The sky slowly turns from black to indigo, and then purple, pink, blue and red spots start appearing on the horizon and begin an entrancing dance that is sure to last for a little while. A dark figure remains motionless and seemingly without being touched by the scenery that seems to be trying as hard as it can to impress this particular person.

 

Little does it know - or perhaps it’s visible in his eyes after all - that the figure is anything but. He doesn’t know how to show emotions, though. He doesn’t even know what they are, though the sweet, steady ache in his heart is slowly becoming familiar to him. It makes him feel scared. And alive.

 

The first blotches of blue are the tremor at the top of his fingertips. Those blotches are running through his veins and if he closed his eyes, he is sure they would be the only color of his dark, cold and lonely world.

 

He is motionless, surrounded by his precious flowers in his garden, and the sun is sure to rise in a couple of minutes. He thought he would be safe here. Thoughtless. Worryless.

 

Yet as he inhales the smell of his garden, as he closes his eyes to avoid the sky’s colors, as he settles on the ground that the morning dew has touched, he cannot help but be reminded of everything he wishes to forget.

 

The steady ache increases as the blotches of blue start dancing behind his eyelids, slowly but surely forming an image of someone…

 

Somebody he used to know…

 

“Jimin!” she had screamed from somewhere in the maze, her voice playful and filled with happiness.

 

He had never heard such a voice before. He had not known that happiness had a sound, even, and that even a remote possibility that he was the source of it would feel so good and make everything in the whole world right.

 

But that’s what she was the best at doing - making everything right.

 

“Jimin, look what I found!” Her voice was closer now, but he couldn’t seem to find her - he knew this place as good as the palm of his hand, yet everything seemed so new and unfamiliar now that she was here.

 

Until when, though? He’d been counting down ever since the first time she’d come here, but she returned every day as if she had some kind of interest in keeping this up. As if she actually wanted to stay.

 

And as much as he tried to push it down, it gave him hope. And he was a fool for not fighting against it properly.

 

He was breathless by the time he found her - she was at the edge of the garden, kneeling next to a bush serving as a wall of the maze. She was kneeling and giggling like a child - she looked the same way he felt, not 17 years old but many, many years younger.

 

She turned and breathed, “Look!” Her face was joyful and he felt as if it was the sun turning towards him, not a girl he didn’t even know that well.

 

Oh, who was he even lying? She was the only person he knew. She was the only person that mattered.

 

He didn’t move his eyes from her deep, happy ones until she gestured down with her eyebrows. He did not know what to expect - what could she have found in the grass? Was it another pretty flower, like the one she found a couple of years ago, when she just suddenly started screaming somewhere in the woods and he’d thought someone was trying to kill her?

 

Nothing could’ve prepared him for that moment, though. Not even the calmness radiating off her and slowing down the beating of his crazy heart - she was the only person capable of doing such a thing.

 

Safely tucked in her palms was a small, grey bird that looked like the bird equivalent of a newborn baby. It barely even moved, and with obvious difficulty - had it fallen from its nest? Was its life going to end already, before it’d even had a chance to start?

 

“No,” she breathed immediately, as if sensing his thoughts. “Come closer, Jimin. Look at it.”

 

His body complied before the words even reached his brain, and soon enough, he was sitting in the grass, observing the little bird as if it was the most important creature in the world. He knew that to her, in this moment it probably was, so he’d do his best to treat it fairly and help it if he could.

 

He could now see that the bird’s chest was rising and falling slowly, as if it was taking its first breaths. Its feathers were all messy, making it seem as if the bird had been electrocuted, and he couldn’t help but smile.

 

Smile. He didn’t use to know what that word even meant, but she changed everything.

 

Even now, she was changing him - remodeling him to her liking, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to protest. He would’ve been content watching the bird for hours without making a move, but her warm hand was suddenly clutching his own while the bird struggled not to fall out from the one hand that it now had to move in.

 

He didn’t have time to wonder what her move meant, because his hand was now hovering over the little bird with her own serving as an anchor.

 

Did his hands usually tremble this much? They had to be, because he didn’t understand fear.

 

Yet he was afraid, but he did not know what he was afraid of.

