Yifan stands amidst the marketplace as throngs of people weave in and out between the stalls. Their voices raise as they haggle and shout, trying to speak over one another and distinguish themselves from the monotonous decibel. Yet Yifan is silent and still; he is looking, searching for something. His drive to find it so ingrained within himself that he questions whether or not it has taken over his identity.

The years spent on the chase have slowly consumed him to the point where barely a moment goes by that it is not at the forefront of his mind. Or that the object of his pursuit isn't either. He imagines it, just in front of him, yet it is still too far from his reach and it makes a mockery of him; teasing him in the most agonizing way. 

Its so close and he can feel it. 

He can feel it in the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart begins to beat faster. In the way his limbs itch to move and his eyes start to dart, desperately seeking. In the way he begins to feel the overwhelming flood of purpose, and longing. 

He wants it so much it hurts. An invisible hand had wrapped around his heart and squeezed, strong as steel, and Yifan knows it won't let up.

The wind shifts and it ruffles Yifan's golden hair. Twitching his nose he can smell the displeasing scent of the market muddled with sweat, fish, and too many spices. It burns his nostrils and makes his face contort with displeasure.

He knows that he has to be here though, there is something pulling him here, guiding him even. His senses hum and it reassures him of this.

Again, the wind changes and another scent wafts into his range. This one is pleasant and Yifan recognizes it instantly, memories already flooding his mind. So long had he spent trying to find it, to catch it, to pull its origin into his arms. It was the only scent that mattered to him anymore.

It sends Yifan's senses into overdrive. 

He turns his head and follows the scent, eyes scanning the crowd. The miasma of colorful fabrics and the shiny glint of metals try to distract him and draw his focus away from his pursuit. As do the people who weave in and out between each other and the erected structures of the market. Together they blend into a continuous sea of movement that would seek to swallow up the very thing he aims to find. 

Yet there he stands unmoving and fixed as the crowds ebb and flow around him like waves against a rock. His gaze meets Yifan's and Yifan takes in all of him. 

His mahogany hair and the sharp turn of his eyes. The soft curve of his cupids bow lips and the line of his jaw. Tan skin, lean muscles, graceful poise. To look upon him for the rest of eternity would be one of the greatest gifts the Gods could grant him, Yifan thinks. Second to only one.

His body thrums at the thought of it.

It seemed like so long since they had last laid eyes upon each other. Since he had resumed this eternal chase with him.

His prey.

His prize.

His Zitao.

In the very beginning Yifan had been very different from what he was now. He had been known as Laelaps then, the golden hound sent to guard over the infant god Zeus. 

In this form Laelaps was larger than life, easily the size of a horse but no man should dare to ride him. He was covered in soft fur the color of spun gold that had regularly been dusted in dirt, sweat, and blood. Underneath, strong muscles pulled and tightened, always ready for the next hunt.

In those first few years of vigilance and the wait for the isolated god to grow into maturity Laelaps had become a beloved companion to the young Zeus. Never far from his side the hound had been his protector and companion. Hours had been spent with him laid out before the child or even curled around him, fur surrounding the young god like a golden fleece. Other times he was crouched and snarling, his body a barrier between the crying infant and the wrath of titans.

They had been the boy and his loyal dog. Looking back, Yifan believes that the time spent with the young god, watching him mature and grow into a formidable young man, turned him soft, creating wells in his heart where emotions had not previously been able to burrow.

Even after Zeus had taken his seat on Olympus his affections for Laelaps had not diminished, and nor had Laelaps' affections for him. But the god would have to let his dog go and allow him the freedom of chase. It was here in time that he had been free to rejoin the hunt, no longer bound to Zeus' side, but always free to return. 

After this Laelaps had spent a long time in movement, prowling after game from all realms of life. The magical dog was fierce and keen of sense, with the wind always at his side. Hunting and chasing were no different than breathing and possibly even more important than it in the world of the hound. Even had the eons passed he would have still held the same nature, same desire imprinted in his blood and bones.

