Minho slouches over Key’s feet, his appearance dejected. Kibum bites his lip awkwardly.

He puts down the almost finished scarf, “are you hungry?”

“No,” Minho whispers.

Kibum slides off the couch, “are you all right?”

Minho sighs then nods, “It only hurts when I exist now.”

Key tries to smile at the dark joke, “it was worse before?” Minho nods again. “Do you want to hold the yarn?” Kibum offers the small ball of yarn. Minho shakes his head while slowly laying back.

Minho grits his teeth on the way down, “I’ll just be here.”

Kibum takes a deep breath as he bunches up the scarf, that’s it. He turns to Minho, sleeping inches away, maybe I should give it to him. He slides up next to Minho’s body. He looks him over, Minho has a hand lightly placed over his abdomen. He grimaces at it, what happened to you? He almost doesn’t notice his hand creeping towards Minho’s body. Minho’s hand snaps at his, grabbing his wrist aggressively.

“You may not feel it, but know the way I’m grabbing you isn’t in any way inviting,” Minho growls.

Kibum pulls away frightened, “I’m sorry.” Key’s eyes tear up. “I-I just wanted to gi-give you the scarf,” he stutters. He runs into his room, slamming the door behind him. He throws himself onto his bed. He sobs into one of his pillows, he’s never treated me like that before. Did I do something wrong?

Key opens his eyes slowly. He blinks at Minho. Minho is sitting back strangely on one of the kitchen chairs.

Minho looks down at the scarf in his hands, “it’s really nice.”

Kibum turns away, swallowing the lump in his throat, “go away.”

“I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” Minho sounds regretful, “I’m sorry.” Key can feel his eyes burning, he shuts them tightly. Minho clears his throat, “I can leave if that’s what you want.” Kibum brings both of his hands up to his mouth. He tries to stop his lips from quivering. He feels a sharp pain in his wrist. He opens his eyes, his vision is blurred. He blinks past the tears to see his bruised wrist. Minho gets out of his chair, “What I did was unforgivable. I won’t be coming back.” A pain shoots through Kibum’s entire body.

“Don’t leave,” he shouts. “Why did you do it?”

Minho sits back down slowly, “I’ve been dealing with a lot lately. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I know you were curious, but what I was hiding under my hand wasn’t something you want to see. If you saw it, you really wouldn’t want me around anymore.”

Key roll over to look at Minho, “I always want to be around you.”

Minho glowers, “your wrist. I did that?” Kibum doesn’t answer. Minho gets out of his seat. He crouches close to Key’s bedside, “slap me.”

Kibum shakes his head, “that’s stupid. That won’t solve anything.” Minho gently pulls Key’s hand close to him.

He kisses Key’s wrist softly, “I’m a bastard.”

Kibum laughs, wiping away his tears, “you are.” He stares at his wrist, I wish I felt that.

Minho sits back in his seat, “Did you talk to Jonghyun about your dream?”

Key reaches for his blankets, “I did. He said I should forget that one.”

Minho crosses his arms, “I don’t blame him. Was that it?”

“He said dreams can be memories,” Kibum talks into his sheets. “I asked him if I had told him about that dream before … apparently I had. I asked what my dream meant.”

“Do you think it’s a memory?” Minho questions softly.

“I don’t know. I wish I knew,” Key mumbles.

Minho clears his throat, “what did he say when you asked what your dream meant?”

“He said he doesn’t interpret dreams, but when I first asked him he told me what my dream was,” Kibum stares blankly at empty space wondering what Jonghyun knew.

Minho shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “it was a memory.”

“Really?” Kibum sits up, “how do you know?”

“He said he doesn’t interpret dreams, but he told you what your dream was? He knows you well enough to know things about your past. If he knew what the dream meant then it had to be something he knew, it had to be a memory,” Minho explains.

Key looks down at his hands, “how much of my life have I been doing over and over again? Why can’t he just tell me everything? He did it before. Why can’t he do it again?”

Minho his head, “can I tell you a story?”

Kibum pull a blanket over his lap, “that was a weird transition. Yeah, if you want.” Key taps a space on the bed, “but you have to sit next to me.”

Minho scowls at the thought, “please don’t make me do that. My body hurts.”

