“And this… is a chair.”

“Yes, I believe it is so…”

Eyeing the look of sarcasm he was given, Hyukjae shrugs and excuses himself. “They say that things in the palace aren’t what they seem.”

“I believe that saying is reserved for palace politics, not the furniture.”

Hyukjae pouts and Donghae shakes his head. He knows the prince is only trying to ease the Zinnia’s integration into the palace, and for most part, Donghae is glad for it. The palace is a stiff, cold place that looks down on people not of their own, but there is only so much silliness one can take within five minutes.

“Alright, alright.” Hyukjae raises his hands in surrender before he holds them out for Donghae to hold. “Come. One last place before we go back to my room for the night.”

“Don’t expect anything there when we get back, I’m too exhausted.” Donghae sighs before he notices the strange look Hyukjae is giving him. He blushes as he demands. “What?!” But only receives a shake of the head and a long-suffering sigh as if Hyukjae doesn’t enjoy their nightly activities, perhaps even more than Donghae does.

Donghae is about to comment on it when he realizes that he’s in an area of the palace he’s never been before. “Where are we?” He asks, half convinced that Hyukjae has lost his way in his own home. Again.

“Hey. The palace is big!” Hyukjae says in his defence, understanding the look Donghae tosses at him. “I know exactly where we’re going!”

“Oh really?” Donghae smiles. Through these days, he discovers that most of Hyukjae’s daytime manliness lies in his inability to handle embarrassment. Bedtime of course, is a separate matter altogether.

“Yes. Really.” Hyukjae sighs as he continues to lead Donghae the steadily darkening corridor. There are no servants here, and if not for the immaculate appearance of the place, Donghae would have thought this area untouched by humans. It gives of that sort off feeling.

Hyukjae puts a finger on his lips as Donghae is about to question him again. And wordlessly, Hyukjae steps aside, gesturing at a quiet doorway that speaks of age.

Donghae walks through the doorway with not just a little apprehension, but all that he leaves in the doorway as he steps out into a sight that he’s never seen before.

It’s one of the typical gardens of the palace, the ones that Donghae has been seeing throughout the day as he walked around the immaculate hallways – and this was no different except for the obvious lack of care. The magnolia are free from their stuffy arrangements, the edelweiss, although scattered, are growing strong, the hydrangea are aloof yet with a crop of jasmine tangling in their midst, and somewhere, a single yellow chrysanthemum leans towards a pond in which a lonely lotus floats.

But what catches Donghae’s eye is not the beautiful wildness of this garden, but instead the appearance of tiny lights flickering through the darkness of the trees, dancing and twinkling like the many stars of the sky.

He turns to Hyukjae, who is leaning against a nearby pillar, watching not the mesmerizing scene of earthbound stars but instead enjoys the rapt, wide-eyed look of the one he loves. “…Fireflies?”

Hyukjae nods in absolute silence, leaving Donghae to turn his eyes back to the scene. He can only gasp in amazement of the beauty that simple bugs in darkness can bring. The man watches, stock still as if movement would scare these mysterious bugs of light away, watching until his eyes glaze over because he forgets to blink.

Donghae doesn’t know how long he watches their dance, only that when his mind finally blanks out, Hyukjae is there to catch him. The prince hugs the Zinnia, who whispers wordless thanks into his ear as he lifts Donghae and cradles the man with a lover’s touch, carrying the lotus to his room.

Hyukjae creeps out, sliding the rice-papered doors close after laying Donghae down onto the bed. Yesung is outside waiting for him impatiently and leads the prince down the corridor, where a group of people dressed entirely in black are packing up sticks of light that are still glowing on their ends.

“You have my sincere thanks.” Hyukjae bows to them as he hands an envelope full of money to their leader. “And I added an extra tip for working so fast to get this done.”

Watching, Yesung leans in and whispers a question to the prince while the workers grow happy at the extra bonus and hum as they clear up. “My prince… why did you arrange for this?”

Hyukjae smiles and runs a hair in his head. He knows the reason will make Yesung think he is silly, but he answers the guard anyway. “Because of a rumor somewhere that the palace had a garden filled with mysterious bugs of light called fireflies that come out only at night. Donghae heard about it and was so eager about seeing them that I just couldn’t refuse.”

“But…” Yesung looks confused, “Aren’t fireflies entirely extinct now?”

Hyukjae smiles and shrugs. “Donghae’s favourite movies are old foreign romance films.”

It is then that Yesung understands, and he ponders upon the thoughts of how something that was once considered cliché can become special with absence.

