The days that passed felt like how they used to be right after Jongdae left Sector Two, except this time he didn’t have Jiyoung asking him if he was alright or urging him to eat. He felt lonely, guilty and angry at himself, however, now it was because of what happened with the sorceress. He didn’t mean to explode; it was just the dream he’d had and the disappoint he felt led to it and he couldn’t stop himself.

But the worst part was that he hadn’t actually apologized for the words he’d said. Jongdae didn’t remember everything he did say, as he had simply spoken them out of impulse, but there must have been something in there that angered her.

Over this time, he’d also came to the realization that Jongin was an angel. Seriously, he was an angel sent from the skies above. It seemed like the only plausible reason for why the boy stayed by his side, telling him words of encouragement and positivity and giving him parts of his meals, despite the fact that they barely had that much food to begin with (and even though Jongdae told him multiple times that he wasn’t hungry). The boy was a Godsend, and he spent every waking moment of his days thanking whatever otherworldly being that Jongin was the first guardian he’d come across.

Luhan was still mysterious. There were times he’d mellowed down, telling interesting and funny stories he’d gone through as a child (Jongdae wouldn’t admit it but he really enjoyed them) and just being a cool guy who any person would want as their friend. But then it was like a switch was flipped and he’d go back to his teasing again and talking about women. He had also become well acquainted with Jongin and Jiyoung during this time, and he would hate to admit it, but he envied him as he heard the two laugh at his jests.

It wasn’t fair, he thought to himself. Luhan got along with people so easily it seemed, but Jongdae wouldn’t fall for it. He just wished he could easily spark a conversation like him, then maybe he’d be with them, laughing about nonsense.

That’s what Jongdae pondered about as he watched Jongin and Jiyoung laugh about something the man had said. He looked back down at the bird meat, feeling himself sigh as he stared in disgust. The full leg of meat sat in his hands, the heat from the fire warming his body. He looked back up, the corners of his mouth frowning as he saw how Jongin clapped his hands as he guffawed, and Luhan coolly grinned. Jiyoung’s laugh, well, it was soft and sweet.

Had he ever made them laugh? Like, with a joke? Jongdae’s brows furrowed. He couldn’t remember any time he had, and he felt bile rise up his throat as the thoughts continued running, the meat beginning to feel foreign in his clammy hands.

This was what he feared. Friends. People. They could leave you so easily without a care in the world; the only thing you can do is watch them walk away from you. His father had done it, his mother and Sir Yesung, too, what made these guys any different? His hands shook, the scar was throbbing again and – keep a grip, Jongdae. He took a deep breath in and out, he needed to stop being so emotional. He just had to. His attitude was going to be the end of him. His eyes shut, head tilting forward as he breathed in through his nose. The throbbing stopped, thankfully, it always began to do that when he started to panic.

“Ya gonna eat that, kid?”

Jongdae snapped out of it, looking up in a hurry at Luhan and Jongin, who were staring at him.

“W-what?” he asked, quietly.

“The chicken,” Luhan replied, “ya gonna eat it?”

“I – no.” He shook his head, holding it out. “Do you want it?”

Looking at it, Luhan shrugged taking it. “Thanks.” He was about to bite into it but Jongin whacked his hand. “What the hell, kid?”

Jongin wagged a finger. “That’s Jongdae’s, you already be eating yours, greedy.”

“But he said he didn’t want it!”

Jongdae cut the boy off before he could continue. “He’s right, Jongin. I’m just not hungry. I’m still full from the squirrel we had last night.” He forced his lips to curl up. He could tell Jongin wasn’t buying it but he sighed anyway, letting Luhan gobble up the meat.

Jongdae sat there awkwardly and finally opted to leave. “I’m going to sleep,” he muttered, laying down and facing away from them. He could feel stares on his back until Luhan started conversation again.

Tears slipped out of his eyes, his scar pounding once more as he fell asleep.

It was dark. Jongdae’s head whipped around blindly, searching for anything that could help him maneuver his way through the pitch black surroundings. He managed to take a couple of steps until he clumsily tripped over his own foot, falling to the floor with an “umph!”.

Then there was a bright light. He looked up, squinting his eyes as the light slowly dimmed down, still extremely bright but not so much that he wouldn’t be able to see. It was emitting some sort of beating sound, inflating and deflating every second. That’s when he realized, it was his aura. It was still a giant mess in the air -  bluish white hues and crimson mixed with it.

Jongdae turned around, shaking his head completely frightened. “No, no, no,” he mumbled. He didn’t want to be there again. Not in this place. He was about to run off but halted when he heard her.

“Jongie.”

He stood there, horrified. He couldn’t fall for it – he wouldn’t fall for it.

“Jongie, turn around baby.”

The temptation was too great. He slowly turned, staring wide-eyed at the thing before him. It resembled his mother, but her body was glowing with red and blue. She held out a hand.

“C’mon, Jongie~” she called out in a cheery tone. “Don’t you want to be with mommy.”

His feet started moving involuntarily and he screamed, “No! Get away! Go away!” His feet stopped and he backed up.

The imposter’s smile turned into a frown.” Don’t raise your voice at me, Jongdae. We know what happened the last time you did that.” She mimicked an exploding sound, and Jongdae glared, scratching his forearm. “You children these days have no respect for your parents.”

“I said go away. I know you’re not my mother, you are my aura. So stop with the games already!”

Then she smirked. “Oh really? If you don’t want the hag, then maybe…” the figure glowed again. “Maybe Sir Yesung?” Another clone stood there. “Or maybe…?” Then it glowed again, and Jongdae stared in horror at the man who looked almost identical to him, just older. “Your father?”

“Quit it!” he shouted. “Just quit it.”

The clone of his father began stalking towards him, and he backed away, trying to keep distance between them. Ragged breaths left his mouth, and the clone smirked. “You’re afraid?” It held its hand out. “Touch my hand and it’ll all be over.” Its hand was glowing