. He has round cheeks and pouty pink lips. He is pale and thin, and that makes his big eyes stand out more; they are downturned at the corners, giving off a lasting impression of sadness, but they are also cute, like a puppy’s round, innocent eyes. He is dressed in simple white clothes, his black hair flopping across his forehead. The boy stands unmoving, frozen in fear and surprise, staring back at Chanyeol with a mix of hurt and apprehension in his eyes, which is almost unbearable.

Did Chanyeol do that? Did he make the boy sad, because he was so rude? He was only scared, he didn’t mean to! Chanyeol is good on the inside; he didn’t mean to. He feels the burning claws of guilt travelling down his spine. His experience and his nightmares have taught Chanyeol to live his life in constant fear of perishing from this world, one way or another. No one has ever tried to approach him, so he hadn’t even thought it would be possible for him to reject someone; he is the one who is always rejected. It feels awful on both sides.

“Oh…hi” Chanyeol mumbles, slowly coming to his senses and relaxing his defensive posture, until he’s sitting unguarded in front of the unfamiliar child. In Chanyeol’s chastely innocent view of the world, a child is always pure and would never harm anyone, like freshly blooming flowers are always beautiful and their thorns are soft. His eyes examine the boy’s figure with open interest, even though the boy looks as regular as himself. In Chanyeol’s uncharacteristically cautious view of the world, things might not always be what they seem, like his very own existence confirms.

The boy eyes him warily and leans away, settling his weight back on his legs, as if keeping a safety distance. He looks torn, shyly lacing his fingers in his lap while staring back at Chanyeol, hesitant to cross the distance between them, even though he must have wanted to do so before Chanyeol yelled at him. Chanyeol’s heart bleeds with guilt.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you; I thought you were a tree monster” he admits, twiddling his fingers in embarrassment. He doesn’t want to look babyish and naïve –he’s a big boy of six years, after all– but he can’t lie to someone he has offended. His pride suffers a little bit, but he prefers that over a misunderstanding that will make the boy sad. For one fleeting moment, the resemblance to a kicked puppy fades from the boy’s features, and his black hair swipes out of his eyes as he tilts his head in confusion. He has very sparkly eyes. “Don’t you know of tree monsters?” Chanyeol gasps in surprise at his own guess, and his eyes widen further when the boy innocently shakes his head in reply. Oh no, he needs to warn the boy! “They are like mantis, but big, and they pierce your heart to make a tree with it. You should be careful if you live near the woods; little children shouldn’t wander here alone” he recites perfectly from memory what adults have been telling him since he was little –even though he’s technically still little. And, according to his own teachings, he shouldn’t be here any more than the boy should.

Chanyeol’s eyes fly around uneasily, hoping the next thing that stops by won’t be a tree monster. They are both little children, lost and defenseless in the woods; and the night suddenly seems particularly dark around them. The boy looks around after Chanyeol’s example, fearfully attending to the eerie fest of lively, clandestine escapades taking place in the nocturnal forest, before returning his timid, wide eyes to Chanyeol. Now, there is the same glint of uneasiness reflected in his eyes, that Chanyeol feels in his heart. The silent moments between them weigh heavily in their chests.

A shuffling, cracking sound of unidentified origin comes from the ground suddenly, and Chanyeol nearly jumps in fright; the boy flinches too, gripping the branch. Their childish, wide eyes search the muddled olive foliage underneath them for any signs of danger, but neither of them is inclined to recognize any such thing. Out of sight, out of mind; whatever danger might lurk in the woods, they don’t need to know about, as long as they don’t come across it.

“D-do you want to climb higher?” Chanyeol suggests, whispering breathlessly. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that it feels like it’s about to burst. The boy seems to like their impromptu escape plan and he nods frantically in agreement, losing no time in reaching for the higher branches, in synchronicity with Chanyeol.