~*~

Donghae is in the palace for two weeks now, and word of him naturally gets out. It amuses him to no end when the court hears, and suddenly, the Lords are introducing their sons to Hyukjae rather than their daughters.

That is until he realizes that some of these sons are even prettier than he is. And that for all Hyukjae’s actions, he has never once told Donghae those three words that are so important they have become thought as overused through the years.

After a minister of some board introduces a man he swears is his son, not his daughter, Donghae practically squeezes the arm that Hyukjae offered to him when they first stepped out of the prince’s bedroom. Hyukjae blinks and turns to meet Donghae’s pouted lips and shining eyes and feels like his heart is suddenly seized by a level of cuteness not before reached by mankind.

“Uh…” Hyukjae’s forgotten words, and only a sound that he hopes portray his confusion is all that he is able to get out. Donghae, however, knowing his every action and their assigned meaning by heart, give his explanation in the form of a question.

“I’m not just some… pretty man that caught your fancy, am I?” The shining eyes betray their sadness and insecurity. “Just some interesting toy that you’ll discard after you’ve had your fun and fill of me?”

Hyukjae’s jaw drops at how Donghae can even think such a thing. His face turns dark with indignation and he detaches his arm and grabs the Zinnia in a hug so fierce that catches even Donghae by surprise.

“Don’t ever say that.” He demands, the arms around Donghae gentle yet strong. “Don’t you ever say that.”

Donghae can feel the tremor in Hyukjae’s arms, and he knows that this is Hyukjae’s way of saying ‘I love you… really’.

Closing his eyes, Donghae leans into the embrace and whispers back. “I love you too.”

~*~

It is three weeks now, and Donghae sees less and less of Hyukjae. It is not because problems on their end, but rather an unfortunate turn of external circumstance. Chousen’s relationship with Xing has degraded far beyond the expectations of ministers on either side. Trade suffers and arguments over things that were once silly erupt. And Hyukjae has no choice but to see to them, the problem of the westerners keeping the crown prince’s hands full and their father, the king, is in no state to do anything – as Donghae had found out. He is far too ill.

He feels lonely in the palace – the staff treat him like an object of gossip, the guards like a fragile vase and the nobles like an oddity. It’s as if becoming the second prince’s unofficial consort has made him deaf and dumb and thus unable to hear the sometimes hurtful or careless comments they make about him.

But he’s been through worse, and Donghae contents himself instead with making sure Hyukjae comes back to a tolerably warm meal, a tub of clean water, a fresh change of clothes, and a smile and hug.

Sometimes he manages to stay awake before Hyukjae comes back, sometimes he doesn’t. He never sees Hyukjae in the morning, the closest he’s come to it is watching the end of a forest green sleeve disappear behind a closing door.

Donghae tries to tell himself that he’s fine with this. That he didn’t stare at the window all afternoon, haunted by thoughts as dark as the shadows cast by the noon sun. That his heart doesn’t clench with disappointment every time he woke to a cold, empty spot next to him. That his mind hasn’t entertained thoughts that Hyukjae isn’t going off for urgent meetings with Xing, but urgent meetings of a more pleasurable kind.

Then, one day, while everything is as per usual, and Donghae wakes up to change and clothe himself alone; he walks up to the table and sees a bowl of guppies and a note.

He knows what it is and who it is from. It’s an apology, and it’s supposed to comfort him and soften his heart. On the note are even the three words Hyukjae never says out loud.

It doesn’t work. Donghae’s shaky hands place the note back down. It’s like a dam breaking and tears find their way to his eyes, overflowing them and the first of them leaving wet noises on the cherry wood of the table.

But Donghae does not have time to cry, for at that moment, the doors slid open and he turns around in shock. He’s ready to scream at the maid who comes in without his permission but the words die in his throat when he catches the glint of gold and realizes that this person is anything but a maid.

He stands tall – both in stature and pride. His robes flow in sharp, defined lines and are embroidered with gold dragons with ruby eyes. Donghae has never seen him before, not once in his life, but as he stares at the man, he knows with a cold certainty who this is.

The man carries a single sword – one of the only two men in the country who can. A single sword – a single country. The hilt is black and gold, tied with a sageo knot and on its sheath, a carved field of the imperial chrysanthemum.

Donghae falls to the ground, his head touching the floor, body prostrate.

He is in the presence of the crown prince of Chousen.

