“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”

- Stephen King

Wufan was born in Yongcun 18 years ago. Ever since, he's been the outcast. And, as such, he let the monster living inside him roam free to the world.

Zitao moved to the small village of Yongcun when he was 17. It was a dusty, barren village, with only a small handful of people his age. His old school back in Qingdao had a larger population than the whole village, and for once, he began to miss the crowded and stuffy hallways.

It was so open on the countryside, so unlike the tight-knit city life he'd grown up with. Setting down one of his bags, he checked his watch. 3:48. Somebody was supposed to meet him at 3:45, or at least that's what his father had told him. Boredly kicking a nearby rock reminded him of the second reason he didn't want to be there; it was so dusty.

"Hey, you're the new kid, right?" a sandy-haired boy walked up to him suddenly, hands in his pockets. Zitao started, but nodded silently. "I'm Luhan, your neighbor," he paused, as if thinking Zitao would introduce himself. When he didn't, Luhan continued awkwardly. "Follow me," he instructed, turning to the left.

Luhan's accent was clearly different from his own; Zitao had always been one for slurring his speech together, mumbling too much sometimes. Luhan's words were more clear-cut and noticeable, each syllable standing out as it should, but his voice carried a distinct ring that Zitao hadn't heard anywhere else before.

Zitao followed quietly, looking closely at the array of fields and houses as they passed. Everything was so much more spread out compared to his home back in the city, and he hadn't realized how absolutely small the population of Yongcun must be, despite the actual size.

"Why're you here by yourself?" Luhan asked after a minute. "Don't you have any family?"

Zitao nodded slowly. "Reasons," he finally muttered, his only means of communication thus far. Luhan stopped suddenly.

"You don't talk much, do you? I don't know how they did things back in the city, but you're in the countryside now. You're gonna have to adjust," he warned. Zitao nodded once again, eyes straying to the distance as a few dozen birds suddenly scattered into the sky. Luhan stared at him for a moment before following his line of vision. His eyes widened. "Now's not the time to be outside, come on," he urged, grabbing Zitao's elbow and leading him away.

"What's wrong?" Zitao asked softly, still staring after the birds.

"...Wufan," Luhan said nervously, glancing around. "You'll meet him soon enough, he goes to school with us," he interrupted when Zitao opened his mouth.

They continued on along the dirt path for a while, only passing a few sparse houses here and there now that they were reaching the outskirts of the village. Zitao mentally groaned when he noticed the gradually worsening condition of the houses they walked by, missing shutters or the occasional front door.

"Nobody really lives in these houses. Your house looks better than these, don't worry. These have all just been abandoned in past years, so that's why they look like this," Luhan explained when they passed a house with boarded up windows.

Luhan came to a stop in front of a small, but better-looking, house after a minute.

"HEY, YIXING!" Luhan called, cupping his mouth. A long-haired boy walked around the side of the structure a moment later, a guitar clutched in his hands. Luhan pointed at Zitao. "New kid's here. Help him settle in, would you? Hurry up!" he turned to Zitao. "I gotta go, my dad usually wants me to help out in the fields before dinner. Your house is the next one, and mine is about a half of a kilometer after that, if you need anything. Yixing'll take care of you for now," he smiled cheerily, turning to jog down the road.

Zitao waited for the other boy to walk over, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Yixing," the other grinned, his dark hair hanging in his eyes.

"Zitao," he mumbled, realizing he'd never told Luhan his name.

"Is that all you brought?" Yixing asked, taking note of the backpack and the 2 small bags in Zitao's hands. "Good thing it's furnished..." he trailed off.

Yixing seemed to be fine with the silence when Zitao didn't talk the whole way to the house. When they reached it, Zitao quickly dug the key he'd gotten earlier out of his pocket and opened the door.

Yixing was right when he said the house was furnished, but hardly so. The living room only had a couch with a table and the kitchen off to the side only seemed to have the bare essentials. Zitao doubted the rest of the house was much better. Yixing in a breath.

