Yixing curls into the chair, watching his two best friends bicker like a married couple.

Was it something he did? Something he said? Something he didn’t? He didn’t understand. He’d worked so hard on his Korean and he understood the judges and the interviewer perfectly and they didn’t seem to have a problem understanding him either. Did they have something against him? Was it because he was Chinese? Short? Quiet? It was bugging him. What was wrong with him?

“Jongdae, is there something wrong with me?” He asks the remaining boy when Baekhyun scampers away to wash his face or redo his eyeliner or something else neither of them were listening to. When the boy’s voice got higher, it was best to drown him out.

“You’re lucky Baek’s not here because he’d flip out at you for even thinking there’s something wrong with you.” Jongdae laughs softly, crouching down to the height of the boy sitting on his chair. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Xing.” Jongdae smiles, taking the boy’s hands in his and squeezing reassuringly.

“Then why doesn’t anyone want me?”

“Because they’re stupid.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Just because they’re too blind to see what they’re missing out on doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. You’re talented and I don’t usually compliment people. You’re really special, Xing. Don’t forget that.” The older boy stands up and wraps him in a tight hug, resting his head on his shoulder, much to the boy’s protests. “I love you too, Xing, but don’t hug me! No!” He whines playfully. “I don’t like hugs!”

“Hugs?” Baekhyun’s face promptly appears in the crook of the door and once he spots the two embracing, he races over and jumps into the group. “Group hug!”

“It just got worse!” Jongdae exclaims, causing Yixing to giggle and ruffle his hair as they parted. “Much better.”

“You know you love us, Dae.” Baekhyun teases, squishing the younger’s cheeks. Jongdae fights him away and throws himself back into his seat.

“You’re the annoying aunt everyone has to love because she’s family.” He states with a wide smirk. “And Xing is the quiet uncle we never hear much from because the aunt talks too much.”

“I hate you so much.” Baekhyun grumbles, pouting.

“You know you love me, Baek.” Jongdae mocks, getting a slap from the older.

~*~

Baekhyun snuggles down into his bed sheets, the warmth flooding his body. He soon felt the bed dip beside him and rolled over to find Yixing – but hey, it wasn’t like he was expecting Jongdae.

“You’re pretty bummed about not getting in, aren’t you?” Yixing doesn’t say a thing, but Baekhyun knows. That’s what Yixing likes most about his two best friends. He doesn’t have to say a word, they just know. It’s like they read his mind. “Don’t be. Everyone hits obstacles in their life. You just have to get over them and push yourself to go on.”

“I know.” Yixing mumbles, snuggling into the boy’s embrace as he wrapped his arms around his neck and ran his fingers through his hair.

Jongdae hated cuddling and hugs and closeness, but Baekhyun loved group hugs and friendly kisses on the cheek and Yixing found himself subduing to the latter’s wishes more often than not. He was certain it was the puppy eyes and cute pout, but Baekhyun got pretty much whatever he wanted.

“They’re missing out. Everything happens for a reason, Xing. If they didn’t accept you, then it wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps you’ll get a better offer in a little while? One you wouldn’t have been able to take if you’d been accepted at SM.” Baekhyun smiles reassuringly, but that falls when the boy sighs.

“Where is better than SM? They’re like the royals of entertainment.”

“Don’t be stupid, Yixing; I’m trying to make you feel better.” Baekhyun complains with a grunt, which Yixing simply smiles at. “There’s those dimples! We like the dimples. Dimples means smiles and smiles means-”

“Happy Yixing; yes, I know.” Yixing interrupts with a laugh.

“Good boy.”

“It baffles me that you’re the most successful of us.” He mumbles, his eyes fluttering closed and his head falling to rest more comfortably on Baekhyun’s shoulder.

“Me too.”

~*~

Jongdae ridicules the pair later for falling asleep together – he doesn’t quite understand how people can possibly be so cuddly and touchy feely but he leaves the two to it.

“It’s not that I want to cuddle with you guys, but it’s really good feeling like a third wheel.” Jongdae mutters sarcastically, getting a snort from Yixing and an ‘awh’ from Baekhyun. “Don’t you dare touch my fa-” Baekhyun grabbed his face and kissed his cheek hard (sound effects and everything). “Baekhyun!”

