CHAPTER SIX

As the footsteps of spring neared the corner and the weather warmed, the folks of Meadavine bustled with preparation. Clothes for spring were extracted from trunks, shaken out with a few flaps and pegged on clothesline where their mustiness could be seared. Herrings were caught from the thawed lake, slathered with salt and laid on racks where they would spend the next few months at the mercy of the sun. All around, people walked with a lightness in their feet as they bounced from task to task, their faces awash with laughter and anticipation.

Unlike the rest of Meadavine, Kyuhyun and Ryeowook played spectators to the activities that unfolded across the town. The days that followed their return from Harnsey would appear languid in the eyes of outsiders, but for Kyuhyun, time had never wheezed by faster. Every morning, Kyuhyun would wake up earlier than Ryeowook and, on the bed they now shared, Kyuhyun would lose himself in the landscape of Ryeowook’s face. When Ryeowook opened his eyes, he would release a breath of relief, thankful that they had successfully bargained for another day. He would always brush off the crippling moment of knowledge that he was one day closer to losing Ryeowook.

Ryeowook had stopped going to the fruit stall with the weakening of his health. He ate painfully little. Whenever Ryeowook threw up what he ate, Kyuhyun could feel the clench of a vice around his heart at every heave of Ryeowook’s shoulders.

Kyuhyun went to the clockwork shop only in the morning, much to the displeasure of his employer. He was certain that he would soon be replaced by someone more suitable, but he did not care. There was only one thing he cared in the world right now, and that was not his work.

Their days had fallen into simple routine. They did nothing much other than a daily stroll to the park where they would leave behind twin trails of footprints in the spongy ground. They would settle on a bench whenever Ryeowook tired, which was getting more and more frequent. In the time that flowed fluidly between them, they lost themselves in each other’s presence. They did not engage in other activities that would taint this focus. They did not have the luxury to.

On the days where Ryeowook was feeling better, he would talk about his days in the orphanage and foster homes. He delivered the account of his past with indifference, as if it was no longer a phantom that terrified him.

Their conversations focussed on the past and present. They avoided discussing the future, until Ryeowook brought it up on one night. That night, Ryeowook revealed the fear that had always lurked under his bravery and the stoic acceptance of his fate.

It was before sleep, and they were lying on the bed, their heads resting on the same pillow. They gazed at the square of star-spangled sky through the window. They counted the stars, lost count, counted again, then gave up. 

In the ensuing quiet, Kyuhyun thought that Ryeowook had fallen asleep when Ryeowook spoke. His voice sounded unearthly.

“Kyuhyun, where will you go when I’m gone?”

Kyuhyun had not expected the question. The future he had stopped himself from thinking about leapt from the recesses of his mind.  

“I don’t know.”

“You can go to Harnsey. There are better opportunities there,” Ryeowook said softly, his voice nearly a whisper. “You can sell this cottage for some money. It won’t be a lot, but it’ll be enough for you to build a new home there.”

Kyuhyun traced his eyes around the room. There was the ceiling which Ryeowook and him had spent nights staring at. There was the dresser containing the clothes that Ryeowook had mended for him. Just beyond the door, there was the table where they had their meals together. This was the only home he had ever known, the only home he ever needed.

“There’s no home without you.”

“Someone else will come along, someone whom you’ll love more than me.” Before Kyuhyun could rebut, Ryeowook continued. “But I’ve something selfish to ask of you.”

In the brief pause, Kyuhyun did not interrupt. The weight of the conversation sagged the air in the room and pressed against his body. He waited for Ryeowook to speak.

“Even if you meet this someone, could you promise me that you’ll never forget me? You’ve a whole future ahead of you to create fond memories, but my days with you are the only memories I’ll ever carry with me. If a day comes where I no longer have a space in your heart, it’ll be the day that I’ll be truly...gone.”