"Wow. Well, my dad owns the local furniture shop, so we'll probably be able to lend you whatever you need, since you're so young and all. Luhan's dad does a lot of the farming around here, so they'll probably help you food-wise until you can get a job or something," Yixing shrugged. "Wait here a couple minutes, I'll go grab some cleaning supplies and help you get this place set up, ok?" Yixing asked, running back to his house.

While Yixing was gone, Zitao took the time to explore the rest of the house. It was tiny, only one bedroom and a bathroom was all there was left to explore. The bedroom held a closet filled with tattered clothes and moth-eaten linens, and Zitao wondered what other “pleasant” surprises were left over in the house from before. The back porch led to long, winding fields and he imagined they belonged to Luhan's family.

A creaking of the front door announced Yixing's return and Zitao walked back to the main room. Within half an hour, the two boys were cleaning, Yixing attempting to make small talk all the while.

“So how old are you?”

“17,” Zitao murmured.

“Huh. So you're a year younger than me and Luhan then,” Yixing answered, wiping some sweat from his forehead. Zitao raised his eyebrows.

“Luhan's 18?” he asked. Yixing chuckled warmly.

“Yeah, he's older than me by 6 months, actually,” Yixing replied. “Doesn't really look like it, does he? I always told him he could pass as a 12 year-old.”

Zitao didn't answer and Yixing soon moved on to a new topic. The older boy spent the next hour asking questions about each and every little detail involving Zitao, and the younger was starting to get annoyed.

It was hot, it was dusty, and he didn't want to be in Yongcun, let alone stay there for an indefinite period of time.

“What's school like around here?” Zitao interrupted after a minute of listening to Yixing ramble about his favorite guitar.

“I bet it's like any other school, just really small. It's really boring all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, especially for someone like you who's lived in the city his whole life. But we make due, most of us are really close,” he smiled. “You can come over for dinner if you want, I know you probably don't have any food with you right now.”

“Alright,” Zitao agreed softly.

On the way back to Yixing's house (a good quarter of a kilometer away), Zitao remembered Luhan's behavior from earlier as he watched a few crows pass by overhead.

“Who's Wufan?” he asked, turning to the older boy. Yixing's eyes instantly widened, and he stopped walking.

“How do you know about Wufan?” Yixing asked carefully.

“Luhan mentioned him earlier, when there were a bunch of birds flying in the sky. He didn't say much. Why?”

Yixing sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look...Wufan is...” he paused, hesitating. “I'll tell you after dinner. If Luhan saw the birds earlier, it mightn't be safe to be outside still.”

“But why?” Zitao insisted, crossing his arms.

“Just trust me on this, you don't want to run into Wufan, ok?” Yixing hissed. “I'll explain things after dinner, let's just hurry.”

“Fine,” Zitao muttered, having to jog to keep up with Yixing's pace.

Yixing's parents were nice and welcoming, offering him food and discussing furnishing deals the second he walked in the door. Zitao instantly felt bad, being just a city kid that was clearly out of place in the middle of nowhere.

Zitao soon found himself on the back porch, sipping some tea Yixing's mom had given him. He glanced around as the sun began to set, alighting the sky with orange and pink. “Is it “safe” yet?” he asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Yixing's eyes darted around the sky quickly, pausing in a specific direction for a moment. “Should be. It's been a couple hours,” he shrugged.

“So? What's the story about this Wufan guy?” Zitao set his teacup down on the step, turning his full attention to Yixing.

Yixing's lips twisted into a scowl and he groaned. “Wufan...he's...different. And not in a good way. Don't be surprised if you become his new target on Monday.”

“So he's a bully? Big deal,” Zitao scoffed, turning back to his tea and the sunset. “There's bullies at every school.”

“No, he's not a bully, really...he's...” Yixing hesitated. “He's...look, I'll start at the beginning,” Yixing sighed. “Wufan was born here 18 years ago, and ever since he was born, he's been feared. Some of the elders of the village didn't want him here, saying he was too much of a danger to the rest of us. I don't remember much, he was born several months before me, so I was too young. But anyway, being feared so much probably affected him a lot. You could say he's a bully, but you'd only be half-right. The village made him this way.”

