The cold snap of the previous winter was over. The long awaited spring had finally come. Families everywhere could be seen outside, either tending to their flowers or mowing their lawn. All the houses in the neighborhood were bustling with commotion. All except one. One house remained silent, with drawn shutters and peeling paint. This house had been a mystery to the other people in the neighborhood for as long as anyone could remember. The house was definitely inhabited, as gardeners came once every two days and groceries were delivered weekly to the front step. No one came out to get the groceries, but by morning of the next day, they were gone. However, not one person in the neighborhood had ever seen the mysterious occupant of the house. It was obvious that the house had once been pretty, with two stories, a brick chimney, and an ornate double French door. Now, with its saggy chimney, mossy walls, and dark windows, it would never have sold.

The interior of the house was just as messy as its exterior. The rooms and hallways were cluttered with boxes, dust, and just stuff. Each room on both of the floors was locked shut, except for one. The door to the last room on the 2^nd floor was wide open; however, no light was on. Inside the room, there was a simple wooden desk, covered with seemingly random objects: a straw, a folded piece of paper, a dried red rose petal, a ring with “EXO” inscribed on it, and a worn-out white shirt. Seated behind the desk was a man. Upon close inspection, the man was obviously old, with wrinkles creased deep into his forehead and sunken cheeks. His hands were clutching something with a gold chain attached, with his fingers playing with the chain absentmindedly.

The man’s mouth was turned down into a permanent frown, like he had forgotten how to smile. His eyes were filled with a nameless pain…and tears. The tears were threatening to spill out, and when they did, they were accompanied by a silent sob. The man hunched over in pain, as if he were trying to block everything out. He clutched the object in his hands even tighter than before. When he couldn’t hold it any tighter, he opened his hand and let the object fall onto the table. It was a circular locket, with “S&L” engraved on it. With trembling fingers, the man opened the locket, revealing a small photo of two young men. Both of the young men in the picture were smiling, and neither was looking at the camera. They were looking at each other, into the other’s eyes, and smiling like crazy.

The man made a heartbreaking noise of pain; the sound that wounded animals make, that pitiful sound that wrenches the hearts of even the toughest people. He was murmuring something under his breath, quietly at first, but with increasing volume.

“Luhan..”

I own nothing but the plot. All the pictures used are not mine.

Thanks for reading!! :)