“I love you, Jongdae.” Baekhyun sings, latching on the younger’s arm as he tries to shake him off.

“Guys.” Yixing breaks them out of their trance. The two stop immediately and Jongdae takes this opportunity to snatch his arm back. “Come here.” Yixing had his nose pressed against the glass of the window-wall. “Look at the sky.”

“Where else would we be looking?” Jongdae mutters, Baekhyun following obediently behind him.

“Is it an eclipse coming?” Baekhyun murmurs, his eyes wide with awe.

“What else would it be? Honestly, I live with a pair of idiots.”

“It’s so pretty.” Baekhyun is promptly shushed by Yixing, who is into a trance. Jongdae reaches over to the table and picks up his coffee, sipping it as he watches the Sun and the Moon cross. “Your liquid tarmac is ruining the moment.”

“Shut up.”

“Woah…” Yixing mumbles as the light from the Sun is blocked completely from view by the moon, a shadow covering them and their apartment. It’s almost as if something brews inside their bodies; an unknown feeling of content and familiarity as their eyes follow the path of the Moon. Yixing leans closer to the glass and Baekhyun blinks to try and bring himself to reality, but nothing snaps him out of so intently watching from the apartment window. Jongdae, however, reacts very differently.

“That’s going to stain.” Baekhyun mumbles, not moving an inch as Jongdae’s mug smashes against the floor and the coffee spills on Baekhyun’s favourite rug.

“Shut up and look at the pretty eclipse.” Jongdae mutters back.

“I am.”

“It’s…. beautiful.” Yixing peers over at his friends and smiles at the awed looks on the faces (and the slight hint of drool in the corner of Baekhyun’s lips) before turning back to the eclipse. It passes, but their room stays in that same shaded darkness and Jongdae turns away from the sky to look at Yixing in confusion.

“Go turn the lights on.” Jongdae groans but wanders over to the light switch, tiredly flicking it on and flinching at the scream that immediately leaves Baekhyun’s lips.

It was like a bolt of lightning just came from the ceiling. The light bulb was intact as if nothing had touched it, but whenever Jongdae tried to flick the switch, the entire room would light up with some sort of electricity in flash and darken again.

It was just like a couple weeks ago when there was that storm outside, where the lightning kept flashing through their windows in a split second and the thunder would shake the apartment (and Baekhyun).

“Baekhyun, oh my god.” Baekhyun’s whimpering in pain, clutching his arm and biting his bottom lip to stop the tears trickling down his cheeks. Yixing his hair and places a kiss to his temple as the older boy panics.

“What did you do that for, Jongdae?” He wails. “It hurts so much, Xing!”

“I know, Baek. I’m sorry. C’mon, let’s go get the first aid kit.” Yixing’s hand wraps around Baekhyun’s bad arm and at first, the younger boy flinches, but a strange tingling sensation tickles his skin and a guilt-ridden Jongdae comes over to investigate.

“I’m sorry, Baek…”

“I-It’s o-o-okay.” Baekhyun whispers. “Yixing’s…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re… healing… me.” Yixing retracts his hand in surprise and Baekhyun hisses again. Jongdae grabs onto his hand and wraps his fingers back around Baekhyun’s lower arm and the boy’s lips curve into a small smile as the pain is drained away.

“How the heck did you do that?”

“I… I don’t know.” Yixing mumbles as he pulls away, Baekhyun reassuring him that his arm now feels as good as new. “I really don’t know…”

“Thanks.” Baekhyun says simply, cuddling his best friend into a hug and pulling a reluctant Jongdae in to join. “But we still have no electricity, so I’m going to go find a torch.”

It’s not five minutes later – Jongdae and Yixing are still huddled in the living room together not brave enough to step out in the darkness in case they stub their toe on a table or cut themselves on rogue coffee mug shard – that Baekhyun returns, hand out in front of him.

“Uh… guys?” The two snap their head to the boy, standing in the doorway. “Light is coming out of my hand.”

