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In case I managed to not make it clear enough, this is supposed to a blog entry interespersed with bits of what actually happened. The stuff that actually happened is in (parantheseses)

Warnings: does kissing count? 

Third thread – Sehun

A changeling is a creature in European folklore that is secretly swapped with a human child when their parents are not looking. Physically, the changeling resembles the missing child in every way but their spirits are completely separate, allowing their families to distinguish a changeling from their own offspring.

Good evening readers of Cui Bono.

This week’s entry will be a bit of a departure from the usual thought provoking, carefully built argument that you’re used to. I want to start a discussion, one that is a little far-fetched even for this blog. But first, I would like to tell you about the first best friend I ever made. I ask that you indulge me and read until the end.  

When I was a second year middle school student, I met someone I will refer to as J-hyung.

J-hyung and I met online through a mutual interest in UFO’s and extraterrestrial biological entities. We e-mailed each other a few times, trading theories and ideas. After the fourth or fifth exchange, he suggested we meet up.

I agreed.

I know what you’re thinking. As a cute, young teenager, that was extremely stupid and dangerous. There was no way for me to be certain that he wasn’t some kind of ual predator or serial killer. Only in retrospect do I realize how fortunate I was because J-hyung was exactly who he claimed to be: just another student who valued the truth above all.

(After all the emails, the proposal to meet, the enthusiastic agreement, and arrival at the rendezvous point; it wasn’t until Sehun sat down at an empty table in a busy café that the first flash of doubt crossed his mind.

‘What if he’s totally weird? I mean, weirder than me. That might be too weird.’

He tried to remember if anything in the emails could be interpreted as a red flag, an indication that his new-found friend would be excessively bizarre. Did he mention any cats or weird hobbies such as taxidermy…

“Sehun?”

His head snapped toward his name. “Oh…hello. Are you – ” he swallowed nervously as he stared at the boy in front of him “ – Kim Joonmyeon-nim?”

The scrape of a chair. A brilliant smile. “Maybe a hundred years from now but you can just call me hyung.”)

We connected instantly. Even though he was two years older than me, he never ordered me around because he wasn’t that kind of person. The only time he brought up his age was when he wanted to treat me which was often. I didn’t mind because his family is rich.

I mean, really rich. He comes from old money, one of the few dynasties who managed to stay wealthy when the world fell apart and got even richer once the economy improved. I have a sneaking suspicion that his family played a hand in the Gold Crisis of 1952 but alas, I do not have any proof.

We spoke about our futures often. As the only son of an influential family, he was expected to help continue their reign. But J-hyung had other plans. He didn’t know what those were exactly…but he knew he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in a suit, trying to please people he didn’t give a damn about.

(Sehun checked the time again. It wasn’t like Joonmyeon to be late, at least not without sending a text first.

Twenty minutes passed. He started to worry something happened and his mind wandered to the darkest possibilities. Just before he overthought himself into a mild panic, a familiar figure ran towards him.

“Sorry, Sehun.” Joonmyeon slowed to a stop. He doubled over, out of breath. “The stupid dinner thing ran longer than I thought it would and I didn’t realize I had forgotten my phone until half-way here."

“It’s okay.” Sehun realized that Joonmyeon still wore his suit and tie. “You could’ve gone home and changed first. I would’ve have waited”

Joonmyeon straightened and smiled. “Didn’t feel like riding back to the house with my father. He’s had a few too many drinks and when he gets like that, he likes to remind me of my responsibilities to the family business. I’d much rather be here with you. Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course.” Sehun jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the entrance of the PC Room behind them. “I hope you’re looking forward to getting your kicked at StarCraft.”)

In his third year of high school, J-hyung confessed that he thought he was being followed. I didn’t take it seriously because girls followed him all the time. He was very popular thanks to his face. Many times we’d be out in public and girls would stare and giggle, sometimes even try to sneak pictures of him.

(Sehun heard the familiar click of a camera. He turned and glared at a pair tittering middle school girls but his gaze didn’t seem to affect them at all. They continued to follow at a distance of exactly four meters behind them, weaving through the crowded sidewalk.

