They meet at a table in the cafe. Their eyes flash the melodic hellos. There's something in the girl's eyes when he takes out the map. It glitters with mischief and curiosity. His slender fingers point to the dotted lines on the piece of notebook paper, his voice echoes in the empty coffee shop and his deep voice only makes her smile a little. A little bit more than it should, he looks up from his monologue and they exchange a simple eye contact. His cloudless eyes only tell tales of pirates' treasures and unknown territory.

She is in love with shiny objects and translucent skin. "Is there really going to be a siren there, Hanyoung?" she asks, her catlike eyes peer into his colorless void. Her voice rings with amazement and he is about to say words, but their tea comes and he only sips the sweet honey tea. Minhee is a naive nineteen year old and Hanyoung knows why they speak of such impossible things and subjects. 

"Let's hope so, Minhee," he says simply. Minhee's eyes still glisten with curiosity, her eyes follow the path of the graphite pencil, her fingers trail as though it's Braille and she's blind. The words slip from his mouth and she looks up from the piece of paper. The words escape her lips and he only smiles in reply. (Hanyoung barely cracks a smile unless she's nearby.)

(He can taste her red orange lips still on his tea cup, it tastes like coconut and mango.)

Minhee is a fairy. He's not sure how he got his hands on a female that leaves a trail of dust when she walks, or how her eyes speak languages that he can't comprehend. (À quelque chose malheur est bon.) And he's not sure why she graces him with a flower crown and simple gestures. He only knows that her insides are growing flowers and if someone would take her away from him, the flowers would screech and die. He is posessive. She never denies it. 

It tastes like copper solution, her drink does. She stares at the golden brown tea in her white cup, how it clashes with her neighbor's tea and she stares into his eyes again. He doesn't look up. His bones are fragile. Purple and yellow plagues his body. There's not a bruise she hasn't seen. His eyebrows furrows together when he looks for the longtiude and latitude of the cove. He analyzes each detail. The plan is mostly for his eyes, she's not one to interfere with such details. Hanyoung never discusses the details with her, he tells the stories of the past. He retells the stories of Korean war heroes, fairytales and legends that humans seem to believe in, she only listens. He speaks with his hands, how light up when he comes in contact with a detail that he is expectant about. The ghosts he communicates with, they speak of the same tone, they listen, closely, closely, even the hauntings seem to disappear when Hanyoung is around. He is the leader and she only trails behind him. It's as simple as that.

"Ready to go?" he asks. Minhee stares at her copper solution before nodding her head, grabbing her khaki colored backpack and leaving a three dollar tip on their table. Minhee believes that pirates would steal the money. Hanyoung believes otherwise. It's a thing of politeness, he tells her, leaving tips on tables at restaurants, cafes and diners, Minhee stil thinks that Pirates want to steal the rest of her money. Pirates want gold not money, Hanyoung tells her at one point but she still doesn't believe in it. She still wants the rest of her golden ambrosia, but she only stares blankly at the wooden tables and hopes that no one else drinks the rest of it and becomes immortal. No one is allowed to be immortal. 

They leave the cafe at ten. The summer sun burns the cement. Her orange manicured fingers reach for the sandals and she can feel the heat against the cement. Hiding away the shoes in the bushes, she holds Hanyoung's hand. She can see the blue and greens of his veins run up his pale arm. The sun would be good for him she assumes, but he hides away in the dust collecting attic of his, looking out the window as though he's the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He's not allowed to be in the outside world. He hid before she wrote Morse in flashlights and smiled in the middle of the night. Hanyoung used to be dull until her hands reached for his. And she sometimes believes that's a bad idea. But she hides it behind mischievous eyes and polite conversations. 

It would be a good day to hunt for Sirens. The myths would be true, Sirens go for those who pass their home. They sing songs of lust and petty things. It's almost sickening to listen to them. They lure sailors in, they lure humans with souls. Minhee couldn't believe that others would believe they are worth dying for. Their beauty is captivating, no one else would fall hideously in love. She looks at Hanyoung, wondering if he would fall for it. They are harpies not goddesses. She wonders if he would swim to them. She wonders if their talons would rip off his skin and break his spine, feeding off a soul that barely breathes. She glances at the void of his eyes. Even ghosts fall for songs that they haven't heard before. 

"Will you fall for the Sirens?" she asks without much thought. If he does or does not, it wouldn't matter but watching them eat his soul would be a dark and terrible thing for her to see. He doesn't say a word. She hangs onto his hands. They arrive at the bus stop, the summer sun still shimmers and the weather is perfect for Siren searching, but at times like these she wonders if they fit for the weather. It's almost too sunny for the two to be together, they escape into empty buildings and find ghosts on hauntingly beautiful nights. They aren't meant for crude daylight and a sweet disposition. They still do not say a word when they reach the bus stop, their fingers don't hint for anything more than silent conversation and eye contact that last longer than a few seconds. 