“Why is everyone scared of him?” Zitao asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Wufan was born with deep, crimson slitted eyes,” Yixing whispered, not looking at the younger boy.

“The eyes of a dragon,” Zitao murmured, looking up at the sky. “Am I right?”

Yixing nodded. “He's part dragon. If you mention anything about it to him, you can expect to be run out of town within a day. It wouldn't be the first time. Don't mention it ever, if you know what's good for you, that is. Don't comment on his appearance either. It's not just his eyes...” Yixing trailed off. “A-anyway, he can change forms whenever he wants. And when he gets bored or particularly angry, he likes to roam the skies,” Yixing said, pointing upwards. “It's good you didn't see him, he'd probably want to “greet” you,” Yixing shivered.

“Greet me how, exactly?” Zitao asked cautiously.

“Like I said before, he's been affected a lot by the hate and avoidance of the village. It's probably messed with his brain somehow. He enjoys intimidating the newcomers a lot. Try to scare them as much as he can. Run them out. Be careful,” Yixing warned.

“What does he do?”

“He likes to use his fire to his advantage, so don't wear or carry anything valuable for the first few days, it might get burned. He'll spread his wings if he passes you, as if daring you to run away from him. He wants you to be scared of him. He'll try any tactic in his book, I'm sure he has a list somewhere of how to freak people out.”

“Has he ever been nice then?” Zitao asked, taking a sip of his tea. Yixing nodded.

“Of course he was; when he was younger. Full of innocence and all that. I remember one time, when I was maybe 5, I was trying to fly a kite in my backyard,” he waved his hand in the general direction of the large yard, “but it wasn't working. There wasn't enough wind or something. Wufan was passing by and noticed my trouble and offered to take it into the sky for me. My parents had always warned me about him, telling me to stay away from the boy with red eyes, but he seemed harmless at the time...so I agreed. I remember it distinctly; his whole face lit up when he thought he had made a friend, but the moment didn't last more than a second. My mother must've seen him walk up and called me inside before either of us got a chance to do anything. I apologized for leaving, but the light in his red eyes flickered and his whole face fell...he never really talked to me again after that,” Yixing finished.

“Huh,” Zitao mumbled, watching as the sun finally fell behind the horizon, leaving them in darkness. “I should head back now, I guess.”

“I'll walk you back,” Yixing offered. “Wufan sometimes likes to go out after dark, and well...you'd be safer if I go with you.”

“Thanks,” Zitao replied softly, staring at the night sky, crickets chirping around him.

“No problem,” Yixing answered.

The walk back was silent, as Zitao spent the entire time watching the sky for any signs of Wufan. Yixing chuckled at him, but the younger ignored it, glancing around at any sign of movement.

“You can stop by again in the morning and we'll get you breakfast,” Yixing said when they arrived at Zitao's door, “we can go around the town square afterwards and get you whatever you need. I can probably drag Luhan along too...be at my house around 8, ok?” Zitao nodded and smiled slightly in response, taking one last peek at the sky before closing the door with a wave.

Zitao spent the night lying on a blanket on the bedroom floor (having not yet gotten a mattress or even a cot), resisting the urge to look out the window at every sound. At one point, a little after 2 in the morning, he swore he heard the flap of wings and a loud rustling, but never bothered to check, for concern of what he might see.

The next morning, Zitao groggily walked over to Yixing's house, only half-conscious from his sleepless night. Yixing greeted him at the door, a mock-terse “it's nearly 8:30!” in favor of a good morning. As he walked in, Zitao was met with the sight of Luhan at the kitchen counter, who appeared to be in the process of wooing Yixing's mother.

“He does this everytime he's over,” Yixing said from beside Zitao. “My mom's a er for him, not sure why.”

“He's got a nice smile,” Zitao shrugged. Luhan laughed at something Yixing's mom said, eyes shining brightly. “I can picture him as a charmer, I guess.”