“I won’t forget you,” Kyuhyun squeezed the syllables out of a dry throat. It was his heart that had spoken, not because of the need to create a promise but because of its very nature. “I can’t forget you even if I want to. You taught me all the emotions I’ve felt. Love, anger, sadness, fear. I feel all this because of you, for you. Every bit of emotion I’ll ever feel, it’ll remind me of you. I was once a puppet, but you shaped me into the human I am today.”

The word that had once defined his existence had rolled off his tongue offhandedly, but when his ears heard it, it ignited a flame at the back of his head, illuminating a thought that had been niggling unknowingly at the back of his head for days. But the light was dim and he could not quite put a finger on the thought.

“That’s good to hear. I can now die in peace,” Ryeowook joked, even though there was little to joke about when death was concerned. 

They laid like that for moments that glided into one another, until a wetness grazed Kyuhyun’s neck. He shifted his head, his eyes seeking Ryeowook. Ryeowook was back to staring at the window again, but silent tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

Kyuhyun propped himself up on his elbows, startled. “What’s wrong? Is it your heart? Is it hurting you again?”

Ryeowook shook his head. His lower lip was tucked beneath his teeth to stifle his cries. He rolled onto his side and buried his face into the sheets, as though he was ashamed of crying. This was the second time Kyuhyun witnessed Ryeowook’s tears and it hurt him as much as the first.

Kyuhyun nudged Ryeowook’s shoulder so that he could meet Ryeowook’s eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Ryeowook shook his head again. “It’s nothing,” he said in between his tears.

“It’s something. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Ryeowook repeated, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m just being overly emotional and I shouldn’t be because I’ve always known that I’ll die sooner than the others. But I didn’t use to be this afraid of dying; I welcomed it even. But you changed everything and I’m scared now. I’m not prepared to leave all these behind. I’m not prepared to be all alone again.”

Like how fairy lights would come on one after another to outline the shape of a tree, the thought in Kyuhyun’s head took shape and became clear upon Ryeowook’s words. He stowed it away for the time being and took Ryeowook into his arms, held him in a tight circle of solace where he could put the fears to temporary rest. 

But when Ryeowook had fallen asleep, Kyuhyun slid out of the bed, pulled on his coat and left the house.

::::::::::

When Kyuhyun arrived at the nexus where five streets radiated outward like the rays of the sun, he did not step through the entrances of the streets that housed the fruit stall and the clockwork shop. He walked instead to the street on the eleven o’clock position, where the streetlights were just a little sparser and dimmer.

The street was quiet at this time of the night, other than for the sound of dripping water from an indeterminate source. The wavy edges of the awnings that stretched over storefronts fluttered in the slight breeze. Since the day he had left Sodalis, he had never come to this part of Meadavine. The avoidance was not deliberate; he never found the need to revisit because he could buy everything he needed on the streets that he frequented.

He ventured deeper into the street, stopping when he reached a red brick wall. Moss had grown in the lines of concrete between each brick. If he had not known that the shop existed, he would have easily missed the arched door set in the wall even with the shaft of light beaming from the street lamp. He reached for the door, but the door opened gently before he could touch it. A warmly lit stairway that led to the basement awaited him.

His footsteps echoed against stone steps. Even here, he could the giddying mixture of lacquer, oil and metalware. The stairway ended abruptly at the point where it started to curl like the top of a candy cane, and Kyuhyun found himself on the woven ‘Welcome’ rug, before the second door. He had not expected himself to be back here, but he hesitated only for a fraction of a second before he opened the door.

The small room had many shelves affixed onto the walls, and many fobs, trinkets and tools cluttered these shelves like a mishmash of items that did not belong to the same shop. The room was lit by a trio of candles encased in a topless glass cylinder on the table,  and they threw shadows that wavered on every metallic surface. Something ticked at the back of the room.

He stood at the door, taking in the room and matching it with the one in his memory. He realized that he did not remember much about the room because in the two years that he had been here, he had been stored behind the curtain that hid the rest of the shop away from the reception. On the day that Ryeowook had come to claim him, he had not paid any attention to the room in his haste to leave.

