A fine drizzle sprayed from the sky. Jihoon who stood still at the entrance of a bookstore lifted up his head. His eyes were fixated on the gray cloud. The cold droplets touched his fair skin as Jihoon stretched his hand out and a sigh escaped from his lips. He had an umbrella leaning against the wall of his apartment, at where the shoes were arranged nicely. Since the weather was pleasant that morning, Jihoon did not expect it was going to drizzle in the evening.

     Lost in his own thought, someone tapped him on the shoulder and pulled Jihoon back to the cold reality. He turned his head and spotted Seungcheol whose smile plastered on his complexion and brows arched. In his hand was an umbrella, the item Jihoon left at home. 

     "Do you have your umbrella with you?" The taller one asked. He checked on Jihoon to see if the petite brought his umbrella. "Oh, you left it at home?"

     Jihoon let out an audible sigh. "Unfortunately, yeah."

     Seungcheol beamed. "Don't worry. I can share mine with you. Sharing is caring, you know?"

     Instead of replying, Jihoon raised his eyebrow at the other. 

     "What? You don't like sharing an umbrella with a man?"

     "No. That's not the problem."

     "Then what?"

     "Nothing. Let's go," Jihoon replied and later on grabbed the silver stick, holding the umbrella together with Seungcheol. Before long, they departed, walking away from the now-closed bookstore into the darkness of night. 

     However, the fine drizzle gradually changed to a heavy rain and the two boys had no choice other than to stop somewhere else and wait until the rain had slowed down a bit. 

     Jihoon and Seungcheol entered the first restaurant they could see while running through the rain and filled up the empty seats in a corner. 

     It was pretty cramped in the restaurant. People came for shelter and the rain was getting heavier than ever. Lucky enough that both Jihoon and Seungcheol could find the empty seats for them to sit on while waiting for the weather to calm down a tad. Seungcheol ordered two cups of hot chocolate and asked Jihoon if he would like to eat something, but the latter just shook his head and flashed a small smile.

     "If that so...just two cups of hot chocolate please," said Seungcheol, placing his order on the tall, good-looking waiter. 

     The latter then jotted down his customer's order in his A7 notebook and said, "Two cups of hot chocolate. Noted. Please wait while we make your order. Thank you."

     Seungcheol gave a slight nod and smiled as a reply. So did Jihoon. 

     "Kim Mingyu," Seungcheol murmured, reading the waiter's name tag shortly before the boy left. He, later on, diverted his attention to the shivering one sitting across him. “Cold, aren't you?”

     Jihoon lifted up his head and exchanged a look with Seungcheol. He heaved a breath and clamped his freezing hands even tighter. “Yeah.”

     Seungcheol smiled slightly at the other and before long, he took off his sweater and passed it to the cold one. “Wear that. You'll feel warmer.”

     “But how about you? Aren't you cold?” Jihoon's brows creased with worries.

     “I'm fine. I've been to a place even colder than this, you know?”

     Jihoon turned to look at the sweater Seungcheol handed to him and took it hesitantly. He put the black sweater on and heaved an inward sigh as the warmth began to envelop his body. “Thanks,” he said, smiling.

     Instead of replying, Seungcheol reciprocated the smile and afterward looked around the noisy and cramped restaurant. 

     On the other hand, Jihoon adjusted his eyes on Seungcheol, thousands of questions invaded his mind. The latter seated before him was not an ordinary human being like him. He was unusual. He was rare. He was extraordinary. He was immortal.

     Yes. Seungcheol was immortal. And being immortal means that you cannot die and you will not die. Forever.

     Such kind of thing would only happen in a fairy tale with a help from the author's imagination and writing. Yet it was still a fiction. Something that would never happen in this temporary world. Like a miracle.

     “How does it feel like,” Jihoon blurted, “to be immortal?”

     Upon hearing the question, Seungcheol diverted his eyes to Jihoon and arched his brows questioningly. 

     “How does it feel like to be immortal?” Jihoon reiterated his last question and looked at Seungcheol in the eyes. He was aware that the question was too sudden and it derived merely due to his curiosity. Yet he still would like to hear the answer from the other, thus he waited.

     Both of them exchanged a look with each other and silence swept over the two boys for none had spoken. After a short pause, Seungcheol answered in a hesitant manner, “Lonely?”

     “Lonely?” Jihoon frowned in some astonishment.

