Work Text:

Again and again...

Just like yesterday, the morning starts slow. The birds begin their chirping around the same time they usually do. The sunlight is dimmer than yesterday, no, what’s that?

Rain?

The pitter patter slowly evades her space and she loves it when the clouds take it upon themselves to give the world a break from the over bearing sun. A tiniest sliver of a smile appears on her face. Kicking off her mint green covers, gaining little or no balance, she clambers off to her window. Gripping the ledge with one hand, allowing the other hand to gather the grey linen. The glass pane is abstracted by the rush of water and her eyes struggle to decipher the view clearly. The gutters must be broken. Forcing her eyes to adjust to the dull light, she peers deeper into the raining dream-scape. Slowly she sees more and more. The sky is a murky grey mixed with dirty white, they swirl and swirl into each other, entwining around each other like a self-devouring serpent. It’s transparent blood bleeding onto the earth, cleansing all obstacles in its path. Colours are drenched and purged, their essence vanishing like the smoke of one of those mechanical vapour cigarette. A dark and misty layer forms a bubble, encasing the neighbourhood. It’s smoky and wispy but it’s not cheap, it’s potent like the smoke emitted when lit within a bull’s horn. They shadow over everything, the city looks like shoal of fishes trapped in a wispy iron cage. Wispy enough to imitate an eel but metallic enough to taste like a childhood wound you once on profusely.

Beautiful.

She gets the sudden urge to inhale the scent of the rain, maybe feel the ice of its breath. She wants to taste it on her tongue, the blood of the serpent. The presence at the door cuts her sudden giddiness short. She doesn’t need to acknowledge it. Tugging her towel off her wrought iron wall hanger, she heads for the bathroom door. The message is simply enough communicated and like that, her mother’s presence is gone. No, she won’t let this annoy. No, this day is not theirs to spoil. She won’t let them. She could feel in the tremor of her lips, the chill in her bones. There was no doubt.

Today was going to be a good day.

For once, she’s eager to finish her hot shower. The clouds of steam parting for her departure.

By the time she’s gathering her long black tresses in a low pony tail, she hears the whistle of the kettle. It hinders her process because she knows, just like how it hindered her process yesterday and the day before and of course she knows. Taking an overall looks at the mirror, she tilts her head in a sudden perk of curiosity. Her black school skirt hits right on the knee, the white flannel shirt is crease free as always but today is a good day. Should she... Somewhere in the side of her eye she catches the metallic glint of her name badge. The narrow silver strip with her name engraved on it, a small but noticeable cross is etched in the corner followed with two sharp arrows. It’s a weak attempt to boost the egos of the seniors, although some would argue it’s their morale rather than their egos being boosted. A means to communicate a hierarchy, to establish the weaker and the stronger, the fast and the slow or the capable and the incapable. Why? In this world that’s how it goes, it’s all a power struggle. Who has more, who wants more, who is willing to give you that more and what are you willing to do for that more. What better way for the youth to learn the most important lesson of life than letting them make their own cast system within schools. Give them a taste of life with false safety assurance called teachers. The seniors placed the highest because they are the oldest and merely have more life experience. They are what you fear because you cannot fathom how to close the gap. As humans we can never fully understand time, it bewilders us. Fear is a great means of control and you can’t really escape it. The only way out is no way out or maybe lying to yourself. So, you just wait your turn to be the bigger dog. Wait till they give you that shiny nameplate, that promotion, that raise, that office upgrade and enjoy your turn. If you lucky enough these days, you might even get a reality show.

Inspecting the badge, she realised she never really looked at it before. There hadn’t been a day she had worn it but today felt of something nostalgic, something vivid and evasive; something she didn’t mind attaching her name to. Gently she slides it onto her black tie, right between the dark maroon stripes. For an item she barely glanced at before, it seemed to blend in so well with her image. Like there hadn’t been any thought at all to the object. It made her smile.

Walking down the floral covered staircase, she could hear her mother complaining about the coffee getting cold. She’s aware rolling one’s eyes is quite a distasteful way to show annoyance but she really couldn’t help it in these cases. In the kitchen, on the granite top was four cups of black coffee, in front of the same counter is her sister, staring bleakly at the dark substance. Wearing a cotton sun dress with no bra on, sitting in the single sofa was their mother.

She bites back a bitter giggle, still situated on the stair landing.

Which grown women wears butterfly clips in her hair?

The amusement is cut short when her sisters glares at her before storming out the front door.  She hears a faint mumble about the damn television but the rest is left floating outside her hearing ranger.

Looking from the front door to the television, she soon realizes why her mother is interested. Anything and everything pertaining to them entrances her. She doesn’t know what her mother must be feeling and she doesn’t feel like she wants to know but if it hurts you.

Why don’t you stop?

Its silent but the statement floats in the air, swaying side to side. Her mother shifts uncomfortably in the chair before chubby fingers point to the kitchen, barking orders, “don’t forget your coffee.”

Inhaling rather than sighing, she drifts in kitchen, pale fingers reaching for the grey mug. She can’t stop herself. The anger tightens in her chest, threatening to turn her blue and takes all her self-control not to gracefully tip the mug over. She already made her mind up that it was going to be a good day, the weather was beautiful, the air so cold that it made her flesh shiver in pure appreciation. If this was some over publicized Disney movie, she was sure that some baby blue birds would have adorned her figure with a putrid pastel coloured garment and little rodents would comb her hair into a neat bun while the poorly animated sun smiled at her. She found herself smiling, realizing she had a lot to be grateful for. Alas, this mug of coffee was something she could do without. There were two other mugs a part from hers and she definitely let an eye roll slip.

Idiot.

When she was kid, she would fight for coffee but her father would reject her each time. He would say all types of things from it’s unhealthy to how she would get sick if she ever drank it. Just like that, it became ritual for her to demand some at every breakfast. Sometimes he would entertain her with a sip, other times he would finish it before she got to the table. Somehow that mug of coffee became attuned to maturity. It tasted bitter on her tongue when she was younger. Now, she couldn’t taste the coffee, only the bitterness of the memory spreading through her as the warmth of the coffee would.

Chugging the substance down like it was Castor oil, she smiled proudly at herself. The memory hadn’t hurt as much today.  Green sling bag in hand, she stuffed her feet into her sneakers. The excitement getting the better of her.  So excited that she forgot the number one rule; she turned back. Locking gazes with her mother, all she saw were remains of a broken being, desolated and cold. She knew her mother knew that dad wouldn’t be back today, maybe tomorrow for an hour but no more. Still, every morning she would hear that kettle whistle and come down to four mugs of coffee on the granite top. The whistle of kettle would ring through the house like a broken record or the bearer of bad news always appearing at precisely the same time as it did the days before. Over and over, the broken record that only managed to unjam itself at the particular time of the morning. Until that time came, it was just stuck in silence much like her mother’s life.

Foolish women.