~*~

Donghae is so nervous that his hand shakes when he pours the tea from delicate teapot to delicate teacup. He picks the small structure of porcelain and places it in front of the prince, trying to ignore the small glistening lumps of water that lie on the table where the tea had splattered.

The crown prince eyes the Zinnia as he sips the tea. There is no indication of whether he finds it pleasing or not before he places the cup back down.

No indication except for the fact that the level of tea in the cup is barely an inch below its original depth.

Finally, after silence that seems to stretch for eons, the crown prince begins to speak and Donghae isn’t surprised that he has a deep voice to match with his stature. “Master Renge, I presume?”

The sun outside is unforgiving, and yet Donghae feels cold. He has to refrain from pinching his mouth – it feels numb and he wonders if it’s gotten frostbite from the cold way the crown prince stares at him.

Then he realizes he has yet to reply, and quickly bowing, he hopes that the lull in conversation would not be taken as rudeness and is not something punishable by death. “Yes, your highness.”

“Hmm…” The crown prince’s eyes are brown – a darker shade of brown than Hyukjae’s and bigger. He is supposed to be the splitting image of his father in youth, while Hyukjae is said to take after his birth mother. If Donghae hadn’t known the relationship before hand, he’d never had guessed the two are bound by blood. “News reached me that you are the one Hyukjae has chosen to share his bed?”

Any moisture in his throat freezes, and if he were not already frozen stiff, Donghae thinks he’d have probably run from the room screaming in blue murder. He stares at the crown prince with a gaping mouth and surprise-widened eyes.

Apparently, his expression is answer enough to the prince, who continues, getting up with the grace that reminds Donghae of a heron – a bird of prey. “I see. Then, do know that if you persist in continuing with your relationship, there will be… opposition.”

The crown prince’s words are careful and polite, but to Donghae it’s almost as if he’s punched the Zinnia in the gut and screamed disapproval at him.

“I hope you’ll be careful.” Donghae doesn’t know why, but in his vision, Siwon suddenly has blood-red eyes and horns growing out of his head. He knows a threat when he sees one, and its worse when he’s David and standing before a Goliath he cannot beat. “People in the palace can be very… vicious at times.”

Donghae swallows and mutters what he hopes is “Thank you for your concern, your highness.”, and not something like “Eek!” which he thinks is less appropriate, but closer to what he really feels.

When the crown prince leaves, Donghae doesn’t actually see him slid the door open and step, his eyes safely cast onto the ground. He can, however, feel a distinct lack of oppression when he does, and Donghae wonders for a moment when the table had gotten so tall before he realizes it is he who has fallen to his knees.

Somewhere, a raven sings and an ill wind snakes through the palace, rustling through the petals of the red spider lilies.

~*~

Hyukjae returns back to his room, tired and hungry. He expects to see a light shining like a beacon to the lost, the smells of a well-cooked meal, and at least the comforting presence of the one he loves – be he lucid or not. With time, he had come to expect these things and had not even entertained the thoughts of how he would feel when they were suddenly absent.

Incomprehension. Blankness… then shock. Perhaps. It is hard to pin down an expression to describe the heart when it is confronted with the unknown.

‘Heart in mouth’, ‘Heart dropping ___ meters into the earth’, ‘Heart stopping’, ‘Heart sinking’, ‘Heart dropping into the pits of despair’ – they are the closest attempts of poets and writers and those who have bothered trying, but none would be sufficient in expounding the unusual palpitations of the second prince’s heart.

At first, his mind spins with worry as adrenaline fills his veins. “Donghae?!” He cries as he rushes into the dark room, thinking that his lover might have been assassinated by a jealous suitor, or perhaps kidnapped by the vindictive ministers of Xing of whom Hyukjae has an unhealthy level of disrespect for, save the Ambassador himself.

He is about to call for Yesung to conduct a mass search when his eyes land on a dull glint of moonlight of metal. There, lying on the table, is a hairpin in the whimsical shape of sapphire twists and underneath it what seems like a rumpled piece of paper.

The hairpin is one of his first few gifts to Donghae. They had been in the marketplace when Hyukjae caught the Zinnia staring at it. A few coins were exchanged and it was promptly placed in the Zinnia’s hair. It is a cheap trinket, and Hyukjae had given Donghae many more expensive gifts since then, but now that the second prince recalls, he rarely saw Donghae without it thereafter.

Hyukjae picks the pin up, twisting it in the light. Then, with unsure hands, he picks the paper up as well, noting first the way it seems to have been torn from a larger piece. He observes the runny ink and stains of water before his eyes manage to focus on the words.

