/ˈwɪntə/
death of nature; quiet the mind and still the soul

Winter symbolizes death of nature. Days get short, and nights prolong. Flora, from the tiniest herbaceous plants to most gigantic woody plants; fauna, from the petite invertebrates to the predators on top of the food chain; it all either decaese or hibernate. Animals vanish from human’s sight; only a whistle of a solitary blackbeard can be occasionally heard. Trees lose their prominent boast, golden and scarlet leaves decompose in soil; gentle winter breeze sways barren trunks and branches ever so lonely.  Herbs wither to their last leaf, last tissue, last cell.

It might all die, but the last generation never fails to ensure rebirth of a new one.

Winter is said to be the coldest season of the year. Sometimes, it is also the coldest season of one’s life.

Kyungsoo isn’t feeling well. In fact, he isn’t feeling well during winter for a couple of years now. This season is always such a pain to go through. School doesn’t make it any better, not to mention the amount of schoolwork lying ahead of him as a high-school graduate. His classmates always say „Only one term left until freedom.“ to cheer themselves up, yet this sentence doesn’t relate to Kyungsoo at all. He knows he will suffer even after successful graduation and after being accepted to university.

There are two things that keep Kyungsoo sane.

A book.

Kyungsoo’s favourite book that people thought was written for children as a fairytale, but he knows better. Kyungsoo was in fifth grade when he read the book for the first time. At that time, he also thought of this book as a story for kids. The realisation of being terribly wrong came after many years later.

„Have you read this?“

Sehun.

The other boy, sitting next to Kyungsoo, eyes the title and responds with a questioning look. Sehun has never read a single book from what he remembered and he had no intentions of doing so. Books were not his thing. „Is that the book you’ve read at least eight hundred times?“

The not so innocent remark earns Sehun a death glare, and he can’t help but grin at the intimidating stare that doesn’t intimidate him at all. Saying that Kyungsoo was one of the most adorable people he had met wouldn’t be a lie. He has no choice but hold Kyungsoo in his capture tight until he stops fighting back.

„I hate you.“ Kyungsoo let out those three words, alhough he doesn’t mean them. Or maybe he does partly. Kyungsoo hates it when he gets picked on.

„Oh, come on,“ Sehun laughs, but stops right away in fear of Kyungsoo getting even more grumpy. He tries to steal a brief kiss, yet the latter doesn’t oblige. „I will read that book, okay?“

A triumphal smile appears on Kyungsoo’s face for less than a second and it goes unnoticed by Sehun.

„I still hate you.“

At first, Sehun really doesn’t plan on reading it, but when he parts with Kyungsoo later that day, he realizes one thing: He has nothing to do. Until now, his whole lifetime spined around Kyungsoo; everything he’s done during that time had him involved. At lonely times like these, contemplaiting is what Sehun usually does, but he’s feeling way too tired to do so. So instead, he picks the book that Kyungsoo gave him earlier, and his eyes scan the title once again.

The Little Prince.

Before actually reading it, leafing through the pages one by one is what Sehun does. The illustrations make him think that Kyungsoo must be a child stuck in body of some young adult for liking the book. It really does give off a vibe of a story written for children, but he decides to give it a shot anyway.

When the two meet the next day, it’s in the library. Kyungsoo needs to get some study material and Sehun comes along as a company. He is already there, searching for a specific book, when Sehun arrives without the latter noticing. A huge grin spreads across Kyungsoo’s face when two familiar arms wrap around his waist.

„Did you read the book?“

Sehun thinks it’s both funny and cute, how Kyungsoo’s eyes lit up with sparkles when mentioning the book and how he naïvely thinks Sehun read it. Except for that he did actually read it.

 „Is that really the first thing you say when you see me? What about hello or a kiss?“

„Sorry,“ Kyungsoo simpers and plants a sweet kis on the latter’s lips right after. However, it doesn’t sound like an apology at all. „But did you read it?“

„No, I didn’t.“

„I know you did.“ He says it quite confidently and shots the latter a knowing smile. With that smile, from which Sehun cannot také his eyes off, Kyungsoo turns around and continues on searching through the bookshleves, leaving his boyfriend stunned.

