There it was again—that stupid cat.

Kyungsoo stared at the ball of fur venomously through the window in his fifth period class. It was one more hour to go until lunch and the neighborhood black cat decided to park its right on the windowsill. It was mocking him—he could tell.

The feline stretched luxuriously before settling down on the ledge and staring straight at him with startling violet eyes. Kyungsoo thought it looked like a burnt loaf of bread from the way it squished right up against the glass. He sighed and tried to drag his attention back to his World History assignment, but, somewhere in the midst of debating whether Alexander the Great was an outstanding leader or a tyrant, he found it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore a certain set of blazing violet irises.

Kyungsoo turned to glower at the cat, who had long since ceased watching the university student and instead, gazed at the drifting clouds, flicking its tail lazily.

“Stupid cat,” he muttered, and the feline shifted to side-eye him in a bored fashion, as if to say I heard you, stupid human.

He arched a brow at the expression.

Kyungsoo had a sort of love-hate relationship with cats. For the first ten years of his life, his mother was an avid cat-collector. She thought they were the most precious beings in the entire universe— Kyungsoo, not so much. Felines detested his presence; they clawed at him, shredding his arms with the deadly weapons concealed within their cushiony paws. They made a show of favoring his older brother, Seungsoo, rubbing themselves on his legs and nuzzling into his palms for scratches. Meanwhile, the most love Kyungsoo received from them was near suffocation in his sleep from the cats draping themselves across his face—doing terrors to his sinuses. However, he tolerated the animals from hell, even if they were the cause of his perpetually stuffy nose and very rational fear of fire.

Kyungsoo sighed. Seungsoo. He missed Seungsoo. He missed the studious elder brother that insisted he was too old to be a good playmate and instead went on picnics with Kyungsoo and read him fantasy books to “stimulate his imagination in the way playing could not”.

He supposed it was true; Seungsoo was twice his age and had great taste in novels. He didn't miss his mother much though—or her cats. She always made it a point to play favorites, meaning everything, even the cats, amounted to more than Kyungsoo ever would in her eyes. Perhaps she would have been proud that he'd at least become a student at the university where his father had worked—Oxford. Although, all of that pride would go swirling down the drain from finding out that her own son was a homoual.

Kyungsoo sighed.

Who knows.

There were a lot of what if’s that plagued his mind in his family’s absence. He could mull over them later; right now, he just needed to finish his assignment. Kyungsoo reopened his textbook and allowed the professor’s lecture to fade into a soft hum.

The classroom was cool, and he felt almost too comfortable in his multi-layered uniform. He let loose a small yawn and rubbed at his eyes. He could not afford to sleep.

Sleep was for the weak.

-

Hot.

It was blazing—an unbearably high temperature.

He rolled to the other side of the bed. The room was stifling and he was sticky with sweat. Funny, he could have sworn it was winter. Was it the heater’s doing? He could hear his brother’s muffled speech from the next room. Several cats were mewing frantically. He felt like he was being baked, no, grilled alive. He coughed, suddenly feeling suffocated and inhaled deeply through his mouth. The taste of smoke coated his tongue.

Strange. Heaters don't give off smoke. Unless…

His eyes snapped open and he was met with a face full of flames.

“Save yourself! Don't worry about us!” his father’s voice resounded.

He scrambled up on his hands, his entire room a burning mess.

“Dad? Seungsoo?” he coughed. One of the cats, Dino, jumped at him and scratched at his bedroom window above his head. He needed to get out. He needed an escape.

He whirled around, throwing the comfort or off his thin frame and wedging his fingers into the window’s edges. They didn't budge. He quickly scanned the remains of his room, eyes grazing over misshapen plastic toys and flames up every surface they could reach before settling on his second place fencing trophy on the other side of the room.

He jumped off his bed and ran for the trophy. The floor was hot and splintering beneath his feet, but he tried his best to ignore the temperature and the wood chips sinking into his soles. He skidded to a stop in front of the wall, reaching up for the trophy high up on the shelf. He was inches away, his fingertips just barely grazing the base. He rose on his tiptoes, reaching as far as he could until finally, his fingers wrapped around the circumference.