It's not until they get onto the big blue bus does he say, "There is no beauty in Harpies." A shy smile appears on his face, his hands grab onto her fingers and the empty bus says hello to them. The black seats welcomes them, and though it's empty, Minhee believes there's ghosts in each seat. Hanyoung chooses the back window seat and Minhee sits in front of him. The bus is silent. Though the conversations between ghosts become exciting, they speak in a language she doesn't know, (Latin, she believes) and they boomerrang words as though it's a drinking game. If they acknowledge her existence, she wouldn't know because the scenery outside is more appealing than the slurs of ghosts. 

Sand press against her feet when they get off the bus. There are screeches and screams from the humans that pass by. The ocean is infiltrated by humans and Korean is heard from the vast amount of land. It's terrifying really, their voices causes her eardrums to burst and she clings onto Hanyoung like a child clings onto their father. It's a strange experience to be in the daylight with Hanyoung, with anyone else, she would be joining the laugther and the sweet happiness. With Hanyoung there's nothing more than terrified glances and broken glass. She pulls on his sleeve. His eyes latch onto hers, and there are those inky eyes that lack in color. 

"Go change, we'll be here for awhile," he mumbles into her ears. There's a nod from her head, but she still trembles. They scream and yell, they all make noises. It becomes a crippling fear to walk a farther away from him. It's when her hands don't pull away from him does he understand. "Let's get some ice cream, Minhee," he whispers warmly. Again, there's another nod from the red head's head and she follows the ghost to the ice cream truck, the one stationed right next to the changing rooms, playing the same childlike tunes. Hanyoung hums the songs again and again. His voice sounds as pretty as the twinkly lights during Christmas, she rather catch them all and hang them just so they could see the beauty.

Hanyoung looks at her once more, trying to figure out what to get the fairy to eat. It takes him a few minutes, looking at the girl and then back at the menu. It takes him a few minutes. He analyzes every little price and every flavor. He hates it sometimes, thinking more than enough. 

"One Rainbow Ice and a Strawberry Shortcake bar," he finally says when they reach the front. The girl takes the Rainbow Ice from his delicate hands. It's sour and tainted from the Mermaids who take their scales and grind it onto the ice cream. Her nose crinkles the same way it does when she sees Hanyoung dance. Her smiles widens as he unwraps his ice cream bar, takes a bite and smiles back at her. 

There are rarely times like these in their miniscule lives. They sit next to each other, nudging the other with their elbows and laughing at recollections of other adventures. She becomes animated and alive as he continues to recall every moment, she interrupts with a comment and the cycle repeats. In the summer sun, their empty eyes sparkle with euphoria and nostalgic memories. These moments are rarer than their commitments to genies, magic carpets, ghouls and vampires. Melted ice cream falls onto her legs and she can see the sun is still high with promise. 

"How are we to get to the cove again?" Minhee asks innocently. She takes his trash because he kindly bought the ice cream. And he hums the instructions into the air, her ears only hear snippets of his harp playing voice. Again, they play their games that are on the tightrope of life, a simple push into the sea of tears. It's not as though she minds as though. Hanyoung could speak and there would always be a smile on her face. He could clip her wings and leave a scar where her wings were and she would still smile. Hanyoung wipes the melted ice cream from his arms and links arms with the girl. Even if he pushes her off, even drowning would be simple because he is her everything. 

He leads once again. The sand doesn't burn like the cement. She trails behind, observing the other parts of the land that they do not get to explore. There is a lack of Korean in the air and while she would assume there's more English as they mover farther away, she hears nothing more than Hanyoung speaking in French. It's pleasant. It's quiet. It builds and he continues to speak of a language she still hasn't mastered yet. She tries to work on her English. The accent is still heavy with pickled radish and perfume that is someone else's, but it will get there sometime. She recites the fairytales in English as Hanyoung curses in French and turns her way. It's a blur, he points to something in the distance. Rocks of some kind in the ocean, figures on the rocks and she can hear the hushed songs from where they stand. 

"It's over there isn't it?" It's all in English. The French comes to an abrupt halt and there's a jagged rift in the monologues of languages mixed. Minhee slides her hands into his. The ground isn't sand anymore, her feet can feel the cool rubble, they're getting farther from the speaking worlds and into their fantasies. It's almost there. She can taste it on the edge of her tongue, knowing that it would be coming soon. Her fingers only hold onto his, they're soft and delicate, even pencil sketches would not be able to callous his hands. 