“It’s called a torch, Baekhyun; it’s what you went off looking for.” Jongdae rolls his eyes but the motion is wasted in the darkness lit only by a weak light from Baekhyun.

“No.” Baekhyun insists. “Light is coming out of my hand.” He holds his hand up to the boys – almost blinding them and blurting a quick ‘sorry’ – and shows them how his palm seems to have a hole in it that doesn’t quite go all the way through, light beaming out of it like streetlamp.

“I don’t suppose you could make a lightsaber out of that, could you?”

“Jongdae, I am going to blind you any minute now.”

Jongdae pauses, before his eyes widen slowly.

“Well if Yixing’s now Mother Teresa and you’re a walking lightbulb… Does that mean that the lightning earlier was… me? Am I Thor?”

“You’re definitely not Thor, Jongdae; for one thing, Thor was attractive.” Baekhyun snarls back, getting a smack from the quietest of the group at that moment.

“It’s possible, Dae.”

“Cool!”

“It’s not cool, Jongdae!” Baekhyun panics. “What are we? Are we human anymore? If you dare make a joke about the Killers, Jongdae, I swear to all that is holy, I’m not afraid to try the lightsaber thing.”

“We’re still human,” Yixing answers before Jongdae can even open his mouth to comment, “we’re just… I don’t know what we are but everything happens for a reason, right?”

Baekhyun smiles, “right.”

“So we’ll find out soon.” Baekhyun nods in agreement.

~*~

“Uh, Yixing?” Baekhyun mumbles from the door way, his hand hidden behind the wall separating the hall from Yixing’s bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any idea how I turn this off?” Baekhyun asks, pulling his hand out. “I’ve blinded myself at least six times just trying to get changed.”

“I don’t know, but try concentrating on it, perhaps? It always works in the movies.”

Baekhyun concentrates on the light going out but nothing happens. He peeks through one eye and sighs. “Try relaxing? I can see how tense you are from over here.” Baekhyun groans and Yixing stands to his feet and pulls the boy over to sit beside him on the edge of his bed, rubbing his forehead to calm him down. “You panic too much.”

“I’m the homeowner. I worry all the time; I’m allowed.”

“But you’re not allowed to stress yourself over it.” Yixing mumbles, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it at all. Close your eyes, okay?” Baekhyun does. “Imagine me and you are in a huge field and it’s covered in poppies and we left Jongdae back in the car so we can’t hear his whining,” Baekhyun giggles, “and the wind is nice and cold and the sun is shining, so it balances it out. Imagine singing in the field and dancing around.” The light in his hands begins to fade and Yixing smiles, accomplished. “Imagine a happy place where no one can hurt us and no one can try.”

The light diminishes, and the two are left in darkness as Baekhyun flutters open his eyes.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around Yixing’s neck in a hug.

“Sweet dreams, Baek.”

~*~

“What’s next?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s next’?” Yixing asks the chirpier boy the next morning who is sipping on his liquid tarmac happily in his usual chair.

“What do we do now? Now that we’re Greek Gods, what are we supposed to do with ourselves?”

“We’re not Gods, Jongdae, and we’re just going to keep living like normal. If we attract attention to ourselves, it’s only going to get worse.” Baekhyun mumbles.

“You’re right. Yixing and I are Greek Gods and you’re an Angler Fish.”

Baekhyun smacks him on the back of the head, “you’re mean.”

“And you’re both idiots.” Yixing snaps, losing his patience. The eldest boy stands up and paces along the floor, running his fingers through his hair. He abruptly stops.

“We’re going to keep living like normal, okay? Like it never happened.”

The two younger boys nodded in agreement.

~*~

Zitao can barely remember back to when he took his first Wushu lesson. All the kicks and punches thrown between him now are nothing. It’s not as cool as it used to be able to say you could knock a guy out in less than five seconds or kick anyone’s who came at you because that was all he did. He was constantly fighting; a lifestyle he didn’t choose.

It was fateful, the day he got caught walking home by muggers. He was just leaving work, expensive Gucci bag his parents had bought him for Christmas hanging pride and place on his shoulder. Three large pair of rough hands grabbed him by the limbs and threw him into the alleyway, scratching the fabric and tearing the edges. Zitao was furious; he’d waited months for that bag and he really didn’t want to have to be dealing with pathetic people like this on a Friday afternoon. He wanted to go home and watch his dramas, but now he was going to miss the beginning.