Just then, a jolt of blazing pain shot up his calf. He screamed out in pain and dropped the trophy, watching in horror as it rolled into higher flame. He was on fire, his room was on fire, the window was jammed, and he was trapped. Fat tears streamed steadily down his cheeks and he braved the dancing flames, covering his face with one arm as he jumped towards the trophy, it's metal searing his palms when he gripped it. He sobbed loudly and charged for the window, throwing the trophy at it with all his might. The glass shattered under the force and Dino leaped out with him in tow.

The pair tumbled out of the house and onto the freezing snow. The icy substance stabbed at his skin, cooling the burns and extinguishing the flames clinging to his pajama pants simultaneously. Every inch of his body hurt. There were burns racing up his legs and glass imbedded in his flesh. The snow felt sharp, but soothing and he nuzzled into it. He laid there, the sounds of his house cracking under fire and the screams of cats unable to escape permeating the air. He let out a dry sob; he couldn’t help them—he couldn’t help his family. He could only save himself.

He was a coward.

“There’s someone over here! Hurry I think he’s hurt!”

“Where? Oh my god! Look at those burns! Son, are you alright?”

There were hands on his shoulders and he was rolled over. He kept his eyes screwed shut. He felt numb.

“Son, can you hear me? Are you alright?”

“Kyungsoo, can you hear me?”

Suddenly, everything was shaking. The sky, the ground, the trees—everything, was shaking.

“Kyungsoo, are you okay?”

Kyungsoo woke up with a start, finding a pair of worried brown eyes staring at him. It was Baekhyun, his cousin.

“You’re sweating like crazy, Kyungsoo,” he pointed out, reaching forward and placing the back of his hand on Kyungsoo’s forehead. Kyungsoo batted it away.

“I’m fine,” he said simply. Baekhyun eyed him in suspicion, pursing his lips.

“Okay. Well, you slept through the entire class—.”

“What!”

“—and somehow Yifan didn’t notice, so you’re off the hook.”

“But, the assignment.”

“Who cares, it’s lunch,” Baekhyun said dryly.

“Uh, I care,” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows shot up as he gave Baekhyun a look. “And you’ve got to stop addressing Professor Wu by his first name; it’s disrespectful.”

“Whatever. I’m hungry; let’s go,” Baekhyun urged and started for the door. Kyungsoo sighed in defeat, packing up quickly and following after him. He knew better than to argue with Baekhyun; the fifth year was as eloquent as a twenty-five-year-old could be, and arguing with him meant immediate and embarrassing defeat. As he was closing the classroom door, he gave the window one last glance. The cat was gone.

The dining hall was crowded, as usual, although it didn’t matter to Kyungsoo. He and Baekhyun preferred to eat outside—where the people weren’t. The pair hurried to the steadily lengthening lunch line to claim their spots. As he waited, Kyungsoo surveyed the area. He didn’t recognize most of the people in the building, which was a given considering the sheer size of the campus, but Kyungsoo only had one friend, and that was Baekhyun. He’d had a large group of friends at one point: Zitao, Junmyeon, and Minseok too, but they’d all drifted away or turned against him. Kyungsoo sighed as his sights zeroed in on one lanky figure. It was Chanyeol, his one and only ex. The tall boy met Kyungsoo’s gaze and waved enthusiastically, making Kyungsoo scoff. They hadn’t left things between them prettily; Chanyeol had been too overprotective and clingy. He even had the nerve to tell Kyungsoo to stay away from Baekhyun! Baekhyun, his best and most loyal friend! Kyungsoo wondered if Chanyeol was the reason why he hadn't been able to score a date in quite some time, but it wasn’t like it mattered anymore; a certain sweater-vested, bespectacled cutie had asked him on a date the day prior. He flashed Jongin, who was sitting at one of the long tables behind Chanyeol, his best heart-shaped grin. Jongin blushed and averted his attention back to his lunch. Baekhyun watched the scene with a hard expression.

“Kyungsoo you go ahead, I have to use the bathroom,” he piped up and handed Kyungsoo both of their lunches. Kyungsoo shrugged, reminded him about Yixing’s usual haunt (the first floor bathroom always smelled like opium), and made his way down the hall towards the roof.

Climbing the stairs while balancing two lunch trays proved to be quite the challenge, but after nearly losing his footing half a dozen times, he reached the top tier and leaned his back into the door to open it. Lots of giggling and the sounds of smooching reached his ears as he stepped into the open. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and walked to the middle of the paved area that made the roof so he could easily be seen.