The message is only two simple phrases. He reads it once. Then twice. Then a third time before he comes to the realization that the stains were of water that came not from a tap, but of a pair of eyes.

Donghae’s eyes.

Hyukjae is out of the room like the hounds of hell are chasing him. The piece of paper slowly floats to the floor, then by some wind that became from either a freak accident or fate, it flies out of the window and into the waiting claws of an owl .

The fowl flies along with the running prince like a shadow, the moon casting fey light on the paper fluttering in its clutches, illuminating the two haunting phrases as they chased Hyukjae away from possible regret.

‘Thank you…

…Goodbye.’

~*~

Donghae falls to the floor hard, clutching his face where the hard hand had connected with. There is a cry of dismay that he knows comes from Leeteuk, but he doesn’t warm up to it. Instead, he agrees with the angry rants that pour out of Mama-san’s mouth. He doesn’t blame her for being angry – he would be too if he were in the same position.

He doesn’t move from the floor even as Mama-san rants about money – the money Hyukjae paid for Donghae and how half of it already had been used to fix up the establishment and buy a couple of new kimono; how Donghae will never even be able to dream of making up for it, how Donghae is more trouble than he is worth.

Leeteuk half expects Donghae to rise up like a thunderous wind and engage Mama-san in a verbal battle like the Donghae he knows would; but Donghae doesn’t. Instead, when he does rise, it is only to bow apologetically and promise that he will spend his whole life repaying that money – in any way possible.

There is silence, and Leeteuk realizes with a start that Mama-san is just as stunned as he is at the statement. “A-alright…” she stutters, and there is some warmth in his heart towards her when he realizes that she is just as bothered about how subservient Donghae is being.

That warmth, however, disappears immediately at her next sentence. “Then, you will have no problem taking up this irritating customer we’ve been having... Right, Renge?”

Leeteuk stiffens. He knows which customer Mama-san is talking about – the one that has dubious sources of money, the one who Leeteuk has seen once and shivers at – lewd grin, nervous habit of biting nails and all, the one who keeps coming back, no matter how many times he’s been turned away – the one who states that his purpose of hiring a Zinnia is to give him or her pleasure through pain.

He gives Donghae a warning eye and is stunned when Donghae ignores it. He knows that Donghae is doing it on purpose because their eyes met and Leeteuk could practically see the personification of defeat laughing in Donghae’s brown depths.

“No, Mama-san.” Donghae answers quietly to a shocked silence. “There’s no problem at all.”

That night, the entire establishment watches in a range of fear and worry as the infamous customer steps into the room with an unsavoury grin on his face. Even those who are envious of Donghae’s position feel sorry for him as he steps up to the customer’s side and walks out with him. The customer, as he so delicately put it, prefers to take Donghae back to the comfort of his home where they could enjoy themselves better.

And where he wouldn’t have to pay more if he accidentally thrashed the room in his frenzy.

Watching from the second floor, Jessica feels a thrill of revulsion as she watches the man feel up Donghae’s . And for the first time, she thinks that, perhaps, she is grateful that she is not a Zinnia –

That, perhaps, that the silks and the jewels are not enough for her to become a mute doll to be bought and sold.

~*~

“Siwon.” Hyukjae flings open the door to the room with a look of confidence on his face that if it were there more often, Siwon might have needed to consider assassination to protect his throne.

“If this is about the Zinnia leaving,” The crown prince doesn’t look up, choosing instead to direct his apparently full attention to the document he was drafting. He dips the black-stained tip into the block of black ink. “You know that I had nothing to do with it.”

“Really?” Hyukjae’s face is a dark as the black side of a thunder cloud, and he stands over Siwon, towering over him. The action is calculated – giving Hyukjae the psychological edge over his imperial brother, as well as forcing Siwon to stop writing, the dark shadow he cast over the paper making it almost impossible.

A smile curls over the crown prince’s lips, and Siwon looks up into the confidence and cold anger in his younger brother’s face. He idly thinks that if that expression is daily occurrence, then he probably wouldn’t have stayed crown prince for long. As it is, he only gestures at the floor pillows nearby, seemingly unaffected by the obvious aura of challenge around Hyukjae. “Sit.”

Hyukjae turns and stares at the spot that Siwon has directed him to, and he plays with the idea of refusing. But already, he has broken a thousand of rules and etiquette by barging in the way he did.

And unfortunately, Hyukjae likes his head where it is.