Joonmyeon up the last of his iced coffee. “What’s with the grumpy face?” he asked, looking around for a place to throw away his empty cup.

“These girls have been tailing you for five blocks,” Sehun seethed. “Don’t they have better things to do?

“Maybe it’s not me they’re following. Maybe it’s you.” Joonmyeon reached up and slung an arm around Sehun’s bony shoulders. “If I were them, I’d choose you over me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sehun scoffed. “Of course they’re not interested in me.”) 

I suggested he tell his family about his concerns but he stubbornly refused. If his father thought there was the slightest chance than J-hyung could be in danger, he would never be allowed out of the house again. The future of the company depended on him staying alive.

But a few months after he first mentioned his invisible stalker, something strange happened. We were on our way to a record store when he suddenly grabbed my wrist and squeezed so hard that it actually hurt. He dragged me into the closest alleyway and started ranting. 

(“Sehun, listen, please. Someone is following me and I don’t mean some girls with a misplaced crush. It’s somebody or something…I don’t know who or why it’s happening but I’m not imagining it. It’s really happening. And we only have a few minutes before they find me again. You believe me, don’t you Sehun? I’m not crazy. I swear I’m not crazy. Something is coming for me. I can feel it. I can’t get away from it. They’re everywhere. Sehun, if they get me, you have to promise…promise me you won’t let them change you too. Always be as kind and weird and wonderful as you are now. Life is too long and ty to be any other way. Sehun, I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t see you again. They’re coming for me. Sehun…”)

He kept glancing over his shoulder with this wild look in his eyes.

(Joonmyeon put a hand on Sehun’s chest and pushed so gently that he doesn’t realize he’s moved until his back hits the building.

“Promise me.”

His breath ghosted over Sehun’s collarbone. While he had been much shorter than Joonmyeon when they first met, Sehun had grown significantly in those two years and was now the taller of the pair. Never had he felt the difference so strongly as he did in that moment.  

“O-okay, I promise.” Sehun looked to his right and saw the end of the alley. To his left, people hurried by without sparing the two boys a first glace. Above was the twilight sky. He was about to comment on how nothing seemed out of the ordinary when he felt warm lips cover his own.)   

Without any warning, he let go and bolted.

(The kiss lasted no longer than a second. The warmth left Sehun before he had time to process what just happened. He blinked and Joonmyeon was gone.)

Once I figured out he wasn’t coming back, I ran after him but no matter how hard I pumped by legs, I couldn’t catch up. Two blocks later, I lost him for good.

(Sehun ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He could have sworn he saw Joonmyeon enter this parking garage and followed him to the top floor. The garage contained only a single stairwell which meant that unless Joonmyeon jumped off the roof, he had to be somewhere nearby.

He called Joonmyeon repeatedly but received nothing but his voicemail.  After nearly 45 minutes of fruitless searching between every car, he started to doubt himself.)

That was the last time I saw him.

(Sehun dialed Joonmyeon’s number one last time. It didn’t even ring. His phone had been turned off.)

The person who greeted me when I went around to his gigantic house the next day was not my J-hyung. This person certainly looked and sounded like him but he was aloof and distant. He brushed off his strange behavior as nerves because of upcoming college entrance exams and said a kid like me couldn’t understand.

(Joonmyeon seemed quite composed, even more than usual. He smiled but Sehun could see the slight quirk of an eyebrow, indicating his impatience.

“But what about…” Sehun looked down, unable to face Joonmyeon without turning red. He knew he had to ask. Otherwise, he would wonder for the rest of his life. “In the alley…”

“I told you, that was nothing. The pressure and stress just made me snap, do crazy things.” Joonmyeon crossed his arms. “I promise, you won’t see that again.”)

I didn’t show it but what he said…it broke my heart.

(Sehun couldn’t breathe. This is how he would die. Asphyxiation by heartbreak.)

As someone younger, I confided in him often but he used to confide in me as well. I pretended to be so cool and wise about it but the truth is, I couldn’t believe that someone like J-hyung would trust me with his insecurities.