“Oops, looks like someone’s found us Jun,” came a brassy voice from the side of structure that held the door.

“Wha—? Oh! Sorry, Kyungsoo,” a hasty apology rang out and Student Body President Kim Junmyeon appeared, all flushed and messy haired, and rushed for the door with his boyfriend, Jongdae, in tow. Kyungsoo arched a brow, but said nothing. What the student body president did in his spare time was none of his business.

Kyungsoo settled in the shade provided by the small structure jutting from the roof and bit into his sandwich immediately, not even bothering to wait for Baekhyun. He chewed thoughtfully, curious as to if the day’s lunch meat was bologna or corned beef. Waiving off the thought (the meat was tasteless anyway), he leaned his head back and stared blankly at the clouds. Time seemed to pass sluggishly when you were waiting. Sudden mewing dragged his attention to the center of the cemented area. It was the black cat from earlier.

“You!” Kyungsoo blasted out, pointing an accusatory finger at the feline. It rotated its violet orbs to him before sauntering around the area—as if it were looking for something. Its nose twitched and this time it turned fully to Kyungsoo and charged.

“What the—?” Kyungsoo started, throwing himself to one side as the cat pounced. A mouse went scurrying away from the cheese hanging out of Baekhyun’s sandwich and ran for the other side of the roof, cat hot on its heels. Kyungsoo stuffed the rest of his bland lunch into his mouth and swallowed thickly. The cat was bounding across the cement, any farther and he might…

“Hey! Hey, you dumb cat! Are you trying to kill yourself? Stop!” Kyungsoo exclaimed, clambering to his feet and chasing after the animals. He was nearing the edge now too, and he was afraid the cat might just leap off the building. The animals were still in view and he was gaining on them, determined to pull at least one back, when two thin arms encircled his waist, yanking him back.

“What the hell are you doing?” Baekhyun’s voice exploded in his ear. Kyungsoo wrestled the arms off.

“The cat—it just jumped off the roof!”

“What cat?” Baekhyun inquired, watching as Kyungsoo rushed to the edge and peered below, hands resting on the railing.

“The black cat, with the purple eyes,” came the answer.

“Oh my god. My best friend is insane,” Baekhyun declared in a dramatic, hushed tone.

“Baek, I’m serious. It was sitting in front of the window during fourth period. How could you miss it?” Kyungsoo looked at him incredulously. Baekhyun just shook his head and breathed deeply.

“Whatever, Kyungsoo. You saw a cat; I didn’t. Just don’t go jumping off buildings,” he finalized and went to devour his own, equally tasteless lunch. Kyungsoo scoffed.

“Like I would.”

-

He was waiting for Baekhyun again, this time at the valet. He tapped his foot impatiently; he must have been waiting for at least thirty minutes. He suddenly wondered if Baekhyun had once again picked the wrong bathroom and was wandering, dazed, about the school. He sure hoped not; the new showing of Valiant Lady was premiering at six and he was not about to miss it. He could always leave without Baekhyun, he had no obligation to wait, well, except that his aunt would question why he’d returned alone and refuse to let him into the cookies until Baekhyun arrived. And he wanted those cookies, especially after the lunch he’d consumed earlier.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the weird cat since lunch. Maybe it really had thrown itself off a building in pursuit of a mouse. Something black flashed in the edge of his peripheral. He snapped his head to the side to find that it the very same cat that was plaguing his thoughts.

“It’s that cat!” he voiced aloud and tightened his hold on his bag before heading towards it. After the stunt it pulled earlier, the least he could do was check it for injuries. It waltzed forward a few paces before turning to glance at him and padding off again, as if to make sure he was still in tow. He caught up to the cat when it faltered at the corner of an intersection. He must have been no more than three paces away when the cat bolted out into the middle of the street.

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo yelled and, without thinking, dashed after the feline. The loud blare of a double decker bus’ horn shrieked in his ears and he scrunched his eyes shut, preparing for the impact. He heard a faint ‘meow’ and then suddenly, he was flying. His limbs flailed in the air and a scream ripped from his throat as he sailed in an arc.

This was it.