A rush of cold air barges in the minute she opens the door. She struggles against the harsh wind. The chill tickles her cheeks and her nose feels like a Popsicle. The school skirt swayed flimsily in the wind, revealing her stocking cladded legs to the chilly bite. The thin material offers little insulation but she felt all too grateful for the little. Outside was a steady stream of cars, it was a rare occurrence but apparently most parents refused to let their kids walk in this rain. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Opening up her black umbrella swiftly and bracing herself, she gently skips off her door ledge. The embrace of storm is almost painful, making her insides shiver and teeth clatter against one another. Not every day you get to feel that. The force of downpour piles against the crown of the umbrella and there’s a steady stream of water rushing down the pavement. She blinks a couple of times to adjust but fails, the thin mist abstracts everything. Her mind fights against it because she’s walked down this path hundreds of times and she knows what goes where, even which colour goes where but she much prefers this. This world of dim and wispy, day dreamy, nightmarish and so beautiful. This world where all she hears is the beating of the raining, the water streaming past her sneakers but then there the engines and hooters of those cars but she forgives them. No use crying over spilled milk. What’s the good without the bad?  There’s something intangible about the scenery as if it exist and doesn’t at the same time. It’s as if everything around you is a reflection and it just takes one finger tip to break the illusion. So she steps carefully, it’s much too beautiful to hurt.  

Today was going to be a good day.

All through the streets of the dim paradise, she could hear their whispers of fears. Strangers, lovers, friends walking side by side underneath their respective umbrellas. This is most unusual, very few non-school going children take this path and it’s even rarer on such a rainy day.  She feels her shoulder’s bump against the crowd uncomfortably, her umbrella at wars with others. This was not what she had expected, the mass of people adorned in their large coats and wide umbrellas only served as a sliver of sun light on her rainy day. There’s tension in the air, she can feel it, the way their eyes dart side to side.  They’re hands ducked deep in their coat pockets, their head bowed underneath the shelters of their umbrella. In an almost zombie like fashion, they shuffle forward with silent deliberation. Their mouths drawn in tight lines because they wish to whisper but not to speak and whisper they cannot amongst the drumming of the rain. It must be frustrating and she takes comfort in that. She had hoped she could walk this path in peace this morning.

Almost like information beacon in a role playing game, she spots people clustering around the shabby newsstand. Unhurriedly, she makes her way to the stand. The faces surrounding it are either weathered in concern and fear or hardened in defiance. Through the little gaps and thanks to a peculiar short lady, she manages to catch sight of the mini television set wedged between rolls of old newspaper. It’s the same show her mother was watching this morning, the same Caucasian lady with blonde hair is on the screen, her features poorly communicating concern. She looks better suited for dieting regime advert.

I’ve never seen a ghoul before.

No one had, a part from the C.C.G. she had asked her father once about them but he brushed past it as if she hadn’t said anything at all. That’s how her family works things out. They ignore things like how her mother is wearing a sundress in the middle of a storm, how there’s four cups of coffee but only three people spend the night in the house or how her mother watches news about ghouls like it wasn’t one of them that killed her daughter. Yes, that’s the way, just brush past it like it never happened.

Ghouls, the hunters that prey on humans. Some find it insanely foreign but personally, she found it inevitable. Humans were fools to think they had surpassed the law of the jungles, fools to think they can prey on lower life forms and never become one themselves. Funny how humans act so disgusted by ghouls feeding on human flesh but they themselves feed on the flesh of various life forms. It’s one in same, isn’t it? If anything, humans should be disgusted by themselves. They are beings that can survive without the slaughter of an animals, they can survive with maize, vegetables and fruits and they choose to slaughter. Ghouls only supply of nutrients is the flesh and blood of a human, where’s their choice? Maybe they offend humans so much because they look just like us. Probably because it’s so hard to differentiate a ghouls from a human, it’s the sense of dishonesty and lack of transparency that frustrates the humans, frustrates because they cannot single out an individual or individuals to aim their hate at, because they can’t take their anger out at a threat if they can’t detect the threat. They only time you can tell them apart is when they’re feeding and if you witness that, you probably won’t live to speak of it but there’s rumours that they’re shape shifters,  rumours of them transforming into hideous beast with claws and armours but she hadn’t heeded any of the gossip because that’s exactly  what it was; gossip. Her father had seen them, many of them. She wonders where he is now. Probably somewhere with the C.C.G, hunting the flesh eating ghouls. He’s probably drenched in their red crimson blood, guts splattered across his black uniform.

Is it raining where he is? Maybe the rain would cleanse him of all the bloody entrails.

Nostalgia makes you think foolish things. She can feel the embarrassment creep up, the fondness you can’t escape. She wonders if he is still fond of rainy days. She used to love it when she was little. It would pour down so heavily and everyone would gather at door because it was ritual for dad to drive them to school when it rained. It was one of the few chances she had to sit in the black leather seats of her father’s silver Nissan. It’s a vague memories but she does remember being amazed at how her father could lock and unlock her door from his driving seat.

Like the hand of the needle counting the seconds, the of terror came with such speed. Quick enough for one not to be able to look away but slowly enough to feel tension jamming every joint in your body. On the left side corner of the screen is a block and slowly its size increases enough for the crowd to properly look at the image on the mini television.  Its low quality but it’s enough.

A ghoul.

The picture depicts a hunched figure with an enlarged head lined with raw flesh, its knees are twisted and ever so faintly you can see almost sickle like objects protruding from its arms and spines.

They differ.

That’s what her father had said.

 As if someone had muted the world, no one spoke but through the deafening silence she still couldn’t hear the rain. As if on cue, the downpour increases, the sudden rush snapping the crowd out of their trance. They flutter, ambling, not knowing which way to go, not knowing which way to turn but being on the move is the only distraction from their thunderous heartbeat. Despite the chaos, she kept still, rooted to spot. Her eyes watching the feet battle against the rain gathering on the ground. Memories of her sister were rare but today is a good day and she vaguely remembers them playing outside in the rain till their noses were frozen. How interesting, the first day she gets a proper visual of what killed her sister is the day she remembers a genuine memory of her sister. Ironic much.

Bumping shoulders and just about everything else, she shuffles through the crowd. There’s water in her shoes and her mind makes the imaginary ‘squelching’ noise as she walks.

The morning goes by as expected and by that she means that everyone is chatting about the supposed ghoul picture. Her own friends tuck their phones away as she approaches them, they must be trying to be considerate. They know all too well about her sister’s death due to fact that her sister was killed in school swimming pool. Back then she had almost wanted something to happen to her sister because having a twin is never as glamorous as it seems. Especially for her, since her sister had always being more outgoing and bright while she had inherited more of the finer aesthetics in the looks department with the body to accompany it. Those were things she was known for, her beauty but her sister was admired for just about everything else. Sure she was smart but her sister was a part of the debate team, science club and gse stock exchange team. She always paled in comparison but no one cared because

“Who cares, you’re gorgeous. You’ll see, the world is kinder to the pretty,”

As if she hadn’t achieved even grander marks than her sister but who cared. She wonders if she really cared, people had never been her forte. Socialising had always been much more of a challenge than an experience and she had manipulated every opportunity she could to avoid it. She wonders if she would still be viewed as such a snobbish child if she wasn’t always standing next to her twin. Her twin that looked almost nothing like her.

In the end, it had been her sisters own persistence that ended her life. Amongst the various incidents that was happening around our school that time, their mother had been reluctant to allow them have any freedom outside of school. Of Corse, that hadn’t bothered her but her sister was another story. Her sister had refused to relinquish the rights to practise and partake in her clubs despite many clubs halting activities, the swimming club persisted. As per usual, she had been woken up to her sister already dressed and ready for swim practise. As per usual, it was barely 5 am when her sister left home and that’s when the usual stops.

Hours lately her sister’s mauled body was discovered in the school pool. Her bloody seeping out enough to taint the whole pool into a light shade of pink. The rest of the swim team was missing along with the coach. She didn’t speak for the next nine days. She never got to see sister after that morning, not even the body. It was a closed coffin funeral but the mere thought of her sisters raw remains just mere meters way from her had an almost identical effect as seeing the body would have. Devoid, she felt devoid and mute. On the tenth day, she returned to school and silently endured the pity and sympathy pouring from all those around her. Her teachers offered her company and what was she to say. How she felt? She felt nothing?  At most, she felt annoyed at all the unwanted attention.