The curtain pulled back on a rumble and an old man with frizzy white hair emerged. In the slice of view offered by the pulled-back curtain, Kyuhyun caught a glimpse of the neat file of puppets. He felt a stiffness encapsulating his joints. He flexed his fingers and realized that it was just a part of his imagination. It was still good; he was still a human.

The old man - his maker - looked at Kyuhyun with a familiar air of kindness and understanding. There was sadness too. “I was expecting you.”

Somehow, Kyuhyun did not doubt it. “You knew everything.”

“That I do.” The curtain swished back into place and, on legs bowed by age, his maker lumbered to a wooden chair behind the table. He gestured for Kyuhyun to sit in the opposite chair and Kyuhyun complied. The wooden table with spilt crevices along its grain was the only thing that separated them.

“I know all about the people who come to this shop seeking for a companion. They’re often sad people, but I’ve never seen someone as sad as that boy.” His maker’s voice was as raspy as Kyuhyun had remembered, roughened by age yet honed with a wisdom of many years. “When he came to this shop, it was his last attempt to connect with someone before he dies. It is human nature to want to have somebody that matters, and to matter to somebody. Most humans have this connection at some point of their life. But not for him. He’d never had it both ways.”

Kyuhyun had known Ryeowook’s history, but it did not render him impervious to the distilled version that came from an almost stranger. His heart twisted.

“But heavens are kind to him, after all,” his maker continued kindly. “He found what he has been looking for in you.”

They’re kind, but not kind enough, Kyuhyun wanted to say. But he forced the thought away, summoning instead the question he had come seeking an answer for.

“What...happens to the puppet when its owner dies?” 

“Puppets subsist on the breath of their owners,” his maker said carefully. “They don’t die when their owners do. They will simply cease function and become a puppet once again.”

“I see.” Kyuhyun bowed his head, moving the fingers of one hand into the spaces between the fingers of another, such that his hands came together to form a bowl. He was not surprised at his maker’s revelation. He felt as though the knowledge had lurked within him all these while, shrouded and lost in his marvel at the human life.

His maker seemed to sense his sadness. “But many times, I collect the puppets who have  lost their owner and bring them back here. I fix them and they get another chance to meet another owner.”

“Fix them?”

“I erase their memories and they become new again.”

The alarm and fear that Kyuhyun felt was almost tangible in the small room. What if this was not his first attempt at being human? What if he have had more than one chance at life, and he had made the same promises to somebody else before Ryeowook, only to forget them in the end? Was there still any value to his promises?

“Was I ever recycled?”The words parched Kyuhyun’s throat and he swallowed with difficulty.

“That’s an odd choice of word,” his maker emitted a light raspy laugh. “But no, you weren’t. He’s your first owner.”

The relief was so great that Kyuhyun keeled backwards onto the chair. He angled his head to the beams above, a sudden peace washing over him. It swept away the fear and uncertainty that had been following him like a second shadow. “That’s good to hear.”

His maker leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. In the flickering candlelight, Kyuhyun could see the crimped lines and mottles on the age-battered face.

“You have a choice, as we always do. I can bring you back here and you will meet a new owner, live a life all over again.”

“He tells me the same thing too.” The corner of Kyuhyun’s lips lifted just a little, like how man would when he talked about the person he loved. “But no, I don’t want to do this again. I don’t need another owner.”

“There’s a whole world out there, Kyuhyun, and you haven’t lived life long enough to experience it.”

Kyuhyun shook his head. “But I’m already fortunate enough to love someone and make promises to him in this short lifetime. I’ve promised him that I’ll never leave him alone and that I’ll never forget him. I don’t want to break any of it.”

His maker looked at him for a long time, then smiled sadly when he realized that there was nothing else he could say. “If that’s what you want. If you change your mind, come and look for me.”

“Thank you.” Kyuhyun had already risen from his chair. “But all I ask from you is to bury me with him. He’s brave, but he’s still afraid of being alone.”

As he retraced his way back to the cottage, his footsteps were lighter. Surer.