The hunt had become his profession just as equally as it had always been his obsession. Every moment away from the wild chase and its thrills became an itch he just couldn't scratch. He lived for the rush of the chase and its triumph.

Never once had he failed in his pursuit. Never once had he failed to drag back the carcass of the conquest's chosen animal in his jaws, body humming with victory. This was the fate of Laelaps, for he was the hound who was always destined to catch what he chased.

The progression of time had been no deterrent to Laelaps' love of the sport. The only things that had changed were Laelaps' physical form and his name. After Laelaps he had been a nameless predator, lithe and wiry, which had been followed by a man, Jiaheng. Now, after a multitude of sequences and some transitions back to the golden hound, he was Yifan, not quite human but close enough. And Yifan held the same passion for the hunt as Laelaps. 

Under each form he relished the rush of wind and adrenaline. Under each form he longed to feel the earth being displaced under feet, paws, and hooves as he gained ground between him and the prize.

Hackles raised. Teeth snapping. Chest deep snarls and growls. Predatory stares. Taut muscles. Grasping fingers. Timed lunges. 

This was what he lived for.

In the dark of some nights when Yifan took his rest he could remember everything. All of the hunts had been on, every animal, every scent, every second of chase, and every minescule flutter of emotion. He could feel it and all did to him.

All of his senses became drowned in pleasure while on the hunt and his body thrummed with a constant energy to which nothing else could make him feel so alive. It was unparallelled, this feeling, such a singular part of his soul and previously unmatched.

Even then there was something about it, something that Yifan couldn't quite place into words or even begin to explain. Maybe it was the feeling of accomplishment when all had been said and done or maybe it was the pleasant ache of used muscles. All Yifan knew was that his legs would always keep moving so long as there was a chase to be held.

There was a pull within him, one so strong he could never ignore it, never let go or give up on. It would drive him across the sea, through the desert, and straight into the heart of the Underworld should it make him and he would happily follow. Never before had he resisted its call and Yifan hadn't thought that it could have ever happened either.

The city of Thebes had always been one of great turmoil and the gods had always been so quick to take insult. 

Skepticism was one of the worst offences against a god one could commit in their eyes; to deny the existence of one as a deity and deny it worship would bring upon wrath and ruin. The blaspheme of Dionysus by Thebes  brought such a state upon the city.

Called upon by the god of wine the Teumessian fox was upon them.

Chaos followed where the Teumessian fox went. The countryside was completely ravaged, farms razed to the ground, unable to replenish food stuffs. Walls to the city crumbed and buildings sat in disrepair. Growls echoed through the streets and shadows of a bear-sized fox flickered in the evening light. The parents told stories of the fox, warning of its penchant for child flesh so as to keep their precious children cautious and reluctant too wander to far from home. The children, in turn, embellished these stories in their own childlike fashion and shared them with each other, fueling nightmares.

Dire was the situation in Thebes.

So many of the best hunters and the strongest soldiers, set out to end the fox's reign of terror but none were successful.  

The Teumessian fox danced around them, mahogany fur leaving beautiful blurs as the fox jumped, countered, and parried. Every arrow would miss its mark, every spear would taste the earth instead of flesh, and every sword would drop from the hands of men whose hearts would either stutter with fear or swell before meeting the carnage of teeth.

The Teumessian fox was a creature who could never be caught.

From his seat on Olympus Zeus saw the destruction and heard the pleas of the people. No longer able to ignore their suffering he dispatched Laelaps to hunt down the fox and  restore normality back to the land. Laelaps was only to eager to adhere to the call  of the hunt.

And so, the hound who catches everything it chased was sent out after the fox that could never be caught.

When they first began their pursuit they had both been so unaccustomed to the methods of the other that the two of them together was almost worse than the fox on his own. They trampled through Thebes with clouds of dust raining around them continuously; bodies sent crashing into buildings as they tried to maneuver the narrow streets.

The Teumessian fox always remained before Laelaps, but only just. Laelaps' mouth would twist into snarls and snap ferociously at the fox's heels yet never taste the string of sinew. It confused him and brought forth an anger he had not been aware that he concealed. He was named one of the greatest of hunters, praised to always catch his prey, but had seemingly failed. It wounded him. He was spurned, not only by his nature, but by his pride to not relinquish the chase and keep moving.