At home, her father had all but disappeared. There was a few hushed conversation she had walked into.  A few men perched on the couch in uniforms similar to her fathers, across them was her mother, still in her night gown. For almost a year after the incident, that’s all her mother wore. Later that night, her mother expressed enthusiasm about the C.C.G finding my sister’s killer.

C.C.G?

A term she had seen but never understood, a term synonyms with the word ‘work’ because that was her father’s answer every time she asked what the C.C.G was; it was his work.

Months later, waking up to a strange sensation, she quietly exited her room. From the top of the stairwell, she could see the kitchen light flood into the lounge. With keen ears, she took each step with the utmost stealth. Three steps from the landing, she could make out the hushed conversation. Piqued ears listened intently as eyelids lowered. Even with such lack of just about any emotion, something strange twisted in her gut, something vile and acidic. Her feet hit the ground hard as she flew up the stairs and bolted into the bathroom. Barely on her knees for a second before she feels the contents of her stomach rushing through .

That night she learnt that swimming coach was a ghoul. That he had been an insider offering timing and location information for other ghouls. That night, she heard of the lunchboxing business for the first time. The coach had been in the business, he had been preying on girls, reeling them in until he felt he had enough. The girls were abducted and butchered, then their body parts were to be packaged in tin lunchboxes and stored in various private butcheries. Something straight out of a horror movie but it wouldn’t go away even if she closed her eyes. Several lunchboxes were found in an ice cream van and the DNA had been proven the body parts belong to several of the girls from the swimming team and even so, no real leads were found to the whereabouts of the coach. Whether it was because she was on the run or being used as an example, in the scheme of things, her sister had been lucky. At least her sister had somewhat of a dignified burial.

Nearing the fifth period, the intercom instructs everyone to return to their form classes and so they do. In quiet terror, everyone anticipates more news about the ghouls and they aren’t disappointed. For unknown reasons, the day has been getting dimmer and dimmer and according to the government, nightfall is almost upon. The city is placed under curfew. Panic surges through the classroom like wildfire and just about everyone is reaching for their phones. Everyone but her. Euphoria washes over her, how more perfect could today be? At first she thought nothing could but her eyes soon widen when the realisation hits her.

MoMo café.

For split second her friends finds herself in awe of the sight in front of them. Its rare occasion for her to spare a smile, yet alone a smile as bright as the missing sun but today is good day and it’s going to get better.

The teacher hands out guides with instruction and tips regarding the curfew, all aligned along the thick red spine. Class is dismissed and instructed to go home directly. Classes on the bottom is instructed to leave first and the students move like file of orderly ants. She watches from the window, waiting their turn. Her friends offers her ride but she denies, she can’t let this slip away. There’s cars circling the school and most students make a beeline for their parents. She’s all too happy about this, making haste, she finds herself in slight jog. The air is still frozen and harsh on and true to government’s word, it’s fairly dark with faint glow from the non-visible sun. The dusty stormy sky is stained a rustic orange from what she can only hope is the sun.  The streets lamps embers are already alive and the people move like a swarm of bees with a common goal in mind; go home, be safe. Turning the corner soon, she notices most of the shops are closing up, there’s another hour till the actual curfew starts but rather be safe than sorry. Fearing she will miss it, she breaks into a run, her bag tailing behind her and her umbrella forgotten in her class. The sign comes into view and her heart sinks when she can’t see the café’s light. Wet from sweat and slight drizzle, clutching her chest and out of breath, she struggles to gracefully approach the door. The ‘closed’ sign is in white bold letters but she can see a dim light. Peering into the glass pane, her eyes scans the vicinity to no avail, there’s no one there.

He left.

Amongst the new not so usual emotions she’s experienced today, heartbreak soon joins them. Her chest tightens in disappointed. It was so perfect, almost completely.

Almost as if the gods themselves had heard her,

“I’m sorry we’re closed,” his voice is like glass, smooth but raw around the edges.

She looks up, knowing exactly who the voice belonged to. His darks eyes slanted and beautiful with mirth shimmering within them. This is what she wanted to see.

Not once had she ever spoken a word to him, the boy with feline smile, straight nose and triangular nostrils, the boy that served customers so diligently at MoMo café. She would always sit at the counter and order with the elderly lady but her eyes would roam all reflective surfaces in a desperate attempt to watch this beautiful specimen.

Shin Hoseok, she had heard being called many times.

Little under an inch taller than her, he was the definition of divinity and like a drug, she would return to MoMo café for another fix. In this world, she hadn’t believed something as beautiful as him could exist, the notion of it seemed taboo but time after time, he would continuously prove her wrong.  She would find herself thinking that maybe this world wasn’t such a putrid place and humans can’t all be bad if a human such as Shin Hoseok exists.

“Chae Hyungwon,” no, a name such as hers shouldn’t be spoken by a being as beautiful as Shin Hoseok.

Her voice gets caught in and her eyes widen in surprise and then the most beautiful sound graces her ears. She finally snaps out of her surprises and focuses on the laughing Shin Hoseok.  The sounds washes away any self-doubt Hyungwon was clinging to.

“It’s on your name tag,” he says when his finished his chuckling and as beautiful as his voice is, Hyungwon misses the sweet chortle.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry to disturb you,” It’s the most Hyungwon has said all day and feels pride flourish inside of him. She hadn’t thought she would manage a single greeting in front of him.

This, Shin Hoseok, right in front of her is all she needed to complete the day but all of Hyungwon’s expectation have been blown out the water. She got to hear Shin Hoseok’s voice and the realisation takes its time but when it does, Hyungwon sure she has never been this happy before.

Shin Hoseok spoke to me. Shin Hoseok looked at me. Shin Hoseok acknowledged me.

Shin Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok.

Like a mantra of goodluck, Hyungwon feels feather light in her slightly damp sneakers, the space surrounding him is almost too surreal. Bowing gently, Hyungwon feels light head and giddy. She steps back but in mid turn, Shin Hoseok’s voice penetrates the chilly air.

“Wait, its cold and your wet. At least let me get you a take away coffee,” the smile that accompanies the offer is a sight Hyungwon never wants to forget.

Nodding dumbly, Hyungwon is ushered into the café. Her eyes firmly focused on Shin Hoseok’s figure as he heads behinds the counter. For once she can appreciate him to the fullest. The café is now a blank canvas of dark mahogany with Hoseok existence being the core and sole heart of the art piece. It’s like a private show and Hyungwon takes second of it as a gift from God. Watching intently, her eyes roams from his narrow waist up to the black shirt stretching tightly against his chest, the collar dips to the right a little  more and Hyungwon catches glimpses of right collar bone protruding out of smooth milky skin. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal intricate pale blue veins entwining down to his wrist leading to almost feminine hands with long finger but broad nails. Hyungwon watches as he skilfully operates the machine, his hands moving with such fluidity.

“By the way, my name is Shin Hoseok,” he offers from behind the counter.

I know.