     Seungcheol shrugged. “That's what I felt. At least.”

     “Why is it lonely… To be immortal?”

     Seungcheol beamed at the question and at Jihoon. “Why? Why do you think so, Jihoon?”

     “I don't know. I'm not immortal like you. But isn't it great to be immortal? I mean you can't die and you won't die. No matter how sharp the blade is that stabs you, you will stay alive in the end.”

     “Mortal being really loves the idea of forever. But I love the idea of a day. Ironic, isn't it?” commented Seungcheol, smiling.

     Jihoon fell silent for a brief second. “I think it's cool to be able to live forever. You don't have to worry about that one day. The one last day you have on earth. Because you don't and you won't have it.”

     Seungcheol let out a small giggle at Jihoon's answer. “Of course, it seems cool to be able to live forever. Because you know you won't die and you have all the time in the world to do everything. Just everything. And you never have to worry about tomorrow because you have the time. But that's not it. Being immortal is not equal to that and though, I won't die, I'm not...strong either.”

     “But—”

     “Immortal being is not strong, Jihoon. I am not strong. But you…you are strong. And actually, you are way stronger than me, Jihoon. Remember that.”

     Jihoon was at lost for words. Blanked and baffled, he still could not delve into Seungcheol's words and what did it actually mean.

     “And… Apart from that, being immortal is not a good thing, though. Because it also means that you have to stay. Forever.”

     “Stay?” Jihoon's brows furrowed. Again, he could not quite fathom out the meaning behind those words.

     “See, people come and people go. One day, they walk into your life and next day when the Sun rises, they're gone before you knew it. And it happens over and over again and you will be alone in the end. It's hard, Jihoon, to see them leaving before my eyes. It's hard when I can do nothing to make them stay. Like me.” And with that, Seungcheol's eyes went heavy and doleful, poignant look on his face.

     Jihoon fell silent shortly after that.

     “You know, I've met someone like you a long time ago. He knew what I am and he still wanted to befriend me. He offered his hand for mine to shake and he was smiling at the time. I didn't know if he really wanted to befriend me because I'm immortal or just because he sincerely wanted to.”

     “So, did you shake hand with him?”

     He nodded. “I did. And then we started to grow closer. We hang out together, we talked, and we laughed. You know, just like what friends often do together. And that's when I saw it. The sincerity in his eyes when he's with me. It was as if there were stars in it, sparkling so beautifully. And I found it fascinating and wonderful. And…sad.”

     “Why?” 

     “Because I was there when he died. I was there, sitting right next to him in that very car when it lost control and hit the road divider. I was there when blood oozed out of his head. I was there when he held my hand and told me to never forget him. I was there. At the time.”

     Jihoon noticed the glassy eyes of Seungcheol as he said that. Racked with guilt, Jihoon reached out his hand toward the other and held Seungcheol's. He gave him a compassionate look. “I'm sure he's happy to see you for the last time before he died,” Jihoon said.

     “Really? I hope so. But watching him died before my eyes... It's painful for me. And that's the hardest part of being immortal, Jihoon. Watching people you loved die, again and again. And it goes on like that forever.”

     Jihoon took a deep breath and planted his gaze on the table, a bit preoccupied in mind. After all, it was the nature of being mortal. It was something that no one can deny nor fight against. Death. No one can escape from Death. So was Jihoon. And he knew he would die as well and that being said, Seungcheol would be left once again. There was nothing he could do to prevent it from happening. It was not in his power to do so. 

     Before long, the tall waiter came back with a tray in his hands. He stood straight beside their table and placed two cups of hot chocolate upon it. “I'm sorry, sir. I'm late,” he said with manners.

     “It's okay, Mingyu,” replied Seungcheol with a smile.

     The latter arched his brows in surprise by the time he heard his name fell out of Seungcheol's mouth. “H-How…”

     “Your name tag.” Seungcheol pointed his index finger at the name tag attached to his blazer. 

     The boy who went by the name Mingyu looked down at his own name tag and grinned. “Oh yeah. My name tag.”

     “Thank you by the way.”

     Mingyu averted his eyes to Seungcheol and nodded. “You are welcome. Hope you have a nice day.” He smiled at both Seungcheol and Jihoon before he his heels and walked away with the tray.

     Seungcheol looked on in silence as Mingyu slowly disappeared out of his sight. “Interesting,” he blurted out. “His hair colour.”