“You haven't seen the best of it yet. Luhan does this for every girl in the village. Just wait 'til you see how he talks to Mrs. Lau, she's nearing 75 now...” Yixing rambled on with his stories about Luhan's flirting, but Zitao eventually tuned him out.

When Luhan finally finished talking to Mrs. Zhang, Zitao immediately apologized to Luhan for not ever properly introducing himself yesterday. Luhan chuckled.

“When I got back to the house, my dad kept asking me about the new kid and I felt bad that I couldn't even give him your name! But don't worry, it's ok,” Luhan smiled.

“I told him about Wufan,” Yixing cut in, glancing at Luhan.

The oldest boy sighed. “You had to figure out one way or another, I guess. We'll help you around as best we can, he's always rough with the newbies.”

Before long, the three were walking to the village square and Luhan spent the entire time telling Zitao about Wufan in a hushed voice, his arm draped over the younger's shoulder in an unexpected casualness.

“He has really good hearing, so if I were you, I wouldn't even so much as gasp when first seeing him. Don't acknowledge him any differently than you would anyone else around here; pretend he's normal.”

That sentence range through Zitao's head. Pretend he's normal. So he wasn't? Wufan just...wasn't normal? Because of something he couldn't control? Zitao hadn't even met the boy, and he already felt a slight pang of pity for him.

Luhan continued, telling Zitao the stories of all the newcomers that got run out by Wufan.

“There was Zhoumi when we were...was it when we were 10, Yixing?” Yixing nodded after a moment's thought. “Yeah, so anyway, this kid was a year older than us, too. I think he told Wufan that he should get colored contacts so it wouldn't be so noticeable and was suggesting stores in the nearest city that sold clothes that could help hide...” he paused, stealing a glance at Zitao, “other appearance differences,” he finished slowly. Zitao remembered Yixing mentioning the eyes weren't the only alteration in Wufan's physique, but neither boy looked willing to elaborate. “Needless to say, Wufan was not happy about that. And get this, Zhoumi was kind of a diva too, even for an 11 year-old. He really liked fashion. So Wufan cornered him after school that day and threatened to burn his entire wardrobe. I don't know if he ever did or what, but we never saw Zhoumi again after that.”

There was silence for a few minutes before Luhan launched into another story.

“There was also this time when we were about 8 or so, and this kid, Henry, started school with us. He was our age, and he was this city-bred, child prodigy on violin. He was always playing too, and he was very talented. He was also really nice and friendly, but he wasn't here long. Only about a week,” Luhan frowned. “Wufan had been missing from school for a few days, don't remember why exactly, but when he came back, Henry started freaking out. He hadn't heard about Wufan yet, and I think he started crying because he was so scared. I mean, he was only 8. Anyway, Wufan didn't take nicely to that, as you can probably imagine. Wufan basically destroyed Henry's violin; the strings were all broken and the wood was partially burned. I remember seeing the result after Wufan had gotten to it. Henry left that following weekend,” he finished quietly, removing his arm from Zitao's shoulder and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Yixing shuffled softly next to him, letting out a deep sigh.

“Like I said last night, Wufan used to be nice, but...the village really got to him. It makes me wonder what would've happened if he was born normal,” he said, staring off into the distance.

There was that word again; normal. Zitao felt his insides shudder at just the thought of it, because what justified normalcy? Who judged what was normal and what wasn't? Why was it fair to just write Wufan off as “different” without a second thought, simply because of his appearance and abilities?

Soon enough, the silence faded and Yixing and Luhan were talking between themselves, discussing who-knows-what and who-really-cares, and Zitao was kicking rocks along the dusty road to amuse himself once again. He boredly watched the rocks clatter against each other, sending up small wisps of dust each time they collided. His mind started wandering, and he didn't realize when Luhan and Yixing had stopped walking until he felt Yixing pull him back roughly by his bicep.

Zitao attempted to whack Yixing's hand away when he could feel his skin bruising from the pressure, but stopped when he noticed Luhan and Yixing had both stopped talking as well, instead just staring straight ahead, a deer-in-headlights look in their eyes. Zitao glanced up.