 

She seemed to be able to read his mind again, because she giggled and clutched his hand more tightly in her own. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt it. Here, try this.”

 

She slowly brought his hand down towards the bird, and he stopped breathing. He struggled not to ask the question, but it began resonating in his head: how could she have known that it was hurting the bird he was afraid of, not the bird itself?

 

Then his fingertips touched the soft fur, and he felt a new feeling for the first time.

 

Wanting to protect something.

 

Or someone.

 

Ironically enough, he is kneeling at the exact same place now. Is it a coincidence, a twisted game of fate, or is it his own treacherous feet that have taken him to this place he’s been trying to forget for a long time now?

 

It was when his eyes managed to leave the bird’s small, fragile form that was alive even after being touched by his tainted hands that he first memorized the blotches of blue that are dancing in his mind right now.

 

But he didn’t know that he’d never be able to forget them.

 

And now he wants to see the color again, so he opens his eyes, even though he knows it will hurt.

 

But then again, hurt is what he wants to be. He is used to that, at least.

 

He still has a little bit of time, though he knows that nothing will change in these few minutes. This isn’t the first time he’s been waiting for her, anyway. But she is almost never late. Especially when she knows that she is going to get a new piece of himself that he’s been refusing to let her have for a long while.

 

How many of those pieces does she even own now? He barely has enough to survive. He’s worried that he’ll die if he gives her the one he’s prepared for today.

 

He’s worried that he’ll die if he doesn’t.

 

There are so many things about her he does not understand, and it goes beyond the sea of curls that remain untamed no matter how much he wills them to obey him with his eyes. He knows she sees it all, yet she never says anything.

 

The blotches of blue, though… Are they dancing like the sky above him? He does not know, because he never has the courage to look.

 

He is a coward, hiding in the dark. From what? Himself?

 

No, not himself. He knows exactly what kind of monster he is. Is he hiding from her, then?

 

No, not her either. He knows her too well, he is too smitten by her to try to run away.

 

What is it, then? What is he searching for in this darkness? Closure, maybe? Or is he pursuing happiness?

 

An answer… Just an answer, the most important of them all.

 

When he’d first seen her, he’d thought she was crazy, a crazy girl thinking she was brave for breaking into the place everyone was afraid of. He’d thought she was trying to prove a point, and he was so annoyed and so disgusted by these constant reminders of how much of an abomination he was that he’d begun hating her immediately.

 

But then he noticed the shade of purple on her face, right below her eye.

 

And a couple more on her face and arms, and her neck.

 

He did not know or understand. And she never explained. It was a bravery he envied, being proud of weaknesses and carrying them around like medals.

 

Did she do that in other places too?

 

It took him a long, long time to find out. To see her clutching the sleeves of her shirt tightly. To see her covering her face with her hair. To see her embarrassed and scared face when she encountered someone who knew who she was and wanted to talk with her.

 

He would’ve let it all go, the girl and her bravery and pride and those mysterious marks. But she came back the next day, and talked to him as if they were old friends.

 

Then she came back again.

 

And again.

 

And so his days became an infinite torture consisting of waiting for her, having her there and then having to bear the loss of her until tomorrow.

 

He never went into the village, at least not officially. After the night would set, he would become one with the shadows and observe the village - sometimes from far away, sometimes from a small distance. It all depended where she was, and how badly he missed her that night.

 

He always missed her.

 

At first, she brought him presents each time she would come - she would bring bread, or a sugar cube, or sometimes even a little bit of chocolate. Though she knew he had everything he wished. Though she knew such things meant nothing to him.

 

But she had her pride, and so he pretended the presents were an honor. And the blotches of blue deepened and intensified.

 

“Can I ask you something?” she asked in that high voice of hers. He couldn’t wait until they grew up and she began controlling it, because it was so annoying.

 

No, he wanted to answer, but knew she’d ask the question anyway, so he stayed silent. They were sitting in front of a tree in his garden, both of their backs leaning on its trunk, and he was hoping for a little bit of peace, but she always had some stupid question to ask.

 

Today it would be about the meaning of the bushes, he was sure.