It’s not Kyungsoo’s purpose for sure, but what he says affects Sehun more that it was meant to. Maybe it’s just a feeling that Sehun’s got, caused by Kyungsoo’s tiny remark, but it’s strong and it leaves a significant impression deep in his core. It’s so new and fresh, yet he cannot decide whether it’s pleasant or undesirable. Both, probably. It’s the reason why Kyungsoo is different compared to everyone else. Why his presence is appreciated more than it should be.

Because after all this time of endless wandering, there’s a person who truly knows him.

The fact makes Sehun’s heart pound violently, but instead of feeling thrilled, it hurts. It hurts to know that soon, their paths will part for good.

„You’re not supposed to stare like that,“ is what Kyungsoo utters when he turns back after a long pause of unexpected silence. Apparently, Sehun didn’t even notice.  „You are supposed to tell me how do you feel about it... Or that kind of stuff.“

Sehun is dragged back to the reality after being busy in his own thoughts. His expression becomes so confused (he can hear Kyungsoo giggle quietly), and it takes him quite a while for his brain to process what he just heard.

„I didn’t like it. I don’t think the book’s meant for your age category. Do you play with barbie dolls at home?“ The question is so random yet related to the topic, and Sehun can’t help but laugh.

Kyungsoo doesn’t think it’s funny at all.

„Did I already tell you I hate you?“

Sehun stops sneering for the sake of his, after realising that Kygunsoo’s stare is about to burn his flesh alive. He nods. „Yesterday.“

„Then I hate you today as well.“

After shooting him another death glare, Kyungsoo grabbs his stuff and without a single word disappears behind a corner. When Sehun follows after him, the latter occupies a nearby table, clearly pretending to be grouchy.  Sehun indeed likes to tease Kyungsoo even with the smallest things.

He takes a seat right next to the latter; Sehun likes being a little annoying as well. Kyungsoo already noticed.

The violet eyed boy gets totally ignored – Kyungsoo doesn’t even lift his gaze from the textbook. Sehun doesn’t say anything, he knows Kyungsoo isn’t actually mad and he doesn’t want to disturb him during his studies anyway.

What Kyungsoo studies is biology and chemistry; he is slowly but surely preparing for entrance exams for a prestige medical shool. It’s not difficult, or at least that’s what he says (his classmates claim he’s a ‚ing genius with iq over 150‘), yet solutions nor pathophysiology is what his heart calls for -- it’s how his parents decided years ago. But Kyungsoo doesn’t want to be a surgeon earning four hundred thousand dollars a year.

He wants to be a writer.

Kyungsoo has started writing poems and short stories as a middle schooler. It was only a secret hobby that nobody knew about, as his parents inculcated him the one and only profession. But as time went by, a little distraction slowly grew into passion.

Of course, being a medic was a prestige job to have – being able to heal people sick with numerous diseases, perform surgeries and save lives with an enourmous salary on top – yet this was not the way how Kyungsoo wanted to contribute to this world.     

He wanted to affect people with his writing. Wanted people to laugh at the funny parts and cry during the sad ones. He wanted to touch and move something in their insides, change them into better human beings. To be their inspiration and motivation.

Kyungsoo believed into a better world.

„What is it?“

Suddenly the peaceful silence gets pierced by Kyungsoo’s delicate voice. Sehun looks up to see any hints in the latter’s face, but there is none. As usual.

„What is what?“

„The thing you’re thinking about so hard,“ Kyungsoo says with a gentle smile, and the terrible feeling seeps into Sehun’s bones once again.

He doesn’t answer.

The words sting like acid on Kyungsoo’s tongue, yet still he gathers all his courage and force them out of his throat. His voice cracks a little. „Is it because you’re about to leave soon?“

He doesn’t lower his gaze when his eyes meet with Sehun’s, nor he doesn’t feel embarrased when the corners of his eyes become watery. On the other hand, Sehun’s expression isn’t that easy to decipher; the borderline between indifference and affliction is way too thin.

Sehun keeps quiet.

It hurts. His heart beats like crazy. It hurts. 

„It’s okay.“ Kyungsoo speaks up with a shaky voice, wiping off the tears with the back of his hand. He tries to smile again. „You can be the Litte Prince and I will be the pilot. The fox or the Flower… Anything’s fine, just please…“

He doesn’t finish the sentence because he doesn’t even know how. He doesn’t know what he begs for. Sehun does.

