There were red lights and chaotic noises. Someone was screaming as gentle hands were placing him on the hospital bed and carrying him into the intense therapy room. Door over door, his eyes were growing weak and groggy from the pain, full of hot tears, and his mouth was struggling to stay open with the two thin tubes inserted between his lips to bring his lungs the oxygen his body was so desperately refusing.

It had happened at school: they were doing art class outside, in the park near the school.

There were toddlers happily having fun with their friends, going down the slides or digging crumbling sand castles, impersonating pirates and cowboys, princesses and knights… it was almost too serene to observe such a scene without taking any part of it.

He was trying to capture the movement with his pencil, but it was quite hard. They were all dancing in a ritual they didn’t know about: there were the ones inside the magical circle and the ones outside. The kids playing in the large group over the swings, the ones with the dirty faces and the bright smiles were in, the ones standing alone in the corner, the quiet and lonesome ones were out. His classmates who were happily ditching their assignment to talk about the hot boy in the other section or the popular singer were in, he, sitting alone on the red bench, drawing the delicate silhouettes of the children, was out.

-How is it going?-

The question startled him, making him instantly hide his drawing. The young professor was looking at him with curious eyes and a tiny smile.

-I… kind of messed up- he replied, not looking at him directly.

-Can I have a look?- he asked, extending a hand in front of him, waiting for his sketchpad.

He looked at the hand, slowly blinking, then he handed him the paper with a shy smile, but something interrupted them: a kid had fallen of the swings, crying out loudly, catching the attention of all of his classmates and his professor, who ran to see what had happened, leaving him alone.

Looking at them, busy with papering the kid with kisses and band aids, he knew.

He just knew.

He clutched the sketchpad close to his chest, running the pencil so hard on the paper he broke the tip. It was in that moment he started coughing. One, two, three…

Alone he sat, alone he fell. All noises went away, leaving only the sound of his chest trying to bring in some air through the sand and the hard concrete, failing miserably. There were flowers growing near his face. They were pretty and blue, delicate in their beauty, but over them were their feet, their legs, their hands.

“Sometimes” he thought.

“Sometimes I really hate myself”

And then he stopped breathing.

With a jolt, he woke up.

Hands to his neck, he gave a sigh of relief. Everything was fine, it had been only a dream.

Over his head, the stars were giving way to the orange sun, the night slowly turning in the day, dyeing the clouds a soft shade of pink. His hair was full of sand, so was his pajama and his shoes, but he didn’t mind; he didn’t have to rush to school anymore, he didn’t have to prepare himself for another dreadful day behind the white desk and the gray textbooks.

With sleepy eyes and a hand shielding him from the sun rising, he picked up his things and started walking back home.

God, it was beautiful: the fiery star was slowly appearing from the outline of the mountains, flooding everything in sight with its warm light, blinding him for a second. He had missed sunrises for so many years he almost didn’t remember it could happen. The sun was just there when he was awake and then disappeared when he was going to sleep.

Shoes in one hand, sleeping rag in the little backpack on his shoulder, the young man walked home with his heart lightened.

-Say, why don’t you write something to your parents? They might be worried-

Jongin chuckled a little, his hands full of carrots right from Chara-san’s garden. She had insisted to cook his lunch using only the ingredients she could grow by herself.

-I already called them to say I’ve arrived so it’s fine-

His aunt grimaced in distaste.

-You younglings and your telephones. You should write them a letter like I used to do with my husband. They’ll love it ten times more-

Jongin dropped his gaze on the floor. It was not that he didn’t want to do that, but he felt guilty: as their only child, he should have missed his parents by now, even a little bit would have been fine, but he had never felt happier than the moment he had left home. Did that mean he didn’t love them? Absolutely not, just that there were people he loved more, like Chara-san.

That night, he took out from his bag his notebook and a pen. He didn’t want to displease his aunt, so he started writing. He talked about his arrival, how the air felt clearer, and his weird encounter with the young man in the sea.

.

.

.

His name’s Kyungsoo. There is something very different about him, if it makes sense, the light changes when it hits him, especially when it’s reflected in his eyes. They are really big and they were shining bright even at night.

He lives in the big mansion up the hill, right above the sea. I’m sure mother remembers it.

My body feels so much better here, I hope it stays this way.

Talk to you soon,

Your Jongin.

“I’ll deliver it tomorrow” he thought, putting the letter on top of the writing desk.

Placing his head on the pillow, he closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of wood and fresh flowers. He felt at home.

The second time they met was two days later.