Chanyeol is a fast and agile climber for a six-year-old, but the boy is even faster, vanishing into the foliage effortlessly, weightlessly, with only little ruffling evidence left in his wake. Chanyeol is making a ruckus in comparison, as he struggles after the boy; he is utterly amazed and briefly considers the possibility of the boy belonging to a different species that takes after Chanyeol’s elven decent, but the climb becomes more challenging as the branches become thinner and less sturdy closer to the top, so he forgets all about his rightful suspicions. They don’t stop climbing until the leaves break apart to reveal the sky and there is no wood left to climb on.

“Whoa, you’re so fast” he pants in effort, hoisting himself up the last bendable, soft branches, until he breaks through the foliage. The boy is already there, sitting with his legs tucked around the branch securely in the empty space under his feet. He looks a little anxious at first, while he waits for Chanyeol to catch up, but his expression melts in relief when Chanyeol finally comes into view. The endearing concern doesn’t go unnoticed and it doesn’t fail to tug on Chanyeol’s heartstrings in unfamiliar ways; he had never thought a stranger boy would show more worry for him than any other familiar person in his entire life. Chanyeol smiles, bashful of this warm feeling brewing in his chest, and shuffles to sit next to him, no longer reserved.

Unknowingly to them both, this boy has secured a place so close to Chanyeol’s heart that he may never be rooted out.

“Wow, everything looks so pretty from here!” Chanyeol gasps in awe, admiring the view from their high and mighty post. The forest trees rustle in the breeze, and their leaves look like waves as the moonlight and shadows wash over them in rhythmic intervals. Beyond the woods, the valley stretches like a silver platter, and the city looks like it’s floating over it, its stone walls and tiled rooftops, its gardens and markets, all shining beautifully with matching candle flames. The mountains look like a violet shadow in the distance, and the sky springs from their cradle, like the finest blue velvet, dotted with silver sparkles.

The moon is shining far into the west, full, with grey swirls and glimmering dust. Chanyeol can see the Serpent; a large, dragon-like snake, that loops around the moon and naps there every night. It looks delicate and luminous like the moon, made of silver and diamonds, silent and indifferent to earthly matters. On cloudy nights, it becomes restless and rotates on the fringe of the moon endlessly; Chanyeol doesn’t know what it means. But on clear nights like this one, the Serpent merely sleeps, rarely steering in its dreams.

At the sight of the Serpent, Chanyeol feels a little safer and assured, even when he’s helplessly lost in the forest at night.Serpent, look! I met someone new! He loosely smiles up at the only constant in his life, his only companion, whom no one else can ever see. Unaware of the Serpent in the sky, they called him a liar when he first spoke of it, so he has never mentioned it since; Chanyeol’s eyes are perceptive to many unnamed things in the world. Even at the tender age of six, Chanyeol knows that some minds and some eyes are intended to forever remain oblivious; but to his mind, to his eyes, the Serpent brings a unique solace.

Chanyeol momentarily glances at the boy, wondering if he can see it too. Wouldn’t that be fascinatingly unusual? Surprisingly, the boy is looking at the sky too, but not in the direction of the moon; he’s staring at the stars abovehead, eyes wandering and mapping out the sky. He is completely immersed in his stargazing, and he looks so serene, a small smile playing on his lips. Chanyeol can’t help but feel like he’s witnessing something very personal and intimate, as if the boy is greeting old friends, diligently discerning and naming them one by one. The stars reflect in his eyes like silver twinkling dust, and in this moment, the boy might be the most beautiful thing Chanyeol has ever seen.

“You like the sky?” he asks the boy hesitantly, wondering to himself about the unanticipated, swift fluttering of his heart; he’s never had heart problems before… The boy’s trance is broken by Chanyeol’s quiet voice and he blinks, turning to flash a small grin at Chanyeol before looking back to the sky.

“Star” he says in a small voice, extending a soft, pale arm to point at the millions of scattered, radiant celestial objects with his tiny finger. He says that one word with such longing, admiration and affection, like it’s everything he knows, everything he loves in the world, and yet it’s so out of reach; it makes Chanyeol’s chest tighten uncomfortably with a melancholy that doesn’t belong to him.

