The transition zone where a cold air mass is replacing a warmer air mass. If there is significant instability along the boundary, a narrow line of thunderstorms can form along the frontal zone.

The boy nearly choked on his own saliva. “I… I don’t think I understand.”

“You scored sixty-two out of a hundred. Which is sufficient, but won’t bring your grade up enough. This exam counts for half of the grade that will be weighed with the results of your college entrance exam. With the way things are going right now, it’s not looking too good,” Jinsil explained with solemn eyes and a low voice. “I thought I’d tell you before the information reaches Jung.”

“But… But does this mean… I…” Jongin mumbled, having trouble formulating full sentences.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be major consequences. I asked your history teacher if it’s possible for you to do any extra assignments to make up for it, and she says it’s alright. So there’s not really a problem. Well… yeah.”

Jongin’s brows met each other in a deep frown. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t scored higher, after all, Kyungsoo had helped him right? And the information he had been provided with seemed legit.

Before he could ask any further, Jinsil continued. “Grades are nonsense anyway. There are other things I’m more worried about to be honest.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” The woman hesitated, but finally carried on. “I looked through your answers, and they seemed rather out-dated.” She blinked a few times. “For instance, your essay on the North Korean leader’s regime didn’t necessarily contain false information, but it was marked wrong because, well... Kim Jong-il is dead. He’s been dead for three years now, and his son now holds power. It was a huge thing on the news, even here in South Korea. Don’t you remember?”

Just for a minute, his heart stopped beating. Of course he knew. He had been following the news closely during that time, taking a huge interest in the constricting footage of hundreds of North Koreans crying on the street.

How could he have forgotten such an important event? Better yet, how could he have literally copied Kyungsoo’s words without any second thought? And why wasn’t Kyungsoo - who had turned out to be an excellent history student - up to date with current information?

“You know you can tell me anything, Jongin,” Jinsil spoke. “And I don’t mean to pry too much, but there are several signs I’m starting to locate within you. Someone helped you, am I correct?”

Being unable to speak, Jongin simply nodded his head in a careful manner.

“Would you like to tell me something about, you know, this… someone? Did you make up a friend for yourself, or…”

“You… you,” the boy muttered. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy.”

The woman flashed him a faint but reassuring smile. “I’m pretty sure I won’t. I mean, calling you crazy would mean calling myself even crazier.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I told you this before, but I see a lot of myself in you. And perhaps, that’s the reason I worry about you as much as I do. I’ve been through a fair share of things myself, actually.”

The student carefully cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “May I…”

“Ask? Sure, but you don’t even have to. I’m not much of a talker, but I’ll always be glad to make an exception for you.” Jinsil extinguished her cigarette in her ashtray, immediately lit up another one, and hopped off the wooden desk. She let out a deep sigh, which somehow seemed to emit  a vague sense of nostalgia. 

“I must have been about twenty years old, slightly older than you are now. My mind palace looked more like a small chateau back then. I had just graduated from high school, but I felt very lost. I wasn’t sure where I belonged in the world, so I just spent a lot of time roaming through my own mind.”

“Then one day, I ran into a dark, mysterious stranger. I wasn’t one to make characters up actually. This man just appeared out of nowhere. I felt scared, confused and extremely... I don't know, intrigued at the same time. I remember instinctively hiding behind a large curtain for a while, but finally coming out of my hiding spot to introduce myself to him. I figured I would probably regret not talking to him, and it might be my only chance.”

“The man told me his name was Henri. He must have been around my age, but he wasn’t sure how old he was. In fact, he hardly knew anything about himself. That was all I could understand during our first meeting. I just remember him saying ‘je ne sais pas’ and ‘qui êtes-vous’. He came from Senegal and could only speak in French. My basic linguistic skills weren’t sufficient enough to understand what he was saying at the time.”

“When I revisited my palace, Henri was still there. No matter how many times I left, Henri would always be waiting for me when I returned, greeting me in his own language. I started teaching myself French to enable myself to learn more about him. As I progressed, our conversations grew deeper and deeper, though my initial goal of finding out about his life and his past failed. Henri hardly remembered anything. He had no clue as to why or how he had ended up in my mind, but I knew he was more than a figment of my imagination. I mean, how would I ever have thought up such a mysterious figure, who even spoke in a foreign tongue?”