 

“Why are you always alone?” she asked in a silent voice, as if she suddenly realized how loud her voice was. “I mean, I know you aren’t really alone- I’ve just never seen anyone around-”

 

He’d expected her to ask this question sooner or later, but he had no wish to explain or elaborate - it’s not like it was her business, anyway. She had nothing to do with it and it had to stay that way.

 

“No, you’re right,” he cut her off, just wanting to get it over with. “I am alone.”

 

Now she would pity him, and he suddenly felt as if he was going to throw up. He did not want this, any of this. Why couldn’t she be a guy he could play football with and not have to explain every single one of his moves?

 

“Oh,” she said emotionlessly.

 

But she didn’t question further. Didn’t offer a crying shoulder or try to comfort him.

 

She didn’t say anything, and in a way, that annoyed him even more than the pity - he didn’t want it, but something felt off because he wasn’t getting it.

 

She was always different than everyone else, though. Why she was even here was a mystery he could not solve, no matter how hard he tried.

 

It’s been many, many years since that day, yet nothing has changed for him - he is still alone, she is still unpredictable, and he can not help but be intrigued by everything.

 

Why isn’t she coming, though? The sky has almost turned completely blue, a new day has almost started and the world is almost the color of her eyes, the color he needs to see in order to be able to survive another day.

 

But he knows she won’t come, though. Because she is scared of him.

 

Who wouldn’t be? He’d reacted impulsively, in the heat of the moment, when he wasn’t thinking and when he was blinded by the mindless rage that had erased all sanity from his brain.

 

His middlemist…

 

He’d wanted to give it to her.

 

Now he has nothing left - his hands are empty, not holding a newborn bird that will get the opportunity to live and fly someday.

 

His wings are broken. He will never fly,

 

Does it hurt worse that she is rejecting him, or that she is rejecting him for another man?

 

Does it hurt worse that he wants to kill him, or that he can’t because he knows it would kill her, too?

 

Why can’t he hurt her, at least the same way that she has hurt him, that she is hurting him?

 

Why is he even here?

 

“What have you done?” he’d shouted, but whether it was at her or himself, he did not know. “How could you have done this?”

 

Once again, it was raining, but this time, he wasn’t delusional. He wasn’t dreaming that she was in his garden, in the middle of the night.

 

And this time, she wasn’t trying to keep the flowers safe.

 

This time, she was destroying them.

 

And it was on purpose, it seemed.

 

“Because I can’t do this anymore, Jimin,” she shouted back at him, and her voice managed to sound confident and angry until his name made it break. Her hair wasn’t a cloud anymore - the rain had turned it into something entirely else, something that made her seem as if she wasn’t the girl he’d known his whole life.

 

This wasn’t the proud child who’d come to him with bruises, hiding from her uncle.

 

No, this was…

 

A monster, a voice inside of him whispered, but he willed it away. She couldn’t be a monster. She couldn’t be like him. She was pure and beautiful and she wouldn’t get swallowed by the darkness. She shone too brightly for that to ever happen.

 

“How can you not get it?” She screamed now, taking another flower from her hands and throwing it to the ground, the petals scattering all around her. If his heart wasn’t breaking, he would even consider such a scene to be beautiful.

 

But he was broken and angry, and he did not understand why she was standing there and destroying everything or what her words even meant. How long had she even been there? Judging by how wet she was and how bad his garden looked, it had been a while.

 

He fought the instinct to carry her to the castle and try to save her from the cold. She did not deserve it, he tried to remember. She was an enemy now, though why things were like that, he did not understand.

 

“What do you even mean, Lamiya?” he said in a controlled voice, his eyebrows furrowed as the raindrops started rolling down the space between them. “You came here in the middle of the night, broke a rule and now you’re destroying my garden. You’ve destroyed midd-”

 

He stopped himself. She did not deserve to know.

 

“You’ve destroyed rare flowers it took years to cultivate - nobody knows that better than you, and now you’re screaming and throwing a fit. What have I done to you? Why are you acting like this?” He tried to stay sane, he tried to understand her, though he knew they wouldn’t find a common ground. She sometimes turned into this angry person he couldn’t reason with, but she’d never went this far before.

