the last rays of setting sun are colouring the slopes of mount fuji in all shades of orange and red. snow covering it, usually incredibly white, almost blindingly so, this time has turned into an ocean of bright flames, as if the whole peak has been set on fire, burning slowly. none of the nearby mountains can possibly match fuji's magnificent beauty, its ability to make people feel vulnerable, small, meaningless while facing such a miracle of nature, the embodiment of power and majesty.

nam woohyun normally wouldn't be any different.

but now, he only averts his gaze from the train's window, without a moment of hesitation leaving behind fuji in its full glory; he feels empty. his fingers clutch around the camera tightly, and he watches in complete silence the cities he's passing by - atami, nebugawa, odawara, he doesn't remember all of them, caught between countless mountains and the pacific ocean, blurred in a eerie mix of colours and lights.

the only sound he can hear is the soft click of the shutter.

hours later, in the darkness of their apartment-- his apartment, the word tastes so bitter in his mouth, he comes into myungsoo's room, holding the photo of fuji in his hand. anyone else would probably be shaking or quivering by now, anything; but he is not. no tears, no screams, no questions why.

he's always been this way.

the photo is not even half as good as myungsoo's ones, not with woohyun's lack of skills and experience. it was the younger's job to find the perfect frames, perfect contrast between shadow and light, not his. however, he's managed to capture fuji devoured by the crimson of the dying sun, colours burning, mesmerising in such a way that nothing else matters.

as he pins the photo to the wall, beside all the other pictures myungsoo has taken over the last year, pictures of places he's always wanted to see, he wonders whether the magic of the younger's passion is still alive in his beloved camera, allowing woohyun to take a perfect shot and grant his last wish.

"there."

his fingers brush over the photographs softly, stopping by myungsoo's face captured at one of them just for a second, lingering, hesitating. he was still smiling there, his arm wrapped around woohyun in a tight hug, even though he already knew that he had only one more year to live.

myungsoo, a hopeless dreamer and even more hopeless optimist. myungsoo, who left too early and started his last, endless journey, far away from woohyun's reach.

the tips of his fingers leave almost invisible imprints on the surface of the picture.

he feels even more empty as a single tear rolls down his cheek.

"sleep well."