If there was anything he could be sure of in those last few moments as the rain beat him down into the water like nail and hammer, it was that the boy's face, whose expression matched that of the storm raging around him, would remain etched into his frozen mind until forever could no longer exist.

Complete and utter horror. Regret.

It showed in the boy's eyes; the boy whose name he didn't know, whose background wasn't his business, whose life was separate from his own.

It was the expression of a boy whose face would never leave his conscience. Even as their hands parted and the water dragged him down, even as he choked and struggled and all light was lost to his world—the boy's face become more unforgettable with each passing second his strength slipped away.

It was stuck, heavy—as clear as day.

~*.*~

Hyukjae didn't know what to think anymore. He was struggling with what to feel about everything. The world was no longer turning in his favor and he didn't know what to do, much less say to the figure who forever lingered in those reflections it was now impossible to miss.

Just the night before he was reminded of a name he'd thought he'd locked in a cage hidden at the back of his mind. He had been slapped in the face by his own guilt that had swelled ten fold in the matter of a few seconds at most. He had literally come face to face, more times than he cared to realize now, with the boy of his past.

The boy whom he'd failed all those years ago. Ten years which had once seemed like a lifetime to Hyukjae, after he was sure he'd forgotten, but was now just a finger touch away from the mirror settled directly in front of him.

As always, it reflected the blondish-haired boy back at him. The blonde boy that wasn't just 'Ghost Boy' anymore, but was the cause of Hyukjae's feelings of remorse.

Lee Donghae.

He was that boy.

“You know . . . I'd feel much better if you talked to me today. Just once.”

Hyukjae sort of jumped at the soft voice, startled into present time. He blinked back his surprise and lifted his eyes up to the boy facing him in the bathroom mirror.

The boy's eyes, Donghae's eyes, that were so strikingly familiar now, gleamed at Hyukjae in such a way that was too overwhelming for him to handle. He didn't miss the way they lit up instantly, expecting a friendly conversation to finally strike. He didn't miss the eyebrows that were furrowed in a hopeful worry that pleaded for a type of acceptance that Hyukjae wasn't ready to give just yet.

Thus, he let his eyes slip away from Donghae's hopeful pair and continued brushing his teeth slowly, eyes glued downward onto the sink's marble top.

It was only seconds later that his ears picked up a slow sigh. “At least say something.” The voice begged, “I can't take this silence anymore.”

Taking advantage of the fact that Hyukjae wouldn't see, Donghae half-heartedly touched his thin fingers against his side of the mirror's glass. He couldn't outstretch his arm. Those pale fingers of his would never reach. “Don't do this to me. . .”

Hyukjae heard the pitiful voice clearly, yet remained silent and resumed his morning routine. He brushed mechanically; hardly blinked as his mind wandered towards the past because the mirror before him blocked any road to the future . . . for Donghae; spit and rinsed while not realizing that he nearly missed the entire bowl; and he dabbed at his frowning lips with a dry towel. He missed the water that dribbled down his chin.

With his eyes still stuck on the sink's fine exterior, Hyukjae absently held the towel against his mouth and paused all movement for a while. Donghae cringed at the silence that passed over them. Finally, Hyukjae spoke into the towel, a soft mumble. “I'm sorry.”

And that was it.

From his position in the half-length mirror, Donghae could sense the sadness, visibly see the stress in the tensed shoulders of the boy before him. He'd expected it, after all this time, the apology. But somehow, it left him feeling a lot heavier than he thought it would.

Suddenly, it was really hard to breathe in. Donghae swallowed as the prickling moisture built up in his eyes. The lump in his throat prevented him from speaking.

Hyukjae, too, had no way to continue speaking, although he had so much more left to say. Heavily, he dropped the towel from his face and let his arm dangle uselessly. He remained quiet, tense, and detached from Donghae, averting his attention from him further by ultimately dismissing himself from the bathroom altogether.

It was then that Donghae found his voice again. He spoke just as Hyukjae passed the shattered closet mirror in his bedroom.