"We'll be there shortly," he replies in French. Minhee knows as much French as Hanyoung did a few months ago, her ears quip when they hear a familiar phrase. His words cling onto her skin, in a frame of time, they'd see the Sirens, they'd hear them sing and speak in a language that even her lips could not seem to fathom. It would be another game of anxious glances, eyes that switch from pretty harpies to the ghoul that could vanish. They would see the yellow and green bruises, how his legs leave nothing more than a few splotches of ink onto the ground. He would fade and truly become a ghost. 

"How do words fall apart, how do they linger? Will this be nothing more than empty chapters, blurred by histories of choices and roads less taken? Will you and I be together until eternity? Will you still have my soul, will you still be there when they all disappear? The ghouls, they wait for you and I wait for the day I see the nothingness in your eyes become full of a man's wailings, oh the woes of tomorrows, You are mine and I am yours, we have lingered into that for so long, how else do words leaves blots of nothing?" 

The monologue starts, her words are all spoken in a language she can't understand herself, but it sounds like magic from her ears. The kind of magic that others think is nothing more than a few incantations for the hysterical, the mentally insane as though they aren't all insane themselves. He replies in words that she can't write down and it leaves her confused but he's the type of boy who would always leave her dazed for answers. It's not something she questions, she just lingers. It's not something she would truly want to speak about, she wants him with her forever, she needs him to be hers. It's agonizing. How do souls fall apart? How does one lose their heart with somebody else? It's possessive, clingy even. He is hers, right? The feeling that consumes hr is deep and dark, she can't hide her insecurities for as long as she believes so. Her eyes become clouded with green. Hanyoung is hers, she knows he's hers. But even that statement wavers.

"Are you paying attention, Minhee?" 

Her feet hit sand once more. She can hear the roar of the ocean as the wave hits the shore. Her eyes linger on a ratty old row boat. This would be the ship, they would participate in their own Odyssey. She would have to tie the man up to a pole, hear him yell for her to untie him, and for a minute she would indeed contemplate if she wanted his soul taken away. It's a dangerous decision for her delusions might take control and he might not be Hanyoung, just another figment of her imagination. Though if he ever dies, she would die with him. Her wings would wither into nothingness, there would be no more trail of fairy dust and she would rot in the Underworld with Hanyoung, haunting others in places that they've explored. 

He climbs in first. The wood cuts him and she swears she sees green liquid ooze from his leg. Pushing the boat onto the water, her hands feel the splinters of the wood, and she hears him shout something, but before she can comprehend, her feet feel the blue waters and she understands. He holds out his hand for her to take. They stare at each other once more, their eyes only trying to compehrend things that haven't been said. He continues to speak in French. She tries to put his words together in his handwriting. It's messy and scrawled, words aren't always the same when written. They don't gleam as well as voices do, they do not know where excitement orignates from or where questions builds. She knows that letters are more monotone. And there is nothing in Hanyoung's voice that sounds as tasteless. 

Her fingers fall into the blue water, cool and refreshing from holding hands that are cursed with splinters and broken figments of thoughts. He rows. She imagines. It's just something she's becoming used to. She falls back onto the dirty boat, her eyes stare blankly at the empty sky. Bright blue skies, not a cloud to look at, not a star to think about. A sigh escapes her lips. 

"Don d'ennemi c'est malencontreux."

"Good, Minhee."

"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts."

It's a lazy boat ride. The sea sings of its sweet tunes, waves crash softly against the boat. The sound of seagulls have long disappeared and in return the French becomes a lesson. He speaks of sulfates and annomia. Scientific words that she still has yet to learn in class at Bullworth and science was never forte. They switch once in awhile, he tells her which way to go and sometimes she hears the demons speaking into her ear, it might be the last adventure, it might be the last time their voice sounds together. It might be the last time for a multitude of things. 

So she stares blankly at the figure on the ground, he is the most beautiful soul she has ever seen in her life. His dark eyes stare blankly back at her, they repeat history, they tell her of every little detail that has happened with their time together. They leave their cages, they escape into the traveling lights and disappear for more amazing things in life. His hair, dark, and luscious, she ran her fingers through those locks so many times before, and when he catches her, he smiles that beautiful smile. She is selfish, she rather have him to herself, she smiles softly at him, rarely does he smile for anyone else. Rarely does he wince at physical contact when it comes to her, she is too prideful for things involving Hanyoung, incredibly jealous when someone else steals him away from her. It would be drastic but even then she'd give up anything for him to be hers. The ghost is the keeper of her heart. The ghost has her everything. It's poisonous to leave a heart to someone.

As she learned, one should never leave their soul to someone like him. He is her best friend, he is everything she has ever needed in a person. It's as though they mind for things such as that. It's not as though the words don't effortlessly leave her lips.  Carefully she feels Hanyoung touch her shoulders and her eyes widen.