 

He struggled not to worry, but there were no marks on her - at least none he could see. And that last happened a long time anyway…

 

She threw up her arms and huffed, as if he was boring her. “This,” and then she gestured around herself with the flowers still in her hands - the middlemist was next in line, he knew, but he had to take his eyes off it to look at her distraught face, “Was never real. None of this. And I am sick of pretending, so I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.”

 

The rain was suddenly so loud that he couldn’t hear anything. He tried to find the blotches of blue, but they were nowhere to be seen. She was a black cloud, and he was a fool hoping the clouds would scatter and that the day would end up being sunny after all. It was supposed to be the other way around - he was supposed to be the dark shadow and her the shining light.

 

He did not believe her, though. It was too fishy, too unreal, and this outburst seemed too desperate for it to be a culmination of her progressive dissatisfaction with her position in his world.

 

So Jimin did the best thing he could - he crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don’t believe you - I know you too well-”

 

“You know nothing about me!” she screamed, and he felt like a fool once again. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he did not know why he felt dizzy, but he would wait until the situation was over before trying to calm down and survive everything.

 

She closed her eyes then, and even though she was shrouded by the darkness, he saw her clench her hands into fists. The whole world was silent for a second, the rain being their only witness.

 

Then she opened her eyes and looked straight at him - no, her eyes bared him and found his soul.

 

Her words went straight into his heart.

 

“I found a man,” she said emotionlessly. “And I love him.”

 

The glass started shattering.

 

“Don’t ever come back, then,” he said while the glass shattered inside of him. “And don’t worry - I will finish what you started here. This whole garden is full of fake flowers anyway.”

 

The darkness of her eyes didn’t change.

 

Where were the blotches of blue? Would he ever see them again?

 

Why did it hurt more that she didn’t react to his lies than the fact that the words that she’d said weren’t lies at all?

 

The first ray of sun hits him straight-on, and he welcomes it full-heartedly.

 

His heart is broken, but at least he has his answer now. It’s been many, many years since he’s started searching for it, and as wrong as it seems, at least he can stop making a fool out of himself now.

 

He gets up slowly, but his movements seem to wake up a creature living in the bush, and a moment later, a bird flies out of it and straight into the air.

 

The bird is not the one they’d found that day, but to him, it has enough similarities to be called that. He needs familiarity. He needs something to think about in order not to drown in sorrow.

 

He wishes he could fly like the bird, out of this forsaken place and into a new tomorrow, where he wouldn’t be a monster, wouldn’t be feared, wouldn’t need a mask in order to survive…

 

Would the sky be a different shade of blue there, in that imaginary place the bird is headed to? Would it be so different that he wouldn’t think of her upon looking at it?

 

He knows it would, even if its color looked nothing like her eyes. Because everything in his world revolves around the image he’d created in his mind such a long time ago - the image of the girl smiling at him earnestly as they pet the newborn bird. Who would’ve thought it was just an imaginary picture...

 

She was laughing maniacally, trying to catch her breath while he slowly caught up to her. He could’ve grabbed her earlier, ending the game, but she seemed like she was having a lot of fun and to be honest, he was, too.

 

How she managed to get lost in the maze even after having run around it for so many years was still a mystery to him. She’d lost her way again, and now she was at a dead-end, surrounded by bushes on one side and him on the other. She mocked him by gasping as if she was afraid, but he laughed anyway and it broke the spell.

 

“I want to show you something,” he said confidently, after having thought about the sentence for many months.

 

And so he took her by the hand and led her over to a clearing deep inside the maze - he knew she’d never find this place on her own. Good.

 

“Do you see this?” he asked when they arrived, gesturing to the lone flower standing proudly at the center of the clearing. “Do you know what it is?”

 

“Of course,” she said as she kneeled next to the flower, petting it gently. “It’s a pretty rose.”

 

He knew exactly what she would say, yet he chuckled anyway. “It’s not a rose, Lamiya,” he said gently as he kneeled next to her. “It’s middlemist. And you know what it reminds me of?”

 

He found the courage to sneak a look at her while she shook her head in confusion. He smiled again.

 

“It reminds me of you.”