“I like the stars, too” he says gently, and it’s like he has unlocked the chest containing all the light of the world, when the boy looks at him and smiles so dazzlingly, his eyes turning into half-moon crescents. Chanyeol sways his legs shyly and smiles back at the boy, the tips of his ears burning red. He doesn’t know why the boy is suddenly so happy with him, but he knows why he feels so happy himself; it’s the first time anyone has smiled at Chanyeol so unguardedly, has looked at him with no repulsion, has been so openly gleeful to be with him. It seems the boy likes him, for indefinite reasons, and poor Chanyeol doesn’t know how to cope with so many feelings of affection circling his heart.

He pinks when his heart thuds audibly, unused to his body’s jittery reaction and the boy’s attention.

“Look, that’s my city” he changes the subject, pointing at the steady lights shining in the dark, too far and yet not close enough. It’s a home that never felt like home, but still very familiar. The boy takes an interest instantly, his gaze glued to the city in the distance, while he listens with fascination everything Chanyeol gushes about his birthplace. “I live there, where the gardens are. It’s very beautiful and peaceful in the mornings. There’s a house with yellow tiles, where my best friend Chen lives, and then there is one with orange tiles, and mine has brown tiles, but the neighbor’s house is new and they put red tiles. We all have gardens, since we’re closer to the valley and outside the city centre, and I have a flowerpot, but it hasn’t bloomed yet” Chanyeol presses his lips thoughtfully and shrugs his shoulders. There’s still a lot of spring ahead, he is sure his flower will bloom. It was a birthday present and he is taking good care of it; all children learn how to tend to flowers.

The boy nods solemnly, trying to encourage Chanyeol. He looks so engrossed with Chanyeol’s babblings, as if there is something precious to be learnt from them, as if Chanyeol is showing him the entire world.

Chanyeol points further away, where the streetlights ascent the hill in a flowing, twinkling line. “The upper city is over there; you can go there if you follow the main road. It’s a pretty place, but the markets are more exciting; they sell many trinkets and funny toys” he giggles, remembering the last time he sneaked in a market with Chen. No one suspected them and it was so much fun; they explored all the wooden toys and their small mechanisms, and they asked a million questions, but they couldn’t buy anything in the end, because their pocket money, even combined, was not enough.

Chanyeol wonders what sort of toys the boy who likes the stars would like, if he’d stare at the fairy lights which hang over the street markets after sunset like he stares at the stars, if he’d like the flower stalls and if he would say good morning to his flowerpot like Chanyeol does. What would it be like to be friends and live close to each other and spend their days together?

Chanyeol belatedly realizes he has been the only one to speak this evening; the boy hasn’t spoken at all. The only sound in his breath has been the word ‘star’. Ever since then, he’s been simply nodding along, listening to Chanyeol with great concentration, as if he’s reciting a prayer. Chanyeol really wants to be friends, but he knows nothing about the boy.

“I’m rambling, right?” he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing his neck. The boy doesn’t seem to mind and he shakes his head, smiling brighter in response, to show he is enjoying himself. Chanyeol hesitates for a moment, thinking that maybe he should keep talking if that makes the boy happy –because oh, his heart summersaults when the boy is happy–, but he decides otherwise. “Tell me something about you, too” Chanyeol prompts him with a friendly smile, hoping to find out more things about his new friend. The boy only blinks at him curiously, and Chanyeol hesitates again.

Maybe ‘star’ is all he needs to know.

“Where are you from? Why are you here alone? Where are your shoes? What are you?” the questions pour out of his lips before he has time to think them, because he would really like to know, like all children do. The boy blinks again, the smile vanishing from his lips, giving way to a confused pout. He glances left and right, a little upset, and Chanyeol can tell he is uncomfortable; he uselessly wishes he could take all his questions back now, because he’d rather have one of the boy’s smiles than the answers to all the questions in the world.

The boy’s eyes gaze into Chanyeol’s eyes, and he looks so small and lost, a bit frantic and very nervous, because he seems to have no answer for any of Chanyeol’s queries. He looks like he’s about to cry, helpless and sad for unavoidably disappointing Chanyeol; but Chanyeol doesn’t want to see him cry, he would never forgive himself! The boy looks adorable, with wobbling lips and misty eyes, breaking Chanyeol’s heart. So, Chanyeol decides to take action.