“This is payback for what you did to me,” Kibum taunts. Minho carefully crawls onto the bed. Key snuggles up to him before laying down on his lap. Minho gives a pained grunt as Kibum shifts in his lap.

He places a hand on Key’s head, “comfortable?” Kibum nods, gratified.

Minho opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Key, “can I know the origin of the story?”

Minho chuckles, “who, ever, asks for the origin of a story? I feel like you’re just messing with me now.”

Kibum smile, “a little bit, but I already asked you, so now you have to answer.”

Minho rolls his eyes, “I don’t know where the story came from. A man told it to me—

“Did you know him?” Key interjects.

“Not really. I only kept track of him for a short period of time. The things that I knew about him couldn’t really define him. It was only half of a life I saw,” Minho pauses, “I guess others could make their judgments from that, but I couldn’t…” Kibum could see the trouble in his eyes.

“Keep going with the story,” Key mutters.

Minho runs his fingers through Kibum’s hair, “Near the limit, but far from the end. Between two valleys, under a clear sky, there’s a field with a mixed horizon. There’s an existence that’s small, yet enormous, that belongs to a wise old man who only lives solely because he thinks. The man is the surgeon of time. With cold blood, he operates all moments.  Minutes wasted, can be recovered with a scalpel.”

“I need to meet this man,” Kibum jests.

Minho breathes lightly as if giving a small laugh, “He also does transplants for bad memories and if the bitterness remains he consoles it. Giving a little anesthesia so it doesn’t hurt.”

“I could really use this guy then,” Key laughs.

“He doesn’t eat a lot because he’s cold blooded,” Minho continues. “He eats flies that live in the lifespan of a day. If he doesn’t have food it isn’t a problem, he’ll eat his own body like an octopus.”

“This story just got creepy,” Kibum interrupts.

Minho stops Key’s hair, “he wouldn’t die even if he ate his entire body, ‘cause he’s like a salamander, he regenerates quickly. Years can pass. But time doesn’t make this hermit sick, he’s immortal like the saints.”

“The man was catholic?” Key interposes.

Minho nods, “yes, he took his religion very seriously. It would explain why he spoke of me the way he did, why he was so afraid.” Minho moves his hand down to Kibum’s chin, “his vertebrae comes from trees, it’s why it lasts so long. The man knows that he can’t forget anything, because his memories are frozen. His memories are complete, he preserves them in dry ice 80 degrees below zero.

“Repetition of an action is the best way to prolong something. For that reason he repeats everything to the point of boredom. He no longer has any problems, because he’s repeated himself enough times to learn the errors of his ways. The old man is abysmal, living is no longer beautiful to him, when he lives every day the same. He’d like to live differently, but repetition and controlling time is instinct to him. He’s tried to kill himself in many ways, but even without oxygen the old man can breathe as he pleases,” Minho’s fingers trail down Kibum’s neck.

Key looks up at Minho expectantly, “is that it?” Minho nods again. Kibum’s eyebrows furrow, “that’s a sad way to end it. Did the man really end it there?”

Minho’s fingers stop at Key’s clavicle, “yes. That was it.”

Kibum shakes his head, “why would he end it like that? What was the point?”

Minho lets his pinky creep under Key’s shirt, “there was no real point to the story. I’m sure it wasn’t even his story. He was just trying to buy himself some time.”

Key scratches the tip of his nose, “why?”

Minho shrugs, “people have a tendency to try and prolong the inevitable. As if time will save them somehow.”

“So why did you decide to tell me this story?” Kibum asks softly.

Minho looks at him, “I felt like the old man in the story pertained to the both of us in different ways.”

“What happened to the man who told you the story?” Key inquires curiously.

“He died,” the demon answers mechanically.

Lovlies, I reached a 1,000 views xD This is amazing you guys! Moveslikeshinee that's an interesting suspicion :3 What makes you think Jonghyun shouldn't be trusted? What do you think he's trying to hide? What about Minho? And Jinki? Chair thinks Minho might be Jinki's lacky. Or a ghost. I haven't asked her about Jonghyun, but I think she still thinks he's a psychologist. After she read the last Jinki chapter she told me my story T^T I was so touched. That is the highest honor chair could give me OTL I am not worthy.