I won’t.

He takes Kyungsoo in his arms. The latter starts sobbing quietly, wetting Sehun’s shirt with the salty tears that keep on flowing restlessly. Sehun doesn’t know how to deal with the painful feeling in his chest. It doesn’t go away even when Sehun shuts his eyes and curses quietly.

When Kyungsoo finally looks up, his eyes red and nose running, he sees something he never expected to witness. It is written in the latter’s eyes.

Kyungsoo’s words, the way they spend time together in a library, it all brings back bygone memories from past. It’s bitter yet sweet, and right now it all crashes down onto Sehun, hard. Going through all these years has been so grueling, so tiresome, yet there seem to be no light at the end of a dark tunnel. He’s so lost, yet there’s no home he can search for.

Sehun hit the rock bottom. His eyes are dull and so is his core.

Kyungsoo is horrified.

„No... Sehun, please… I will be ready when the time comes,“ There’s panic in his eyes and new batch of tears that threaten to spill. „I will be ready, I promise.“

Sehun has an urge to tell him that it’s not him, it’s not his fault, that he’s not the reason behind this all.

But he doesn’t, because it’s better this way.
 

No matter what we do, time will never stop. Not for us, not for anyone else. The clock will always continue ticking, and Kyungsoo is aware of that. He knows the time remaining isn’t anywhere near long, and that he’s running out of it. He has experienced many terrible feelings, but knowing what’s about to happen and being unable to prevent it is one of the worst. There’s nothing he can do, and it frustrates him.

„Are you sure you don’t want any cookies? We have chocolate muffins as well.“

„Mom, please.“ Kyungsoo sighs heavily. „Leave us alone, will you?“

From Sehun’s views, it’s a funny sight to look at. Kyungsoo’s privacy has been violated by his mother for the last two hours since they’ve entered the house. She seems to be very polite, maybe a little too much, but that’s what mothers usually are. Sehun isn’t sure whether she can’t see the way Kyungsoo’s annoyed or she just simply chooses to ignore it.

„Okay, okay. I get it. But if you need anything, I’m right in the kitchen.“

When she finally leaves, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes so hard that it makes Sehun think his eyes might pop out. They don’t.

„Your mom is nice.“

„Yeah, sure.“  Kyungsoo does his infamous eye-roll once again. „Nice like a leech. your blood until you decide to set her on fire.“

Sehun chuckles, but doesn’t say anything further regarding the latter’s inapropriate yet funny remark. Instead, there’s something else he’s curious about.

„What it it, the surprise you told me about earlier?“

„Oh,“ The latter’s eyes get even rounder as he suddenly remembers. Kyungsoo reaches to his nightstand and rummages through one of the drawers until he finds what he’s been looking for. And when he does, Sehun can see it by the look.

„Close your eyes.“

„Why? Are you going to undress?“ A little teasing before obeying never hurt anyone, Sehun thinks.

But then Kyungsoo punches him. In the shoulder with a fist. Sehun makes a note not to tease the latter too much if he doesn’t want to end up in a filthy sewer, his corpse rotting in a plastic bag.

„Shut up.“

So Sehun closes his eyes as the other said before (in fear of being murdered), and although it makes every part of Kyungsoo’s body ache, it only takes him a few seconds to exclaim a loud, cheerful ta-dah. It’s two pieces of paper that are clutched in Kyungsoo’s tiny hands, and when Sehun sees them, he doesn’t response with anything but a questioning look.

„It’s airplane tickets,“ says Kyungsoo, the excited expression on his face still present.

It’s indeed what Kyungsoo says it is, and Sehun has an urge to response with a ‚You dont say.‘ sentence, but he doesn’t because of the reason stated above. The destination is said to be Norway, and he has no idea why Norway out of all the countries. But that’s not the question he asks.

„When is the departure?“

„Tomorrow.“

 „Wow, thanks for telling me so early.“ The answer of Sehun’s is clearly sarcastic, yet Kyungsoo doesn’t give him one of his lethal looks like he would any other time. Instad, he whines like a little kid who begs for a candy.

