Hello again guys!

Fun fact: stress causes writers block. Yupp. Very fun. Anywayz I wanted to update this fic so I decided to finish this chapter and post it today. I am not really happy with it and it feels slightly rushed but I'll just have to fix it later. Anywayz: Junhong (Zelo) and Jongup are offically introduced! ^^ :D What do you think? I am slightly unsure about Junhong character but it will be fun to write him :3. Speaking of writing, I might not update before christmas, since stress and school and I have also promised a bts fic before christmas -sigh-. Well I will stop babbling now! Tell me what you think about this chapter in general cause idk...is it bad? That sounds like I am fishing for compliments but some honest feedback would be nice ^^. 

Right, stop babbling, hehehe enjoy! ^^

It's quite a depressing scene actually.

The old, abandoned skating park, the almost destroyed ramps that can't have been anything special even when they were new and the ruins of a house in the background that looks like the could fall apart any moment. The sunlight and happy sound of the ocean is powerless against the overtaking feeling of melancholy and the reminder of time creeping by.

For Junhong it's comforting. He built the skate park and designed it on his own. It took him years and no one ever visit it but him. That is why he loves it so much. This is where he goes when Marseille gets too large and too lonely. He's still lonely in the skate park but at least there aren’t any people there to smash it in his face.

Except there is.

Junhong glances once again towards the boy lying on the hill. He doesn’t look like anything special, maybe more handsome than the average human but apart from that he doesn’t stand out in anyway. He’s Asian looking, with soft fluffy hair and glasses with thick, black frames. Junhong can’t see him properly now, he’s too far away, but before, when he was closer (not peaking, not stalking, simply watching), a small smile was gracing the boys features. Under normal circumstances Junhong would never peg him as dangerous or powerful but these were not normal circumstances and the boy had made the ground shake with thunder and the sky split with lightning days previous.

Junhong wants to talk to him.

He has a million things to say but no words. Because how do you ask a stranger if you’re the same without sounding like a complete idiot? Junhong is a 100% sure he sounds like a complete idiot 90% of the time when he talks and this knowledge makes it no easier to go up and talk to the boy. Especially since the boy looks so peaceful and so pretty, Smiling and calmly lying on the hill with his hair playing in the wind.

Junhong wants to play with that hair but he doesn’t dare.

So he lets the wind play with it instead and pretends that it’s good enough.

Junhong looks up at the sky, skateboard under his arm and unused for hours. There’s not a cloud in the sky. The boy haven’t moved for days and shows no sign of moving. Junhong’s own stomach is growling and he can feel the drag of Marseille around him. The scent, the sounds, the laughs; all swirls in the air around him and mix together in a way that make him dizzy.

It makes him nauseous, it makes him sick. It makes him want to run far, far away and never return to this coast ever again. Never dive in the waters, never skate in the park and most of all never ever speak French ever again.

But he knows that’s not how it works.

Because there’s a voice whispering that this is the closest to home he’ll ever be. A part of him that rejoices in the sounds, breathes in the smells with a smile and desperately want to hurry back to the civilization. Hurry back to blindness and denial and forget boys on sunny hills that make sky’s roar in thunder with a dance that looks too much like perfection to be real even though it is. Run back to where feelings last for minutes and where hope is nothing but a faint breath.

If he was brave Junhong would go straight up to that boy, let words of truth and maybe a little bit of adoration spill past his lips and just give in and let hope grow in his heart like a flower.

But Junhong is nothing if not a coward. So he takes his skateboard and steer towards the city, letting the drag from Marseille wash away all forbidden feelings and replace them with the kind of hope and happiness that he’s used to. The type of feelings that are platonic and last for minutes or hours. It’s all for the best.

Living forever teaches you not to hope that anything lasts as long as you because nothing ever does.

Time has always taken all from Junhong, all except for the heartbeats that keep him from closing his eyes for good.

Marseille comes quickly, like an expected surprise it’s suddenly there and the suburbs are a blur until he’s in the middle of everything. The chattering in French and honks from annoyed car drivers mixes together in the air until they wash away the lingering traces of the ocean breeze across sunlit hills. Junhong breathes in the familiarity as he steers his skateboard towards the port and the tourist districts. Nobody notice him as he sweeps past. No one has eyes fast enough to follow his movements.

He reaches the port and stops his skateboard. He takes a moment to look out over the ocean, taking in the sights of the waves before he walks up to his normal place.

The little girl from Germany excitedly tells her mom that “mom, mom the speakers by that teenager just came down from the sky!”. Her mom follows her pointing finger with mild interest and sees as the blond teenager fiddles with the speaker by him. She smiles down at her daughter, explaining that the guy is a street performer and that those are very common in Mediterranean, European tourist’s cities like this one. Her daughter frowns and explains that it is not the point (“the speakers came down from the sky!”) but her mother isn’t listening anymore because the music from the speakers just started and the boy is getting in position to dance. Several other people have stopped, tourists and Marseille inhabitants both awaiting the performance with mild interest.

And then the boy starts to dance.