(Joonmyeon groaned and clutched his stomach, thrashing around Sehun’s bed like a bug flipped on its back. “That glass of milk was a big mistake. I just want to be taller! Sehun, I think I’m dying. Bury me in my favorite blue sweater and tell my mother I love her.”

“You’re not dying, you big baby.” Sehun tossed a few packets of white pills next to his head. “Take these. You’ll feel better.”

“No, no, this is definitely the end. My only regret is that I’m going to die a . That and we didn’t finish the last season of the X-Files.”

Sehun sighed and tore open one of the pill packets. He poked one of the white pellets into Joonmyeon’s mouth. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and when he came back, Joonmyeon was sitting up with the pill between his lips.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He threw his head back and chased the medicine with the entire glass. “I think I feel –--- ugh. Never mind.” He resumed the fetal position and continued to moan pitifully.

Sehun sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at Joonmyeon’s back as he tried to draft his question in the least awkward way possible. “Hyung, are you really…?”

“Really what? Lactose intolerant?”

“No, I mean,” Sehun felt his face heat up, “are you really a ?”

Joonmyeon slowly to his back, a solemn look on his face and eyes staring at the ceiling. After a moment of silence, he said, “do you really think if something as miraculous as losing my ity happened you wouldn’t be the first person to find out?”)

Over the next few weeks, J-hyung did not return a single text or phone call. However, I am nothing if not persistent and the next time I went over to his house, he politely, albeit reluctantly, invited me in. He explained that he had been busy catching up on his studies since, until recently, he had wasted so much time reading comic books and watching The X-Files.

I took personal offense to that since we regularly lent each other our comics and had invested interest in the between Agent Scully and Agent Mulder.  

But besides having my feelings hurt, the visit achieved nothing in the way of deciphering why J-hyung had been acting so strange.

(Sehun recognized the subtle cue that their conversation was over and stood up.

Joonmyeon offered him an empty smile and walked him to the front door. “I’ll give you a call once the entrance exams are over,” he said unconvincingly.

Sehun turned. Anger bubbled in his chest, his fingers, his legs, his head, blurring the outer edges of his vision.

‘He’s lying. He’s ing lying to me. Again.’

His hands flew out and grabbed the collar of Joonmyeon’s expensive shirt, twisting the fabric in his fists. “Don’t…” He trailed off, the lump in his throat rendering him unable to speak.

Joonmyeon sighed. “Look, I know you’re upset – ”

Sehun cut him off with a kiss. A kiss in which he channeled all of his anger and frustration and regret and loyalty and affection. He endured the claws that struggled to shove him back until he felt so light-headed, he thought he would fall apart.

He uncurled his hands and pulled away, breathing heavily. He felt a tiny scrap of satisfaction from the look of complete shock on Joonmyeon’s face.

“I promised you I wouldn’t change, didn’t I?”)

It’s possible that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why J-hyung changed into a different person overnight. However, we are not here to discuss the reasonable but to demand the truth.

Over the years, I’ve mulled over every possible theory: mind control, brainwashing, alien abduction, cyborgs, clones. I’ve examined and re-examined the events and conversations leading up to J-hyung’s abrupt change. Still, no solid theory emerges.

But I’ve started to think my experience is not so unique. J-hyung was special but he could not be the only person of interest to whoever is responsible. And if we can gather enough cases, then a pattern should emerge.

So readers, I invite you to spread the word and contribute your own stories of unexplainable ‘changelings.’ There is a conspiracy afoot to replace the population with replicas and we need to stay one step ahead of whoever benefits from such an experiment if we want to survive.   

(‘If you’re still out there hyung, I miss you’)

*

(Joonmyeon squinted into the bright light hanging over him. The surface he’d been laid out on is hard and cold. He couldn’t move, as if someone had nailed him down. He tried to see out of his peripheral vision but everything was a hazy daze.

Indistinguishable voices. Something pricked his arm and his eyelids grew heavy. 

He’d watched enough television to know what was going on.

Alien abduction.

He just hoped they remembered to properly redress him before letting him go.)