“You’re pretty” he blurts out, feeling a little embarrassed afterwards, but well, it’s been said and it’s true. The boy’s eyes widen in surprise –at least he doesn’t look so sad anymore. Chanyeol takes the chance to lean closer and observe the boy; he has strange eyes, but they’re still remarkably pretty. His button nose is cute too, dusted with a pink flush that spreads all over his squishy cheeks. The boy lowers his face self-consciously and blinks up at Chanyeol through his eyelashes, fingers toying in his lap to distract himself from his shyness. Chanyeol is blushing too, but his lips stretch in an unexpected grin; he thinks he’s oddly proud to see the boy acting so cutely because of something nice he said. He could say many nice things to him.

“Where is your home? Do you have a family?” he tries again. If he doesn’t know where the boy lives and where he comes from, will he ever be able to find him again?

The boy’s eyes grow round and twinkling, and he opens his lips; for a moment, Chanyeol thinks he’s going to say something, his hopes soaring beyond his control. But in the end, the boy sighs and shakes his head, deflating dejectedly. Chanyeol deflates as well.

“It’s okay” he mumbles, lowering his gaze from the apologetic pout the boy is wearing on his pretty features. He guesses the boy can’t tell him much; maybe he is not allowed to, or maybe he doesn’t have a family, which would be very sad. He must have his reasons. Chanyeol respects that, because he has secrets too; he can’t hold it against the boy. He pats the boy’s small back comfortingly, sharing the looming feeling that they won’t see each other again after tonight. They both look like the most disappointed people under the stars.

“Family is nice” Chanyeol starts talking again, to fill the depressing silence “but I only have my mom. She works a lot; she doesn’t really see me. Friends are nice too; but I don’t have very many” Chanyeol recounts, pouting on the verge of tears, and he’s not sure why anymore.

Chanyeol is always alone. He has his mother and Chen, but he is still alone because they don’t touch his heart. His mother doesn’t look at him in the eyes, like he has seen other mothers look at their children at school, and she hardly ever touches him. His only friend is Chen, but sometimes Chanyeol feels bad that other children pick on his friend because of him, so he tries to play with him secretly. The bonds are superficial and because of that, no matter where he is, Chanyeol is alone.

“Other children think I’m not nice. They think I’m dirty and disgusting” he hiccups, hot tears streaming down his face as the wound from earlier today reopens in his heart. How will he ever be happy, if he can’t reach out to anyone and no one ever reaches out to him?

Unexpectedly, the boy is in front of him in an instant, clumsily shifting on the branch and trying to balance in Chanyeol’s lap, doing everything he can to get closer for his purposes as fast as he can. His tiny hands frantically wipe away Chanyeol’s tears, wide eyes trembling and small lips gasping in horror. He looks alarmed and worried for Chanyeol, he looks like he cares.

Chanyeol sniffles and helps wipe away his tears in a daze, until they are all gone from his skin, even though they still linger on his lashes. He ends up a snotty mess with red, puffy eyes, but the boy looks so relieved he’s not crying anymore, as if the world has barely been saved. The boy sighs in relief, and then gives Chanyeol a serious look. Chanyeol sobers up a bit.

Then the boy places his hands over Chanyeol’s large ears, cupping them with his little palms and pressing them to his head, sealing them tightly from sound, while giving Chanyeol a firm, determined look. No words are exchanged but Chanyeol understands perfectly what the boy is trying to tell him.

Don’t listen to them.

It’s a small gesture, childish and symbolic at best, but it’s the most anyone has ever done for Chanyeol, and it means the world to him. The boy’s eyes soften, and he’s trying to say something else that Chanyeol doesn’t understand this time, but he brings his own hands over the boy’s anyway. His heart is overflowing with affection and gratitude, so many warm feelings connecting him to the boy, that his eyes nearly well up with new tears.

“You’re really nice” he ekes out of his lips with effort, feeling like his heart might fly out of his mouth too. The boy’s shoulders relax and his hold loosens, knowing that Chanyeol understands. His expression slips into a gentle smile, and he’s so sweet and soft in that moment, that Chanyeol can’t hold back; he lurches forward, crossing the small distance between them and hugging the boy really tight against him.

