Luhan is a timid boy; he’s afraid of heights and responsibilities and one thing he’s definitely petrified of is stalkers. Luhan keeps getting letters. Not just Luhan, but Sehun too.

Sehun is Luhan’s best friend and roommate. Sehun is a shy, but strong character; he’s not afraid of anything except Luhan’s safety being tainted but one thing he is scared of is what their stalker is capable of.

The two of them keep receiving letters. Letters threatening them. Letters telling them they’re the chosen ones. Letters telling them that if they don’t run now, ‘they’ are going to get them before they have any chance of escape and the entire idea petrifies Luhan.

Every letter is written by hand and there is never an address on the envelope, meaning that whoever is writing these is delivering them by hand. Luhan’s never been more scared in his life to be home alone in silence or walking to the supermarket to restock their bubble tea supply.

Luhan wanted to give in and just follow what the guy wanted but Sehun was stubborn.

Sehun wasn’t afraid. Sehun wasn’t afraid of anything. He had a face void of emotions and he planned to keep it that way (unless it were to concern Luhan, then his face lights up like a Christmas tree).

Sehun works in a supermarket. It’s a dead end job but it helps pay the bills and allows the boy to treat Luhan to Bubble Tea every so often, so he doesn’t mind. Luhan works with children as a teaching assistant. He loves the kids like his own but his job doesn’t pay that much and he almost always comes home with his legs covered in bruises; his hips being the highest the younger kids could reach.

Sehun always jokes that Luhan looks young enough to be one of the kids, to which Luhan always replies that Sehun behaves like the kids before they cuddle up together in bed and fall asleep to the sound of Luhan’s favourite Chinese lullabies, Sehun spending more of the time wondering what the guy is saying rather than realising how relaxing the melody was.

Sehun sleeps that night with Luhan tightly wrapped in his arms, the boy still shaken from their most recent letter, but relaxing quickly in the younger’s protective hold. Sehun doesn’t manage to sleep for a while; he’s thinking over their options.

The creepy messages are starting to scare Luhan more and more and Sehun doesn’t know what to do. Whilst he wants them to stop, he doesn’t want to risk Luhan getting hurt in the long run (or the short run for that matter) but he starts to give in to the boy’s pleas that they do as the letter says.

So the next day, Sehun tells Luhan to pack his bags.

“Pack up; we’re going.”

“Going where?”

“Where our stalker wants us to go. I don’t want you to come with me but on the other hand, I don’t want to leave you here alone; so we’re going together.” Sehun says sternly, the older seeing the serious stare on the boy’s face and knowing not to question his motives, quickly packing his belongings into a holdall.

“Where are we going to stay?”

“We’re going to borrow my dad’s camper van.” Sehun tells him with a smirk. “And if he doesn’t let us, we’re going to steal my dad’s camper van.”

“Sehun, we can’t steal from your parents; they already hate me enough.” Sehun takes a step closer to Luhan and his cheek gently with the palm of his hand, the shorter leaning into his touch and staring up into his brown eyes.

“I will do everything in my power to protect you whether that be from this stalker or my parents. I love you, okay?”

The older smiles and reaches up to press his lips against his in a chaste kiss. “I love you too.”

~*~

Kris is alone.

Kris thinks he has no one. No one who cares. His parents kicked him out, his boss fired him for being too sassy to the customers – it wasn’t his fault that none of them could pick what food they wanted without making an unnecessary scene – and his ‘friends’ him; what does he have left?

A stuffed alpaca and a beaten heart.

Kris lies in bed, broken and afraid. He clutches the stuffed toy closer to his chest, his tears soaking its fabric fur. He sniffles, wiping away his tears with the back of his sleeve.

“I don’t need them, right, Ace?” He mumbles, “I don’t need anyone. I’m fine on my own. I’m a grown man; I don’t need to rely on others.”

His voice is croaky and cracked from sobs, his tears drying to his cheeks and causing the skin to feel sticky. “I’m talking to a stuffed animal.” He breathes, blinking away the pain but it barely works. “Heck, Ace is better company.”

Kris can’t help but feel lost. It’s as if something is waiting for him but he doesn’t know what. Someone, something, some event; he doesn’t have a clue and he’s too impatient to wait and find out.

He needs this lifeline now or there’s no point living for it. Who knows how long he’d have to wait. If it doesn’t come to you, you get it yourself, Kris has always told himself not to wait around for others – which was the underlying reason for his loss of a job as a waiter – and he wasn’t going to break that now.

What did he really have to live for? What was really keeping rooted to the ground? What was stopping him from flying?

Love. Something he lacked.