“I’ll be frank with you. I ended up spending the majority of my hours in the mind palace. We expanded it together, building it and furnishing it with great care. I would only return to the physical world to eat and drink, and only when I was in critical condition. I developed an addiction for the flowers in the palace garden, the night sky filled with unimaginably intricate constellations… the home I had created. Henri was always there with me. Perhaps it was only natural for the two of us to fall in love.”

“One day, I returned after taking one of my dreaded breaks to feed my otherwise starving body in the physical world, and Henri was gone. He just disappeared without warning. I’ll never know if he left willingly or not. Henri didn’t leave any of his belongings behind, not even a simple note. I felt thrown away, abandoned, cast aside. Of course, I had known that we would never be able to really be together, but it still hurt me deep inside. The stars had been extinguished, the flowers had wilted, and the palace remained empty. The man I loved was gone, and I realized he would never come back to our home. Ever.”

Jongin felt a familiar weight pressing onto his chest. “I’m… sorry. It must have been painful.”

“It was,” the woman answered as she seated herself on the floor, facing the boy directly. “But I got over it, and Henri is now simply a cherished memory. Being with him was like a dream, a dream that could never come true. I’ve woken up now.”

“You’ve woken up,” Jongin mechanically repeated, pondering his teacher’s words.

The right corner of Jinsil’s lips curved into a faint. “You’re a smart boy, Jongin. You probably know why I’m telling you all this stuff now.”

He looked down, avoiding the woman’s piercing eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to discuss Kyungsoo with her. Then again, there would probably be no harm in sharing one or two things with her.

“His name is Kyungsoo,” he spoke in a solemn voice. “He made his first appearance the second time I visited my mind palace, though it took a few times for us to speak to each other. I don’t understand where he came from. He says I didn’t make him up, but then what is he? He never answers my questions, he doesn’t know anything about himself. I just… I just...” Without noticing, tears pooled in Jongin’s eyes. “I just want t-to... help him, you know? He m-must be feeling so lost. The city I made is n-not a good place for h-him. It's... it's gloomy, empty... lonely. But I just want to be his friend, and he keeps pushing me away.”

Jinsil shifted towards the boy, who was now letting out heavy sobs. She stretched out two long arms and pulled him into her embrace. “Shhh… it’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not!” he sobbed into her shoulder. “I care about him so much, and he doesn’t even realize!”

“He probably does realize. But just imagine how he must be feeling. This Kyungsoo probably believes that becoming to close to you would have major consequences for your attitude towards the physical world you live in. I bet he doesn’t want you to become too attached. And to me, that sounds like he cares about you a lot.”

“Why c-can’t things be more... like, simple?”

“I don’t know, Jongin.”

Jinsil held the boy in her arms until he finally calmed down. He retreated from her embrace. Suddenly aware of how puffy his eyes were and how miserable he must be looking, Jongin turned away from the woman in embarrassment. He rubbed his face and brushed through his ruffled hair in an attempt to make himself more decent. Blushing he turned back around. “How do I look?” he shyly asked.

“Terrible,” the woman stated. Both of them started laughing, lightening up the mood a bit.

“You better get some rest, Jongin,” she spoke. “Just take my words at heart. Don’t get carried away too much, focus on what’s in front of you right now. I believe you can do it. Just study enough and sleep enough, and try to keep Kyungsoo at a safe distance.”

The boy nodded, flung his backpack over his shoulder and started moving towards the door. Just as he was about to exit, he halted and turned around.

“Ms. Kang, can I ask you one more thing?”

She smiled. “Ask away, sweetie.”

“Have you ever…” He hesitated for a moment. “Have you ever considered the possibility of… Henri being, you know… real? Like he exists somewhere in the real world?”

“Ehm…”

“I know it sounds crazy, but like, you can’t just make up a random, unpredictable person like that right?”

Jinsil’s smile faded. “We people do strange things, Jongin.”

Confused by his talk with his teacher earlier, Jongin rummaged through his room, controlled by a state of frenzy. His drawing supplies laid scattered around the floor as he hurriedly scribbled onto his formerly white walls. He wasn’t really conscious of what he was doing. The only thing he could think of was Kyungsoo.

He couldn’t let Kyungsoo slip away, such thing should never happen. If he could just document his beautiful existence as vividly as possible, he could hold onto him forever, right?

It might only have been a short while since he met the mysterious boy, but he had grown overly fond of him. In fact, he couldn’t stand the thought of not being around him.

Never in his life would he allow Kyungsoo to disappear from his memory.

Never.

Hours later, Jongin breathlessly dropped himself on his bed, not bothering to clear potentially sharp items from the surface. It didn’t matter, he was too numb to feel much anyway.