The boy freezes in surprise from the sudden proximity, but Chanyeol only holds him tighter, silently thanking him for everything, even for things he doesn’t have words for. Soon, the boy melts in his arms and squeezes him back, more firmly than Chanyeol thought he could. And they stay like that for a while longer. Chanyeol doesn’t want to let go; it’s the first time someone hugs him so wholeheartedly. The boy doesn’t let go either, holding onto him with everything he has. When they pull away from each other, it’s reluctant but they’re both smiling happily, ears bright red and hearts so close.

“I have to go home now. You should go home too” Chanyeol whispers, looking at the deep color of the dark sky. The boy looks around curiously, glancing up at the stars before looking at Chanyeol again, with a slight pout on his lips. Maybe the boy doesn’t want to leave because he’s afraid of waking in the woods at night and his home is far away. “I can take you, if you’re afraid” Chanyeol offers, glancing at the woods warily. He could walk half the distance with him, if the boy is scared of the dark; Chanyeol can see and sense in the dark. He’s only afraid of tree monsters.

But the boy shakes his head adamantly at Chanyeol’s proposition, looking at Chanyeol like the bravest puppy yet, a proper adventurous explorer. It brings a smile on Chanyeol’s lips.

So, he has to say goodbye now.

“I hope to see you again” he says, his voice coming out soft and quiet. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t; he will have to trust the stars with this wish. His heart flutters in his chest, in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant, as he leans forward and pecks the boy’s bouncy cheek, as a goodbye kiss. The boy blinks at him in a daze when Chanyeol pulls away, and that only makes Chanyeol’s shy blush glow more prominently before he hastily and clumsily makes his escape, climbing down the tree.

