And there are moments in life where desolation takes us completely by surprise, tearing us on the inside and leaving scars that don’t fade even with time.

It’s harder for Jongin, whose affection is sacrilege at life. The reminder comes in a slow burn in the lungs like the drag of a cigarette, smoke filling the air; in the whirlwind speed of a car slamming into a body, or in the last sigh of a body wracked with pain, escaping into the wind.

His love is poison, curling inside the body in insidious trails of discord.

His heart breaks with every smothering remembrance of dark death, cloaking his body, but he pushes on, intent on completing his last goal. It is a responsibility he takes on with heavy sentiments, his last gift to the person he loved.

He has to find Lu Han. For SeHun.

And now, years later in the search for SeHun’s brother, Jongin stands at the doorstep of a house beautiful in its simplicity, hand grasping the only memento of SeHun’s filial love. Green surrounds the house in neatly trimmed grass, the branches of a large tree spreading over the lawn. The walls are painted a soft cream; the doorframe is of dark wood, meshing cleanly with the ochre of the door.

He rings the doorbell, heart screaming in anticipation. The muted sound of footsteps approaching the door reach his ears, and with a short gasp of breath expelling from his lungs, the doorknob turns----