Burning ice

Xiumin was lying on his hard, wooden bed, tossing and turning. Terrible nightmares where hunting him, a dark room, screams and yells, and a little baby whose hair was jet black, big eyes dark as a night outside; lying in the middle of the room, in a circle of fire. But there was something odd about the fire, Xiumin realized. It was not red and orange, and yellow. It was blue and white. Like ice. He looked around, trying to spot anything else, trying to find a way to save the child. But there was nothing. Only shapes and shadows screaming in the distance. And then, Xiumin realized, the icy fire started catching on other things, walls and ceiling, moving closer to him. The boy started moving back, but was quickly stopped by the wall behind him. And when the fire almost reached him, he jerked awake, coughing his lungs out. With heavy, uneven and loud breathing, and air struggling to reach his lungs, Xiumin was spilling blood all over his already bloody sheets. When the attack ended, the boy whined, terrified at what he saw. His pillow, sheets and blanket were soaked with blood. There were drops of it streaming down the wall, and when he turned around to leave the bed, he spotted a pool of blood on the floor. His lips opened in a silent scream and he felt lightheaded. Death was knocking on his door.

Xiumin got out of bed, and tossing away his bloody strained t-shirt he walked up to the cold fireplace, on which stood a small diamond vial that had been brought to him a few hours earlier. His medicine. He took another sip and it sent shivers down his spine. A sharp pain went though his heart and he fell to his knees. By taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself down. He put the vial aside, but never moved from the floor. He was too weak, and he was cold. He had never been cold before.

Lying motionless on the ground, the boy was thinking. Although, he promised himself he would not focus on it, his mind took his back to the morning hours, anyway. He relived the last minutes of seeing Jongdae again and again, and all he wanted was to forget. He wanted to forget the chill that ran down his spine, the goosebumps he felt on his arms, when the prince neared him; or the bittersweet scent of the other’s lips. But more than that, Xiumin wanted to forget Jongdae. Because the prince, somehow, at some point during their nightly meetings, made Xiumin feel like at home, and it scared him, because he never had home. He caught himself wondering more and more often whether the prince would visit him in the evenings or not, and he remembered the stinging feeling of disappointment whenever he had not come, but he also remembered each time his heart skipped a bit upon hearing the door crack open. Xiumin knew, even though he never said a word, how broken the prince was. He saw his shadow. And he remembered the ancient belief, that shadows are reflections of one soul. He started wondering what his soul would look like. If there is anything left of it, a thought crossed his mind, and he signed.

Xiumin often caught himself wondering about what his life would look like if his parents did not die, if they did not leave for the West before the war. Would he end up in that place, anyway? Would he be dying in his 20s at well? Or would he be happy, with a normal family, good enough for Jongdae? There was always something missing in his life, he never knew who he really was. He lost his parents when he was around three, he was brought up in what felt like captivity, he was used to heal people in the village, but was always kept away from them. He never left the woods, as he was not allowed to. He was beaten, bruised and tortured whenever he failed to heal someone, each time someone died he was at blame. He remembered all too well all the nights he went to bed hungry, because reflecting at them now, seemed like there were more of them then the ones he actually got anything to eat. When Xiumin was around ten, he was put on trail. He was accused of stealing an apple from the fair. He did steal it, but he never confessed. He kept on lying until the last moment. And when he admitted, the chief of the village sentenced him to the text sentence. Test sentenced was based on simply luck of the prisoner. They put Xiumin by the wall and placed an apple on his head. There was a tall, broad man standing a few feet in front of the child, with a huge bow, a black arrow ready to be let free, and eyes tied with a piece of cloth. There is was, a ten years old boy faith depended on an old, blinded man’s disability to shoot.

When Xiumin was twelve, he tried to run away for the first time. It ended in him living a week on nothing but water, locked in the deepest basement of the chief’s house. When he was fifteen, and tried to run away, it ended in him earning an arrow in a shoulder, beating, and a pool of blood in which he laid two days because he lost consciousness.

Xiumin had been dying since he remembered. He did not posses a memory in which he would not be sick, or weak, or pale, or couching blood. He somehow knew it was connected to his unnatural abilities, but he was not sure. Xiumin was not sure of so many thing, he found it really hard to actually be sure about something. There was only one thing he took for granted. First, was his death.

Therefore, when he found Jongdae that night, he never expected the other would cause him so much trouble. It was a regular night for Xiumin, he left his hat in the evening, hoping to get some time to himself after the whole day of serving others, hunting, and being pushed around. The moment he stepped outside, the snow started falling, and then wind came, and with it came the blizzard. Xiumin stood by his pond, under the old willow, and smiled to himself, as cold was embracing him and snow was dancing around him. Whenever it happened, he felt so alive. As if he was immortal, as if nothing could break him, bring him down, or kill him. But these were only mere seconds, because it was obvious that he had been already broken, brought down to his knees, and almost dead anyway. Xiumin was and felt like nothing, but in such moments, when he felt like the master of other’s lives, making the travelers be at mercy of his blizzard, Xiumin felt eternal. He felt like he was forever.