Although the fox had been able to outrun the hound he had never been able remove Laelaps from his trail or cause him to lose his scent for too long. The hound would always be able to find the fox and it would remain that way until the unforeseeable end.

The whirlwind of mahogany and gold they created across the countryside were seen as regularly as the tides.

Every part of Laelaps that told him to keep moving, to keep chasing, and to keep on the hunt, was matched by the fox's own internal commands. For the fox, a constant state of run, run, run, and the compulsion to be alongside the wind beckoned him. As did wild freedom and the promise of another day without being clamped between strong jaws , hanging limply and without the beat of a heart.

At the core the fox and the hound were not so different. The two of them were both compelled by their very beings to keep moving and keep itself satisfied in the ways it knew best. To obey the call within them.

However, it was their opposing natures -the fate to catch and the fate to elude- that would place them at opposites. So they remained, one at the heels of the other, growling and snapping at the chance of release.

At least for a while.

Somewhere in the long progression of time the fox and the hound had changed. No longer were they Laelaps and the Teumessian fox, beasts of another world and strong gods, they had become Yifan and Zitao, men who oscillated between the realms of magic and man.

Yet their narratives had altered too, it had mellowed from ravenous stares, warning snarls, and the violence of claws and teeth into something softer, more tender. The gazes exchanged between them now lingered, resting for a few brief but treasured moments, before reluctantly moving. There was an affection that had grown between Yifan and Zitao and it killed them both. 

Because Yifan was the hound who always caught everything he chased and Zitao was the fox who could never be caught.

They were a painful paradox that would see no end, fueled by eternal life and the relentless nature of their inner beasts.

The more Yifan grew to love Zitao -and Zitao grew to love him- the more he wanted to scream because Zitao was right there, and yet he could still not reach out and touch him, could not throw his arms around him and just hold him close as he whispered lifetimes worth of tender words into his ear. It tore both of them to pieces that for every step Yifan would take towards Zitao, Zitao would have to take just as many back. And it hurt that even though the insult against Dionysus had long been forgotten and Zitao was able to live without spreading chaos and fear, that even though Yifan had since thrown away his pride for his love, they were still stuck in this eternal chase that every fiber of their beings other than their hearts wanted to continue.

It hurt and neither of them knew how to stop the pain.

Sometimes they were able to forget that the universe seemed to be against them, even if it was only for a little while. 

Instead of the gloom that would be spread across their faces as they kept pace, well aware that it would be another fruitless venture and yield nothing more than it already had, they would partake in some form of game. Yifan would pounce and Zitao would counter but there was something playful in the movements. It wasn't part of the chase when they did this, not really, it was an escape from the chase. They could imagine that they were lovers teasing each other in a light hearted game of tag, rolling around in the grass before a return to the days' work which would be followed by the evening where they could walk home together and prepare for bed before falling asleep beside each other.

When they allowed themselves that fantasy they could fool themselves into believing that one day it would all work out. That Yifan would wake up one morning and find Zitao's head on his chest and be able to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer into his embrace.

It brought genuine smiles to their faces as they danced around each other, pretending. For a while they would be happy; Zitao's entire face would brighten and he would let out sounds of laughter and joy that would cause Yifan's heart to swell as he let out his own chuckles.

But when the sun began to set and the tides began to change their faces would slowly drop and Yifan and Zitao would be forced to see the world as it was. 

They were able to linger on the weak and wispy tendrils of hope, but only for so long.

Once during one of their more playful sessions Yifan had almost caught him.

When his fingertips had ghosted along the skin of Zitao's back both of them froze on instinct. They had been afraid to move then, too scared and too excited to know what to do. Time slowed to the most sluggish of crawls and they did not know whether it was a smile from the gods or a cruel taunt from the weathered hands of the fates and their golden threads.