„Pleeease. I will think of a way how to take your butterfly along.“

Sehun let the thought go through his mind, weighting the pros and cons. It’s true that he has never been to Norway nor he has seen a real living deer before. Also the way Kyungsoo’s eyes are filled with hope make Sehun somehow weak. There’s nothing he can loose, he can only gain. But there’s one thing that makes him definitely decide.

Kyungsoo didn’t mention it, but Sehun knows the the return ticket was only one.

Going to Europe was a completely new thing to Kyungsoo. He was so excited, yet so worried. It was like having your favourite icecream, which could fall of the cornet soon if not eaten quickly. The fear hasn’t appeared just now -- it’s always been there. I still have a few months changed into a few weeks in a blink of an eye. And now, it’s just a few days.

It’s past midnight and the two of them are on the board. They have been up in the air for a good couple of hours already, and they will be staying there for some more. Flying with Kyungsoo is the same as if they did any other thing. Annoying, but fun. Passangers sitting nearby give them weird or terrified looks. Sometimes Kyungsoo forgets there are other people, too, when he tells Sehun to shut up every ten minutes.

It’s quite now, considering the fact that the majority of passangers is asleep. Sehun and Kyungsoo are quiet as well, both of them awake and lost in their own thoughts. Kyugnsoo is resting his head on the latter’s soulder, their torsos covered with fleece blankets that the staff provides them, fingers interlaced.

Sehun thinks that his lover is asleep already, when he hears Kyungsoo whisper.

„When the person you love dies, you don’t live. Only exist.“

It’s so sudden that Sehun doesn’t know what to respond. Kyungsoo doesn’t expect him to.

„They say time will heal your wounds.“ There’s a bitter smile on Kyungsoo’s face as he says it, Sehun can imagine that. „But it’s not true.“

Sehun also knows it’s not him who is Kyungsoo talking about. It’s Byun Baekhyun, Kyungsoo’s former boyfriend from the past. They first met in primary school, where Kyungsoo transfered to from another school and happened to end up in class with Baekhyun. Kyungsoo didn’t like him at all, he thought Baekhyun was just a spoilt sassy kid who always refused to do his homework and had no friends for a reason. It was one incident that changed his mind.

At that time, Kyungsoo’s family was poor, which was the reason for their frequent moving from one town to another. Their teacher once gave them homework to color a puzzle according to the number written in each piece. But Kyungsoo had no crayons as his family couldn’t afford to buy them, so he had no choice but not to bring it. His teacher scolded him the next day, not knowing about their miserable financial situation, and Kyungsoo being too ashamed to admit something like that in front of his classmates. They would mock him, Kyungsoo was sure.

During the break, it was Baekhyun who came up to his desk and asked why hadn’t he done the homework given. Usually, it was only Baekhyun who got scolded by the teacher for this matter. So naturally he was curious about the cause of the latter’s failure.

At first, Kyungsoo refused to tell him, but as each minute passed by, Baekhyun insisted on knowing more and more.  As a result of his childish persistence, Kyungsoo got pissed off and spit it out crossly.

I don’t have any crayons, can’t you see? was what he said while opening his pencilcase, mad.

Without a word, Baekhyun went back to his place, and it made Kyungsoo even more angry, because who the hell he thinks he is. So when Baekhyun approached his desk in a few seconds again, he was this close to slapping him.

„Here, you can have mine. I don’t use them, anyway.“

Kyungsoo was so stunned he couldn’t find any words to say. This little act of kindness had such a huge impact on him – because for the very first time in his life, he experienced the expression of empathy and friendship. Before he even knew it, his face was covered in salty tears. And to his surprise, Baekhyun cried with him.

Since that moment, the two of them became inseparable. When Kyungsoo later asked Baekhyun why did he cry that day as well, he answered:

„I didn’t know why you were crying and I couldn’t make you laugh, so the only  thing I could do was to cry with you.“ He said while grinning with a missing tooth, as if what he said was the most natural thing. „I’ll always be there for you.“

He died a few years ago.

It was during winter, when Baekhyun got involved into an accident; a car hit him when the driver got into a skid on black ice. He was immediately taken to a hospital but didn’t pull through. He gave up after two days of fighting.

Kyungsoo was devastated.