::::::::::

After Kyuhyun set the sliced bread on the table, he returned to the bedroom. On the bed beneath the window, Ryeowook was still, his chest heaving slightly with every quiet breath. Kyuhyun sat on the edge of the bed, easing his hand to cup the incline of Ryeowook’s jaw.

“Ryeowook, it’s time for breakfast.”

Ryeowook did not wake immediately, but Kyuhyun did not panic. With every passing day, it seemed that Ryeowook was deeper and deeper into the realm of sleep. It was just sleep, a status that is reversible. If it was death, Kyuhyun would know at the precise moment.

So Kyuhyun waited patiently. He gathered Ryeowook’s hand into his, massaging and feeling the twig-like bones under the translucent skin that had yet seen the sun in the past week. 

“Kyu...” The voice, calling his name, lifted his spirits more than anything else. A smile stole his lips as he bent forward to sweep the stray strands of hair that had fallen into Ryeowook’s eyes.

“How’re you feeling today?”

“Like I’ve won.” The triumph that brightened the pale face contrasted with Ryeowook’s breathless voice. Kyuhyun was confused. “Look there, Kyu,” Ryeowook drew in a deep breath to please his unwieldy lungs, “Outside the window. I made it to spring.”

Beyond the square scrap of window, sewn on the backlit of the sun and perched on the spindly branches, were a spatter of flowers and blades of leaves. Colors. After three months where the landscape boasted nothing but white.

“I’m not a complete loser after all,” Ryeowook smiled weakly.

Kyuhyun pecked Ryeowook’s cheek. “You’ve been nothing less than a winner to me.”

Ryeowook smiled. He curled his hand around Kyuhyun’s arm. The pressure he applied was both pleading and stubborn. “I want to go outside.”

“We’ll go after breakfast.”

Ryeowook shook his head. “I’m not hungry. We can go now.” There was an urgency that Kyuhyun was unable to turn away from, and he found himself nodding.

He retrieved Ryeowook’s coat from the hook fashioned from a nail pummeled into the wall, and worked Ryeowook’s arms through its sleeves. On better days, Ryeowook would dress himself. Those days were getting increasingly rare. 

At the door that opened to outside, Ryeowook stopped and leaned heavily against its frame. His face was leeched of blood, the color of his lips blending into the pallor of his skin. Ryeowook inhaled deeply, and Kyuhyun thought that he could hear the blob of breath as it squeezed through constricted airways.

It was worse than before.

“Maybe we should - “

“Can you carry me?”

Kyuhyun nodded because he did not know what to say. He hunkered before Ryeowook like he had all those weeks ago, when the end was yet visible. Ryeowook lowered himself onto Kyuhyun’s back. When Kyuhyun straightened, the weight had his stomach dipping. He shifted.

“Is this your way of saying that I’m heavy?” It was far from the truth Kyuhyun complied with Ryeowook’s deliberate light-heartedness.

“Is that how piggyback has gotten its name from? Because I’m carrying a piggy on my back? Ouch!” Kyuhyun hissed when Ryeowook nipped his shoulder, leaning a faint file of neat teeth mark on the flesh beneath the shirt.

“I’m not a pig,” Ryeowook said. He gulped for a mouthful of air, and another. Even the light banter had drained him. Ryeowook nestled his face against the crook of Kyuhyun’s neck, easing his breaths into a measured pace.

The buoyant moment had dissipated, as fleeting as bubbles. While Ryeowook rested on his back, Kyuhyun paid attention to the colors of the nature that had bloomed as spring entered. Flowers that resembled blue starbursts and pink teacups. Patches of grass that stippled the field with green. Leaves that gathered balls of sunlight at the pointed tip of their blades.

But I will not be around to see that.

“Kyu,” Ryeowook spoke again. He sounded slightly better. “Are you really staying in Meadavine?”

Kyuhyun kept his visit to Sodalis a secret from Ryeowook. Everything that transpired between him and his maker was locked away from Ryeowook. When Ryeowook asked him about his future plans, he hedged but did not lie. He would be staying in Meadavine after all. 