Yifan had moved his hand unsurely back to where it had come into contact with Zitao's skin, hovering above the flesh. The thought of touching Zitao, sharing physical contact with the embodiment of his love, was all he dreamed about but now he was afraid of consequences he could not see and the possibility of losing the man he did not truly have to them.

But he gathered his strength and continued on.

Yifan pressed lightly, so lightly, that anyone would have questioned whether he was touching him at all. But Yifan knew it was real. He could feel the warmth from Zitao's skin and the way his muscles shivered under his touch. Daringly, Yifan flattened his entire hand against his back and Zitao's breath hitched. Adrenaline rushed through both of them. They stood like that for a long while, Yifan standing behind Zitao with a palm placed on his back. He had prayed that it would not end anytime soon, that they could stay like that for just a while longer.

Zitao's eyes were closed.

He stood there feeling it, taking all  of it in and committing it to memory as Yifan did the same. It was the most at peace they had been in years.

Then Yifan's feet inched forward the tiniest bit and Zitao immediately sprung forward out of his reach. Zitao stood there, back to Yifan, with a scattered mind, trying to piece the remnants back together.  After a few moments he began to realize what had happened and it became to painful for him to think about. To harrowing and bittersweet. Silent sobs had wracked his form as Yifan stood behind him, distanced and unable to offer his touch.

Zitao was crying and he was unsure whether it was because the moment had ended or if it was because he had hoped that anything other than that predictable ending would have happened.

When he finally turned around his eyes were glistening and there were tears streaming down his face. On instinct Yifan move forward to console him, or to wipe his tears, or just hold him -he didn't know- and Zitao was sent back once again. However this time he could see how tired Zitao was, how tired they both were. When Zitao had moved it was like his legs had not been his own but he had just been attached to them, barely keeping balance as he fought to be supported by them and not collapse. It reminded him that their bodies and the natures woven inside them would not willingly relent and allow them this one happiness.

In his eyes Yifan could see the unconcealed fatigue and wondered if Zitao could see it in him also.

After that incident there had been moments where in the midst of pursuit Yifan would drop to his knees, and Zitao, ever perceptive of Yifan's presence would slow to a halt and turn to him. From his kneel on the ground Yifan would stare at him with an expression that would simultaneously make Zitao's toes clench and heart ache. Zitao would then slowly fold to the earth and lay as he kept his equally emotional gaze with Yifan. 

They would stay like that for hours, days if they could, and express every emotion with their eyes,

Then when they felt the itch to keep moving again they found that they had lost another piece of themselves and given it to the other.

And somehow that made everything hurt even more.

Back between the stalls of the marketplace Zitao stood in Yifan's sight looking at him with an expression both of them had seen all to often. 

Staring back, Yifan could identify every flicker of light in his eyes and make sense of the swirling dark that lingered too. It resounded in a muddled mix of emotions and reactions that Yifan would always be able to decipher. The happiness to see each other. The security of being able to feel each other's presence. The hope for a different outcome. The melancholy of the distance between them. The anguish of being so close but so far apart. And most of all the overwhelming flood of love.

Yifan knew every expression on Zitao's face because it was mirrored in his own.

They resumed the chase like this a lot recently. Just staring at each other and basking in the energy of the other as time slowed once again. It gave them the chance to express the feelings that they could not say in words; another victim of the space between the two. 

To express the love and commitment they both held.

But it was getting to hard for them to pretend that they were fine anymore, that this was just a bump in the road soon to be paved over. Because they were stuck in this paradoxical fate and it would not meet an end. But they were in love and ignorance was bliss so they would put on a face of hope that was gradually cracking and would pretend for as long as they could that everything was alright and this was just a test of love and loyalty.

So as Zitao started to turn away he kept his gaze with Yifan for as long as he could and bared a look of all the emotions Yifan had come to love and hate at him and Yifan returned them with a sad smile of his own. 

Then the world sped up again and Zitao was gone so Yifan started moving.

Comments, questions, criticism, concerns? I hope I was able to do well with this story and that you will let me know how I did or of any mistakes I might have made. Felt like it was kinda short though. I want to thank you, all the support you give is treasured.