No amount of tears, swearing or shouting could ease off the torturing pain. Even when his voice was hoarse and there were no more tears to cry, he wasn’t even close to feeling better. Not a tiny bit. And even as time went slowly by, he felt like stopped in time, stuck in that one very moment. He never learnt how to live again. Surviving, that’s what Kyungsoo did each and every day so people around would finally stop asking.  

The radio they used to listen to together doesn’t sound the same. His favorite song doesn’t bring him joy like it used to. The clouds, sun and moon, it is all different. He could never be complete again. A big piece of his life left with Baekhyun.

Bestfriend, lover, soulmate. That’s how will Kyungsoo describe Byun Baekhyun when his children and grand-children ask about his first love.

Sehun is speechless. One might say he experiences this every winter, every year; loosing the one you love, but in fact, it’s kind of different. Sehun doesn’t know whether the people are still living like they used to before he came by, or died. He can only wonder. Kyungsoo has nothing left to wonder about.

It’s like he could read Sehun’s mind, because it’s him who speaks up again.

„Can’t you come back to me?“ He whispers almost inaudibly. „Next spring?“

 „I can’t.“

Kyungsoo’s heart sinks down the bottom although he expects this answer. Still, deep down, he hoped for a different one. Sehun offers a tiny smile. Kyungsoo doesn’t even try.

„Butterfly doesn’t rest on one’s shoulder twice, does it?“
 

Snow. It was everywhere.

Not that Kyungsoo hasn’t seen snow before, but he has indeed never seen the whole surroundings being covered in the white blanket, making it seem so dead and quiet. Looking at it was somehow calming. The weather was freezy, yet Kyungsoo still found himself being excited for this trip, in both good and bad way.

The hotel that Kyungsoo booked didn’t look like a hotel at all. It was a rather small house, as small as Kyungsoo’s, only with the difference that this facility was supposed to lodge numerous guests. Five rooms offered, that was Sehun’s estimation. It was located in the middle of nowhere, as well. Kyungsoo said that there was a reason for it, that he wanted to show Sehun something pretty awesome, but it could be seen only from a specific area.

„Is it a polar bear?“

„Do you really think I would drag you all the way here,“ Kyungsoo raises one of his eyebrows. „just to show you a polar bear?“ 

Sehun shrugs. „Well, you made me come to your school once just because you didn’t want to eat lunch alone.“

„Shut up.“

The interior isn’t that bad as one would guess based on the appearance from outside. The walls are covered with warm colours with paintings of the winter scenery hanging on them; it gives off a cozy and pleasant vibe. The lobby isn’t big; it provides only a few armchairs and a coffee table, yet the owner still managed to place a piano in one of its sunken corners. 

There’s nothing much they can do, considering the fact that there’s only one tiny supermarket, post office and a gas station. They borrow a snowmobile once, for the first and last time, since Kyungsoo says he doesn’t want to go too far and get lost. In fact, he’s only afraid of polar bears they could potentially meet. He doesn’t admit it, but Sehun knows from the way the latter repeats „I’m cold.“ or „I’m so hungry.“ countless times after only seeing the animal’s footprints. He also gets grumpy when a snowball (made by no other than Sehun) hits him in the face and when he’s unable to have his revenge. And when his hands feel too numb from the snow, he has no choice but come to Sehun and let him warm them up.

„Your birthday is in January, isn’t it?“

 They just stepped in the hotel’s lobby, escaping the freezing weather that dominates outside, and let a pleasant wave of warmth caress their reddish cheeks. It’s almost midnight and judging by the silence, everyone must’ve been asleep already. Sehun undos his coat buttons and when he’s done, he does the same for Kyungsoo. 

„Yeah. Why do you ask?“

Sehun’s lips curve into a soft smile. He takes Kyungsoo’s hand and, without a word, leads him to the lonely piano. Kyungsoo wonders whether it’s been waiting for someone to be played by. Without him asking, he sits next to Sehun on the piano bench.

The wooden fall that covers the keys gets opened.

„My early birthday gift.“

Sehun’s fingers touch the smooth keys‘ surface, yet they don’t press with enough pressure to release a tone. His moves are not confident, and Kyungsoo thinks he might be remembering the melody. But  then, without expecting it, the first tone slice the dead silence. And soon, many more follow behind. Kyungsoo can recognize the song. It’s simple and not really hard to play.