“Hoseok is fine. I like your name, Chae, it reminds me of chai tea. Spicy but sweet. It’s a pretty uncommon name, can’t say I know anyone else with it,”

It takes a moment to process and Hyungwon eyes travel from Hoseok’s hands to Hoseok’s moving lips. There’s no trace of mirth and he didn’t sound like he was trying to be witty. It weighs heavy on Hyungwon, she wasn’t worth that compliment, not from someone like Hoseok. She was just pretty face as far as most was concerned. It wasn’t uncommon though, most attributed her reserved nature to sassiness and arrogance. It hadn’t concerned her till now but Hoseok had called her sweet.

“I see you here often but I’ve never taken notice of your badge,” he sounds curious and Hyungwon doesn’t know if Hoseok wants an answer.

Because I’ve never worn it before.

Before she thinks into it too much, Hoseok emerges from behind the counter with caramel latte and small packet of cinnamon pancakes filled with cream and chocolate shavings. She feels her jaw slacken.

“It’s your favourite, right?” he asks with a dazzling smile.

It is.

How did he know?

Her lips curl up to the brightest smile she has ever managed and it’s not even out of choice. She feels something she didn’t even think she was capable off, the heat spread across her cheeks and she’s almost certain that she’s blushing.

“Thank you,” simple but Hyungwon has never heard her voice so clear.

There was so many foreign feelings spreading through, she felt as if she had fallen into pandora’s box. Like Cinderella, Hyungwon is scared she could destroy this moment by overstaying her welcome. With a heart b with joy, she bows and reaches for hello kitty money bag.

“Don’t worry about, it’s on the house. Almost time for the curfew, the cream would have gone to waste. We should get going. Where do you stay?”  He doesn’t give her a chance to resist.

Clutching her coffee in one hand and the pancakes in another, Hyungwon flushed faces barely rises enough for them to make eye contact.

“Around the corner from Mittal Square, Geown street,” her words not faulting once despite the thundering claps in her chest.

“I’ll walk you,” he says nonchalantly, “we’ll go through Bruma walkway. I don’t trust mittal square at this time, they’re probably those just waiting to catch an unlucky soul in this dark,” he sounds vaguely concern as he digs in his pockets.

Hyungwon feels her heart explode and if this was an anime, she was sure that streams of confetti would be pooling at her feet but instead there’s just little gatherings of rain water. It doesn’t help that Hoseok looks like a typical male lead anime character, his skin pale and flawless with cherry lips that curl up in cat like smirk, his waist insanely narrow with dip at the base of his spin, not to mention his raven tresses hanging haphazardly against his forehead.  The wind ruffles his hair as he locks the main door. In his hand is an umbrella and resting on his back is a green nike bag. Now covering his black button up is a grey hoody that hangs loosely on his frame. The combination of oversized clothes and fluffy hair is too adorable and Hyungwon reminds herself to never ever forget these moments.

 “Ready,” he says as he opens his umbrella to shelter not only him but Hyungwon as well.

Hyungwon is all too grateful as she’s able to drink her latte but that’s the least of the things she’s grateful about. Today truly was a magical day and as they walk in silence, she finds herself at loss of words to appropriately describe her situation or any of these feelings swirling in her chest. The being she had admired and unceremoniously stalked was now sharing an umbrella with her. Not wanting to stare, she blankly watches the raindrops shattering against the hard ground. Now, allowing herself to think about something else other than Hoseok, she notices it really is dark. It would be pitch black if residents didn’t set up industrial lighting randomly on the streets. Hyungwon realises that Hoseok is on to something. She can only imagine the shady characters hiding, just waiting for an easy prey. They must be brave, for them to stay out despite the impending doom of a ghoul attack. Either that or they were ghouls themselves. She wasn’t sure which one of them posed the greater threat. There were pros and cons. A human might her, rob her and still kill her but there were no ‘mights’ with a ghoul, they will definitely kill her and feed of her but she didn’t know which would come first. Either way, she was somehow more supportive of the concept of being able to give substance to another life form, rather than having her body violated and left for stranger to discover. The only thing she really was certain of is the safety of Hoseok is indefinitely the highest priority. She would do anything to ensure his wellbeing.

The route Hoseok suggested is easy enough, Hyungwon would know. The Bruma walkway is strip land that runs circularly around the inner city. Actually the original route was an old rail train track that would circle the city but was abandoned years ago when the subway took precedence. For long time the tracks was a piece of history but many favoured the new plan of recycling it into something more practical. It was a long process, Hyungwon vaguely remembers it starting around the time she turned seven. Prior to that, her sister and she would often play around the tracks and the brick tunnel near their house. Once the process started, they were banned from the area and another five years into it, Hyungwon and her sister found themselves on the plush green grass that now grew on the path.  That day, Hyungwon found her clothes dirty and forehead slickened with sweat. Their school had volunteered to contribute to the walkway by planting various flowers and tree.  Her sister darting around the summer day as Hyungwon crept into any available shade.

Another memory of her sister.

How odd.

The walk-way formed a complete three sixty. If her high school was at twelve o’clock and MoMo café was at Three o’clock, Hyungwon’s house was somewhere between seven and eight. That left a moderate distance to cover and although Hyungwon was grateful for Hoseok’s steady pace, she knew they weren’t going to beat the curfew. The truth being that she didn’t care. The mere concept of sharing an umbrella with Shin Hoseok was so out worldly, so unnatural. Underneath her cool exterior, Hyungwon felt her brain malfunction.

Today was no longer a good day.

Today was exceptional, sensational, magical, beautiful and so much more and such was the existence of Shin Hoseok.

Today was almost the unattainable and yet here she was, right next to Shin Hoseok. Side by side, matching him stride for stride. Ever so casually stealing glances of the ethereal beauty beside her. Hoseok’s presence is enough to silence the rhythm of the falling rain. She struggles to look away every time but she knows she can’t risk ruining this perfection. She can’t be too greedy, what she was given today was more than she could ever imagine, more than she could comprehend.

She can’t jeopardise it.

The grass of the garden route is sunken and heavy with rain. Hyungwon finds herself treading with the utmost care. She cannot make a fool out of herself in front of Hoseok. The task gets more and more difficult as the rain hardens and her soul threatens to escape her body as she feels something brush against her hands. She briefly locks gazes with Hoseok until she feels his hand wrap around hers. He tries to steady herself as he pulls her into a light jog. She quickly realises his heading for the shelter of the grey brick bridge.  The bridge lays directly at six o’clock and Hyungwon realises just how close she is to home.

Underneath the shelter of the bridge, she finds herself trying her best to gain her breath as gracefully as she can. She’s embarrassed by the sudden skin contact and Hoseok witnessing her run, something she rarely, if ever, does. The umbrella is quickly tossed aside, as Hoseok clutches his knees, hunch over and out of breath. The pale light shining through the tunnel exit revealing his pale skin glistening with rainwater, his lips parted as he pants, eyes hooded with eyelashes heavy with water droplets. The sight is almost sinful and Hyungwon almost chokes when Hoseok eyes peers up at her. Instinctively she backs away as a grin spreads across his face.

“You’re always doing that, looking at me with such intent,” His words strengthen and Hyungwon finds herself staring into the dim light at the exit of the tunnel.

“I wonder what you’re thinking. What’s happening inside that pretty head of yours?” his words drawing nearer and near as he teases but her gaze locks with damp dirty ground.

Hyungwon barely registers what happening until her back is met with solidness of the brick wall. Even so, she refuses to look up in fear they might stray. Her mind short circuits and suddenly breathing becomes difficult along with everything else that keeps her alive. She feels him near, still closing in, his short breath almost non-existent.

“Chae,” it sounds unnerving, her name rolling out his mouth like a liquid gold,” you know, I was wondering, why you would come to the café? You must know about the curfew, you must know about the ghouls.”