It was a blur of mixed thoughts and groans of pain as he flipped, kicked and turned, the three men in a neat pile on the floor a few feet away, his breathing heavy. ‘Don’t touch me again’ he had whispered, but the three didn’t listen.

He fixed his bag when he got home, but when he left work the next day and the day after and the day after that, those men did nothing but bug him; persistent smiles and offers being given for him to join them. When they eventually got the hint, they turned against him instead. Kind words became harassment and the persuasion became stalking. They followed him to work, followed him home… He had to turn down family events and friendly trips to the bar because he was scared that they would follow him to his loved ones.

It ruined his life and he fights those demons every day still, even right now.

He’s throwing punches to strong jaws and feeling the clicks of the bones under his fingers. It makes no difference to him whether he bruises them or breaks their jaws, as long as they leave him alone.

“You’ve grown, Zitao.” One of the original three is there this time, and he knows the man by a nickname, but he doesn’t dare say it. “You’re heartless now. Heartless and mindless.”

“And you’re not?” He counters, taking a step back. “You’re not prepared to fight to protect yourself? Just because I didn’t want to be your ally, doesn’t mean I wanted to be your enemy.”

“In a world like this, you are either a friend or a foe. Unfortunately, you picked foe.” The man mumbles back. It strikes Zitao that his voice is tinted with guilt and betrayal, but he doesn’t quite understand. He never wanted to be in this kind of life. He never wanted to be known as someone who fought. He already wanted to shake the reputation he had of being unapproachable, not to mention his boss’ reactions when he goes into work bruised and battered, but smiling like nothing happened.

“I didn’t pick anything.”

“Then life picks for you.” The man continues. “I didn’t pick this life either, Zitao; you know that.”

“I don’t know that. I don’t know anything about you.”

“We grew up together, Zitao, and you don’t even recognise me?” The man stares up at him with warm eyes and Zitao realises that they have always felt familiar but he could never place them. “It’s me… Henry.”

The man lifts his head from the darkness and Zitao watches the way the moonlight reflects off his skin and remembers his big Mochi from down the road. The boy had looked after him through school and his childhood, what with being a few years older, he experienced it all before Zitao came to it. Zitao was a fragile child and Henry never wanted to see the excited little boy’s lips fall into a frown.

“But you were just a kid? You were just a violin playing kid. You were the violin prodigy. How did you end up like this?”

“Bad luck,” he mumbles, scuffing his shoes on the floor subconsciously, “I didn’t ask for it. It just happened. I was kidnapped. I haven’t seen my parents in years.”

“They went back to Canada.” Zitao tells him and the older boy nods.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, Henry.” Zitao brings the boy in for a hug, but Henry steps back. He pauses and stares back at him before looking up at the moon.

“The night is young, Zitao, and so are you. If you escape quickly, you won’t have to end up fighting all the time. You just have to act carefully. Don’t act irrationally.”

“I won’t.” Zitao nods, following Henry’s eye line to the moon in the sky. When he turns back, Henry is gone.

The shuffles around him are silent as he watches the moon. The room begins to flood with darkness like a shadow and he watches the eclipse from the powdery room with awe filled eyes.

He’s never seen something so peaceful and beautiful in his life and he takes a minute to enjoy it before the shuffles bring his attention back to reality. The room is dark, but he can still see the people charging towards him and with a flick of the hand as he prepares to fight, they all freeze to the spot.

Arms are extended and legs are bent in sprints, but none of them move; not even blink. Zitao moves around in front of them, cautious of himself in case it’s a trick, but it’s not. It’s as if time has stopped and they have stopped with it. He stares back up at the moon as it begins to reappear behind the Sun crossing it and he realises then what Henry may have meant.

But how did he know it would happen? He didn’t care at the moment. Instead, he ran.

He stretched out his legs and he ran. Ran to wherever he could be safe, stumbling upon another man, moving in this timeless world, his hand latching onto his arm and his world spinning around him.