 

His treacherous feet take him to the clearing, because he has no reason to remain at the place which the bird just left - she is not going to come.

 

He’s been at the clearing only a couple of times since that day. Every time he felt as if someone’d stabbed him into the chest, and he did not like feeling that way. He did not know how not to feel like that, how not to care about what this place reminded him of.

 

The clearing is calm, the grass swaying gently in the wind while the sun rises above the horizon behind him. He does not want to look behind himself - he has nobody to share all of this with. Not anymore.

 

Something catches his eye - in the center of the clearing, he’d planted a flower. It was a long, long time ago, and back then, he did not know what it would mean to him. But he found the rarest flower of them all, and of course, he had to have it.

 

But he was not the only owner of the flower. As much as he tried to conceal it from her, it bloomed while she sang and withered when she was sad. It seemed to have some kind of connection to her, and in a way, it represented the same mystery that she was to him. It was one he’d never solved.

 

It is a mystery he’ll never get to solve, because it doesn’t exist anymore.

 

Because it was all just a product of his crazy imagination, anyway.

 

The worst thing is, he does not hate her. He does not judge her, and he understands why she left.

 

She was never supposed to be here anyway. He must’ve been interesting because he was a beast she wanted to tame, but when she did it, the beast stopped having any value.

 

And now that nobody is pulling the leash he so willingly let her put onto his neck, he feels empty, unguided and half-hysteric. What is he supposed to do now?

 

Why did he do what he did last night?

 

It was nighttime, and night never brought anything good to him. Though the night was warm and the moon was shining its light onto the world, it did nothing to lessen the danger that was lurking in the shadows.

 

In the center of it all, he stood unbothered and unafraid. The shadows were his friends, and they’d never betrayed him - he could always let himself become one with them in order to stay unnoticed by the commoners of the village. If they saw him, they would scream. They would call him unholy and run away, locking themselves into their houses.

 

They’d called him numerous names - it’d happened a long time ago, but it was still fresh in his mind. When he’d walked into the village on his own for the first time, unaware of how big a mistake that would be. But he was a child, and he did not know that the commoners were superstitious, and that they would hate everything they didn’t understand.

 

He still didn’t know how they couldn’t understand that he was just a human being, afraid and alone and as desperate to be loved and accepted as they were.

 

“He is so evil that even his parents left him,” he heard whispers as he moved through the main street. But when he turned, he couldn’t see anybody - why was he alone even here, where life was supposed to be moving down its rightful course even after what happened to him?

 

“They say that he once cut his arm accidentally, and the blood that started seeping out of it was as black as the night,” he heard another voice whisper, and he did not understand a single word. What nightmare were they speaking about?

 

Then a little girl screamed somewhere, saying, “Monster!” When he turned around, he saw that she was crying, and her finger was pointing at something behind him.

 

He turned around himself, but there was nothing to be seen.

 

Nothing but him and him alone.

 

A part of him can still hear that scream, so similar to a sound Lamiya made when she was little. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep after hearing it, so he hoped she would just go away someday.

 

Her voice changed, and he thought that the scream would finally start being erased from his memory.

 

Why can he still hear it now, even though he is alone at the only place he can call home? This place that he loves and hates more than anything, his sanctuary and his prison?

 

Suddenly, he becomes that small boy again, running alone and afraid, away from the village that seems to contain monsters, the same monsters that his parents are.

 

He shouts, “Why me?” but he does not look at the sky, his eyes are closed and he is fighting tears again - for the first time in so long.

 

“Why did you leave me here?”

 

Why couldn’t they have taken him with them?

 

But he isn’t a child anymore. He knows now that he is truly alone, forced to sign a contract in which he would let his custodians have all of his inheritance in order to take care of him. They proclaimed him as mentally disabled and can do as they wish with everything that is his.

 

And he is trapped in this place forever, with nobody to understand him or even let him live in peace. He’d tried reasoning with people, but they are all afraid of him.

 

He knows that his custodians are the ones who spread the rumors in the first place, in order to isolate him from the world. They probably hope he will even die soon, so that they can take the last piece of property that they still can’t have.

 

He’d thought he wasn’t alone. With her, things were bearable.