Ghouls.

There’s a dip in his tone when says that word. It’s brief but Hyungwon can’t brush it off. With slow deliberation, he enters her space. His black sneakers enters her down casted sight. Hyungwon feels herself shrink back as his breath brushes against the tip of her nose, so close. Too close and like a mirage in a dessert, Hyungwon fear if she touches him, he might vanish right in front of her. She wasn’t worth his words, his time, his touch but she wanted just a taste. To taste this beauty but she couldn’t taint it. She was below him, unworthy, incompetent.

 

“Did you come for me? Is that why you don’t look scared? You still don’t, Chae,” he sounds vaguely interested, his hands slowly raising to her cheek.

The combination of his touch and her name on tongue is enough for Hyungwon to abandon all prior reservation. Throwing caution to the wind, Hyungwon lets her eyes linger upon Hoseok figure, finally settling when she’s met with slanted kajol lined eyes. 

There was no words. For split second Hyungwon feels the world still, the universe essence bleeding through existence of Shin Hoseok. She’s waking into a dream, Hyungwon feels like nothing is impossible because in world were Shin Hoseok existed, the possibilities were endless.

She drank in every last detail of his slender face. His jawline smooth, curving into a blunt chin that would narrow whenever he smiled. She loved watching his dark eye crinkle as the most blinding smile would stretch across his face, his nose scrunching up along with his eyes. Watching Shin Hoseok was Hyungwon most favoured past time. Going to MoMo café time after time, escaping her dysfunctional, running away from the constant reality of the continuous mundane life following her. She’s watched him hours, watched him be, watched him exist. His actions, his words, his voice so effortlessly smooth. Never missing a single detail, Hyungwon has mapped Hoseok’s feature down to the finest pore. Each contour, each slope, every crease coercively aligned like the stars of the constellations.

Wonder what his starsign is?

She watched him bow politely as he greeted every single customers, she watched as his hair would flop into yes and he would bring a hand to shove it back as he straightened from the bow. His eyes crescent like and fine as his cheeks would swell. She watched everything, even the way his pants would perfectly wrapped around his waist, the way the fold of the darts would flow seamlessly as if it had been ironed on him.  The hem of the pants resting precisely upon his black converse high tops which would vary from black or white laces but he always used the same pattern. On the very rare occasion he would wear white socks but normally they were black, Hyungwon could see through the two metallic circular holes situated on the side of the sneaker. He always wore a variety of rings but Hyungwon knew the silver band on his left hand index finger was special. Not once had she seen him without it. She almost had a catalogue of all his chains, hunting them down whenever she shopped. She discovered most of his jewellery was from Lovisa and even some of the black shirts he would wear was from shop her father would frequent. She could tell because the buttons was identical with broad cuffs and red crisscross stitching. She wasn’t as obsessed as her actions suggested she was. Hyungwon merely had a good memory and a keen eye, the little things always caught her eye and ofcorse, Shin Hoseok was always a welcomed to distract her and so he did. Alas, she found herself impulsively buying whatever item she had seen adorning him, which wasn’t the smartest because for a barista and waiter, Hoseok had some expensive taste. Also, they were mens clothing but that hadn’t stopped her from wearing it at home. It served as reminder, to comfort her from that ty hell hole, she called a home. It reminded her that out there, there was people such as him, people that weren’t so repulsive, people she could appreciative because it was more. So much more than just pale skin and sweet smiles, so much more than adorable eye smiles and straight nose, no, hoseok commanded the space. He was overflowing with charisma. She hadn’t found many people she cared for but the more she considered it, he was all she wanted to see. She wanted to witness him grow, witness him bloom because not everyone does. Shin Hoseok, the unattainable, she wanted to be a part of it, to stand testimony to his existence

So she did, she spectated. Watching with the utmost concentration. He who escaped the maze while everyone chased the cheese.

And yet…

His never looked as beautiful as he did this very moment.

She knew.

His eyes now black with his iris becoming a sole amber ring encasing a small black pupil. The amber glowing felt velvet but the black resembled ink in a glass bottle, potent and cold.

Ghoul.

He never was a part of the race from the start.

She always knew.

“You’re still not but I can see that pretty head of yours going into overdrive. Isn’t it heavy, to have all that swirling around up. I’m right here, Chae, say the words you’ve fantasized about telling me,” there no humour in voice, each word is slow with deliberation.

“I want you to,” it almost sounds like his pleading and Hyungwon’s heart races at the speed of light.

How can she deny him?

Like a dog obeying their owner, Hyungwon plump lips part almost instantly,” I never wanted to speak you.”

He quirks and eyebrow. It could be her imagination but she swears his breath is getting closer.

“Yes, I came to see you. It’s just, today was such a good day and I wanted it to be perfect. It wouldn’t be perfect without seeing you” the words barely registered as it left her lips.

He deserved the absolute truth and Hyungwon was not going to play the typical fool and come up with some creative lie. He was like art, he deserved to hear the praise he rightfully earned.

Her sincerity brings a smile to Hoseok’s lips. Placing both hands against the wall on either side of her, he lowers him till his body is lightly pressed up against hers. The packet of pancakes is soon abandoned. Hoseok’s chin grazes the side of her head and Hyungwon curses internally. Her hair is a messed due to bad weather and she can imagine how greasy it must feel against his smooth skin.

He sense her urge to speak, “shh,”

The hushing motion aptly silences her and she’s all too grateful. In this very moment, she wishes she could be more refined, more composed but she was sure she looks the very opposite of that. Her body feels heavy against his and she misses the view if his gorgeous eyes.

Wonder if all ghouls are like this?

The coach wasn’t, so probably not.

That’s right.

No one had eyes like his.

The first time she saw him, he had been every bit just as beautiful. The day she returned to school after her sister’s death. How suffocated she felt with all the temporary concern and momentary sorrow. They just used her as a trigger but they all were really hurt from the loss of her sister. They said sorry to her more for themselves than for her. No one really cared about Hyungwon. She was just the sister of a loved student that was killed by a ghoul. A student that had such a bright future ahead of herself. Hyungwon was just an accessory to her sister’s death. Hyungwon knew if it was her, there would be less tears and all the children from their school would have attended out of need to comfort her sister.

What a horrible thing happened to her twin. She must devastated.

Even in her own death, Hyungwon would have been an accessory to her sister.

Each step out of school grounds was painful. She was emotional exhausted and her bones ached. It was as if she had been dragging a bag of rocks around. The rocks being all the whisper she would try to ignore, all the looks of discomfort or insults they voiced in her absence. Hyungwon thought she was brushing it off, unbeknownst to her, they were collecting in sack weighing her down. The way they looked at her with those eyes as if asking,

‘What is wrong with her?’

‘She doesn’t even look like she cares,”

As if asking if it only could have been her instead of Minhyuk.

Minhyuk would have been grief stricken, Minhyuk loved her twin sister, if only Minhyuk was the one to live.

If only but Minhyuk was gone and in her absence, Hyungwon swayed in out of classes as a reminder of her twin sister. A beacon of her sister’s memories that Hyungwon wasn’t even included in. It was ridiculous, they shared no traits what so ever but she swears, whenever her mother looks at her, she’s looking for traces of Minhyuk.- There’s none. They’re nothing alike. Hyungwon always thought if it had been her or her little sister, that Minhyuk would have been enough for their mother to continue living.

What cursed existence.

