Between downpours of fire and rain, Ryeowook walks.

Flowers trodden down by heavy footsteps, much too careless to avoid such delicate beauty. His heavy steps relay the weight settling upon his icy heart.

Nobody will ever find him in this place. This world that belonged only to him. With cotton candy clouds and milk chocolate trees. Paper roses line the sides of a glistening, sapphire, river as equally jeweled butterflies take flight and pour over the sweet nectar that is life. But he dares not touch these exquisite things for fear of tainting them.

And from behind a willow, leaves draping the tree in a cloak of deep green, dark eyes watch with intensity. Never once do these brown orbs remove themselves from their target. Not once do those plump, pink, lips, make a sound.

Silence.

Heavy air controlling the otherwise blissful atmosphere in a game of push and pull. Fingers curl around branches as the hunter pulls himself up levels of the weeping plant.

But his eyes, those eyes, never leave the thin, pacing figure. That figure that glides so easily over the lush emerald terrain. That figure that seems haunting with black clothes, pale skin, and sunken cheeks. That figure that pushes against a force of resistance.

And Ryeowook is perfect.

The type of perfect where imperfections are masked with falsities. When visions are misconstrued in the most lovely of manners. Where lies mean nothing, but relay everything.

Insecurities and downtrodden memories make up this man, but none the less, he is flawless.

Kyuhyun knows (oh, he knows so well) what Ryeowook has been through. He knows what it's like to be criticized, to be hated, to feel incomplete. To be shattered from the inside, trying to hide it on the out. He should save him. He should save this boy that was once as innocent as the dreams that still follow behind him, carried with the wind to a point of no return. He should save this boy from the crystals that form in the corners of his eyes and melt down his mostly lifeless face. He should save this boy from the fate that was sure to follow.

He watches the vision longer, hoping to find the proper opportunity to strike. To whisk him away. To steal his heart (or steel his heart). But moments turn into hours, and hours fade into days, weeks, months, the once beautiful world around the smaller man fading to a vision of blurred grays. Black and white outline what was once a colorful place, listening to the echoes of Ryeowook's cracking heart and failing mind.

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