Siwon waits for Hyukjae to get into a comfortable position – or at least as comfortable as one can get sitting seiza, before he speaks. “I truly do not have anything to do with the leave of the Zinnia. I only talked to him.”

“I know.” Hyukjae’s visage of anger does not diminish, and Siwon finds it rather inspiring. Hyukjae takes Siwon’s expression for surprise and continues. “The walls have ears… and they grow mouths as well when shown coin.”

“Then I’m surprised that you come storming in here.” Siwon lays his brush down on the mahogany table which is a gift from the westerners. “You should have heard that I only told the Zinnia that if he were to continue his relationship with you and would meet with opposition, I would not come and intervene. Nothing else.”

Most people would only see the threat in Siwon’s words, however, Hyukjae knows his brother, and knows that this is Siwon’s form of care. It is hard to grow up kind in the stiff formalities of the palace, and Siwon had been by their father’s side learning hard lessons. He didn’t have the luxury of learning kindness from his mother as Hyukjae had from his.

He can see why Donghae took Siwon’s words badly, however, and is about to explain when an expected voice sounds, doing just that.

“The Zinnia are sensitive people, your highness. Flowers that are easily bent and broken from the wind. Not like us, men of steel, who can withstand the harshest blows.” Hyukjae turns in surprise as the door slides open and it reveals Kangin kneeling by the entrance. “It is no surprise that Master Renge took your concern as a warning… a threat.”

To Hyukjae’s surprise, Siwon hums in thought rather than throwing Kangin out as palace protocol would have allowed him to. “Is that so…”

“Yes, your highness.” Kangin bows before giving Hyukjae a pointed look, and he stiffens, suddenly feeling cold. “And I have some news that is heavy to bear… It’s about Master Renge.”

And Hyukjae suddenly knows – he can tell from the feeling that grasps his spine, the cold sweat that beads on his forehead, the sudden grip on his heart.

He knows that Donghae is in trouble.

Not even bothering to have a façade of protocol, Hyukjae rushes out of the room, his two swords nearly whacking Kangin at the side of the head, and would have if the guard had not ducked. He shouts for Yesung, waking half the palace while he is at it. And Kangin is surprised by Siwon’s wry grin.

“I thought you didn’t approve.” He says in a tone too familiar for communication between guard and prince, yet Siwon doesn’t seem fazed, even smiling at the address.

“I don’t.” Siwon sighs, picking up his brush again but writes not on the paper, instead eyeing Kangin with a sigh of resignation. “Why? Expecting me to go after them with an Imperial mandate and forbid them to see each other under the reason of same- relationships being against God?”

Kangin shakes his head with an expression that suggests thoughts contrary to the action.

Siwon sighs, abandoning any thoughts of finishing the document today, and he shakes his head at the presumption. “I never championed myself as a crusader of God. I merely am his mouthpiece and follower. Whatever Hyukjae decides, that is between him and God. I can only advise, which is the extent of what I have done. Now, I will only sit as an observer and if God directs me, pick up the broken pieces.”

Kangin doesn’t comment on the implication that Siwon doesn’t expect their relationship to last. He shakes his head instead and comments. “You are a strange man, my prince.”

Siwon only smiles, and after a while, emerging from deep thought, “The news about Renge… You got it from Shirayuri didn’t you?”

Kangin is almost tempted to fall prostrate, fearing the unusual amount of teasing expression in the crown prince’s eyes. He doesn’t know how to reply, and instead says. “He’s not called that anymore.”

“Ah… yes… He’s retired, no? So… Leeteuk was it?” Siwon chuckles before a thoughtful expression settles. “Something about an accident when testing new medical equipment. His back still gives him problems if I heard right.”

Kangin silence confirms Siwon’s statement, and he eyes the guard, resting his chin on his palm. “You still regret not being there for him don’t you?”

“…” A sad smile graces Kangin’s face. There is silence, and Siwon is about to return his attention to the document, thinking the conversation is over when Kangin proves that it is not. “I’ve been thinking of visiting though… at least to apologize.”

Siwon sighs, putting the brush down and turning his eyes to the heavens above. “Lord, save me from the temptation that surrounds me.”

The plea is odd, as if there is something which prompts it, and Kangin smiles, knowing what it is. “Our Court Advisor trying to advise you into visiting his room at ungodly hours of the night again?”

“That man…” Siwon answers with the petulance of a king. “Does not seem to get that I am not interested, status and scandals aside, no matter how pretty he is in a dress.”

“But I thought Heechul had already moved onto greener pastures?” Kangin scratches his chin.