There was no way the boy in front of him wasn't Wufan. If the blood-red irises weren't enough of a hint, Zitao finally discovered what the other changes in his appearance were. The most obvious being the silver scaled tail that was flicking back and forth in what Zitao imagined was an irritated motion. His skin also appeared to glow in an odd shimmer and upon closer inspection, Zitao noticed there were translucent scales imbedded in it at random intervals, leaving only patches of the barely-visible scales running along his arms. Zitao had a bizarre urge to see what they felt like.

Although, despite all this, he still looked extraordinarily human. Albeit, quite tall, but still very human. He had blond hair, pushed back by the wind, and thick eyebrows framing his piercing eyes. His lips were thick, but small, and his high cheekbones highlighted his thin face.

“Wufan,” Luhan breathed out, sounding stifled. Zitao looked over at him, his eyebrows bunching together.

“Luhan. Yixing. Leave,” Wufan snarled, his voice dripping in malice. He leaned forward, looking Zitao straight in the eyes, quirking an eyebrow when Zitao didn't even flinch. “I want to talk to the new kid. Alone.”

“But Wu-” Yixing started.

“Yixing,” Wufan growled, his pupils turning into slits as he turned to face the younger boy. Yixing widened his eyes. “Now.”

The two other boys gave one last uneasy look at Zitao, before hurrying away. Zitao turned to look back at Wufan, tilting his head upward to meet his eyes. Wufan stared back, his eyes hardening noticeably before he suddenly glanced around the now deserted road. Pursing his lips, he turned back to Zitao.

“Follow me,” he muttered, still sounding cold. Zitao shrugged slightly, but followed the taller boy anyway, eyeing Wufan's tail as it swished softly every once in awhile. Wufan led him to the back of one of the abandoned houses that sat along the main road. It seemed to be an old farmhouse, something similar to what Luhan's probably looked like, with a large field behind it, trees running along the edges of the property.

Wufan suddenly stopped in the middle, whirling around to face Zitao, his wings spreading out from his back. They were a startling silver, distractingly refractive by sending prisms of light in every direction, and seemed to curl around him due to their size. They weren't as large as Zitao had imagined (he figured they were larger still when Wufan went full transformation, however), maybe 2 meters at the most, but they were tall.

When, once again, Zitao didn't give much of a reaction besides glancing at the new appendages, Wufan briskly walked up until he was face to face (or from Zitao's point of view, face to collarbone) with the younger boy. He leaned forward a bit, so he could stare Zitao in the eyes like he had done before, and growled slightly. Zitao only raised an eyebrow and stared back.

Finally, Wufan spoke up. “You're not scared of me,” he stated, not even questioning it. He backed up after a second, so they were at a reasonable distance. Zitao shook his head.

“Should I be?” he murmured, cocking his head to the side.

Wufan frowned. Instead of answering, he closed his eyes. The grass surrounding Zitao suddenly burst into flames and the younger could feel the heat on his ankles.

“Yes,” Wufan whispered dangerously low, opening his eyes again. “Because I could kill you right now and nobody would even be surprised.”

“But why would you do that?” Zitao asked softly. “What could you possibly gain from murdering someone? You'd be even more feared in a town that already ostracizes you.”

“Are you asking for a death wish?” Wufan spat.

Zitao took a step forward, the freshly burnt grass crunching loudly under his shoes. “Maybe. I don't know. I don't think you'll actually kill me though. I'm only stating the truth,” the younger sighed. “Why are you so intent on running everyone out of here?”

“Because they deserve to know what they're getting themselves into by moving here. It's not my fault they get scared too easily,” Wufan narrowed his eyes more, if that was even possible.

“That's not what it sounds like to me,” Zitao responded lightly. “You don't target people like Yixing or Luhan who have lived here as long as you, just people like me. Or Henry or Zhoumi or anybody else that might've entered this village from the city. The rest may've come here to escape the city life for a while and relax in the open countryside, but that's not why I'm here. You do realize that, don't you? I'm here by myself, and it's not by choice.”