“You know it's not your fault, right?”

“Don't say that to me.”

Donghae was taken aback by the immediate answer, the intensity behind it, “What do you mean? . . . Are you seriously blaming yourself, for what happened back then? You can't, we were only chil—”

“Stop!” Hyukjae snapped, cutting Donghae off, because he didn't want to hear that. He knew he was once a weak child. It had clearly been his fault. There was no point in denying it. There was no way to change the outcome of what had happened in the past.

From his place beside his dresser he slammed an opened drawer closed and a bit messily, he tugged a striped black and blue t-shirt over his head, pulled on a jacket, and made for his backpack at his desk.

“H-Hyukjae, just think about it a little, okay? It was my fault for being clumsy. You couldn't have—”

“I could have!” Hyukjae snapped forcefully, “Just stop, okay?” He wouldn't have Donghae taking the blame for his stupidity, his weakness.

If only I was stronger, I could have saved you, he thought with a torn psyche as he stared, his heart pounding, at the boy who looked infinitely sad, stuck in his cracked mirror.

Hyukjae only saw it now as a clear prison wall.

He dropped his head in shame, swung one strap of his heavy backpack over his left shoulder. “I have to go to school,” he muttered, refusing to make eye contact with Donghae again as he walked by.

Because Lee Donghae was that boy, from ten years ago.

The early morning sunlight cast a fine glow over the green lawn and stopped very effectively at the base of the skinny tree that marked the end of the driveway. A cool breeze sliced through the October air, the melody of the tree's rustling leaves pushed at Hyukjae's ears lightly, holding him back.

Out there, where it seemed Hyukjae was alone but for the presence of Mother Nature herself, where he could breathe in deeply and not feel ashamed to be able to let it go, proving he lived strong and healthily, Hyukjae reached up and brushed his slender fingers along the foray of leaves closest to him.

In one slow line, he felt, searched, and connected. And with a lingering touch, he plucked the largest leaf from those presented to him. It was the greenest leaf, the one that gleamed most brilliantly in the light of the sun. He twirled it like a flower between his thumb and forefinger, satisfied with his catch.

Though when a deeply familiar and beautifully smiling face clouded over his vision, appearing upon the leaf, Hyukjae in a quick, shallow breath.

Suddenly, he wasn't free to breathe deeply anymore.

Once more, his shoulders drooped and he pulled a thick notebook from his backpack, pressed the leaf carefully between the middle of it's pages, and slipped it back inside. Experience told him to keep it safe for later.

Hyukjae stared down with a frown on his lips at the flimsy piece of crap paper he held in his hands and couldn't quite trap the annoyed sigh in his mouth before it came slipping out.

“Are you unsatisfied with your grade in my class, Lee Hyukjae? If you're not, you should be, because that's a failing grade you're holding in your hands there. If you had listened to my directions instead of making a mockery of them, then you'd still have a decent grade in this class. Now wouldn't you, Mr. Lee?” The shrill voice that produced his nightmares demanded, and Hyukjae deliberately sighed a second time; slower, less caring this time.

He bowed respectfully—“Yes, Mrs. Song”—and slowly moved away from the teacher's stunned face. With the same, slightly-devastated look he'd been wearing on his face the entire day, he made his way back to his seat, beside Yunho, who openly stared as he slipped down into his chair like a spineless fish.

There wasn't much to be said between the two once Hyukjae got settled into his seat. Yunho apologized for messing up Hyukjae's chance at getting a passing grade and sympathized with his apparent (and truly) bad day. Hyukjae just shrugged it all off.

“It's not like there won't be other tests, anyway.” He replied, and immediately left his seat as the school's bell rang.

~*.*~

His chin poked just above the surface of the rapidly running water, still chilled from the night's heavy rainstorm. Slowly, he blinked an eye open, then the other, the lids so heavy he thought they were sealed shut.