“He says that I’ll always be a green pasture.” A pause as Kangin eyes him with incredulously before he relents. “And the trouble with Xing has escalated to a point of no return.”

“Ah… and the Xing ambassador?”

“Is in his room now, packing.”

“Ah. Well, then I guess you won’t have to be worried about unwanted visitors tonight.” And Kangin ducks the inkpot thrown at him, and looking at the rare blush on Siwon’s face, knows that they both are thinking about a night past where Heechul had snuck into Siwon’s room and nearly got himself personally beheaded, but not before physically tempting the crown prince with his hands and body.

Siwon settles back down royally from throwing the inkpot before he sighs and admits. “Obnoxious comments aside, I do miss having you at my side, Kangin.”

Kangin bows at the compliment as he replies. “You were the one who sent me to look after your brother.”

“Well, I think we both agree that my brother doesn’t need looking after anymore.” Siwon smiles as he picks up his brush once again. “So, will you come back to my side, my Secretary of Archives?”

And Kangin can only bow in acceptance at the request which is also an order.

~*~

He’s been thrown against the wall so many times that he lost count. And for all his bluster on the way to his place, this customer certainly doesn’t have the creativity some other clients did.

It still hurt.

Lying on the floor, his head still pounding from the last two times its made acquaintance with the hard brick, he gasps when the client pulled him up by his hair, thick, fat fingers digging painfully into their roots.

“Come on, what’s wrong? I want to hear you scream! Scream for me, Renge!” The man screams out his stage name, and it unknowingly brings tears to his eyes.

Renge – the lotus. The flower far from the one he loves.

Then the man flings him against the wall, and this time he screams. He doesn’t care anymore. His heart is hurting too much to be proud.

“Yes… yes!” The client laughs like a villain from a badly scripted play, and his eyes gleam manic as his shadow towers over the softly sobbing Donghae, unknowing that the tears were not brought on by something physical. “Oh… so just something like this makes you cry? Then you have not seen my worst!”

There is a crack as the man grabs his arm and twists it, and Donghae turns white, his throat squeezing out a shriek that is higher in pitch than anything that has ever come out of his mouth before.

‘This man is mad.’ Donghae thinks dully as he’s thrown at the wall yet again, landing on his now broken hand, twisted in an impossible, grotesque angle. And somewhere he hears a scream and thinks it’s probably him. ‘And I’m mad to think I’d prefer his madness than the one that results from my broken heart.’

There is a knife now, and Donghae doesn’t know when or where it had been taken out. He hasn’t been paying attention – affliction after affliction melding together like runny clay.

His clothes are getting torn, the knife slowly turning red from the blood it draws. Again and again, it flashes in the dull light with Donghae screaming every time its business edge runs over his skin.

The client is extremely satisfied, and getting more frenzied, he slowly loses his mind.

It is a full moon out – the moon of the crazed. And Donghae thinks his eyes fly open just as wide when he suddenly finds the knife stuck in his stomach, and he falls to the ground in shock, the scream in his throat sticking, forced down by the sudden lack of breath.

The silence in the room is deafening. And in that silence, Donghae finds the world darkening, his good hand turning slippery as he gives up trying to pull out the knife.

Then the silence is broken by a short bark of forced laughter. And Donghae uses what little strength he has to look up, wondering why the client who is standing over him seems so shocked.

When you stab someone, that person is injured. It was just a matter of balance and exchange like everything else in the world.

“Why aren’t you screaming?” the client asks then, and Donghae stares up at him in confusion. “You’re in pain… so you’re supposed to scream. Why aren’t you screaming?”

Donghae seriously considers the question and after a while, comes up with an answer. “It’s because I’m dying.” – or at least that’s what he wants to reply. What really comes out it a soft whine, and Donghae’s control over his mouth collapses.

There is a heavy thud as the client falls to the floor, stunned. Then he begins muttering frenziedly, talking about payments and money and such. How much the owner of the Zinnia establishment would ask for and whether he would have enough money to pay.

Donghae supposes he should be concerned about this, but now, he doesn’t care. The world is getting darker and Donghae is getting tired. Now, he just wants to sleep.

Fondly, he thinks of the person he loves, and how much he wants to see him again.

He thinks that it’s probably apparent from the way he thinks he hears his name being called by that wonderful voice, and then he sees a figure rushing in through the doorway and catches a glimpse of two swords with the emblem of the Chrysanthemum etched into them. He smiles at what a wonderful hallucination it is.

The world turns black. Black like a panther’s side.

~*~