A long time ago, they'd stood on top of a grassy hill that overlooked the sprawling cityscape. It had been night time, and the sky was so clear. They'd run out without coats or jackets or socks riding on adrenaline, and replacing the warmth of cotton garments with the tapestry of stars poured down their backs and etched themselves deep into their skin. There was the hill, the night sky, the city, and then, there was them.

  "We cease to exist," Chanyeol had said, holding Jongin's hand. "Someday we'll be long forgotten, but that doesn't mean we were never standing here together."

  Jongin's come back to the hill now. It's daylight, and though the sun is high up in the sky the air is still frigid. He remembers the exact spot where they stood, beside a fallen bough where a really cute mushroom lived, but there's nothing here that reminds him of Chanyeol.

  He looks down at the grass, and finds himself displeased. Chanyeol has not ceased to exist... yet the grass doesn't remember him. Maybe when Jongin dies, he'll bury his heart here in this grass, so his heart can remember its stead. This is Chanyeol's favourite spot. The grass may not remember, but Jongin always will.

  He fights the chill that seizes his body and sits down on the grass. He's wearing tracks and a thick pullover, but it's still unreasonably cold under his thighs. "Chanyeol," he begins, to the city below. "Chanyeollie, come back..."

  His family still doesn't see him when he's at home. His classmates still don't miss him at school. He's real to no one else but Chanyeol, but he supposes, at least, he's a little bit real.

  "Yeollie," he whimpers, and he grows colder, ever colder. "Yeollie, you're the only one who remembered me. You're the only one who thought that I was real. So please don't forget me, okay? If you do, I'll really stop existing..." A brittle smile slowly crawls across his face. "I'm real, Chanyeol..."

  So please, come back to me. You can come back to me now.

  It is January again, and Jongin's cheeks conflagrate in white. As he smiles, it's not his lips but their pocket corners, untouched by the sun, that smile for him. The daylight is a muted scream burning across his face and he thinks of a rough palm warm against his skin, soothing the shadows away from his eyes.

  So he sits under the sunshine until he falls asleep, until Chanyeol comes back and collects him.