(More than anything, he wanted to take off the blindfold. It was knotted too tightly and he felt a headache creeping up as a result. He tested the binding around his wrists again but it held as taut as the last time. He pushed his face into the plastic mattress he was laying on.

He suppressed the urge to cry and tried to reassure himself that even though he and his father did not get along, Joonmyeon was still his son and he would pay whatever ransom they demanded. His father wouldn’t leave him to be killed. He repeated this to himself over and over until he heard footsteps approaching.

What sounded like a few pairs of heavy footwear and, surprising, a pair of high heels, stopped. A key turned and hinges squeaked as a door opened.

Hands, gentler than he expected, sat him upright and took off the blindfold. He blinked a few times against the light.

Two men dressed in black fatigues and carrying large guns stood by the door. A third guard unfolded a metal chair for the woman with them.

She wore a lab coat over a matching two-piece suit and had a clipboard in her hands. Her face was pale and pretty. She smiled at him.  

“Hello Joonmyeon,” she said, sitting in the chair. “My name is Dana.”)

(He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar concrete ceiling. Panic flooded his entire system, inciting every nerve.

The adrenaline faded a bit as he remembered his situation: every day, he woke up and Dana would ask him a series of questions about his life while he ate his first meal. She asked the same questions every day. Then the guards would bring him to an examination room where they put him through a series of tests. Depending on the week, the tests were different.

Sometimes, he underwent hypnosis. Other times, they stuck pads to his head and gently electrocuted him. A few times, they pumped him with drugs.

He heard the familiar stomping of boots and heels. He sat up.)

(He knew her. He knew her but his brain frantically tried to bridge her name and face together without success. She always brought the guards and breakfast.

He stared and he knew it was rude but he was frightened. How could he not remember her name?

She looked concerned. “Joonmyeon, are you okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

It clicked.

‘Dana. Of course.’)  

(She spoke to him as if they had known each other for years. But he didn't know her or how they were acquainted.

“Joonmyeon.”

His hand trembled as he picked up the thing to help him eat. A spoon.

“Joonmyeon?”

He carefully scooped the oatmeal and raised the spoon to his lips.

“Joonmyeon, are you listening to me?”

He realized she had been calling him. Joonmyeon. That was his name.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He dropped the spoon into his oatmeal and the pasty porridge splattered over the tray.

Everything felt worn and done before. How many times had she brought him breakfast and called out to him while he couldn’t make the connection between himself and his own name? He felt a dull twinge in his chest, something reminiscent of shame and self-disgust.

One of the guards took away the messy plastic tray while the others remained. The woman – most certainly not a guard since she was dressed like scientist – reached over and took his hand. “Joonmyeon, would you like to go outside?” she asked softly.

Something new stirred in his heart. Excitement? Relief? He nodded.)

(She draped a blanket over his lap before they wheeled him outside. “We don’t want to you get cold like last time,” she explained.

He doesn’t distinctly recall ever going outside with her but the statement felt agreeable. She walked beside him as someone else pushed the chair.

The wind blew right through his clothes. He shivered and pulled the blanket higher. He wanted to go back but his teeth clacked together so powerfully that he couldn’t speak. Using what little strength he had, he raised his arm and reached out for the woman. His fingers grazed her wrist.

She looked down and noticed his trembling shoulders. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer.

“Tao, take him inside.” She sounded worried. “I’ll set up a bed for him in the infirmary.”)

(She had asked him his name but he didn’t know.

That wasn’t entirely true. There was a name. It rattled around in his brain like a loose bolt, too erratic to stick, although he didn't know if it was his name or her name or the name of else. Perhaps it was the name of the young man – a young teenager really – all sharp chin and sharper eyes, standing in the corner.

“Can you tell me your name?” she repeated.

He wondered why she looked so sad. He wanted to tell her that she was pretty and to smile. He wanted her to smile so he told her the name in his head.

“Sehun.”) 

A/N: Okay, so when I set out to write this thing, Sehun and Joonmyeon were supposed to be just good friends but I dunno what happened.

Dana is Dana from The Grace.

Anyways, thanks for reading and have a great weekend.