 

And now he is alone, completely alone as he tries to find his way out of the maze and fails. For how long will he keep running through these green confinements, and will he ever find an exit?

 

It does not matter, because she will not be waiting there. And without her, everything becomes pointless. Even freedom.

 

“No, stop!” she screamed, and the shadow was suddenly brought back to life. The night was warm, but not as warm as the blood boiling in his veins.

 

This was the man she’d said she’d found?

 

This was the man she’d said she loved?

 

He was on him in an instant, preventing him from punching her sobbing form again. The shadows would keep him safe from her gaze, and she seemed too out of it to look at him properly anyway - but he could not watch this anymore.

 

He hissed as he took the man by the neck and said in a very low voice, “If you ever touch her again, I will kill you.”

 

The man didn’t seem to understand how serious he was in making that threat. He would kill him, and he would not be the first person he’d killed for her.

 

The bruise that would form on her face would be entirely his fault. Because he hadn’t reacted sooner. Because he’d actually believed her, and wanted to keep his distance. Because he’d wanted to respect her choice.

 

Because though he’d hoped for it with his entire being, he hadn’t believed that it was all a lie.

 

But it was.

 

Or so he thought until the man laughed. “I can do whatever the hell I want with my girlfriend, you freak, so get off me before I ruin that wax face of yours.”

 

Jimin was not a violent man. He loved his garden, and cultivating flowers took effort and patience and above all, a special kind of gentleness. The flowers could feel when things were forced, so if he didn’t give his best and truly want the flowers to be healthy, they would wither though his hands were slow and gentle while he took care of them.

 

But he couldn’t watch, or listen to this, or endure a second more of this slime of a man claiming he had any right over her. Jimin didn’t care what either of them said - he couldn’t let him have her, whatever reason she had for letting him. He wasn’t worthy of her.

 

He wasn’t worth of a single of her breaths.

 

He made sure to make all of it clear as his hands tightened around the man’s throat. “You don’t have a right to call her that,” he growled. “And if I were you, I’d worry about your own face, you disgrace of a man.”

 

Then he punched him straight into the face, holding back a little bit of his strength but making sure he would make some kind of damage. He needed to teach him a lesson, and truth be told, he wanted to let some steam off, too, so violence was the only answer.

 

Blood gushed out of his nose, and he remembered the bruises around Lamiya’s neck. Was it him who’d done it? Was it him who’d been doing it all these years? He seemed to be many decades older than her, so it was theoretically possible.

 

Punch.

 

The man’s arcade burst, and he sobbed loudly, trying to get away from the monster but being unable to, because he was squeezing his neck tightly and he could not remove the iron hold Jimin had on him, though he tried to do so with both of his arms. Jimin wouldn’t budge.

 

He remembered Lamiya’s hands clutching the sleeves of her black sweater, trying to conceal the proofs of the abuse she was forced to withstand.

 

Punch.

 

“What in the world are you doing?” a familiar screech sounded from somewhere behind him, but he didn’t let himself be swayed by it. She was a liar, like everyone else. And if she knew who he was, she would hate him, just like everyone did.

 

He still loved her, and he hated himself because of it.

 

Punch.

 

The man stopped sobbing, and it seemed like the punch had rendered him unconscious, but it meant nothing to Jimin. How could he have punched the person he called his girlfriend? What kind of a coward was he, treating a woman that way - a woman that was so much younger and weaker than he was?

 

How could she leave him for this person? What did this person even have? Was it wealth she was seeking? But he was wealthy, too, and she knew he would give her anything, if only she asked.

 

He would give her everything, even if she didn’t ask.

 

“Stop it, you bastard!”

 

Punch.

 

Now hands were around his arms, trying to pry him off the unconscious, bloody man. Jimin was aware that he was probably supposed to stop now, because Lamiya wasn’t in danger of getting beat up anymore, but he couldn’t stop his arms from swinging again and again.

 

As if that would stop the rage flowing through his veins. As if that would make things better. As if that would make the echo of Lamiya’s words disappear forever.

 

As if that would make her love him.

 

“You are killing him! It’s enough, stop it already, you maniac!”