His parents didn’t want him around anymore and neither did his friends and it wasn’t as if he could even drown his sorrows and plunge himself into work because he didn’t have that anymore either.

There really was no reason. Life was settled for him.

He knew what he had to do and he fell asleep clutching Ace tightly in his hands thinking only of that one path.

~*~

Kyungsoo doesn’t remember a thing. He doesn’t remember going to sleep that night and he certainly doesn’t remember how he got out here in the middle of nowhere by the morning. He doesn’t remember who his family and friends are; all he knows is his name is Do Kyungsoo and he was born on the twelfth of January, 1993; making him currently twenty.

Kyungsoo doesn’t remember what he does for a living, what his favourite food is, what his hobbies are and this proves to be extremely unhelpful when a kind stranger in the vast deserted land stretch tries to give him the assistance he needs.

Junmyeon had found him lying on the dirty ground when he went out to work the next morning, not remembering the boy the night before. He had wrapped the boy in a blanket and stayed with him until he woke, startled and confused.

“So you don’t remember a thing?” Junmyeon asks gently, leading the boy back to the desk he’d set up and sitting him down in his chair. “Not even where you live?”

“I have no idea. Where are we now?” He replies unevenly, looking up at the older boy with wide, sympathetic eyes.

“That’s not important. You don’t need to focus on the here and now; you need to focus on the past; try and remember some things from before you got here.” Junmyeon insists, patting the boy’s shoulder.

“Will you tell me about yourself? So I at least feel like I remember something of life.”

Junmyeon laughs, but nods. “My name is Kim Junmyeon; but my work friends call me Suho seen as I’m kind of like a leader, or a protector, rather than their boss.” He leans against the table and takes a deep breath. “I’m a Geologist; one of the best in my company actually, but not to brag. I was born on May twenty-second, nineteen-ninety-one, which makes me older than you…”

“So you’re researching out here, right?” The younger enquires. Junmyeon’s face lights up.

“Yes! There have been some strange Earthquakes out here lately and I was wondering about the cause. I leave my car by the roadside out of harm and walk out here every morning to work.” He sighs, “It’s really peaceful out here; beautiful, really.” He pauses and turns to the boy, “I don’t suppose you remember anything about Earthquakes, do you?”

“I’m sorry,” the younger mumbles, looking down at his hands, “I’m pretty much useless right now. I wish I could help.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Junmyeon smiles, ruffling his hair. “It’s not your fault. Just focus on the things you can remember, okay? I’m sure everything will come back to you soon.”

Junmyeon turns back to the sky, walking ten feet away from Kyungsoo and shoving his hands into his pockets. He watches the clouds go past, thinking about how Kyungsoo may have ended up here. How did he get out here and how could he not remember it? Ending up in the middle of nowhere would be something you’d remember doing; even if not how, you’d remember ending up in your lost state, Junmyeon thinks.

He closes his eyes and inhales the scenery, hearing the younger walk forwards to stand beside him. He opens one eye and peers over to find the younger copying his actions, taking in the fresh air.

Junmyeon knows he’s going to help Kyungsoo, he just doesn’t know how.

~*~

“Jongin, you’re an . Don’t talk to me.” Minseok grumbles, slamming the glass he had just dried down onto the bar.

“Awh, Minseok, baby, you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t call me, baby; I am not your boyfriend.” Minseok comments. “You’re lucky I’m still your friend. You’re going to get me into trouble. I’ll lose my job.”

“So? You can find another one, can’t you?” Jongin shrugs, biting his lip as his best friend’s face clouds over with irritation.

“Not all of us are spoilt brats like you, Jongin. Some of us have to work hard in order to get jobs and money and live life.”

Jongin scoffs, “Whatever.” Minseok lets out a frustrated sigh, walking to the other end of the bar to serve customers as Jongin smirks secretly behind his back.

Jongin turns in his swivel chair and surveys the nightclub. The music is pounding, bodies are pressed together and sticky with sweat, one guy in the corner just fell into a young girl’s dress; it was a regular Saturday night for the bustling business.

“Looking for some fun?” A familiar voice asks him. “You look a little sour, Kai.”

“Go away, Jess.” He scowls, responding to the name he went by in the clubs. He’d be damned if he let any of these call him by his real name. That name was reserved for friends and family only – and Minseok seen as he declared himself no longer Jongin’s partner in crime. “You’ve already got me in enough trouble.”

“Awh, you still mad about that?” She pouts, placing herself down into the seat beside him. “I’m sorry; please forgive me?”

She places her hand on his shoulder and traces it down his arm and to his chest. Minseok comes back over to resume his conversation and finds the girl with her head on his friend’s shoulder.