His senses returned to him one at a time as consciousness returned. Nature's sounds filled his ears in a colorful harmony, the rushing water, the rustling of the trees' leaves, birds' song drifting through the air, and many more. First blinded by the sunlight and blurred as his eyes adjusted, his sight rewarded him with the glisten of the sun off the water's surface, the green grass, too, glistening with after-rain dew drops.

Smell, touch, and taste all gave him an idea of his situation, for he could smell the dried rain on the collar of his t-shirt, feel how said collar pressed against his windpipe as if being pulled tightly from behind, and taste how cotton-dry his mouth was.

Of course, he felt disgusting.

“My goodness, Sonny. Now how'd you end up there?” A voice came from directly above his head and a shadow passed over the clear water before him.

He trembled in fear, afraid of the circumstances, afraid of what would happen to him. Simply afraid.

“Seems you're caught by a branch!. Luck or not, I don't know.” A chuckle. Then, “Let me help you up outta there, Sonny. Hang on a sec.” The voice said.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder and slip under one of his limp arms. Another hand did the same for the other, and soon, he was being lifted clear out of the water, dripping incredibly wet and trembling terribly.

“There you go, all set.” The voice, a man who looked to be as old as his grandpa, said. “Now, let me tell you, Sonny. You don't look too well. How 'bout I take you in and clean you up? Would you like that?”

He was scared, yes. But he was more helpless than anything, and he realized that. He wasn't a foolish child, he understood when he needed the help, and this old man in a farmer's hat and overalls . . . was willing to give it.

Crying suddenly, he nodded.

~*.*~

As Hyukjae wandered slowly through the school's hallways, his shoulders being bumped left and right by clans of unusually excited students who breezed by, he wondered if it was as hard for his past self to wipe his memory clean of a certain someone as it was for him today.

Currently, he struggled to keep Donghae's image in his mind at bay, if only temporarily; that face he was finding more tantalizing each time he caught sight of it. Throughout the day he found himself sometimes dreaming Donghae up in reality to become a natural character in his everyday life, a student like himself, and then running away from the thought, feeling guilty for ever being so thoughtless.

So unfair. It was like he was just peeling back Donghae's sore wounds.

He can't ever breathe the same air as you, because of you. Damn heartless bastard, Hyukjae cursed himself.

A second later Hyukjae was shoved quite harshly into one of the hallway's many windows, knocking his head on the glass and cursing aloud in obvious frustration. In the following second, a light and rapid tapping came upon his right shoulder.

He turned quickly, ready to shoot flames on this person's head for being careless, but stopped upon realizing that it was Victoria. Hyukjae watched her guilty face fall and her body bow quickly.

“I am so sorry! I did not mean to do that!” She shouted in apology and stood upright, “I was in a hurry and therefore I was reckless!”

For the first time that day, Hyukjae kind of chuckled at the foreign exchange student and her super proper speech, “No worries,” he assured her and Hyukjae bowed in parting to Victoria before walking off, missing the puzzled expression she placed on her face. Quite literally six steps later, he felt that familiar light and rapid tapping at his shoulder again.

Victoria popped up on his right as he stopped to address her. “Is there someth—”

“Have you not heard?”

Hyukjae was stunned by the unexpected question, and as he thought for a second, he examined her confused yet serious expression. “About what?” he asked.

“In the cafeteria. . . Seunghyun is fighting, I think.”

Hyukjae simultaneously exhaled and rolled his eyes, then shrugged, “So?” He answered, hiding the fact that inside he was cursing the bastard that publicly made them a “couple”.

Victoria's eyes went wide momentarily and then she was shaking her head. “No, no, no. I heard . . . Amber told me that Kyuhyun is fighting, I think.”

Instantly, Hyukjae inhaled sharply. His mind quickly began running on robotic gears, piecing things together that should never, ever fit. “You think??” He nearly shouted, and when Victoria only frowned apologetically, Hyukjae then wheezed, “Are you sure he's—they're in the cafeteria?”

This time, Victoria nodded confidently and Hyukjae took off like a bat out of Hell before anything else could be said.