Time came, and Xiumin had to go back, but not even for a second had he let the blizzard to calm down. In reverse, the wilder the blizzard had been, the calmer Xiumin felt. And then he saw him. A shadow, blurred shape somewhere at the horizon. A horse and its rider, barely making it. He felt a weird aura appearing in the air, and maybe that was it, or something else, Xiumin will never know, but something made him take that first step, and then another one, and after a moment he found himself getting closer and closer to the stranger. Suddenly, the horse stopped, the rider was brought to the ground by a strong wave of snow, and the animal felt to the ground. When he was only a few steps away from the stranger, he tilted his head to the side, and actually considered walking away and letting the man die. There was no one in his whole life who had ever shown kindness to Xiumin, so why would he show it to others? But there was a voice, a very quiet one, somewhere at the back of his mind, telling him he should help. So he knelt down, and reaching out to bring the stranger up, a spark of electricity kicked him when he neared his hand to the other. He frowned, but shrugged and brough the man- boy as if turned out- up, throwing his arm around the other’s waist, supporting him. As the young man was unconscious, he was of no help, and Xiumin had to carry him back to his hat, so he quickly figured it’d be easier to just carry him bridal-style. Upon doing so, he reached down and took the horse’s rein and tug on it. When the animal managed to stand up on its’ shaky legs, Xiumin looked in front of them, and the snow stopped, forming something similar to a corridor. Xiumin remembered looking down at the young man in his arms, and feeling a weird tug on his heart. The boy was beautiful. Soft feature, prominent cheekbones, slightly curled lips, dark hair. However, there were dark circled beneath his eyes, a light bruise on his forehead and a few scars that were going out of his hair onto his face. He was beautiful, Xiumin thought. And he still thinks so, but such thoughts scare him.

How can someone, who has nothing, find everything in another person? How can that other person, who has everything, look for nothing in him? Because that was what Xiumin felt. Jongdae never asked for anything, he only seemed to be giving. He gave Xiumin his time, his attention, his kindness, his understanding, his heart. While there was nothing Xiumin could give back. He had nothing to offer, nothing to suggest, nothing to give to the prince. Nothing to give to Jongdae. All he had was his hardly beating heart, and it was too fragile, too precious to Xiumin, to give it to anyone. That was the only thing he had, that kept him alive, and if he gave his heart to someone, Xiumin was afraid he would die right away.

But here he was, lying , cold, bruised and broken, on a cold hard ground, hardly breathing, struggling for air, struggling to stay awake, struggling to live. What did he need his heart, now? Nothing. It was just as dysfunctional as the rest of his body. But it was alive in the morning, when Jongdae kissed him. It was a quick kiss, because his instincts took the best of him, but still. Never before had Xiumin felt so alive. He wanted to do it again, he wanted to feel Jongdae’s hands on his body, his bittersweet lips on his own, his hot breath on his neck, he wanted to feel wanted. If he got to do it, just one more time, he would be happy. Because, maybe there was no way trying to escape death? It would catch up to one anyway. Maybe greeting it like an old friend was a better idea, a less painful one? But before he dies, Xiumin had one wish left.

“Jongdae-ah,” he whispered, as his eyeslids suddenly felt too heavy, so he let them fall. Breathing suddenly became too hard, too painful, so Xiumin was taking short and shallow breaths, just to ease the painful fire in his chest. And cold started becoming too unbearable, as he started shivering.

“I’m hear,” a soft sounds reached his ear, but he was too tired fighting, to open his eyes. But he managed to let a small smile creep onto his face, upon feeling something warm and steady embrace his hand, and the warmth spread all over his body, as he fell into oblivion.

A/N

Hello, sweethearts!

Okay, I know, you all deserve an explanation, it's been a few weeks... wait like almost a month since the last update and the previous one wasn't even that good. First of all, I am really sorry :( I did not want it to be like this :( I really hoped I would be able to update earlier, but unfortunately, I am not doing too well not, I do not want to excuse my lack of updates or sorry- chapters, but I do ask for a little bit of understanding as I've been strggling with quite a lot of mental breakdowns these days, and I find it really hard to find a motivation to do anything these days, especially writing. I apologize for this, I will try to do better, and update sooner next time. Please don't hate your author :(

Secondly, this chapter is neither long nor especially connected to what is currently doing (tho if you paid attention it actually has a few VERY serious hints and easter eggs), but I felt like Xiumin needed justice in this story, and some explanation to what exactly is giong on with him as a character, so here it is, someone Xiumin background :) I hope it will be fine for now :)

Please, take merci upon me, and don't hate me for not updating ! :( {P.S this chapter is unedited}

Until the next time!

Best wishes,

badblood