Under the heat of the summer, to the glorious, twisted symphony of shrill sirens and blaring horns of the concrete jungle, she fades away and is lost. He is the sun that wilted her petals. He is the moon that lured her into the night, the strange light that blinded her to everything around her. It is one of those evenings when the skies would seem aflame; that is when he meets her. If pain is a color, it would be filemont. That is the color of her eyes. The eyes in which he see his own reflection. The first time Sunjun sees her, he knows she is different. Different from all the others. Because she sees. He can tell by the way she looks into his eyes. Large, almond-shaped eyes, dark lashes resting against her cheek bones, an emotion swam within her eyes. That was how she looks at him. As if she knows. They both know.

Sungjun approaches her, each step drowning himself the self-mutiny that is his own demise. Her willowy form sways to and forth, and as he dances with her, his arms encircling her slender frame, he feels for a moment that this woman might very well be a revenant. An illusion. She quivers as a leaf in the wind beneath his gaze, and in the falling prenumbra, she tells him her name. Minsu.

It is a word foreign on his lips as he repeated it. He smiles, that sickeningly sweet smile, because they both know that this won’t last. She stiffens and looks away. By the end of the evening, she is just another pallid face in the crowd, clinging onto his arm as if Sungjun is her only anchor to this life.

(He is a young man full of life however. He is alive while she dies because of him)

“Don’t leave,” she says, her bony fingers tightening her grip on his arm. He doesn’t leave her.

They meet the next weekend, too addicted not to follow this illusion. It is chaos, really. The beautiful havoc she wreaks on his thrashing heart he can never understand. He considers it a marvel of nature, and it is a marvel of nature, how he can barely breathe without her.

This is toxic. They are kryptonite.

-----

It's summer. She drinks a bottle of orajel. When he asks why, she looks up with a dark, melancholy gaze and says, "To numb the pain in my heart." Her voice is monotone and her eyes are hollow, void of emotion. She is perfectly still as she gazes out their window and looks down on the gray city beneath them, gray like the clouds above. In her mind, the world as been drained of all color. She does not look him in the eye as he tries his best to kiss the pain away.

( She is fading and he shines brighter than a star. He blinds her, and his touch seers red into her pale skin. )

Autumn enters as summer dies away, and with it flowers and leaves. She dreams of things she has never before experienced. An overdose on happiness. "I dream of love." She's dyed her hair a platinum blond, and now more than ever, she appears before him as a ghost. As if she has forgotten how to be human. Her skin sinks in deeper, and the bags beneath her eyes become even darker than the pain in her soul. Her body is no longer supple curves; she's all bony angles.

( Her bones pain him as they make love on white sheets; his heart bleeds red. )

Winter enters, and each day becomes more tiring. She seems to sink into the chair now, seems to cave into herself as she quietly sips on the dark coffee he bought for her. Her hands tremble as she sets the mug down and lifts her eyes to look outside at the white, pale, cold snow. "The world is gray now. It's long lost it's color." Whatever color her skin once possessed, it's gone too. She's as pallid as her world. She doesn't look at him once. Because he blinds her.

( He kisses her harder, trying to force her to live. Even as she bleeds from the marks his teeth leave, she feels nothing. )

Spring rises and so does new life. She only stays inside now. Bland, white walls seem to draw ever nearer, threatening to close in on her. She lies on the floor, adorned in a tattered white gown, listless and unmoving. Slender frame, bruised wrists, pallid limbs. She is sure this was the afterlife. This cold, barren place. "I've learned that death is the end of all pain." She's fading as she tell him this, her fingers colder than ice. Still he holds her close, until he can feel the cold seeping into his skin and down into his heart.

( His world freezes as the world thaws. )

It's summer again and she isn't by his side anymore. She is all parched bones and stilled breathes six feet below, and he lives on, shining and laughing, and living.

It isn't long before the his world starts losing color. Little by little.

He wonders sometimes, how long it has been. How long it has been since the last time he took a step into the outside, how long isn’t been since he’s last seen the sun. It has been so long… He’s stopped counting long ago. He has nothing to cling to, nothing but a whispered name and fading memories.