The walls of his room were covered in rough sketches made up of charcoal and graphite. He had drawn out complete maps of the ghost town, he’d drawn the rainfall, the coffee shop, the lightning bolts, the grey bricks that had appeared the first time he was there, but most importantly, he had drawn Kyungsoo. With passionate he had depicted his eyes, his heart-shaped lips, his elegant fingers, his narrow shoulders and his silky hair from all types of angles.

Jongin felt shocked at his own lack of self-control. He was definitely losing it. He was going crazy.

Ironically, there was only one person who could bring back his sanity. And that was exactly who he needed to speak to.

The first place he tried was the coffee shop. Jongin laid eyes on tons of glasses, mugs filled with cold coffees and empty liquor bottles. So that’s why I was feeling so bad this morning.

Kyungsoo wasn’t there.

He frantically started running through the rainstorm outside, drenching his black sweater with cold water. He looked in every direction, shouting for his hyung. The city looked emptier than ever.

Kyungsoo wasn’t there.

After a few minutes, he reached the tall building they had met in during Jongin’s test. He ran inside, impatiently waiting for the elevator. It arrived pretty quickly, but not fast enough for the boy’s liking. The ride up seemed to take ages. When the thick doors finally slid open, he ran inside, towards the big window. He saw two mugs filled with water, but that was all.

Kyungsoo wasn’t there.

Within minutes he was back outside, pearls of rain mixing with little drops of sweat on his forehead. His whole body started shivering. Not only was his body temperature dropping rapidly, he was also being consumed by that unnerving feeling of loneliness he had tortured himself with last week.

Kyungsoo wasn’t there.

Jongin continued to run through the city streets. It infuriated him how his legs couldn’t carry him fast enough, while his tears were gliding down his cheeks so swiftly. It wasn’t fair.

Why was this happening to him right now?

Completely out of breath, the boy collapsed onto the cold, wet pavement. Amidst of the pouring rain, he laid on his back, crying for his hyung like a baby.

Just when he was about to lose hope, his ears picked up on a faint melody resonating somewhere up high. The haunting voice of a woman cried through the gloomy air, accompanied by a soft piano and an eerie cello. He immediately shot up. He wasn’t sure where the music was coming from, but had a gut feeling that it someone was playing the song on a sound system somewhere in the flat building behind him. The music was barely audible; if it hadn’t been so quiet around him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But he did.

Fuelled by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Jongin passed through the big glass doors and went for the staircase. He leaped up with three steps at a time, the volume of the music slowly increasing as he got closer to its source. When he reached the seventh floor, the boy pushed himself through the heavy door and into the long hallway. His eyes glanced over the several room numbers as he realized he had ended up in a fancy hotel. Finally, he pressed an ear against room 0113. He was now sure that the music was coming from this exact location.

He frantically knocked on the door. “Kyungsoo! It’s me, Jongin! Please open the door for me!”

The melody stopped abruptly, and he was met by silence once again.

“Hyung! Please, I know you’re in there.”

“Go away.”

“Let me in! I want to see you!”

“I don’t care, Jongin.”

Hearing Kyungsoo speaking in his old, apathetic ways caused the student to shiver even more than he had before. He hadn’t expected such a cold response.

“P… Please… I’m so cold.”

“Go back to your own world and fetch a blanket or something.”

“H-H-Hyu…ng…” The words barely made their way out of Jongin’s mouth. He was so cold that he felt like his lips couldn’t move adequately anymore. He collapsed on the floor with a loud thump.

Seconds later, the door of the hotel room slowly opened. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened when he saw the tall boy’s body fragilely laying at his feet. Almost instinctively, he hooked his arms under Jongin’s shoulders and helped him to his feet, escorting him inside and slamming the door shut.

“Jongin, what is it with you?”

“I-I… I’m…”

Kyungsoo’s look of worry only grew more prominent. “You’re completely soaked. Here, change into some spare clothes.” He took out a black tracksuit from a wooden closet and handed it to the dripping boy.

Without thinking about it twice, Jongin started stripping off his wet ensemble, causing Kyungsoo to uncomfortably look away. The heartbreaking sight of the broken boy was more than he could bear.

Slowly regaining warmth, Jongin spoke up. “Kyungsoo, I feel so confused. Will you… hold me?”

“I… I can’t.” Kyungsoo’s eyes remained fixed on the miserable scene outside.