Happy Birthday.

But instead of feeling delighted, there are two heavy stones burdening Kyungsoo’s chest.

No one dares to say it out loud, but both of them do realise that Sehun said early birthday gift for a reason. It’s tomorrow.

One.

„Where did you learn to play this?“

„From an old friend of mine.“

Kyungsoo bites his lower lip. He knows what does Sehun mean, yet he doesn’t know who does he mean. Sehun never talked about people he met before him. And there’s more to it.

„You remind me of someone.“

Seeing Sehun sitting behind a piano, watching his fingers slide across the keys, hearing the piano play after such a long time. Winter. Anniversary. Kyungsoo can’t help but think about another person.

Sehun close the fall and make the keys hidden to one’s eyes once again.

„Byun Baekhyun?“

Two.

Even after years, Kyungsoo’s heart breaks when he hears the name. No, he still hasn’t gotten over it. He doesn’t think he ever will.

He wants to forget Baekhyun’s smile, yet it’s the first thing he wants to be greeted by in the morning.  He wants to forget Baekhyun’s voice, yet everynight, he dials his number just to hear it. He wants to forget Baekhyun, yet he doesn’t want anything but to have him back.

Kyungsoo inhales a good amount of oxygen just to hold everything inside. Tears, screams or both.

„Let’s go and see why we came here in the first place.“

The sudden change of subject doesn’t really make Sehun surprised. Kyungsoo does that everytime he doesn’t want to talk about a certain topic or when he feels like not being able to carry on with the conversation. Sehun lets him.

This time, Kyungsoo buttons up his coat himself. And before they leave the warm area of the vestibule, he tries tu put on a smile, just to show he’s okay and that Sehun shouldn’t worry. It’s forced, yet Sehun still smiles back. This time they go by foot, and it’s just two of them walking beside each other in absolute silence, stepping on the freshly fallen snow and getting snowflakes tangled in the hair.

„Sometimes I wonder if there’s someone as miserable as me.“

„That’s what I ask myself as well.“ There’s something sad in Sehun’s voice. „Every spring, actually.“

Kyungsoo stops walking and so does Sehun.

„What do you mean?“

„How do you think I chose you?“ The golden haired boy smiles, but it doesn’t seem like a smile at all, it doesn’t make the butterflies in Kyungsoo’s stomach go wild. It rather feels like his guts were being squeezed painfully.  

He stays silent. There’s something that runs through his mind, yet he’s too scared to say it out loud. Sehun doesn’t wait for him and does it himself.

„I choose people who are in constant depression. People who think life isn’t worth living. Just because I want to see someone suffer more than I do.“ His expression doesn’t change, but the look in his eyes does. It’s full of doubts and anxiety. „But then it all goes wrong, and I end up like this… Finding it hard to let go because I fall for them way too hard.“

Kyungsoo is completely lost for words. He knows he’s about to cry, yet he tries his hardest not to.

There’s a pause of thick silence.

„Are you mad at me for being so selfish? Do you feel like I’ve used you?“

„N-No,“ Kyungsoo’s voice cracks. He takes in a shaky breath. „It’s fine, it’s fine with me, I will bear anything, just please… Don’t leave. I can’t loose another person, I’m not ready yet…“ And as he finishes the sentence, shaking his head, he breaks down into a crying mess.

Sehun’s chest tightens so painfully, it makes him stop breathing for a moment. Seeing Kyungsoo like that was the thing he wanted to prevent at all cost. Of course Kyungsoo would break down, of course he would cry his eyes out – but Sehun wouldn’t see that. And even if he doesn’t want to see that now either, it’s happened and it’s there, and he can’t tear his eyes off the sobbing boy. Every beat of his heart hurt, sending the aching impulse into his veins and back to the heart. It’s almost unbearable, yet he has no choice but hold on.

„I can’t.“ Is what Sehun finally says, bringing the other boy into his arms and clutching him tightly. Guilty is a weak word to describe how does he feel for making Kyungsoo’s life even more miserable than it already was. Obnoxious, that’s what he is. There’s only one thing Sehun can do for Kyungsoo.