He mentally screamed as he ran, Kyu's a nerd. Nerds don't fight. It could be another Kyuhyun. Not my Kyuhyun. Not with that sadistic bastard. Not getting hurt.

He shoved kids this way and that, making slithers of room for his body to squeeze through, enough space to keep him going without breaking momentum. Now that he paid attention, he realized that the fight in the cafeteria had drawn quite a huge crowd, and yet no one but Victoria, only by chance, had told him what was happening.

He hated everyone.

Finally, Hyukjae pushed through the last of the boisterous crowd and nearly fell into the doorway of the school's overwhelmingly large cafeteria.

Didn't need a detective to find which direction all the fuss was coming from.

From incredibly nearby, Hyukjae heard a chair fall and a trashcan tumble. He turned and witnessed a table skid loudly as Seunghyun kicked it to get to a stumbling Kyuhyun, and watched Kyuhyun pick up a lunch tray and fling it at the taller boy's head.

The tray missed, but it was damn close—and Seunghyun jumped up to an entirely new level of angry. In three long strides he reached Kyuhyun's back-pedaling figure, and Hyukjae darted forward just as Seunghyun dug his fingers into Kyuhyun's neck and hoisted him up against the wall. With a powerful grunt he shoved Kyuhyun higher, enough to let his feet dangle uselessly just above the floor; the boy's fingers clawed desperately at the powerful hand at his neck.

Hyukjae had the feeling that the entire world had suddenly gone wrong. And it was all centered around him. He was the cause of every negative thing.

Quickly, he reached Seunghyun and didn't hesitate a second to shove a palm into his face, pushing his entire body backward entirely by his head first. Once Seunghyun had stumbled backward several steps, he then dropped his hand from his face.

“What the hell do you think you're doing to him?” Hyukjae shouted angrily.

Murmurs echoed throughout the lunchroom as countless bystanders peered in on them with intense curiosity and no shame. Hyukjae anticipated a slap, or a shout at the least, but despite the situation, Seunghyun didn't react to his actions at all; no anger, no surprise; nothing.

And that sort of worried Hyukjae.

But then Seunghyun lowered himself to be level with Hyukjae's shorter height. His eyes gleamed with such intensity that Hyukjae could feel the hatred seeping off of him, wrapping around his being like a burning cloak—but it wasn't meant for him. Seunghyun was looking right past him, eyes pierced into Kyuhyun's slowly regenerating figure, taunting, threatening him.

Quickly, Hyukjae stepped into Seunghyun's line of vision, blocking his best friend. Seunghyun closed his eyes in an aggravated manner and released hot air from his nostrils.

“You don't want me as your enemy, Hyukjae . . . You know I don't want that.” He murmured. He wrapped a hand around the back of Hyukjae's neck and pressed his lips right up against his ear, “I don't ever want to hurt you.”

“Should have thought about that before attacking Kyu.” Hyukjae grumbled in reply.

“Maybe if he learned to stay out of my way, I wouldn't even have to. No one nearly trips me and gets away with it, especially that dumb .”

Hyukjae grimaced, “What has he ever done to you?!”

Now Seunghyun laughed, amused by Hyukjae's audacity to ever ask such a question, “Nothing, really. I just find his constant presence around you incredibly annoying. He doesn't own you.”

“And neither do you!”

“But don't I, Hyukjae? Don't I?” He pulled back from Hyukjae's ear and instead attached their lips in a way that made Hyukjae wish death upon himself immediately. Seunghyun lingered, and finally, pulled back completely with a haughty, “Isn't that reason enough?” before stalking away with that damned smirk Hyukjae hated so much poking at his lips.

With Seunghyun's exit, it was evident that a good four seconds ticked by before Hyukjae regained his bearings and turned, finally, to address Kyuhyun who remained tacked to the cafeteria's wall in astonishment. Hyukjae studied his face as he drew nearer, realizing that there were questions trapped behind those inquisitive eyes of his.