“Why not? Why are you like this?” Jongin sobbed.

“Why are you like this?”

The student grabbed hold of an antique table lamp and smashed it on the floor. “Stop answering my questions with another question! I need answers! For once!”

“You need a reality check.”

“Don’t you understand? You are my reality!”

Kyungsoo’s big eyes started to get watery as well. “Jongin, please…”

“Who are you? Tell me!” Jongin screamed as he started pacing through the large hotel room. “Who the are you? Why the hell did you show up in my mind in the first place?”

“I… I don-”

“Oh, of course! You don’t know!” The boy jerked a drawer open. To his great relief, he found several packs of cigarettes lying around. He fetched a Marlboro Red and lit it with one of the matches lying next to it. “Great. Just great.” 

“Don’t smoke.”

“Why not? Cause I’ll die? I don’t ing care if I die, Kyungsoo! I might as well, with the way you’re treating me.”

A tear finally sprung from Kyungsoo’s eye, falling onto the soft carpet beneath his feet. “You’re being overly dramatic.”

“Can you blame me though?”

Enraged, Jongin finished his cigarette within a few silent minutes, before tossing it out of the open window and lighting up another one. With the surge of nicotine flowing through his body, he managed to calm down after a while. As the tall boy threw himself into the chair by the desk, Kyungsoo nervously tapped his feet on the floor, being unsure of how to handle the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin finally apologized. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

The other boy remained quiet.

“I just… I care about you so much. I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about you. I don’t know why I’m like this. It’s like I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

“You… you can’t stay with me. There’s a world out there you belong in. This is all fabricated.”

“I know that… but…” Jongin frowned, deciding to pronounce the words that had been circulating through his heart during the past few days. “I just feel like… like… you must be out there, somewhere. We just haven’t found each other there yet. But I will. I’ll give everything I have to find you.”

“Jongin…”

“I’m almost certain that you’re as real as I am. If I can just manage to find you, we could be friends, and we-”

“Jongin.” Kyungsoo walked towards the small kitchen in the corner of the room. “You have to leave me alone. I can’t escape your mind – if I could, I would have by now. Just avoid me, and stop talking about your ridiculous plans.”

“Hyung, come on.” Jongin tossed his cigarette onto the carpet and slowly walked up to the short boy. “I’m right, aren’t I? And that’s why you’re acting like this.”

“Don’t get any closer to me Jongin. Please. Just turn away. Your plans are too dangerous, they always have been.”

The dark-haired boy didn’t listen. Instead, he stopped right behind Kyungsoo, whose body shivered beneath his touch as Jongin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stop pushing me away, hyung.”

“Jongin. Please.” Kyungsoo’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Leave me alone and off.”

“No Soo, I won’t. I- AAAH!”

Everything happened really fast.

Jongin felt a sudden, sharp pain tearing through his body. It felt like something was shredding him to bits.

No matter how much air he took into his lungs, he couldn't seem to get the necessary oxygen. The pain and the wheezing made his lungs feel like they were on fire.

Trembling from head to toe, he slowly dropped his head to witness what had happened to him. There was blood, a lot of blood, everywhere. 

As he slowly brought his hand to his chest, his fingers curled around a moist wooden handle. Feeling disgusted and repulsed, he flinched and let go.

At that moment, Kyungsoo was the one to take over, yanking the sharp kitchen knife out of Jongin's chest.

Jongin screamed as his legs gave up on him. He collapsed to the floor and started twitching in pain. A waterfall of thick, red blood flooded his sweatshirt. Tormented by the ruthless nature of his pain, he felt his body giving up on him.

Flashing fragments of random occurences shot through his mind. He recalled the way Jinsil always stood up for him, how much she had wanted to help him... even though she probably couldn't.

Jongin simultaneously thought of his indifferent parents, of the horrible Principle, and of the way he always used to feel like he didn’t matter in the world, like he had nothing to live for.

Finally, he had encountered someone who changed his apathetic attitude towards life. He had encountered someone to protect, someone to love. Yet, here he was, screaming on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

It felt like the raging thunderstorm that had approached him on the square all those days ago had finally caught up with him. His eyelids became heavy and slowly started closing.

He was starting to pass out, when he suddenly felt Kyungsoo’s warm lips pressed against his forehead, and heard that sweet, warm voice whispering against his skin.

“I’m so sorry, Jongin. I really am. I care about you, more than you’ll ever know. But this... this is for... y-your own good...”

A/N:

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♥ pominizz ♥