"Sirens."

They look so familiar, they sing tunes that she is used to, the ones that are to lure sailors out to their doom. They stand on different rocks, all looking at Hanyoung, singing towards him. Minhee is awestruck, they look like humans she befriended in the past. The brilliant dark haired beauty stares back at her, winking, singing the songs of the nightingale. The blonde on the other side stares at her with a wide smile, it's almost fairy-like and she sings directly to her, she misses her voice, she misses the melodic singing she used to hear in the halls, it's haunting and it screeches. But the only male stares back at her, he stares and continues to stare, his features so perfect to her and he is so handsome, she remembers the nights when he stole the stars. 

Minhee gets up from her spot. Hanyoung only stares on, and it leaves a tear in her eye. They aren't the humans she knows. They aren't the souls that she would like to give her wings to. They aren't. And it burns , it's acidic and broken, she wants to scream, she needs to scream. 

"How could you leave me?! How could you disappear into thin air? I have not put any curse on your bodies, I didn't rip off your wings or tell you that I would slit your throats with venom. I didn't tell you to leave. I didn't want you to leave. Why did you all leave?! What have I said, what have I done for your lips to sing songs of misery when I've been waiting for you all?! I wanted to give you my ribs, I needed you. I needed you. I've missed you..."

The words echo in the vast ocean. The Sirens only continue to sing their songs of depression, her ears ring with displeasure, it's not music to her ears. Hanyoung stares blankly and she crumples back into her seat. They all disappeared. Half of her soul was put into these humans and instead they cracked her ribs. They break under the alcohol of nostalgia. How does one let words slip away? Hanyoung takes the oars.

Minhee cries. They disappear, they leave, it's a sudden cycle of separation. The Sirens sing of misery, Minhee cries. She cries until they reach the shore of an abandoned beach, the stars come alive once more. Her fingers take out the wine bottle she calls her medication. A bitter medication, it numbs the faint thought of nostalgia. She trembles on the shore, her fingers clawing at Hanyoung's chest, praying for him to stay, just for him to stay a little while longer. 

Minhee cries harder than she does before, she cries faster than before. The stars shine, it blurs in the darkness, everything blurs. The wine is still untouched. Hanyoung still sits silently, soothing her by running his fingers through her firery colored hair. Her sobs turn into hiccups, her breathing slows. She wraps her arms around Hanyoung. He could not leave now. He could not disappear. Even if the demons tell her he is to disappear with the rest of them, even if separation is near and death is to take them sooner. She could not leave without him. 

"Even if the world crumbles, I can live if you are by my side," Minhee whispers into the air. Perhaps it's loud enough for him to hear but if he does, he makes no sign of it. He stares at the empty sky, they stare at the stars. She recalls the time they make a snowman and she names him Hanyoung the First because she thought Hanyoung was an imposter, the days she asked to go capture fairies, sneaking off to areas and finding ghosts. In that moment, she can hear her heart break. And she twists a smile onto her lips, trying harder to breathe just for a little bit longer. 

She can hear his breathing, it becomes in sync with hers. His legs get wrapped into hers, they stay like that. He winces a little, but remembers it's only Minhee becoming affectionate with him once more. It's not something to be worried about he realizes. But Minhee lets go, sits beside him. The air becomes full with memories and magic, fantasies and ocean crashes. It's romantic. But in this moment, it's only sadness. It is only more walking on tightropes and she trembles a little because she doesn't walk tight ropes, she springs into the air, she breathes fire that burns. But this burn is nothing compared to fire in . If only she could vomit the burn away, anxiously get rid of these nothingness, get rid of all the misery she finds in . It's desperate, her eyes scream and it cries for attention. It cries for something to be heard. Minhee's throat screams. 

Hanyoung kisses her forehead. It's not something she is used to, he doesn't show any affection unless he truly believes it. For Minhee, it's the most intimate thing he writes on her body. He doesn't believe in Sleeping Beauty and perfect beings of fairytales. It's a kiss, and there are no uses to kissing. It works. Hanyoung doesn't smile or look at her, he stares into the dreary distance. She simply does not exist unless Hanyoung is nearby. And Minhee only stares at the stars. She steals the stars for Hanyoung. She steals anything for Hanyoung. 

"Aimer, ce n'est pas se regarder l'un l'autre, c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction."

Minhee is Hanyoung's. 

"Love does not consist in looking at each other, but rather in, together, looking in the same direction."

Hanyoung is Minhee's. 

(They watch the stars turn into dawn. His voice sings The Little Mermaid's tale and she draws flowers into his palms. It soothes her soul.)