     “Yeah. It's orange.” Jihoon nodded and pulled his hot chocolate closer.

     Seungcheol raised his one eyebrow and afterward he lifted up his cup, brought it to his lips, and took a sip of the hot beverage. 

     Jihoon, on the contrary, merely peered into his drink and watched as the steam came out of the cup. There was a moment of silence before Jihoon opened his mouth and said, “I know I will die someday.”

     Seungcheol shot him a look and put down his cup on the table.

     Jihoon diverted his eyes to the latter and flashed a wistful smile. “I know I will leave you too, Seungcheol. But then, before the time comes, before Death calls upon me, we shall be together. Like this. And even if I die tomorrow, I won't disappear like the dust when we blow it off of the desk. I will always stay. In there.” 

     And with that, Jihoon averted his eyes to Seungcheol's chest, at where his beating heart should be. 

     “Forever,” Jihoon said, reassuring Seungcheol. 

     Upon hearing Jihoon, Seungcheol fell silent. That was one of the hundreds of things he adored about the mortal ones.  
     
     They exchanged a look with each other and smiled meaningfully.

Jihoon stood still outside the restaurant, hand stretching out to feel the cold droplets. It had slowed down. The rain. People started to leave the restaurant, making space for the new customers who had just come in. Jihoon turned his back and spotted Seungcheol at the payment counter, withdrawing the green notes out of his wallet. The moment Seungcheol was done with the payment and approached him, Jihoon lifted up the umbrella he was holding and opened it. 

     “It's still raining,” Seungcheol blurted out, taking hold of the umbrella. 

     “Yeah. But it's raining lightly.” Jihoon shot a look at the taller one and raised his brows.

     “Okay,” he simply replied and beamed.

     The two of them continued their walk, heading toward the bus stop which had been their rendezvous to wait for the bus. Jihoon's eyes lingered around the street where he could spot colourful umbrellas sheltering people from the drizzle. Every shade of colours painted the dull, gray street in spots and somehow everything seemed right in the drizzly evening.

     “Seungcheol,” Jihoon said, grabbing the other's attention. “How old are you actually?”

     Seungcheol hummed as he recalled his own age. “Hmm…let's see. When was the last time I counted my age?”

     “Have you reached hundreds yet?”

     “Maybe,” Seungcheol simply answered. “It can be thousands already. But one thing for sure, I'm old. Older than you. Older than your parents. Even older than your great-great-grandparents.”

     “That's for sure,” Jihoon commented. “Perhaps you are even older than the great King Sejong.”

     “I know, right?”

     “And you look exactly the same. Young and beautiful.”

     “Beautiful? What do you mean by that?” The corner of his lips twitched upward at Jihoon's statement. 

     “It's true. You are beautiful. And it's a quaint and peculiar kind of beautiful. You look like…heaven. Sorry, it sounds weird. But that's what I noticed about you before I learned that you're immortal.” Jihoon concealed his embarrassment behind his deadpan expression and looked away to the crowds. “Have you met someone like you? Someone who's immortal?” asked Jihoon, throwing another question to Seungcheol.

     “Umm…nope.” Seungcheol was a bit surprised when Jihoon changed the topic all of the sudden. Yet, he did not mention it and merely carry on the conversation. “Why? Do you think there is someone like me out there?”

     “No idea. But who knows? This world is full of mysteries. Even if I spend my whole life unraveling it, it will never end. There will always a new one concealed beneath it,” said Jihoon. “For example, you.”

     “I am a mystery?”

     Jihoon nodded. “Yes, you are. One of the world's mysteries. A God's great secret. You. You must have tasted everything, right? Every dynasty. Every era. Every year. Did you write everything down? Do you have diaries?”

     Upon hearing Jihoon, Seungcheol laughed. “Even if I have one, Jihoon, it wouldn't be legible to read anymore. Plus, the language and the writing are beyond your understanding. You won't be able to read even a single word.”  

     Jihoon hummed in response. Seungcheol got the point anyway. Considering his age, everything he once had probably would have extinct by today. “Well, how many languages can you speak and write?” asked Jihoon, seamlessly continuing the conversation.

     “A lot. Most of them are old and ancient ones. But since I no longer speak in those languages, I can't really remember it.”

     “How about your past? Could you reminisce anything that happened hundreds of years ago?”