She had entered MoMo Café more out convenience than anything else. She couldn’t go back to that house. The aroma of coffee had been so pungent, Hyungwon remembered feeling oddly safe. It’s almost as if the café had casted a cloak over her, hiding her from the preying eyes. There’s little details that exist even now; the brass conch shell on the counter, the little diamond pattern weaved into the lining of the booths, the same little welcome mat at the front door, even the same untouched bottle of cinnamon bourbon on the shelf.

She had seen him for the first time. Hoseok smiled at her from behind the counter. His eyes gleaming so bright, she found it offensive. Something so bright had no place in her life and yet there he was. She took a seat at the inner most corner. Back then there had been another waiter with deep dimples and sandy blonde hair. Her order had been taken, leaving Hyungwon to stare dumbly into space.

A warmth clasped her shoulder and Hyungwon had turn first to look at the hand on her shoulder and then up at the man she would soon become enamoured with. The memory is strained but she can remember the simple sentence,

“Are you okay?”

His brown hair loose and wavy, his eyebrows knitted together in concern, his voice so soft and full of comfort. Those dark eyes looking at her so intently, as if –almost as if he cared. She wish she relive that feeling that washed over her then. She wished she could feel alive as she felt in that moment. Even after he left, the warmth stayed and buried itself deep inside her. Like a seed in need of nurturing, Hyungwon would back and back again and water the seed till flourished into the orchid it was today. He had become her haven for and so she would always return to Momo café as migratory birds would in search of a warmer climate.

She tries to feel his heartbeat, tries to count the each of his inhales and exhales, tries to keep her mind running. Her mind refuses to obey, instead she finds herself inhaling his scent. It’s as if the rain has made it more potent because she knows the perfume he wears and this isn’t it.

“They say the early night fall will affects us,” his voice is just above a whisper.

That’s what the pamphlet at school said as well.

During this time ghouls are more unstable.

“To be quite honest, it’s not just the nightfall. I’ve been feeling this way since I woke up. Saw the rain, felt the cold but somewhere else, I felt something else. Restlessness, the urge to feed, the urge bare myself so strong. I wondered why now? Why in a world where I can never truly be myself, why would I feel this way?... I don’t know,” his hushed tone is quickly abandoned as he tries to regain nonchalance but there was still traces of the vulnerability in his voice.

Absorbing each word, Hyungwon looks up in confusion. He’s not looking at her, instead he looks sad as his lidded eyes focus on the wall. She feels him shift, the space between the increasing.

“Just for you, for the understanding and that pretty face. You can, you should go. Just run. I’ll count to seven, if you make out of the tunnel then I’ll see tomorrow at the café. If you don’t, then oh well, your mother’s going to be losing another daughter,” he explains while he forces a smile.

Hyungwon feels a smile upon her lips, a count of seven was more than enough for to pass the tunnel, it was a rather small one.

“One,” his eyes are close.

She grabs her bag and begins to walk. Her feet touching the floor feel foreign, unexplainably light. She take the pancakes as well, they may have fallen on the floor but they were from Hoseok. Behind her, she feels his presence like a large monument, just standing and watching. Even though his eyes were closed.

“Two,”

His voice was different, more textured. It must be what his real voice is like, when his not trying to be human. It hadn’t occurred what a difficult time ghouls must have when regard to staying in human company. It must be suffocating, the constant lying, the grey area they exist in. She always imagines ghouls would loathe humans but Hoseok was loved by in the café but how did he feel?  She refused to think it was an act. No, every expression, every smile felt genuine. She could see it in his eyes. He oozed comfort and security. Maybe she’s being biased but he seemed to be such a social butterfly, fluttering table to table with the most charming smile. If it was an act, if it was a mask then it must an iron mask because not once did Hyungwon find a fault.

“Three,”

Must feel like a prison.

Hyungwon would know. She knew exactly how false freedom felt. How your whole life seems to be your choice but every step is already laid out for you. How you can almost never ever truly speak your mind. Too many restrictions, too many consequences and you just have to play along. Play along till you die or risk being outcasted. In Hoseok’s case, risk being killed. Maybe she was wrong, whatever she felt must be feel like a slap on the wrist compared to what Hoseok felt.

“four,”

The why did he always look happy.

He always looked happy. Always handled people with such care, remembering their names, asking about their day, wishing them well. He looked so invested in his life. A sense of passion she could never understand because Hyungwon never really cared for anything in particular. She just felt devoid, going through the motions, waiting for something to happen.

That something had been Shin Hoseok.

“Five,”

She felt more warmth in his smile than she had from her mother in almost a year. Shin Hoseok was more than beautiful; he was charismatic, kind, gentle, polite, respectful, thoughtful.

He felt human even more so than actual humans.

“Si-“

“Why?” she interrupts but doesn’t turn around.

Hoseok opens his eyes curiously. Puzzled, he just looked at her figure a mere inch from stepping into the dim light of the street lamp outside the tunnel.

“Why are you letting me escape? Aren’t you ghoul? Don’t you need to eat?” there’s no bite in her words, just plain curiosity.

“I’m feeling generous,” he says.

“Lies,” she knows.

Hoseok finds himself out in the open. He had initially entertained the idea of luring her here and devouring her but…he couldn’t. He used to love the chase before but it must be a good few years since he fed on fresh flesh. The body pieces his boyfriend acquired through a friend at the hospital were tasteless from being frozen too long. Plus he just felt unsure about eating from a hospital. Every now and again he would hunt but like taking up becoming a vegetarian, Hoseok had stopped. Settling for the tasteless flesh from a private morgue instead, Hoseok preferred to watch the content smile on his boyfriends lips. It had taken him a while to understand but when he did, he knew he couldn’t turn back.

“You got me. Truth is…I’m in love,” Hoseok finds himself smiling at his own words, ”Hyungwon, have you ever had something so important, so precious, you might die of heartbreak if something happened to it?”

Her back still facing him, Hyungwon just shook her head. She can hear him it sigh.

“Well find it. It makes all the hurt feel like paper cuts. Find it because when you do, you’ll find yourself as well. When you put so much yourself into something, you become it or it becomes you. I use to hate myself and hate humans more. Hate this life, hate how unfair god was to me. Go hunt, slaughter and feed. Get high on the chase, the games and then it would all fade and I was left with myself and a corpse. So much of hate, I almost destroyed what I know called the most important thing to me and yet, he stayed. If someone sees you in the dark, just know that you are they’re light. That’s why they see you. I was too blind with all the resentment, I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see him nor my light. You think you’ll never get there, you’ll never reach that far but you will. I did,” Hoseok speaks like his confessing his most hidden secrets.

She hears him approach her.

“I won’t hurt you because I love you. I love my life, the people in it, the coffee I taste, the sun on my face, everything. I made this life mine because I found love in a single rose and it filled my world with colour. Even on this day when I can barely hold myself back, I look at you and see what I love. I see him, I see a daughter, a sister, a cousin and a lover. I see the person that greets me every morning on my way to work, I see their family. I look at you and wonder what type of person you are. What’s your dreams, your quirks, your ambition? Where you going to go? That’s the best of it, we’re forever evolving without even noticing it. Always on the move, our future limitless. It’s a wonderful world to live in, Hyungwon. It’s wonderful because I wake up to my rose. What I am is not all that is. Being a ghoul does not define me, just like how being a human does not define you nor does your face or your height. We only lack when we really think about the person we truly want to be, not the person beside us. You have that potential. I see all of that and I rather not rob the world of it. Why, when I can watch you go by in the world as you watch me go by in yours?” he sounds happy, almost proud because he this had to be the first time he had entirely confronted himself on the matter.