He’d been hit by a bus—he was done for.

Stupid cat.

This was its fault.

Then, flying gave way to falling.

And he was falling faster and faster, but he wasn’t hitting the ground.

Kyungsoo’s eyes snapped open and he released a gasp of surprise. He could no longer see brick buildings and buggies and women in dresses, and the sky had become no more than a dime of blue. He whipped his head around as he tumbled; he was surrounded by walls of earth and protruding roots—like he’d fallen down a large hole. It was dark, as a hole should be, and he could barely see the outline of his black riding boots flashing in and out of view. He was screaming again, clutching at some of the longer roots as he fell past—anything, anything at all to stop his fall, but all it did was burn his hands.

Suddenly, the dirt was bathed in a dim golden light. Lamps, chairs, small tables—all sorts of furniture and trinkets floated past him. Well, more like he sped by them. He stared in horror as a human skull whizzed by and then he was colliding with a lopsided bookshelf, grunting at the impact before tumbling on, this time accompanied by books. The pages ruffled as they fell, but soon their descent slowed, coming to a complete stop as they resumed their floating state—like shooting a projectile into gelatin.

Sporadically, he caught glimpses of paintings of various breeds of cats behind décor covered shelves, and he was accelerating swiftly—narrowly avoiding some of the larger knick-knacks that had drifted off the densely decorated walls.  

The sound of ticking clocks filled his ears, and he had no time to question what was happening before his feet were pushing into the keyboard of a grand piano, eliciting a clang of brassy resonances from its strings. The force sent the piano plummeting after him, gaining on him much quicker than the books had, due to its weight. He watched in sheer terror as the keyboard neared his face and he yelped, bringing an arm up to shield himself, but the instrument merely played an obnoxiously simple melody, and then it too resumed its floating state.

Kyungsoo wondered if he’d ever meet the end of the tunnel. He couldn’t have been falling for more than thirty seconds, he realized, but it felt like an eternity of torture. His dark brown hair was whipping around his face and he could feel the fabric of his black and silver striped pants flapping in the air resistance generated by his freefall. He curled inward to dodge an oncoming vase, and, upon unfurling, ricocheted off a queen sized bed, springing forward and into another branch of the tunnel.

Almost immediately, he crashed into a blockade of faded paintings, which came raining down on him as he smacked into the stone floor moments later. At least, he thought it was the floor, but chandeliers didn’t protrude from floors—and hair most certainly didn’t rise off your scalp naturally. And then he was falling again, but it was short this time—he simply peeled off the ceiling and flopped onto the real black and white tiled floor.

Kyungsoo groaned out of pain and pushed himself into a sitting position. Upon looking around, he found himself in an octagonal room with seven doors. There was a pile of cushions of various shades of purple in one corner of the room and a lone, glass lamp table, void of its naming fixture. Kyungsoo scrambled to his feet, rushing over to the first door he could reach and yanking on the doorknob—it didn’t budge. He tried a few more and upon receiving the same result pulled away to survey the area. There had to be a key somewhere—how else would anyone get in and out of the room? He thought back to his undignified entrance and, as he looked around, was surprised to find no hole in either the floor or the ceiling—like he had never broken through. Only, he did break through; the dull pain in his side was evidence that it had happened.

Kyungsoo turned and peered curiously at the lamp table. Funny, he could’ve sworn it was empty earlier. He strode over to the table and picked up a small, crystal bottle, examining it in his hands. The liquid it contained was a pale shade of plum, and upon opening, smelled very similar to cough syrup. There was a tag tied onto the bottle with a thin fuchsia ribbon. Drink Me it read. Kyungsoo scoffed and put the bottle back where he found it. Like hell he’d drink an unknown substance; for all he knew, it could be poison.

He jostled the knobs on the rest of the doors. They didn’t open either.

Kyungsoo leaned against the empty wall and slid to the floor with a sigh. Was there really no way out? No key—nothing to break down the door? And what about where he’d come from? Would he eventually find the hole and be forced to climb out?

Kyungsoo sighed again. He was hungry.

“Looking for this?” a smooth baritone brought him back to reality. Kyungsoo looked around, but there was no one other than him in the room. His brows fused. Was he imagining things now too? It wouldn’t surprise him considering the oddity of the situation. Perhaps all of it was simply a bad dream and he was still asleep on his desk in Professor Wu’s class. Any second now, Baekhyun would shake him awake and he would be back to arguing the morality of Alexander the Great’s rule.