“Want anything, Jess?” He asks chirpily, seeing the look of disgust on Jongin’s face and thoroughly enjoying it. “Other than Kai’s , clearly.”

“Shut it and make me a cocktail, baozi.” She snarls, getting a glare from Jongin.

“Only I’m allowed to insult Minseok. Shut your mouth or you’re not getting any from anyone.” Jongin hisses, pushing her off and spinning in his chair. Minseok slides the drink across the bar and the girl downs it in one go, strutting away with her hair flicking behind her.

“What’d you put in it?”

“Laxatives.” Minseok smirks.

Jongin chuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bro.” Minseok leans against the counter. “But in all seriousness, you’re going to get me into trouble.”

“And slipping Jessica laxatives isn’t?” Jongin raises an eyebrow at his older friend who simply shrugs and stands up straight, shuffling on his feet uncomfortably.

“There’s no evidence to say that I did.” He smirks. “She could just be having a bad bowel day.”

“Is that like a bad hair day but the other end?”

“You disgust me, Jongin.”

“Min-”

Minseok scrunches up his nose and turns away from his friend, going away to work, calling back and cutting the boy off. “Disgust!”

~*~

“Jongdae, keep your coffee away from me, it stinks.” Baekhyun complains, scrunching up his nose.

“You like coffee.” Jongdae snorts, causing Baekhyun to roll his eyes.

“I do like coffee, I just don’t like the smell of your liquid tarmac.” He snaps back quickly, before turning his head to the door frame as Yixing makes his way inside.

The three live in an office building. To the left and right of them are offices, but their apartment, as they call it, is a step above the rest. Whilst the others all have their break rooms and bathroom facilities, their room was all in one and when Baekhyun, being the puppy eyed budding business man he is, requested an office with a pout, the man offered him the apartment office so he could work from home. Of course, his good friend Yixing needed a place to stay and he couldn’t leave his roommate Jongdae behind – because frankly, the boy could not save up money for his life, so paying his own rent was out of the question – so he asked for them to move in with him. That way, he wouldn’t be lonely either. Their living room walls were lined with large glass windows giving them the perfect view out onto the city without the worry than anyone can see in as the’yre so high up. Sometimes it scares Baekhyun how high they are, but he soon reassures himself that the glass is strong enough that no one will fall out and the view is just spectacular to wake up to.

“Xing! Did it go well?” Baekhyun asks enthusiastically. The boy in question spins on his feet and stops abruptly in a dance before turning to him with a deathly serious stare. Jongdae stands up from his seat.

“No.”

“How come?” Jongdae presses as Baekhyun slaps him on the head.

“They didn’t like me.” Yixing shrugs. “Something about my Korean not being good enough and damn Chinese kids.”

“Your Korean is excellent.” Baekhyun replies, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Sometimes I forget it’s even a second language for you.”

“Thanks, Baek, but it wasn’t good enough for them.” He sighs, throwing himself into the sofa chair Jongdae was just sitting in. The boy frowns at the loss of his seat but decides his friend is more important than his comfort.

“Don’t listen to them, Xing. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” Baekhyun pouts, the older’s hair. “You’re a fantastic dancer and your Korean is flawless.”

“Thanks, Baek.” Yixing sighs and curls up in his chair, his head resting on his knees. “I guess I’ll just have to try again in the future, right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Jongdae cheers. “Keep trying and don’t give up or I’ll end up a slob like me.” He grins, the older mirroring his smile with a laugh. “There’s that smile I’ve come to be irritated by; good little Xing.” He teases, patting the boy’s head like a dog.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Stop thanking us; we’re best friends and that’s what we’re for, right? Cheering you up on your darkest days.” Baekhyun smiles. “Besides, now you’re home you can help me try and persuade Jongdae to stop drinking his disgusting smelling coffee.”

“It’s not disgusting! It’s a God-send.”

“It’s disgusting, Jongdae.” Yixing adds, grimacing. Jongdae frowns.

“Xing!”

~*~

“Huang Zitao.” The man slurs, smirking under the dim light. “Kung Fu Panda.” Zitao growls.

“I wouldn’t aggravate me if I were you.” He warns, rubbing his feet against the floor and shaking his arms about as if warming up for sport. The man lets out a dry laugh.

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about you.”

“Yeah, because you’re too much of a chicken to fight me yourself. You don’t get a scratch on you because you send out your stupid goons to fight me instead of manning up and landing a punch yourself.” Zitao hisses back, cracking his knuckles intimidatingly. The man shrugs humourlessly.