Hyungwon feels her chest squeeze and her hand reaches for it. The strumming of the rain soon enters the silence and she realises she’s blocked everything but his voice out. Her skin is cold and damp from the stray rain but she can feel it; warm tears streaming down her face. Hoseok’s words lay heavy on her, just like his presence did behind her and she can’t escape it. No, she could but she doesn’t want to. She feels ready for war, to fight for her rights.

The right to truly live.

“There’s more than just moving forward,” she speaks quietly, in fear of her voice cracking “This race, I don’t want to partake in. People like you can’t fathom what people like me feel. You had nothing and you found something. There’s nothing here for me. Whatever I’m looking for always feel like it’s just inches from fingertips and then I touch it. Just like that, it’s gone. You know what that feels like? Feeling like you’re supposed to feel so lost, like this lacking of whatever is never going to be cured. I try but I’m too lost in all this deliberation, all this consideration and restrictions. These things we do because we have to, we’re expected to. You gotta give in order to receive but I’ve given you nothing but you have no idea how much I’ve received from you. In a time of my life where you reminded me of who I was, a time when you actually looked at me like you actually saw me. In this world, a handful of people can completely turn millions of people’s lives around and those millions can maybe shift another million’s lives by an inch. My birth, to whom I was born, to where I was delivered. I had no say, no choice. I’ll have no say in my death as well. To where I will rest, to where I shall go. I will never know but I know you. I rather that than the being at the mercy of the unknown. We play our part and sometimes our parts is being a background character to the lead character. I’m a NPC,” she lets dry laugh escape her lips but quickly recovers,” but its okay because I found it, my two minute screen time. My two lines that shifted your path half an inch. I found it. The say you find your happiness where you find your purpose. So here I am. This must be my most important thing,”

is dry by the end, the words tumbling off her tongue before she could even understand it. Quickly she dries her face and tries to gain her composure.

 There’s those who write books and those who read them, those take picture and those who look at them.

Unlike those who dies at war, unaware of the peace attained afterwards. Hyungwon would know exactly what her paradise is, where her sacrifice lies, where she would rest and she couldn’t be any happier.

Hoseok watches in silence awe as Hyungwon turns on her heels. Her pouty lips drawn into a wide smile, her eyes glistening. Her stray hair draws fine lines against her forehead.

No hesitance.

No regrets.

Hoseok approaches her, his eyes lidded with adoration and she feels his arms pulling her into an embrace before she see can register his action.

His fast.

His strong arms holding her firmly to his own body, one slung around her waist and the other reaching up her back. She feels his fingertips in hair at the base of his neck. Her head buried into his shoulder.

Feels like home.

Savour it.

Why?

Isn’t that where I’m going?

He feels her smile into his jacket. Coaxing her to look up by nudging her hair with his chin. He watches as bold eyes stare up at him, it’s the first smile that’s reached her eyes.

He dips down slowly, their gazes locked.

Hyungwon feels her soul ascend, he’s so close. She feels him draw her in, wrapping her in the very fibre of his being, raw and opaque.

“seven,” its the last words she speaks before Hoseok lips descends upon hers. The kiss was nothing like what she expected it to be. It was completely wholly new experience. His lips are cold but his warm tongue slips into , she shivers from the heat of his saliva slipping past her own cold lips. It surpasses any expectation she could have ever conjured up. The night, each minute, each second, every moment of fantasising and watching him; it all seemed so bland compared to his actuality. She did him an injustice, he was beyond her comprehension and but now she saw it all and felt it all.

Shin Hoseok.

She sees him.

She’s always been watching him and yet this is the first time she’s really seen him.

He who once lived in a cage of self doubt and hatred. He who bloomed into a rose, creating colour in his world and hence all those around him. He who smiled at you like you were worth everything the world had to offer. He who looked at you, listened, spoke to you like were more than yourself because he saw the light you couldn’t. He who treated everyone with such compassion.

He who fell in love with the world of the living.

She who fell in love with him.

She drowned in the euphoria. Her mind is spinning, her skin tingles and she her feels inside shiver. Its ecstasy and pleasure all wrapped in one. She feels his fingers tighten on her neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding against her own, seeking out hidden treasure. He neck slackens and she entirely relies on his hand for support. Inch by inch her body relinquish whatever grounding they established and she sinks into the waves. He surrounds her like the sea and she lets the tide pull her deeper and deeper.

Her eyes meet with Hoseok’s closed eyes,  he peacefully hums into the kiss. Her eyes vaguely sees little red specks float like embers of a fire behind his shoulders. Raising her eyes, she watches as the specks surround a ribbon like object, red as blood but opaque as mesh seem to bleed out of Hoseok’s back.

 Like a melting snow flake, the red ribbon melts away to reveal a dull red…blade object. The melting process is slow and once the blade bends and swims out view, she returns to watching Hoseok’s delicate features.  There’s something warm and alive resting against her back, near her bra strap. When it happens, she doesn’t think she could go on. The warped blade sharpens and sinks like a hot knife sliding through butter. Its quick and smooth but it doesn’t stop there. She gasps in pain, tears threatening to spill but Hoseok allows a shallow breath before sealing their lips once again in fear she might scream. In all honesty he would love to hear scream but even under these favourable circumstances, he wasn’t going to risk it. Not that she had any intention of screaming, Instead she kisses back, no finesses and care in the world. She wants to pour her everything into these last moments.

The pressure from the blade increases with the pressure of Hoseok’s hands tightening around her neck. It’s a good thing because she feels her body cave in, not willing to keep up with her stubbornness. The only thing she feels is the beating of her heart, the heat on her neck, the blade through her back and most importantly, Hoseok’s lips against hers.  He on her lips, letting his tongue glide against them before diving back into the wet caverns. She feels the warm saliva smudge around the edges of .

The blade pushes deeper and deeper and deeper till she feels the blood rising in . She struggles to keep it down, not willing to interrupt the kiss. No, she was going to die like this.

She fails, the blood surges its way and she chokes as it spreads into . Her jaw tightens but Hoseok firmly doesn’t release her lips, instead he welcomes the blood into his own mouth, letting it flow down his throat like water gracing the desert land. He welcomes her into him. The blood taste metallic against his plush tongue but Hoseok savours every last bit of the sweet red liquid. He feels his oesophagus opening, greedily the liquid. 

Oh’it feels so good.

The blood slips through the corner of her lips and runs down her chin. The flow decreases and eventually she finds relinquished. Cold air rushes in and she struggles not to cough out the pooling blood clogging . Even now, she can’t look so pitiful in front of him. She persists, willing her eyes to stay shut. The intruding blade bends, twists until there’s a gaping hole in her back and then it stops.

And she feels it, resting her against her heart.

Almost falling into him, she flattens her palms against his chest, trying to create some distance. She doesn’t want to mess his clothes with her blood, she can’t leave traces of herself on him. She can only live in her paradise through him . The battle is lost and she sinks into chest, her legs non-existent.

Tears escape as she opens her eyes. She can’t see anything anymore, it’s all blurs of dark shadow but she hears her heartbeat like the rain. The blood pushes further and she feels the rhythm of her heart bounce off the blade. It’s a whole new level of conscience. She stands there with nothing but her beating heart and yet she feels more alive than ever.

Take it.

She can’t speak nor move but he lives in testimony of her and for whatever unknown reason, he hears the words loud and clear. It may not come from but he can hear it in his soul.