“Well, are you?” Suddenly, a tall man holding a key materialized next to the lamp table with a woosh and a faint tinkling sound. He was dressed in a violet and fuchsia striped halter tank tucked into ripped black skinnies. He had a chain wrapped around his hips like a belt and there was a black bell collar adorning his neck. He was barefoot. But his attire wasn’t the weird part; on the top of the man’s head, nestled in his unruly raven locks, was a set of twitching, overly large cat ears. Kyungsoo stared at him (especially at the piercings adorning his ears) in disbelief. The man grinned widely, his long, ebony tail swishing and violet eyes blazing as he dangled the key to redirect Kyungsoo’s attention.

Kyungsoo cleared his throat.

“I was. Will it open one of the doors?”

“It opens any door I want it to open,” the cat man replied smoothly. Kyungsoo cocked his head to one side.

“I’m assuming you’re not going to give it to me.”

“Nope,” the man sang, popping the ‘p’.

“Then why did you offer it!” Kyungsoo snapped, bewildered.

“I didn’t. I merely asked if you were looking for it. Besides, none of these doors will take you where you need to go,” he clarified. Kyungsoo stared at the man. “Sorry about the harsh landing, by the way. It’s so hard to guess where Outsiders will crash through,” he apologized, gesturing to the mound of cushions behind him. Kyungsoo frowned.

“So other people have… fallen here too?”

The cat man nodded. “Once, a very long time before I was Renewed.”

“Renewed?”

“Renewed.”

Kyungsoo’s thick lips pulled into a line; he was beginning to feel very befuddled. “What’s—?”

“But, that’s enough of that. You want to leave this room?” the man asked. Kyungsoo nodded slowly, warily. “Then drink from the bottle.”

“What? Who in their right mind would drink something so suspicious?” Kyungsoo protested. The taller shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he replied and leant leisurely against the table.

Kyungsoo shifted from foot to foot. The stranger’s nonchalance was bordering annoying. Kyungsoo had no way of figuring if all he said was true; for all he knew, the cat had drugged him and forced him into a room of perpetually locked doors. Then again, what if he was telling the truth and the slightly florescent liquid was his only means of leaving this octagonal prison?

“What… happens… if I drink from that bottle?” Kyungsoo asked tentatively.

The grin on the taller might as well have split his face in two. “Would you like to find out?”

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure if he did.

The barefooted man reached for the crystal bottle and took a swig, advancing towards Kyungsoo and grabbing him by the collar of his navy, double-ed vest. Kyungsoo yelped and flailed in his grasp.

Suddenly, a mouth was on his and a tongue was prodding at the seam of his lips, parting them and forcing a sickeningly syrupy liquid into his mouth. Kyungsoo swallowed involuntarily as the fluid pooled under his palate and grimaced at the texture. The man pulled back, his lips before giving Kyungsoo a skewed smirk.

“What the hell?” Kyungsoo roared, rubbing the cuff of his white dress shirt vigorously across his mouth. He spat on the ground for good measure.

“That won't do anything for you now,” the cat eared man stepped out of smacking range as Kyungsoo’s hand jolted up, and gestured to the magenta door that had appeared on the wall Kyungsoo had been leaning against earlier. “So, if you could so kindly step this way.”

“You’re mad! Just who the hell do you think you are?” Kyungsoo snapped, and took a step closer to the stranger, but an invisible force gave him a harsh shove, sending him stumbling towards the door. It swung open as he approached. The cat man smiled widely, almost creepily so as he watched, tail flicking with what could only be perceived as triumph. “Hey! Stop it! You can't just—!”

Kyungsoo’s feeble protests were cut off as he was out of the room and the door quickly shut behind him. He whirled around and raised a fist to assault the door (and maybe shout something along the lines of open the door you !), only to watch the top of the frame begin to evaporate into a fine, purple mist. The wood of the door disappeared little by little, and Kyungsoo lunged for the knob, fingers just grazing the metal before passing through it altogether as it was swept into the atmosphere. And then the door was gone, and Kyungsoo was standing there, like an idiot, with his arm outstretched and one leg thrown behind him. He cleared his throat and righted himself, whipping his head left and right to make sure nobody had witnessed what had just occurred. There was nobody in sight.