 

Though she didn’t have the strength to do it, he let her turn him from the guy and towards her. His body was functioning on autopilot, while he was trapped in a place where the words I have a man kept resonating over and over again until they were the only thing that mattered.

 

“Jimin?” the voice said in astonishment now, and he did not understand why.

 

Who did she expect to save her? Was she going to give him a speech how she could’ve done it all by herself?

 

But it was her, and so he raised his eyes towards her face involuntarily.

 

Searching for the blotches of blue.

 

Not expecting to find warmth, but hoping to find at least a little bit of it anyway.

 

Her eyes looked the same as the eyes of that little girl when he’d first ventured out into the village.

 

They were filled with fear, tears falling out of them and carrying what little soul was inside of him far and away into the darkness, never to be found again.

 

She would scream Monster now.

 

And it would destroy him once again, just like it had so many years ago.

 

Who would save him now?

 

The sun has risen a couple of minutes or hours ago, he is not sure. His mind is frozen in a state of fear and denial, and though he has his answer now, he refuses to accept it.

 

She’d said it had all been a lie. And to prove it, she’d destroyed everything that she knew was dear to him.

 

And now she was destroying herself, too.

 

He does not know whether the man survived his attack. All he knows is that he does not understand how or why, why would she do something like that. Why would she get entangled with someone like him, who had nothing to give her but pain and misery?

 

Just like the uncle who’d abused her for years, until Jimin was tall enough to threaten him and strong enough to hold true to his threats.

 

But she does not know. And she shouldn’t. He’d deceived himself for a long time that if she thought he wasn’t the dark guardian keeping her safe during the night, she would love the him he let her know.

 

But she is not here.

 

And that hurts more than anything else.

 

“I know this isn’t the real you,” he said desperately, balling his hands into fists in order to prevent himself from touching her. She wasn’t his to touch, he kept reminding himself. She’d decided otherwise, and he had to accept her decisions, no matter what they were.

 

He hadn’t expected, but he’d hoped…

 

He sighed, feeling like a fool once again, but he would not let himself do this anymore. This would be the last time he let his feelings get the best of him - if she didn’t respect his wishes, he would erase her forever.

 

He would not search for her anymore, he wouldn’t seek her out or try to reason with her. He would distance himself from everything in order not to end up interfering when her boyfriend started beating her up.

 

But it would all depend on her.

 

“If there is a single cell in your body that does not want this,” he said, gesturing towards the bloody, unconscious coward lying on the concrete, “You will come to the maze before the sun rises.”

 

He remembers the look in her eyes - it was a desperate look saying Save me. But for once, she has to save herself first.

 

Why doesn’t she want to save herself? She knows that as much as he loves her, he would never force himself on her. Never.

 

When she’d rejected him, he didn’t kiss her anyway - as much as he’d wanted to, he’d respected her privacy in the end.

 

He’d respected her. And he’d always remain like that, only doing the things she’d allow, never anything more, especially not anything like what her supposed boyfriend did to her.

 

He has reached the end of the maze, and the beautiful morning welcomes him warmly. It will be a beautiful day - it would be a beautiful day for gardening, but he won’t be doing that anytime soon. He doesn’t want to see the ruined flowers, he doesn’t want to grieve today.

 

He wants to remain empty and thoughtless for as long as possible. It does not hurt today: as much as he wants for things to be different, they aren’t and someday, he’ll have to accept it all and move on.

 

Not today, though.

 

Today, he wants to reminisce… He wants to remember, so that he never forgets.

 

The gentle breeze appears again, and he turns towards their garden, invisible from the bushes forming the maze but clear in his mind.

 

The wind carries the smell of roses with it. No, he knows it isn’t the smell of roses, but she would say so.

 

She would laugh and say, Come on, it’s not like it matters anyway, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. A 16-year-old angel he does not know why is in his garden. With him. Not fearing him, but laughing at him, at herself, with him.

 

She would raise a muddy hand and spread it across his cheek before he had a chance to protest or move away, and then she would laugh wholeheartedly. A 20-year-old miracle that looks so much younger, even with the wrinkles forming around her eyes as she laughs.