He risks one more glance, however, when he’s a few branches lower, catching a last, very wide smile on the boy’s face.

~~~

The alarm rings furiously, piercing Chanyeol’s sensitive hearing and successfully rousing him from sleep with the most bitter mood possible. A spindly arm ventures out of the covers, blindly searching for the irritating noisy culprit, while his other hand clutches the covers over his head; the room is cold and the alarm clock ends up knocked to the floor, silent. The pitter patter of the rain against the walls and roof tiles lulls him to a light sleep against his pillow; not five minutes later, however, his mother comes to replace the clock, insistently nudging him awake.

“But it’s Sunday…” he complains, voice cracking. He doesn’t want to leave his warm house and his comfortable bed for the cold rain and misty streets of the city outside. The sixteen-year-old finds it difficult the most to part with his bed on Sundays; it’s the day everyone is allowed to sleep in a little, be a tad bit lazy and rest –they certainly don’t deserve to be ruthlessly woken up at five a.m., literally before the crack of dawn. For five weeks in a row.

“You have a shift today, remember?” his mother answers readily, opening his window out of habit; instead of sunlight, cold air and the smell of petrichor permeate the room, but she doesn’t hesitate to leave it wide open –it’s been a long time since she last worried about his health. He hisses, trying to find comfort in his still warm cocoon of bedcovers, but those too, are soon pulled away. Chanyeol whines and buries his face in the pillow. Is there no mercy? “You have to get ready, you shouldn’t be late to work” she chastises and finally leaves the room, footsteps heading to the kitchen, presumably to make breakfast. She is used to getting up early after all the years of practice she has had for work, but the same can’t be said for the gangly teenager, currently mourning the loss of his valuable sleep.

Chanyeol stubbornly pulls the covers over his body again, but they have grown cold and he groans miserably, tossing them back. He gets out of bed with a grunt, futilely rubbing the sleep from his bloodshot eyes. He shuffles to the window, closing it and drawing the curtains to block a fraction of the cold. He reaches for his clothes blindly, shimming out of his nightgown and trying to change into them quickly; he manages to put his shirt inside-out and hit his arm on the bedpost –typical. With a sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair, pretending he has combed it, and searches for his shoes and socks under the bed.

Puberty has not been kind to Chanyeol. He’s growing in awkward spurts, changing too fast too much. Most of his clothes are a few inches shorter than they should be and he doesn’t have time or the money to replace them –he’d need new ones too soon anyway. His body stretches taller and becomes thinner, sometimes leaving the impression of his bones to the beholder. The changes and lack of sleep leave him feeling constantly tired, his bones aching as if a train has run him over. His voice doesn’t cooperate on most days, cracking, squeaking, muting altogether, or sometimes coming out so deep, that even his own ears have difficulty recognizing it. But those are changes any teenager might experience, more or less.

For Chanyeol, there are other sorts of changes that his body undergoes at the same time, changes that relate to his condemned half. Many constantly assume that he’s sick because of the paleness that has started spreading under his skin, which itches on good days and burns invisibly on most days. His eyes glow more red than they used to when he was still a child, looking eerie and malicious, sometimes glowing visibly in the dark. His fangs have started growing out, often hurting his lip and making his gums bleed, but they’re mostly making everyone who looks at him uncomfortable. His senses have become disjointed and unpredictable, sometimes sensing more than average, other times so perceptive that they become painful, all jumbled and out of control. He feels uncomfortable living in this body.

But the thing Chanyeol hates the most is the thirst. It never leaves him, manifesting so much on some days that it makes him feel sick. It’s like a shimmering, dry, burning sensation in his throat that he can’t cough out, and if he tries to soothe it with warm beverages and sweets, it kicks his other senses like a capricious child, heightening his sense of smell and making him synch to every heartbeat in vicinity, his mouth watering lewdly. He still denies it, staying true to his vow since his younger days, to never feel the need or lust for it. No matter how many rivers of water he might drink, however, and how much he doesn’t want to think about it, the thirst doesn’t relent; his body needs something else to quench this thirst and it won’t rest until he gets it.

On this fine morning, he does his best to get ready, but he ends up running late again, so he chugs down a glass of orange juice for breakfast and grabs an apple for later, bidding his mother goodbye with a wave over his shoulder and barely remembering to take his umbrella with him before he heads out the door. The streets are sleek from the earlier rainfall but the rain has subsided to misty light raindrops which are harmless to pedestrians. There is no need for an umbrella, so Chanyeol ends up idly swinging it beside him as he walks. The whispery noise the water drops make as they travel through the air still tickles his oversensitive ears, but he tries to ignore it, valiantly marching forward.