And so he does take it.

He retracts his sickle like appendage, leaving the cold air to rush into the hole in her back. Bringing her closer, his hands dancing along her back till it finds the wounds. The pads of fingertips press against the outline and the rawness of the pain makes her shudder in places she thought were already dead. Like a violinist, his nimble fingers smooth into her wound, slipping passes the smooth muscles until he can feel her heart still pumping blood in vain. The smallest of a smile graces his lips and she is surrounded by the dark but she knows he’s smiling. The warmth of his fingers engulf her dying heart and she much prefers how its rhythm melts into Hoseok’s hand rather than the way it bounced of the sickle like appendage he used to tear a hole into her

There’s a moment of panic followed by a moment of calm. She can smell the ocean, its bleeding out her would and there’s still is a bit of heaven on her lips mixed with her blood.

His hands squeezes, suffocating the flailing organ.

 And then there’s nothing.

One, two and three.- he tugs the organ loose.

Hoseok sinks to his knees as he lowers her body. His kagune is hung over his head. The arm supporting back is soon retracted as he places her on the wet dirt ground. His fingers gently swipe the area around clean as the other hand gently massages her heart. Her pink plush lips is warm under his touch and with little force, he closes . Sweeping the stray hair aside, he stares deep into the lifeless eyes of his lamb. Traces of the tears still warm under his fingertips. Its contradiction, how dead her eyes look but her heart is still warm as it continues to persist. He wants to remember her in both her light and dark. Her pristine image glowing with assurance, her beauty so commanding and subdued. Always looking like she’s hiding something, something amiss. He wants to remember her as that girl that looks like she has great things ahead but more importantly, he wants to remember the real her. He wants to continue learn of the girl who saw beauty in something Hoseok could never. He wants to remember her pride and integrity, her mind free from the bars threatening to reel her into a world of normality. He wants to remember Chae Hyungwon and he doesn’t think he could ever forget.

Like closing a beloved novel, Hoseok closes her eyes with a heavy heart. The yearning for more is there and he sees it above all else.

His mouth waters as looks at his hand coated in crimson liquid.  He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. He had, the very moment he saw her dazed expression outside the café. The thought of what if and soon he wondered what she tasted like. His demons whispering all kinds of things into his ear. How does terror look upon that face? Would she scream, shriek, run?

And yet Hoseok feels like she was predator and he was the prey.

Bringing the blood slickened organ to his lips. The faint thumping still coursing through the organ

He doesn’t mind.

Being the prey that is.

He felt something he hadn’t before. This unfamiliarity of the human darkness. They’re so unassuming and ignorant of their own agenda. Hyungwon’s mentality was refreshing to say the least. Seems like everyone has their demons. Hoseok just so happened to be a demon himsel..

Blood is randomly sputtering out of the organ as his grip tightens. He almost never has time to savour his victims but then again Hyungwon wasn’t a victim; she was an offering and Hoseok felt such overwhelming suffocation of awareness and warmth radiate through him; to be a God to someone.

This is how it feels.

It’s fleeting like the blinding high of an , quickly deflating till your left in the afterglow.

The forbidden fruit’s juices gliding along his palms like sweet syrup. He doesn’t want to rush this, after all it was a precious gift. Bringing it ever so slowly to his desperate moist lips. The sweet scent fills his nostril and saliva threatens to spill at the corner of his lips. His trademark feline smile parting as his tongue ducks out to glide into one of the aortas. The thin honey glazing over his taste buds and Hoseok shudders.

Beautiful inside and out.

Like a firefly against the night, she comes alive as she is swallowed into his darkness. Against his teeth, along his tongue, sliding through his throat. Her remnants coated in his breath. Hyungwons life whispers back into her as her essence coats his oesophagus. Each bite, each drop, each sliver awakening inside his kingdom. She fills him up, the air in his lungs, the blood in his vein carries tiny pieces of her conscience. Her awareness acute, searching for avenues to branch out into her new domain. Her raw offerings melting along the path, the nutrients seeping into his organs.

His whole body vibrates with ecstasy. Warm then cold, he devours the organ piece by piece. A wave of pleasurable tingles coarse through him. Fresh flesh had been hard to give up. Now and again he would miss the thrill of the chase. He missed feeling truly alive, as alive as any ghoul could be. He was animal, a prey, a wolf on the hunt but he had fallen in love with a human and so this is the consequences of his actions held. Can’t say he regretted it though. Even now, quivering in ecstasy from the taste of the warm organ melting in his mouth, he knew his home didn’t lie here. This life that had him in a frenzy had to be left behind but Chae Hyungwon was an exception. An exception he would never regret. An exception that had him questioning himself just as he did before he had conformed to this lifestyle.

Too much thinking.

Too much of anything wasn’t good for you.

With that being said, he removes a few more organ to feed of. He questioned whether he should take some home with him but decided against it. This moment would exist only here between Hyungwon and himself and no one else.

Turning her over, he laid her down against the wall nearest to the light of the tunnel exit. Blood pooling underneath her, her hair now open and soaked in her blood. Even then, Hoseok thought she was beautiful. He vaguely remembered the first time seeing. Such a troubled expression etched on her face. She had look dejected and it was enough for Hoseok to reach out to her. She had turned to look at him so blankly, he couldn’t imagine what was going on in her head.  Not that he knew now but he was definitely closer.

They time waits for no man and why should it ? Time was by no means entitled to any of us and yet we use it to measure ourselves. Measure the value of relationship, the quality of education or the desperateness of our emotions. Standing there, gazing at her corpse, Hoseok felt as if they escaped time or at least made a timeline of their own. He felt so far away from everyone but the minute the rain hit the ground hard. He knew the moment was over, evaporating into thin air or fading like a dying glob. Yet it was archived in him and forever would be a part of him, just like Hyungwon herself.

The blood swims around his sneakers and he does a mental check. He’s been careful and the messy task has left only small traces of evidence. There’s blood coating his hands, a streak down his chest and little splutters against his jawline.

It was over.

No regret or disgust. Hoseok was used to feeling this way when he was hovering over a carcas. In all truth, Hyungwon looked fairly presentable. He had inflicted a single wound in her back and that had been his avenue of extracting the organs. He barely finished an entire one but instead sampled each till he was content.

Stepping closer to the exit, he let his hands reach into the light, letting the rain wash away the blood on his hands. The warmth was fading away and a numbing cold coming into place. He wondered what it would feel like if it were to rain blood. The warm crimson substance pouring down, staining your entire being.

Sighing, he glances one last time over his shoulder. He barely sees anything except the dark of Hyungwon’s hair contrasting against her skin and those plush lips.

The minute he fully steps into the rain, he really awakens. The tunnel is inches away but it feels like miles. That moment feels so far.

What does he do now?

Go home?

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he quickly unlocks to check the ever illusive time. It’s hard to feel time when the night has fallen so early. It’s hard to say how much time he’s spent with Hyungwon. He’s pleasantly surprised, he was barely behind schedule. He would be a few minutes late but no more. Only then does he notice the multiple notification from Babe. Unlocking his phone hastily, he’s greeted with multiple missed calls but there is one text.

Babe

Babe I’ve been phoning you. Mum asked me to stay with her tonight, she’s scared. You don’t mind? Phone me. Love you.

Unknowingly Hoseok’s lips find themselves mouthing the words ‘love you too’.

Inhaling deeply, his lips widens into a toothy smile. Maybe he wasn’t being drenched in blood but it was okay. Everything was okay. This life was okay.

 

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