 

She would whine, “Jimin!” and stomp with her leg when he said she can’t stay for the night, can’t enter the castle, even though she is worried about the flowers. Rules are there for a reason, and he does not want to take chances. Not when it comes to her.

 

Now she is 27, and he is, too, though he’d never told her.

 

And since the sun has risen, it is his birthday.

 

On the day that they’d found the little bird, he’d sworn that if she stayed for another 20 years, he would tell her he loved her.

 

Why isn’t she here today?

 

Why is he alone now, now that the time has come for him to never be alone again?

 

Why couldn’t she have stayed at least for a little while longer, at least until the secret was out in the open and it was her turn to make decisions?

 

Why did she leave him now, when he needs her more than ever?

 

How will he rebel against his custodians if he has no reason to fight?

 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” she said in a low voice, and he did not turn to look at her. He kept his eyes glued on the setting sun, the sky more beautiful than he’d ever seen it and his heart in his throat.

 

He would not let her know how important her words were to him. So he remained a motionless statue while her words broke him and reshaped him into something entirely else, something that could never be brought back to the first state he was in.

 

“I mean, I don’t know you that well yet, but I don’t think you’re a bad person. Or a vampire or a manifestation of evil.”

 

Was that it? He was thankful for everything, but he hoped he would get to hear more, that she would tell him she wanted to stay…

 

“I think you’re just a lonely kid, so I’ll stay with you. You need a friend, so let’s be just that - friends.”

 

She turned towards him and he finally found the strength to turn from the calming sunset, just to be welcomed by a smile even brighter than the scenery he’d just witnessed.

 

“Friends,” she said again as she raised a hand towards him.

 

He shook her hand but didn’t let go afterwards.

 

“Friends,” he echoed, adding Forever in his mind.

 

His middlemist will always remain exactly that in his mind - a cheerful friend, as bright as the sun setting on the horizon and as strong as the colors of sunset painting the sky in vivid brightness. She will remain the person who’d saved him, and he will try to forget that she’d destroyed him, too.

 

She is the flower at the center of the clearing, and he is the clearing itself, concealing it from the world, always protecting it and keeping it safe, though the middlemist is unaware of it herself.

 

And the clearing will remain bare forever now.

 

Why does he smell middlemist in the air, though? It’d been a while since she’d found and destroyed it, though it was not a flower he’d ever shown to her.

 

He’d wanted to give it to her as a gift today, exactly 20 years after he gave that oath.

 

There is no middlemist left in the world now. Even if he wants to, he will not be able to cultivate it again. Plus, he has no one to cultivate it for, so the only thing that will remain will be the smell of a forgotten flower in the air, speaking of a love that never bloomed, doomed to stay unspoken in the shadows forever.

 

He will love her forever, though.

 

The smell is so strong now that he can’t breathe, so he turns towards the maze again, now halfway to his castle and not wanting to look back, but he ends up doing it anyway.

 

He must be going crazy.

 

It must be a trick of light: the rising sun is playing games on him, showing him an image of something that isn’t there, that can’t be there, because it is too beautiful to be true.

 

Too unreal.

 

But he believes the lie anyway.

 

At the entrance to the maze, a familiar figure is standing.

 

She is wearing a white summer dress, and she has never been as beautiful as she is today.

 

She is smiling, and he knows she is a mirage, because she couldn’t possibly be smiling with so many bruises on her skin.

 

The dress has no sleeves, so they are all visible: the purple, the black, the blue, the yellow, the red… Her body is a mixture of the sunrise, sunset and everything in-between and he is dizzy and overwhelmed, unable to look at it for a second longer.

 

But he does not take his eyes away from her. He does not blink. If he blinks, she will disappear.

 

He will never blink again if that’s what it takes to have her back.

 

And she is smiling.

 

No, she is laughing, and her laughter erases all screams that have been echoing in his head for a while now. He’d thought they would never stop, but a second is all it takes for her to fix him.

 

He is drowning.

 

The wind starts blowing again, and a rain of petals starts falling out of her hair - the petals are red and the wind carries the smell of…

 

Roses.

 

No, not roses, silly.

 

It’s middlemist.

 

And you know what it reminds me of?

 

It reminds me of…

 

You.