Kyungsoo turned around slowly and stared. He found himself standing on a small platform at the top of a mossy staircase carved from rock. To the left of the staircase was a large, twisted tree whose roots had woven their way through most of the garden below. Kyungsoo followed the stairs into the garden, stepping carefully over roots and loose cobblestones. A light breeze ruffled the large ferns and bellflowers that towered on the sides of the path. Ivy had weeded its way into the garden, filling every gap between the ferns and the flowers, and despite the entire garden being overgrown, it was still enchanting.

Several large insects whizzed past Kyungsoo’s head, and his eyes turned to follow them. They were emitting a strange noise that was a mix of a horse’s whinny and the buzz of a fly. Kyungsoo wondered if these were horseflies, considering they resembled a rocking horse with wings. Soon, a dragonfly came roaring at the horseflies, spitting short bursts of fire at it’s opponents’ manes.

Kyungsoo tore his eyes away and carried on.

Never in his life had Kyungsoo felt as small as he did while following the path through the garden. The blades of grass sprouting in between cobbles grew up to his knees, and the surrounding foxgloves made him feel like he was standing next to Big Ben. Come to think of it, the entire garden seemed oversized—the gates loomed over him at what had to be at least twenty feet in height, and the path itself was wide enough for about ten people to walk side-by-side comfortably. Was the garden made for giants or had he just become unexplainably small? And what was this place?

Kyungsoo trudged to a stop in front of of a toppled fountain. There was a thin film of algae on the stone of the structure, and, other than the leafy shrubbery growing in the bowls, it was empty. The flowers around the fountain were more diverse—there were Dandelions, Roses, Pansies, and other, normally ankle-height flowers spilling from the flowerbeds and onto the path. As he made to pass them and pick a path to follow from where several forked from the fountain, a faint whisper drew his attention to a Tiger-lily.

“Have you ever seen such an ugly flower? Look at it—its petals are a mess!”

Kyungsoo’s wide eyes scanned the area, trying to pinpoint whomever was speaking, or at least said ugly flower. He didn’t manage to locate anything out of the ordinary, well, besides what he could only refer to as a butterfly; it was an insect with buttered bread sprouting from it like wings. However, it didn’t resemble a flower at all and fluttered away when a light breeze rustled the blades of grass it had perched itself on.

“Petals? You call those petals?” a voice rang from an Iris this time. Kyungsoo peered at it with furrowed brows.

“Why it must be a weed!” spouted a Daffodil, and it took Kyungsoo a few moments to realize that the voices weren’t coming from the direction of the flowers, but rather from the flowers themselves. Kyungsoo took a step towards a nearby white Petunia.

“My god! The weed is approaching!” it shrieked.

Weed? Did they mean…him?

“Are you talking to me?” he asked. The flowers recoiled slightly—apparently they could move as well.

“It talks!” screeched the Tiger-lily.

One of the roses leaned towards Kyungsoo. It was then that he realized the flowers all had faces in the center of their buds—right where the petals met.

“What kind of flower are you?” it asked, looking down its dainty nose at the human. Kyungsoo pursed his lips.

“I’m not a flower—.”

“So you are a weed!” the Daffodil exclaimed, face contorted in revulsion. Kyungsoo’s eye twitched involuntarily.

“And I’m not a weed either,” he shot back. The flowers began to mutter amongst themselves. “Why can you speak anyway? My aunt’s mansion has a garden, but none of the flowers can talk.”

The Iris scoffed, “Either, you weren’t listening closely enough, or the ground was too soft.”

“Too soft?”

“Yes, too soft. They were sleeping.”

Kyungsoo quirked an eyebrow at this and decided to direct the conversation away from his lack of knowledge in botany, “Do you know of any other people in the garden? Anyone at all?”

It was a Peony that answered this time, “There’s another flower in the garden that can move about like you, but it’s much… more interesting than you are.”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay civil. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“So, it’s…not like me?”

“Well, it has the same awkward shape as you do, but it’s taller and its anthers are pinker, and it’s most certainly not a weed,” an orange Rose spat condescendingly. He chose to ignore the weed comment; the flowers were obviously displeased with Kyungsoo’s presence in their home—just like he was displeased with their attitudes.