„I won’t forget you, I promise… I promise.“

It’s not enough, Kyungsoo thinks, yet it’s the only thing he can get. Love and be loved, even if it’s just for a while. Remember and be remembered.  It’s not fair, all of this, and though he knows life has never been fair, it makes him loose his faith in life.

They don’t find what they went to look for.

--

Kyungsoo can’t fall asleep that night.

He doesn’t know whether it’s because he isn’t familiar with the environment around or because tomorrow is the day. Well, that was a stupid one to ask. He turns his body on the soft mattress and observe Sehun’s face. It’s illuminated by the moonlight that shines through an uncovered window, and it makes him look so peaceful. Kyungsoo smiles bitterly. Why does his loved ones always leave in the end? What wrong did he do to deserve this?

Sometimes he feels like his life is a dramatic novel, him being the main protagonist who is predestined to always end up alone, left in depression. He stuggles to find his happiness, and when he finally does, it doesn’t last for long. Like it or not, the the most important part of a story is conclusion. It can change the readers’ view or the whole meaning of the story itself. But how was Kyungsoo supposed to change his tragic story into an enlightening one?

Finally, he can feel the tiredness taking over his body, making his eyelids ever so heavy. The last thing he sees before shutting his eyes is the boy with golden hair.

He isn’t sleeping well tho, yet what makes him feel uneasy isn’t a nightmare. It’s a feeling of something being terribly wrong. It goes on for a while – Kyungsoo scowling and sweating, his body rolling from one side to another – until his eyes shot open. It’s dark, almost nothing can be seen, and the weird feeling of Kyungsoo’s still lingers. It’s cold, colder than he remembered it to be, Kyungsoo makes a note.

„Sehun, you awake?“ He whispers, not wanting to wake up the latter in case of him being asleep. „I don’t feel well.“

But there’s no answer, and for a second, Kyungsoo considers trying to go back to sleep. But then his eyes land on something too unusual.

He can see the container capturing the butterfly. Except for that the butterfly is nowhere to be seen.

Getting off the bed, Kyungsoo makes sure not to be too noisy. The last thing he wants is to wake Sehun up. He slowly tip-toes to the glass object, being both curious and aftraid, until he reaches his target and pushes the curtains aside a little, so a bit of light would come in.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but the sight that appears along with the moonlight gives him chills. The butterfly must’ve gotten out somehow, because the container’s empty. And its tiny body is lying not so far from it.

It’s dead.

„Sehun!“ Kyungsoo calls out, yet the only answer is silence. He doesn’t dare to try again, the fear of knowing what is actually going on is too strong. But Kyungsoo must know. His hand slowly approaches the lightswitch, and Kyungsoo hesitates once again, whether to turn the lights on or not. Kyungsoo must know.

It’s colder than he remembered.

Sehun is gone. His half of the bed is empty and there’s no message being left. Kyungsoo is confused, but only for a while. It doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

He only manages to slip on his shoes, grab a coat and storm out of the hotel in a speed of a tornado. He has no idea where could have Sehun gone, but fortunately, he is smart enough to follow the fresh footprints in the snow. At this time, they could belong only to one person.

The weather’s freezing. Kyungsoo’s nose is running, his limbs slowly but surely loosing the ability to feel as it finally become numb. He falls a few times, yet he forces his legs to stand up again and continue struggling throught the thick layer of snow. Kyungsoo must see him, he must see Sehun for the last time.

His heart skips a beat when he finally spots a body lying in the snow. It’s not moving nor it shows any trace of being alive, and Kyungsoo thinks he might faint right then and there. It can’t be, runs throught his mind, Sehun can’t be... The thought of being too late haunts him like the worst nightmare, and it makes him run faster.

His heart sinks when he’s close enought to recognize Sehun’s delicate face features, but at the same time a heavy burden falls off his chest, as he sees a tiny plume of steam coming out of his mouth. Kyungsoo falls onto his knees. They bury into the white blanket, and it stings, yet he couldn’t careless.

Sehun is alive. For how long, Kyungsoo doesn’t know.

„Oh my god,“ he whispers, as both of his hands cup the latter’s face. They’re cold, but Sehun’s cheeks are twice as cold. He wears no coat, and Kyungsoo is halfway through taking off his, when Sehun reaches for the latter’s hands to stop him.