The familiar walk to the bakery is uneventful, the streets still quiet, since most people are sleeping at this hour. The sunrise is no more than a vague orange color illuminating behind the grey storm clouds eastward, painting a slightly depressive and gloomy picture on the grey canvas, with the unlit city lying underneath it. He tugs his jacket over his chest like a shield against the loneliness wandering the streets, and turns the corner to the bakery, where he works part-time with his friend, Chen. It’s a job they both need to chip in to the family income; it’s not always easy to bear with the idiosyncratic baker they work for, but being together makes it a little fun.

He and Chen have been friends since childhood –the short elf with sharp eyes and a kittenish smile is Chanyeol’s only friend. They’re not classmates anymore, since Chanyeol is either banned or tutored separately for most of the classes at school, but they still get together for mischief every once in a while, they share their lunch, their workload and complaints about everything and anything during their evenings. Chen is kind and understanding, a little impatient but considerate; he’s the only one in this town who has made an effort to know Chanyeol, the only one who treats him equally and makes him feel like he’s worth the air he’s breathing. Chen doesn’t want to hear how much he means to him, but Chanyeol is always grateful.

Right after Chanyeol walks through the gates of the backyard to the bakery, Chen comes out with sluggish steps, leaning on his bike. The bike has a basket, piled with pastries, bread and other goods, covered with the standard blue cloth of the bakery’s brand. Smoke is coming out of the chimney from the ovens, joining the grey morning sky, and the sweet scent of food is wafting in the air, making Chanyeol drool into his mouth, his empty stomach growling.

“Good morning” he greets his overworked and sleepy friend. It takes a moment for Chen to realize the greeting, and he lifts his drowsy gaze to look at Chanyeol, his eyebrows doing that expression that makes him look pitiful. He is scrawny and shorter than Chanyeol, but unlike Chanyeol, Chen will be able to strengthen his body and change into a handsome young man in the future, whilst Chanyeol is doomed to bear whatever genes have been passed down to him unchanging for the years to come. For now, a messy mop of hair and a sleepy smile greet Chanyeol.

“Morning, man” Chen wheezes, yawning widely while scratching his arm under his untidy clothes, shirt only half-tucked in, mismatched shocks, haphazardly tied shoes and a lopsided jacket collar. He has always been so messy, it’s a miracle his senses are so sharp and his mind so organized; he’s smart and fast, even if he isn’t as strong or perceptive as Chanyeol. The latter’s oversensitive nature wouldn’t have survived the onslaught of sensory inputs Chen lives with every day with so much chaos surrounding him by choice. Chanyeol smiles at the consistently raggedly charming sight of his childhood friend –the only person he really ever smiles for. His canines and many teeth showing behind his lips make everyone else avert their eyes in disgust or fear; Chen is the only one who doesn’t flinch away from Chanyeol’s smile. Even his mother averts her eyes, even though she does so for different reasons.

“Where are you off to?” Chanyeol asks with a tiny nod to the basket and the bike. His own bike is surely waiting, loaded with freshly baked goods and leaning on the wall inside the bakery; the bikes were a holiday bonus from their boss, but they’re allowed to ride them only for work, to deliver the goods faster all over the city. The novelty was soon lost and replaced by a tiring routine.

“The upper city, as always” Chen shrugs his shoulders and yawns widely once more. Chanyeol frowns in concern; will his friend make it to the upper city unscathed in his sleepy state? The city is built on a hill and the roads to the upper city can get steeper than the rest, but they’re also better paved and well-lit. Chanyeol usually delivers around the lower, more complicated parts of the city, and for all his sharp senses, he has crushed onto a few walls and fences, but those roads have grown familiar by now, all the shortcuts and alleyways and uneven pebbles he’s ridden over countless of times in the early morning. Chen scrunches his nose in complaint, his eyebrows resuming their signature pitiful expression –Chen always complains, but it’s kind of endearing. “Why do I always get the upper city? It’s so far away, I’m not awake enough to handle it!”

“You’re faster than me” Chanyeol lies, trying to lift his friend’s spirits; they both know Chanyeol is faster if he wants to be, due to his predator genes, but they both have been agreeing on this lie for years, to avoid another hurtful conversation.

The reason Chen always gets the deliveries for the upper city and Chanyeol gets the long distances everywhere else, is because their boss doesn’t want Chanyeol representing his store in the upper city houses. Neither do the upper city houses want Chanyeol inside them. He is a blemish, a disgrace to the cohesive and homogenous society of centuries, and no one, especially the favored and powerful, would want to associate themselves with him, they wouldn’t even want to know of his existence. Everybody knows but nobody tells, and Chanyeol has to be thankful he even has this job at all.

“Yeah, yeah” Chen dismisses, swinging a leg over the bike and getting comfortable on the saddle. He looks a little more awake, with a dutiful glint in his eye –he might look a bit untidy but he’s the most responsible person Chanyeol knows. “Let’s meet back here for breakfast later, ‘kay?” he suggests, lightly slapping Chanyeol’s arm before he grabs the handles. Chanyeol’s stomach growls audibly, but there is no room for embarrassment between equally famished, true friends, when it’s technically not even morning yet.