“Anthers?” he inquired instead, furrowing his brows. He wished he had paid more attention in his Life Science class.

“These!” a Daffodil jabbed a leaf at Kyungsoo’s hair, “It has a funny little stigma as well. Must be mutated.”

He didn’t bother asking what a stigma was.

A bed of Pansies beckoned Kyungsoo towards them, raking their eyes over his form, “You’re wilting, poor thing, and your stem is turning black. But I suppose that’s not your fault; it must have something to do with the dreadful area you’ve chosen to plant yourself on. Or perhaps it’s because you’re a weed. I suppose it would be your fault then…”

The Daisies began to giggle, and Kyungsoo decided it would be in everybody’s best interest if he left before he ripped any of the flowers up by their roots, “Excuse me, then. Wouldn’t want to pollute your soil with my weediness by sticking around any longer.” He began to stalk away, and then turned briefly to shout, “And I’ll have you know, a dandelion is a type of garden weed!”

A gasp resonated throughout the flowers, and the jeers directed at Kyungsoo turned into spiteful comments being hurled at the poor Dandelion situated between the Calla-lilies. He grinned smugly for a few seconds before the victory on his lips melted into a scowl.

“Conceited jerks,” Kyungsoo huffed as he rounded a corner. He was relieved to find there were no flowers in this part of the garden—only ferns and leafy shrubs.

A fine layer of mist hovered a couple of inches above the plants, and the air was damp and frosty. Kyungsoo’s breath clouded around his mouth and a few stray cobblestones tripped him. He kicked aside some of the smaller ones as he went along and managed to step carefully around most of the divots of dirt from where the stones had come loose. His teeth chattered obnoxiously and he hugged his torso with his arms in a feeble attempt at keeping warm. The air had been so pleasant earlier when he’d stepped through the door—a drastic comparison to wherever he’d manage to get lost in.

Kyungsoo sighed. He wondered what Baekhyun was doing. Was he looking for him? Was his aunt worried when he hadn’t returned home after classes? How long had he been gone anyway, and most importantly, where was he?

The sound of leaves rustling caused Kyungsoo to halt in his tracks. He tensed and turned slowly to stare in the direction the noise had come from, but there was nothing there. A chain jangled and he inched closer to the red Adler that appeared to be the source. The noises grew louder—an angry rustling like a rabbit being hunted. It came from his right, his left, and then in front of him. His breath quickened and he took a few hasty steps back. And then came the smell—something rotting, coppery. He turned away from the shrub and began to walk faster, clutching his arms tighter as his heart sizzled in the mellow stages of fear.

Everything had stilled, and Kyungsoo’s ears were filled only with his shaky panting and the taps of his heeled boots against the stone. For a moment, he thought whatever was in the brush had gone away, but then he heard it—and awful, gritty shriek that resonated like a high-pitched bear’s roar. Something flashed red in the corner of his eye and he inhaled sharply, whirling to face it. His flitted back and forth, and he was beginning to sweat, but nothing appeared. He turned slowly, not able to convince himself there was nothing there. And then it happened.

A monstrosity came charging out of the brush, towering over him at four times his size. Kyungsoo stumbled back and stared up at it dumbly. It looked like an experiment gone terribly wrong—something from a nightmare. Body of a card with cloth appendages horribly, horribly sewn on and blood and shredded paper spilling from the stumps, the terror stood, hunched in a fighting position, and occasionally releasing a growling grunt as its blazing red eyes scoured the area.

Kyungsoo stood very, very still as he eyed the blood-stained, heart-shaped hole punched through the center of its card body. Its head swiveled around, revealing the permanent, menacing grin imbedded in the age-stained skull that sat under a crimson cowl. The giant card shifted in his general direction and Kyungsoo whimpered, hands flying up to clamp over his mouth, but the damage had been done. The monstrosity’s eyes trained on Kyungsoo, and its jaws unhinged to release a bone-chilling roar. His lip wobbled, eyebrows pinched in terror and he staggered in reverse. The ground rumbled as the thing took its first, frighteningly heavy step towards the tiny boy. And there was only one thing he could possibly do:

Run.