Jongin had thought about starting again his dance training. The doctor had been categorical: he couldn’t do any competitive sports, nor he could continue doing ballet at the rhythm he had before, but that had inspired him to build up some routines he could carry out in peace without worrying about his asthma.

Bare feet in the sand, he started his warm up with the basic stretching, lingering more on the back and the legs, because he knew they were the most breakable things. Then, with a swift motion, he began dancing. His eyes closed, he moved like the earth under him had disappeared, sand and water flying in the air with his every movement. When he danced he didn’t think about anything, he just enjoyed the pure feeling of freedom the discipline could give him.

He was so lost in the motion he didn’t notice the pair of beautiful eyes that was observing him. Arms crossed over his chest and feet in the water, Kyungsoo was watching from behind, a tiny smile shaped like a heart spread across his lips. He was mapping out the edges of the dancer’s body with slowness, taking his time to register his every step.

-You are very good- he said at last.

Jongin was so startled he almost fell on the sand. Looking up, he saw the tiny figure coming close to him with his marbles eyes. With a swift movement, the young man sat next to him, tossing his hair from his face with his slender fingers. His nails, Jongin noticed were all bitten and the skin was chapped.

-How did you know I was here?- asked Jongin, sitting cross-legged at his right.

-This morning I opened the curtains of the living room and I saw you here, so I thought about paying you a visit. You were dancing so well I didn’t want to disturb you, but I couldn’t resist-

Jongin remembered the times he had gone in the big mansion up the hill when he was a kid. Nobody lived there so going in was like a test of courage between the town’s children. He didn’t have any acquaintance with them, but he had heard them talking about how creepy the house was and his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Without telling anyone, he had climbed up the hill and sneaked in between the rusty iron bars of the gate. The garden was overgrown and ran down, the plants had grown over walls and windows and the grass was so high it brushed his little knees.

Pushing the heavy wooden doors, he had entered the house: the roof was full of holes and was missing some boards so that the light was coming from the ceiling in little spots, coating the place in a mystical atmosphere. The tiles of the floor were covered in moss and the furniture were hidden by some huge white sheets of cloth, to prevent them from getting dusty, but it seemed almost a silly thing to do with the now overall appearance of the house.

He remembered there was a balcony he had gone to, a little wood platform outside the veranda, from where he could see every inch of the town: the beach, the houses, the station, the sea… everything. He had thought that was the same feeling as flying. 

-Spacing out?-

Jongin suddenly returned back to reality. With a sleepy yawn, he stretched his arms and ruffled his hair.

-A little. Since I have come here memories are starting to get back to me-

-Memories?-

-Yeah. I used to come here very often when I was a kid, taking the train with my mother and father and staying here for the holidays with my aunt…-

There was so much he could have said, he could have told him, but his mouth froze as the reason for which he had stopped coming came to his lips. He wasn’t ready to say it, because once it is out there, there is no denying it anymore.

Kyungsoo had probably sensed it, so he just dropped the topic there, moving on to another.

-This means you love this place very much. I’ve only been to the post office and the market, but I don’t know how to get around here-

-There is not much more you can see. If you ask me, the most beautiful place is right here, by the sea or on the cliff, near your house-

Kyungsoo looked at him with curiosity written on his face.

-You’ve been on the cliff before?-

Busted.

-Well, when nobody was living there, sure. It was my hideout from the town. I didn’t like being around the other kids, they were kind of boring, so kept on going back there to observe the scenery-

Kyungsoo looked at him for a second before laying on the sand, his raven hair all over the place, like a dark halo, and his eyes closed. Jongin decided that, if he had to describe him as an animal, it would have been a raven. A Raven boy.

It was so weird how staying in his company was soothing, contrary to what he had always experienced with new people. Even in silence he was comfortable, he didn’t fine the need to fill it with meaningless words like everybody tended to do; the sound of the waves was enough to keep them company.

They stayed like that for what felt like minutes, while in reality hours passed and the sun lowered on the horizon until gently placing himself on the border of the sea, liquefying into the water.

-Ah- exclaimed Kyungsoo –It’s very late! My mother is going to kill me if I don’t come back home. I guess I’ll see you around-

He jumped up and started running, waving his hand from behind his back, leaving Jongin alone again. Still in shock from the speed of the sudden action, the dancer stood motionless, looking at the dark silhouettes walking away in the night.

Weird, he thought, he is still barefoot.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

And another chapter is finished. Isn't it funny how I am probably the most asthmatic person in the entire country and I still can't describe the feeling of it? Maybe because it's pure burning pain, let me tell you. Such a struggle. I hope I am making as atmospheric as it needs to be, or else I'm just failing at writing  ^__^

(Displeased Suho here to brighten up your day)