“Sure” he agrees, exchanging fleeting smiles with his friend before Chen takes off on his bike, steering it out of the backyard. One perk of working at the bakery is that they get free food, at least for breakfast and lunch, if they behave. The boss is a bit tight, but Chen has smooth moves he can use to his advantage –and Chanyeol’s, by association on this matter.

Chanyeol speeds away from the bakery to the voice of his boss shouting he’d better hurry. There is no other option but to hurry, in all honesty, because the first round of deliveries today is on the other side of town and he’ll have to race the dawn, if he hopes to make good time and get a few tips from satisfied customers. His second round will be houses and shops closer to the bakery, and maybe he’ll get a thankful pat on the hand by the blind old lady who lives three streets down the store. She can’t see what he is, so she is always nice to him; she says he is her favorite, because the other one, Chen, talks too much. Chanyeol can relate to that.

The roads are empty so early on a Sunday, so he is able to race down all paths unhindered. It’s a close call with a bucket, forgotten in the middle of the road, but he swerves his bike last minute and the goods he is carrying stay intact. The only downside is that his turn gets him off his original path and he has to take a detour; thankfully the sun is rising slowly, and there is just a little bit of light to help him through the narrow, uneven corners. He’s pedaling fast, crossing the last bit back to the main road, when he suddenly has to stop again, his breaks screeching and the wheels stuttering against the stones. His basket jostles dangerously, but all he can think of is his relief for stopping in time not to hit the little girl.

She appeared out of thin air, turning the corner on the other end of this alley, skipping her steps happily, just as Chanyeol was about to dash the last few meters back to the main road. She’s small and delicately made, with childish features and a head of flowing honey ringlets. She halts her steps when she sees and hears Chanyeol’s bike whining to a stop, finding herself face to face with him.

They stare at each other wide-eyed and silent, as the initial shock sinks in on both sides. In addition to her abrupt appearance, Chanyeol finds it unusual and inappropriate for a little child to be roaming the streets outside this early, unsupervised and underdressed for the weather. She’s only wearing a pink dress, too thin to shield her from the cold, and she’s not carrying an umbrella, or at least a coat. Chanyeol watches her small form, frozen and stunned, and he feels bad for her.

“Hi” he calls tenderly, climbing off his bike to look less intimidating; he keeps his smile to himself lest his fangs scare her –it has happened before. The little girl’s eyes widen impossibly in surprise; they look a little green over her pink cheeks, her little lips gaping adorably. “Are you lost?” he asks. He shouldn’t delay but he can’t leave a little girl, lost and alone in the empty streets without even a scarf to keep her warm. He is usually excluded from the care the community shows mutually among its members, but he feels the same obligation to help and protect his fellow members, even if they consistently neglect him.

She shakes her head slowly in return, indicating she’s not lost, examining Chanyeol cautiously and very curiously. She doesn’t look appalled or scared, like people usually do; she looks confused, inquisitive, amused. A small smile is dancing from her cheeks to her eyes, her lips quirking shyly. Then, her eyes fall from Chanyeol’s face to the basket on his bike, and they stay pinned there, glazed, her small tongue her lips hungrily.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, noticing her stare. If she lives on the streets or with a poor family, it wouldn’t be surprising. She nods her head eagerly, looking deep into his eyes and her lips again. Chanyeol slants his mouth thoughtfully for a moment; he is carrying so much food but his boss will kill him and then fire him if any delivery is short on goods, everything is accounted for. “I can’t give you any of these, they don’t belong to me. But I might have…” he rummages through his bag, remembering something from earlier this morning, when he was leaving home. He can eat something later at the bakery with Chen, so he takes out the apple and offers it to her. “Here, do you like apples?”

A wide smile and furious nodding answer him, and a smile escapes him. She is cute. He hands the apple to her small, awaiting hands, and she looks up at him, smiling with all her white teeth to thank him. Only then does he realize he’s smiling too, and he seals his lips quickly, to hide his scary teeth, but she doesn’t seem to have minded, taking a big bite of the apple and munching on it, still smiling at him. Feeling stunned, Chanyeol allows himself a moment to enjoy this rare and precious smile, because he hardly ever causes someone to smile.

“I have to go” he announces then with a startle, quickly riding his bike again. The little girl looks at him questioningly, but steps aside, watching him innocently as he hops on the saddle. He waves goodbye and she waves back, tilting her head with a pretty smile, the apple resting in her other hand. “Get somewhere warm before it starts to rain again, okay?” he calls over his shoulder as he pedals out of the alley, and she waves excitedly for a bit, before turning around and skipping down the path she had been heading to originally, disappearing out of sight when Chanyeol hits the main road.

~~~