He drops the idea of giving Sehun his jacket. Kyungsoo’s throat tightens. Both of them know Sehun won’t make it tonight.

It’s unbelieveable, how Sehun is so weak, possibly at the edge of passing out, yet he ask the simpliest question that exists.

„What’s up?“

Kyungsoo’s eyes get wider than they already were. He has so much to say, so many questions to ask, yet Sehun seems like he has none of that left. Eventually, Kyungsoo let out a little laugh. It’s not a joyful one.

„Nothing much.“ He gulps down the way too big burden and tries his best to smile. „You?“

Sehun smiles back. „Just a little sleepy. Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?“

They say you can’t break what is already broken. Kyungsoo doesn’t agree. It’s when Sehun puts his hand on Kyungsoo’s and squeezes it, his already broken heart gets smashed and shatters into even tinier pieces. It hurts so bad.

„Of course I will,“ Kyungsoo’s smile never leaves his face, because afterall, that’s all he can do for Sehun.

„Thank you,“ the latter says ever so gently. „Until then, please, don’t stop talking. I want to know you’re here.“

Right after that, Sehun closes his eyes. And because he isn’t watching, Kyungsoo closes his eyes in despair as well and let the tears flow. However, he tries his best to maitain his voice firm and clear while talking.

„But don’t fall asleep too quickly.“ The little remark makes Sehun’s corners of his mouth curl slightly upwards. Kyungsoo releases a shaky breath. He then tells Sehun that the reason behind choosing Norway was the Northern lights, which Kyungsoo wanted to see so bad. It must look magical, he adds right then. He admits being scared of the wild animals the other day. He tells Sehun about the first impression he got when they met for the first time. When did he realise he fell in love. Bringing those memories back was both hearty and devastating.

„I didn’t mean it when I said I hated you. I also didn’t mean it when- “

„You’re making it so much worse, Kyungsoo.“ Sehun says as he opens his eyes again. He knows Kyungsoo has been crying the whole time, and the reddis eyes he sees only confirm it.

Kyungsoo is taken aback by the sudden interruption. What is he supposed to be saying then? Does Sehun think he’s the only one hurting? But because it’s their last moments, it’s not the question he asks.

 „Does it hurt?“

„Yes,“ Sehun breathes. He doesn’t mean the physical pain though, and he isn’t sure whether Kyungsoo’s aware.

„I’m sorry,“ Is what comes out of his lips as he slowly approaches Sehun’s. The two white clouds of steam finally blend together until they disappear completely. The kiss is gentle, none of them is enjoying it, and it tears Kyungsoo from the inside.

But that’s all he can get right now.

„It’s time to part.“

Kyungsoo has been preparing for this moment since the early beginnings; yet there he is, being all too scared and unwilling to let go. He’s too scared of what will life without Sehun be like. What his life will be like with one less thing that keeps him sane.

„I…“ he barely whispers and the tears start to wet his face again. He quickly dries them with a sleeve. „I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t…“

„You promised.“ Sehun shushes him briefly. „Whenever you feel lonely, look at the stars – they will laugh and jigle. You are the pilot, afterall.“

And everything falls silent again. Kyungsoo now has nothing left.

When he made the promise, he never thought this would be so hard or that it would hurt so much. He never thought he would feel like dying along with Sehun. But the time has come and he can do nothing about it.

 „Are you ready to let go?“

Kyungsoo bites his lip. So this is really the end of their short mutual journey. The conclusion of a story decides whether it’s tragic or not. The conclusion.

„Yes.“

For a split of a second, a surprised expression crosses Sehun’s face. But then he realises, and a knowing smile comes to light.

 „It’s okay. No one ever is.“

That day was cold. Colder than usual, and no heater or fireplace could make it warm. White and silent only, as far as one’s eyes could reach. Countless tiny snowflakes making the layer of glittering snow even thicker, straying off to icy surface of the window glass every now and then. Weather was cloudy, gloomy, one could say melancholy. And when taking it all in, you could notice the frigid atmosphere having this unknown soothing feel to it. Almost like a lullaby.

„Goodnight, Kyungsoo.“

Winter is said to be the coldest season of the year. Sometimes, it is also the coldest season of one’s life.

„Goodnight.“