Heartbeats stops. Breathes still halfway and a woman to the left let out an audible gasp. The little girl has forgotten all about flying speakers because the boy is moving in a way she didn’t knew was possible. He’s quick while being slow and he’s flying while always touching the ground. She never take her eyes of him but it still feels like she misses a thousand details, like there’s another dimension to the performance that she’s can’t see.

When it’s over she asks her mother if it was magic. Her mother doesn’t know but she’s quick to hand her daughter some small euro’s she finds in the bottom of her purse. Together they probably add up to quite a sum but the little girl still feels like it’s not enough when she wavers through the people and throws the coins in the snapback lying in front of the boy. He looks at her with sparkling eyes and nods in gratitude.

“Bonjour” The girl says, sounding breathless and the boy smiles timidly, all earlier bravado from the performance gone.

“Bonjour” He answers and his voice is soft and low. The girl grins brightly at him before turning around and running back to her mother. Junhong watches her go for a while before turning his attention back to the people letting money drop into his snapback, A couple of girls giggle as they approach him and bats their lashes as they talk to him.

“Ta danse est tres cool” One of the girls says sweetly and her friends giggle even more behind her.

“Ah, merci” He answers quietly and smiles shyly at them, trying hard to ignore the ugly twist in his stomach.

“Voudrais-tu…” The girl starts but Junhong is quick to irrupt her.

“Pardon mais je dois y alle, merci et aurevoir” He nods towards the girl who seems surprised by the sudden turn of events before he takes off on his skateboard. The girl is too busy being offended to wonder where the speakers went.

Junhong skates down the street until he reaches a corner where he turn to the left and then further into the city until he reaches a small café. It’s a nice café; Small, cosy and of course, full of tourists. Junhong make his way to the counter and nods towards the woman behind it. He mumbles an order of a sandwich and water before moving aside to make way for the elderly couple behind him. He leans against the counter and fixes his eyes on the floor. Conversations, clinking of coffee cups and the soft noise of the background music sweep towards him and surround him. He breathes in the smell of coffee, perfume and tobacco as he slowly get used to the familiarity of it all.

Except it’s not familiar.

Something is off.

The café feels too much like warmth even as the cold air from the air conditioner spins around the room and there is a promise of rain or snow circling around him even though it can’t possible start snowing or raining inside a café. No, it’s more of a presence than a promise and it’s making Junhong uncomfortable. It brings back thoughts of skate parks and thunder boys and water breezes over hills and he doesn’t want that, not yet. Junhong just wants to be normal, with normal, happy feelings and without an eternity in front of them.

His sandwich arrives. He thanks the lady and steer towards a table by the window. He sits down in the corner, blocked from the larger part of the café by a large plant. Junhong glances at the table behind him as he sits down. He can barely see the men at it since they’re blocked by the large plant but he makes out the shapes of four men, two with the backs against him. Curiosity gets the better of him and he lets the air from the conversation drag towards his ear.

“…in this big city? Do you realise how hard this could be?” Says one male with handsome features and brown hair. He’s frowning and seems generally unpleased with the situation.

“Well you two found us pretty quickly in London so I don’t see how this could be any harder” A boy with his back against Junhong answers cheerfully and the first male rolls his eyes.

“Well that was because Youngjae’s aura was all over the place but in a concentrated way. You could pinpoint where it got stronger and where it weakened. This is not like that and you know it. One aura is all over the place but evenly distributed and I can’t even sense the aura of the other one. Are we even sure if there’s two of them?”

“Yes we are.” A dark, low voice says and the warmth is so close Junhong feels like he could just reach out and touch it.

But he doesn’t dare.

Because he know why the café feels weird now.

Junhong’s not breathing. Not that he really has to. The males at the other table keeps discussing lowly but Junhong has stopped listening. He barely dares to move a muscle but he has to make sure that he’s right. Slowly he opens his mouth and breathes in the air around him. It tastes of fresh rain. It tastes of ice cold snow and it tastes of warmth from the sun. It has the moist feeling of a foggy, cloudy day and it has an unfamiliar familiarity to it that makes Junhong’s insides twist in panic.

He wants to stand up and run but he can’t. They would notice. They would understand. They would see him, find him and notice him. They are like him and he is like them. Countless memories of whispers between clouds and a rumbling laughter from the sun flashes in his mind until his hands are shaking.

He’s not alone.

He has always been alone.

He can’t be anything but alone.

He don’t remember how it is not to be alone

How it is to have hope.

Junhong breathes out fear as he hides his shaking hands under the table and counts the minutes until he can sneak away from the café.

On a sunny hill several miles outside Marseille Jongup opens his eyes. He feels it. The presence of rain, his old friend, in a sunny landscape. It’s vague, so vague it’s barely there but Jongup has memorised the feeling of rain for so many years that he could sense it in his sleep if he had to.

“Finally” He whispers, breathes out a laugh and stand up. He sweeps his eyes around the empty landscape around him. He could have sworn there had been someone there with him for just moments ago but wherever he looks there is no sign of any other human. It confuses Jongup but he doesn’t ponder on it for too long.

He has someone to meet. Someone he has waited on for a long time.

With a small smile gracing his lips he steers his feet towards the town he went past some days ago. He doesn’t remember the name. Names often slip away when one has lived for too long.