Media vita in morte sumus

In the midst of life we die.

“You can stay here,” Himchan grumbled under his breath, gesturing to the large wooden door behind him. When he opened it, Junhong looked around the lavish room with awe on his features. A bed that stood on four tall bedposts accented the middle of the room while a loveseat and a couch sat in the far corner. There were no expensive electronics, which Junhong expected and, quite frankly, really missed, but he would deal with it. There was no need to take advantage of family, after all.

Himchan left him almost as if in a puff of smoke. Him and his lion, rather, his familiar, were gone before Junhong could even turn around and gush about the wonderful room that sat before him. With a shrug of his shoulders, Junhong made his way towards the bed and leaped onto it. It was so comfortable, as if made from clouds themselves -- though, he reminded himself, that was quite impossible and an unfair comparison. But he’d let himself have this one. Just this once.

The nights were cold as he soon discovered. Stone floors were not really the best choice, but what could one expect from a structure that was thousands of years old? The floors were almost as harsh on his feet as Himchan’s disposition. Honestly, Junhong didn’t know what exactly to do about that attitude. When he himself was alone he did nothing but crave attention and validation from someone else. Himchan seemed to be the exact opposite. He wanted nothing to do with his newfound family and spent a considerate amount of time out of the castle walls. The man was a mystery, it seemed, but not in that fun and interesting way that Yongguk or Daehyun had been at first. His heart was stone cold and it seemed as if he kept himself locked off from the rest of the world. But there was one thing that Junhong was sure about. He’d get in, and he’d make Himchan smile like he never had before.

No matter what.

———

When Himchan wasn’t out in that same field that him and Junhong had their first encounter in, he was in the comfort of his large, extensive library. However, whenever Junhong peeked in through those tall double doors, he never found Himchan reading one of the many books that lined the shelves on the walls. Instead, the man would be leaned in close to an old radio, turning and turning the dial on the front of it until static turned to the blurred together words of a newscaster. “Come on,” he’d always whisper, leaning in just a tinge closer, “Just say something about them.”

One of the many times he eavesdropped on his host, he saw something he really shouldn’t have. The newscaster, a tightlipped old man with a thick accent, mentioned the success of a local restaurant chain run by an esteemed family with the last name Kim. That must have been who Himchan was pleading for all of the time. He wanted to know how his family was doing. That didn’t seem to bad. However, as the man continued to discuss with his co-host the beauty and success of the “only child of the Kim family” Junhong heard the most heart wrenching sob come from him. It was awful. Junhong watched as he unravelled and fell to the his knees, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands like a child would. Sabhya, his once terrifying familiar, was gentle as ever as nuzzled his cheek and wrapped herself around him. He cried into her muscled back as she laid down and gave him her own sort of embrace. The radio continued in the background, still going on and on about the Kims.

Despite his initial fear of Sabhya, Junhong pushed one of the heavy doors open and began walking towards his cousin. Sabhya growled lowly before Junhong could actually get to him, but he still continued walking until he, too was on his knees and hugging Himchan tightly. There was a moment of silence before the elder man hiccupped and another sob escaped him. He returned the embrace cried into Junhong’s shoulder. All the younger could do was hush him and rub his back, reassuring him that it was alright.

That was the first time a crack in Himchan’s glass box appeared, and Junhong saw it clearer than the light of day.

“You don’t have to listen to that anymore,” Junhong whispered, once Himchan’s hard sobs had calmed down to quieter sniffles. “I can be your family.”

Himchan gave himself some space, holding Junhong by the shoulders at an arm’s length away. He was still on his knees and was frowning quite profusely at the wet stain he’d left on Junhong’s shirt. Finally, he shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and giving the other the most faux smile he’d ever seen. “There’s no need.”

With that, he stood on shaking legs before leaving with Sabhya who -- quite grievously -- threw a glare over her strong shoulders.

Junhong sighed and crossed his arms, looking to the radio still buzzing on about the climate and weather for the next day. He turned the dial all the way down, effectively silencing it and just sat there and thought. This was going to be harder than he thought. Himchan was a lot more closed off than he appeared to be. Even after falling apart like that, he still rejected Junhong’s companionship. It was bizarre. Junhong had never met someone so stubborn, so unwilling.

Ah, well. He’d only have to try harder.

———

He did try harder; a lot harder. Always was he in Himchan’s footfalls or his shadow. He was constantly tailing him, to the point where Himchan actually snapped and whipped around and yelled at him. He quickly composed himself, though, and excused himself from Junhong’s presence. It was awkward and the atmosphere between them did not falter from it’s heavy, awkward silence when they joined each other for dinner.

“So…” Junhong began, attempting to lighten the mood between them. But Himchan didn’t respond. He just continued eating whatever it was he’d conjured up -- whether it was through magic or cooking skill -- in the kitchen. However, before Junhong could speak another word, there was a knocking that came at the heavy doors in the front of the castle. Once again, Himchan excused himself and headed out of the room and towards the doors. Junhong couldn’t help but follow. He was curious as to who would knock on the door of a seemingly abandoned castle at dinner time.

When one of the two large, wooden doors slowly swung open, the outside revealed it’s own sort of pleasant surprise. Just on the doorstep stood an older man with a heavy backpack slung across his back. He looked docile, and almost pathetic as he was hunched over at an odd angle due to the sheer weight of the backpack. “Hello,” he offered his hand to Himchan who refused to take it. His voice was quiet, and shy. He most likely was in his late fifties. “Is there any way I could stay here for the night? These old legs need some rest.” He let out a chuckle at the expense of himself and looked up to Himchan with pleading eyes.

Without hesitation, Himchan swung the large door shut. “Go away,” he whispered, before turning tail and heading back to the dining hall.

But Junhong wouldn’t have any of it.

“What was that for?! There’s an old man outside that door who’s asking you for help and you just slam it right in his face? What’s wrong with you?!” He grabbed Himchan’s forearm to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. “Answer me!”

Himchan turned to him, a scowl set into his lips. “Did you not see the knife that he held at his side, or the way he smiled as he lied through his teeth?” He hissed, tearing his hand away from Junhong’s grip. “People aren’t as innocent as they make themselves out to be, Junhong. They’ll take real advantage of your kindness. No one gives things out for free in this world. No one at all.”

And with that, he left.

Junhong opened the door after he made sure Himchan was a safe distance away. Sure enough, the retreating figure of the old man was walking away towards the setting sun. A knife glinted in his hand like the silver of his hair.