“All my memories are here. I don’t want to let go of them.”

They stepped into the boundary of the park. The top of the trees framed a marbled sky across which a fluffy cloud was drifting lazily. The air reverberated with the shrieks of children playing tag and chase.

“Maybe you can help Granny Yoon out every once in a while. The crates are becoming too heavy for her.” Ryeowook said as Kyuhyun moved them toward a bench on the lip of the glittering lake. “Do you think she’s angry at me for not turning up for so long?”

Kyuhyun had to work his next words around a thickness in his throat. “We can visit her tomorrow, if you want.”

“Maybe,” Ryeowook nodded, breathless as Kyuhyun set him down onto the bench. Kyuhyun slid next to Ryeowook. He clamped his hand around Ryeowook’s, holding it tight as though holding onto hope.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about my life ever since we came back from Harnsey.” Ryeowook tipped his head onto Kyuhyun’s shoulder. “I went through all my memories and realized that I still remember the pain of being rejected and abandoned. I thought I’ll be bitter, but instead, I was happy. All these pain, they built a path that led me straight to you.”

The sun rose above a roll of clouds and its heat burgeoned. Ryeowook’s hand was clammy against Kyuhyun’s. Kyuhyun tried to rub some heat into the fingers.

“But you’re the one who found me,” Kyuhyun said.

Ryeowook laughed, then coughed. “No, you’re the one who did. I brought you home, but you’re the one who found me. Beneath all my thorns, you still see someone who’s worthy to be loved. So thank you, Kyu. Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” Kyuhyun said softly, hating the finality that “thank you” carries.

“I love you,” Ryeowook whispered. Kyuhyun knew that all along, even though this was the first time 

“I know. I love you too.”

“Kyu...”

“Hmm?”

“I need a short nap. Wake me up in a while.”

“Okay.”

Ten heartbeats later, Kyuhyun could no longer hear Ryeowook’s breathing. The thin chest lost its undulating motion. Kyuhyun felt as if a hollow had opened within him, and all he could hear was the wind howling through this emptiness.

“Ryeowook?”

“Ryeowook.”

He thought he would miss the ray of the sun as they kissed his skin when he reverted to being a puppet. He thought he would yearn for the smell of fresh snow as they fell in thick blankets. But now, in his final moments as a human, the world without Ryeowook had lost its colors. All the the things he thought he would miss fell away into the backdrop. They could not compete with his desire to be with Ryeowook.

Ryeowook’s body was still warm, but Kyuhyun was already missing him. The words Ryeowook would say, the emotions that would flit across his face. How did Ryeowook believe that Kyuhyun could spend a lifetime without him?

Kyuhyun tilted his head to the sky. His eyes burned, not from the sun, but from the warm tears that were cascading down his cheeks. So this was how it felt like to cry. So this was how it felt like to have someone torn from you.

He had led a short life as a human. It had been a worthy one. He had tasted all the emotions that made humans human. He had found and he had lost. He loved and was loved in return. There was nothing that he regretted.

He tightened his hold on Ryeowook’s hand and waited for his turn.

::::::::::

When the last ray of the sun winked out of the sky, the door camouflaged in a red brick wall opened. An old man exited from the shop beyond. He moved through the street, his flame of white hair iridescent under the moon. 

The park had emptied by the time he reached. He limped to the bench where the puppet and the boy were. The limbs of the puppet had become wooden logs once again, just like how he had made them two years ago. The boy was still, his lips blue and his skin waxen.

 No matter what he tried, he could not separate the puppet and the boy.

END

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A/N: Sorry for the delay and thank you for sticking with me. This chapter will be my last contribution to the Kyuwook fandom. It's been a good few years which I’ve written stories on them, but it's time I move out of fanfictions. I want to focus on turning a lofty dream of mine into a goal, then hopefully into an achievement.  Thank you for all your support all these while. :)

P.S: “1337:46” has been deleted. The rest of my completed stories will be left as they are.