     Seungcheol made a low, steady hum like a bee as he tried to dig into his past which might have been preserved as a block of words printed on the pages of Jihoon's History textbook. “Not much. But I still remember the old lady who took care of me when I was homeless.”

     “When was it?”

     “Hundreds of years ago, perhaps. I remember there was a war during that time when I met her. Chaotic but beautiful.”

     “War?”

     “Yes, war. You heard it right. It doesn't taste good. Wars. It tastes like, you know, a . It smells like rotten bodies. Everywhere you see is just collapsed buildings and dead people sprawling and dust and gray. It's ugly, Jihoon. And it is not kind, particularly for people like us. It's kind only to some.”

     “Who?”

     “Who do you think it is, Jihoon?”

     “I…don't know.”

     “The arms dealers. The ones who supply guns, bullets, bombs, and all that. War is exceptionally kind toward them.”

     Jihoon gave the other a pensive look before he looked away and frowned. 

     “Have you heard of Cain and Abel before, Jihoon?”

     Jihoon nodded in a hesitant manner as he recalled the unfamiliar names. “I think my father mentioned it once when I was small. It's about the two sons of Adam and Eve, right? Cain and Abel. In the story, Cain killed Abel. My father said that is the first murder ever happened in the world.”

     “True. Cain is the first murderer, meanwhile, Abel is the first murder victim. Cain killed his brother in the story with a stone. Because God didn't accept his offering. Because of jealousy and wrath. Can you see that? How old has it been?”

     The question had Jihoon speechless for a moment. He was about to ask what did Seungcheol mean by the word ‘it’ and what did ‘it’ refer to when the latter opened his mouth first to answer his unspoken questions.

     “Jihoon,” said Seungcheol, “they are already here. Hatred, jealousy, wrath, lie, evil. They have already existed before this world is created. They have been lurking in the dark before monsters did. They have been haunting our night before ghosts did. It is because they are invisible that we couldn't see them. It is because they are invisible that we often forget their existences, how they could creep into our heart in silence and reside there. We only notice them when we're sane, when we've done something wrong, when we've hurt people we loved. And when they have grown into a forest within our chest. Until then, they go unnoticed and unseen, just like the wind.”

     The sky seemed a little bit brighter than before. The street seemed a little bit spacious for the two of them to walk down. Yet Jihoon's expression did not reflect the positive change in the weather.

     “This world, Jihoon, is already ugly when you and I were born. And it gets even uglier as time passes by.”

     It hit Jihoon hard when those words fell out of Seungcheol's mouth. And he fell into total silence, tongue-tied and preoccupied.

     “Here we are,” Seungcheol blurted and halted. “The bus stop.”

     Both of them stood under the roof of the bus stop for the seat was wet with the rainwater. They did not mind it, however, because the bus should be here soon enough. Seungcheol put down his umbrella before he closed it properly and leaned it against the drenched bench. 

     “It has stopped. The rain.” Jihoon stretched out his palm only to find out that no cold droplet falling from the sky and beating on the ground like bullets. He gazed upward and stared at the clear sky. It was then Seungcheol's words lingered in his head and ears.

     A flood of mixed emotions stirred within his heart. Seungcheol was right anyway. This world had always been ugly. But something struck his head simultaneously and a sudden realization hit Jihoon as to why the sky was still pale blue, why the stars were still twinkling, why the Sun was still shining, why the flowers were still blooming, and why the bird was still flying up in the air. 

     This world might be ugly. But no matter how ugly and hideous it could be, still, there was a beauty hidden within it. It was the same reason as to why God created this world in the first place. It was the same reason as to why people still fight for their lives even when Death has stood before them. It was the same reason as to why human being like Jihoon still could live and smile every day, even when they are in their darkest of times. 

     “I hope,” Seungcheol said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them for a while. “I can see the bird again. In the future. Still flapping its wings in the air, flying its way up to the sky.”

     Jihoon looked up at the white bird that perched on a pole by the street. He beamed and later on held Seungcheol's hand. The warmth shared between the two somehow connected their souls together, bringing a new light for Seungcheol to look upon whenever he found himself in the dark. 

     “I'm sure you will,” Jihoon replied, staring at the bird. “I'm sure that the bird will fly again in the future, no matter how filthy the air is.”

     Jihoon's reply got Seungcheol smiling and he saw a wave of hopefulness washed over him. The bird would fly and it would reach the sky and the heaven someday.