“All the more reason for you to get out now,” Wufan snarled. “If you don't want to even be here, then just leave. You're not wanted here. So go.”

“You don't even know my name and yet you're trying to get me to leave?” Zitao asked, disbelief coloring his tone. “Aren't you even curious why I'm not even terrified of you?”

“I don't need to know anything about you to know that I want you gone,” Wufan snapped harshly.

Zitao paused, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I'm not going anywhere,” he replied, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“We'll see about that,” Wufan growled, his eyes flashing dangerously bright before he burst into flames.

The pure randomness of the act nearly made Zitao burst out into laughter, but he held it in (as the situation called for more seriousness than that). When the fire died away, there was, in fact, a full-fledged dragon in Wufan's spot.

The dragon was silver, just like Wufan's wings and tail were, but it was a deeper shade than the bouncy, light color of Wufan's previous wings. Zitao had expected him to be large and strong, but instead he was slim and elongated, curling around in a coil. Suddenly, the dragon leaped into the air and spread it's wings to their full length, and Zitao had to shield his eyes from the sun so he could see.

Wufan spun around several times, twisting into shapes Zitao couldn't fathom, before finally rushing towards the ground, only to stop mere meters in front of the younger. Zitao stared back.

“I'm not scared of you,” he finally said, leaning to the side so he could stare at the expanse of Wufan's body (that was still floating slightly above the ground). “Can I touch your scales? I want to see what they feel like.”

Wufan made an odd hissing sound and jumped back, returning to his regular form after a second. “No,” he growled. His tail whipped angrily behind him and his pupils were nearly invisible. “You can't. Nobody touches me.”

“Why not? That sounds pretty antisocial to me, maybe if you were nicer, people probably wouldn't be scared of yo-”

“People are scared of me because I'm a monster,” Wufan cut him off, his voice hardened in anger. “They have every right to fear me, because I'm something to be feared. I'm not normal.”

Normal. There was that word again. Zitao almost wanted to punch Wufan for falling victim to the village's belief. He was normal.

“Don't say that,” Zitao whispered furiously, glaring at Wufan.

“What?” Wufan asked incredulously, an annoyed look crossing his face. “It's true; I'm hardly human. I'm a monster, and I'm an abnormal frea-”

“It's people like you that make it hard for people like me,” Zitao interrupted, squeezing his hands into fists. “You just-just give in to what others think of you. You don't give them any other chance but to believe what they've always thought, because you just back down. You know what that makes you? It makes you a coward. The only reason people think you're not normal is because you let them.”

Wufan scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you mean “people like you?”” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you didn't care,” Zitao shot back, turning his attention to the farmhouse behind Wufan. At least that seemed strong despite the wear it'd been through. “I thought you didn't want to know anything about me. You just want me to leave.”

“That is true,” Wufan relented, “but you don't seem so...intent on leaving right away,” he narrowed his eyes. “So in the meantime, I want answers.”

“My my, aren't you demanding? What if I don't want to tell you?”

“I'll get it out of you one way or another,” Wufan threatened, spreading his wings again. “If you tell me now, it'll be a lot easier for you, how 'bout that?” he smirked triumphantly, letting his wings stretch out behind him to their full length.

Zitao scoffed. “And what makes you so sure?”

Wufan launched himself at Zitao, pushing the younger boy to the ground. Sitting on the his chest, the tips of his wings touching the ground by Zitao's head, he frowned angrily. “You really want to test me right now?”

“You do realize how childish this is, right? What are you, 5?” Zitao spat, glaring up at the older boy.

Wufan sneered and the grass started burning by Zitao's head. “Just give me answers,” he growled.

So Zitao did the only thing he could think of; he closed his eyes until he could see the purple glow from behind his eyelids. He opened them again to the now soundless and still world, a frozen Wufan above him, cutting off his breath support. Sliding out from under him, he stood, brushing the dirt off his pants. He glanced back at Wufan.

“I can stop time,” he told the unmoving boy.

Wufan looked up.