“Guilty as charged. Why do the dirty work myself when I can have others do it for me?”

“Never heard the phrase ‘you want something done right, you do it yourself’?” Zitao laughs, but his laugh isn’t as gentle like when he laughs at comedians on the television or happy couples in the street; this laugh is full of venom and spite and whilst he wishes sometimes, he wasn’t so intimidating; it sure did come in handy in times like this.

But like he says, it has its cons. He can’t work in the open with the customers of the clothes shop he works in because he scares away buyers. He didn’t understand at first; his looks are soft and his voice is gentle; why are they so scared? But it’s his stare. He understands it after a few people point it out in a fit of nervousness and shaking bones. He looks at people with what he thinks is a blank stare, but they receive what comes out as a glare; a warning sign and they run.

Zitao realises sometimes that perhaps running from him is the right thing to do. He doesn’t want to pull anyone into the mess he calls his everyday life. Fights all over the place and bruises he doesn’t remember which goon gave him; that’s not something he wants to bring innocent people into.

He just wishes that for once, kids didn’t run away from him to their mothers when he went for walks through the park; then maybe he wouldn’t have to drive out and go for walks alone on the beach at night where no one would see him.

“You make it sound like you want me to hurt you, Huang Zitao.”

“Maybe I want you to try.” Zitao replies with a playful smirk, but the man simply laughs again.

“You’re not worth my time.”

“That’s a surprise since you’ve spent most of your time sending people after me.” He retorts, remembering back to one time he saw two of his goons walk into the women’s section of the clothing store and ask for help from Huang Zitao. His boss was already suspicious enough and made the right decision in calling the police. Zitao got a good kick out of watching them be dragged away by the flashing sirens.

“You’re not worth my time but that doesn’t mean I still don’t want you out of the way.”

“It’s going to take more than a little stalking to get rid of me. I don’t bother you if you don’t bother me.” He offers with a stern voice, his stare hard even though the man’s face isn’t visible from his position.

“I’m afraid the knowledge that you’re still alive out there won’t calm my anger.” The man replies, stepping back. “I’ll only be satisfied when you’re dead and gone.”

“Then you’re going to be waiting a long time!” Zitao calls out cheekily as the man leaves and it’s silent for just a moment before Zitao can hear shuffles around him.

Great, Zitao thinks, more goons. He snaps into action and from then on, it’s a blur for him. He knows exactly what he’s doing; he doesn’t have to think. Every move is instinct, but they just keep on coming.

~*~

Chanyeol steps into the broken shed, peering cautiously at his surroundings. No one was there, thank goodness. Chanyeol had decided beforehand to stick to the more sheltered parts of the search, a decision that had kept him dry and safe for most of his exploration.

Chanyeol is an archaeologist; a good one in his opinion. His bosses don’t quite agree. Chanyeol prefers to find what he likes to find in time frames he likes to work in, so he doesn’t bode well with his boss, though the man does like Chanyeol’s silly grin a lot.

Chanyeol’s most recent dig brought him to a large stone with a familiar engraving. Chanyeol had this one book; his mother gave it to him when he was a child. Inside was filled with strange symbols. Each symbol was explained, but Chanyeol could never get his head around what they meant.

The one he had found before had resembled a phoenix; the fire bird. His book had told him that this symbol belonged the owner of the power of fire. The Fire God, as Chanyeol had branded it.

He wasn’t quite sure where this exploration and project was leading him but it was something that had haunted him and taken over his thoughts since he was a child. This project was something that meant a whole lot to him and if coming to the end of it and uncovering its secrets meant a yelling at from his boss then it was worth it.

He would be able to worm his way into his boss’ warm heart and get away with it anyway.

Chanyeol sits down on a crate at the side of the shed and realises that the place looks like someone’s been here before. He realises that everything, though at first look seemingly thrown about, looks as it’s been carefully placed and a soft breeze runs through the shelter, tickling Chanyeol’s skin and blowing leaves gently across the floor.

That’s when he spots it.

Another slab of stone; with another symbol engraved into it.

He walks over and cautiously picks it up, sitting back down and pulling his book from his bag. He holds the artefact tightly in his palm and turns the pages searching for the picture that matches.

He eventually comes across it and rests the slab against the page opposite to keep the book open.

“Hmm… Water God, ey? Like Poseidon?” He thinks to himself, speaking aloud in his deep, alluring voice. “So now we have a Fire God and a Water God… They coincide. Water puts out fire.” He mumbles, closing the book and staring up at the sky in a crack in the ceiling. He places his book back in his bag with the slab and stands up in curiosity.

Something about the sky doesn’t look quite right.