This was set in a small town. The clouds tend to disperse around this area, hence the unlimited amount of sunlight beaming through and through- perhaps, enough supply to aggravate the whole town. It reeked of sweat and babbling residents, delirious at the intensity of the heat. The liability of the warmth had reduced the townspeople into nothing but putty, uselessly waving their fingers in front of their mucky faces. There was an air of resistance, but overall, people went about their day as per usual. The trees seemed to have shrunk and their height were not as per majestic means; but it was understandable. Even trees got burnt.

Sunburns were a hassle to treat due to the fact that the next day's fortune of being sweltering hot is more likely than not.

And so, the endless cycle of crimson skin and fear of touch continued. 

Well, all is exemplarily avoided by indoor residence.

"Don't die," the words left his plump, heart-shaped lips like a mantra. A constant reminder. A constant fear and a constant sight of reality. 

"Yeah, thanks." Came the bitter reply. "Come on Soo. You should have traveled with us from the start" the man argued, before pausing. "But you had always been the stubborn one... I guess it's another a hundred years before we'll see each other."

Kyungsoo replied with nothing more than a curt nod as he retreated at the sight of spotlights of sun inkling coming through his guarded porch, watching as the man adorned in complete darkness tipped his brimmed hat with the most tender tilt before dissipating into nothingness. With a flick of a pale hand, Kyungsoo vanished from sight into the comforts of his hidden home, and the door stoically rewinded back to its original position. 

From where he resided, the sun waters down its intensity by mid noon as mother nature itself curves along the tiles of his worn roof, encasing him in a protective bubble against the ticking bomb. 

Time.

Time sits on top of Kyungsoo's luxurious lap of gold. Through the duration of his painfully dynamic life, he had done everything he could before caving into a one-spot holiday destination. Something which his blood brothers had sworn and neglected him for. Well, except for Chanyeol. He visited every century or so. And that was about as much company and interaction that Kyungsoo has with any living- slash undead being. Back in the good ol' days, Chanyeol had always been a bit too much of a bugger for Kyungsoo's liking. He was extremely boisterous, sickening, and somehow managed to aggravate Kyungsoo's slumbering nerves every single damn time he opened his potty mouth. 

But now...

Well, let's just say that they had settled their differences and Kyungsoo is more ecstatic than not (even though he doesn't particularly showcase the fact) for his mere presence. 

He eyeballs the seemingly unchanging sceneries as he slides back into the comfort of his chamber, unharmed from the sun and clambers onto the night. "Home" he glazed over the entirety of his domain. 

He breathed out. 

"Home."

---

"-don't wanna go" Yeoshin groaned into her palm, scrubbing the integral features formed on her skin. She hitched a kick against the ground, grinding down on her molars with a force meant to annihilate. "It's hot and clammy and full of old people!" She threw a hissy fit. 

Her mother downed her in pure annoyance as she downgraded her play. "You're no longer a child. Just-"

"I hate it! I hate it! I HATE IT" she suffocated herself underneath the cotton trap and kicked up another fuss. 

"Shin-ah" her mother echoed, heart wrenched. "For... forget about him. He gave up his life for you... shouldn't you be more-"

There was a loud bang which contacted the wooden bedside table as Yeoshin growled in frustration. "I should live on because he died? I should be grateful that I'm alive? Mother." She bit down on her cheeks, tasting blood. "Mother I can't. He's like the moon, mother." Yeoshin crawled back into position, curling up into an infant. "I may erase him during the day... But when night comes, I can barely breath. It's suffocating me," she wrenched the sheets, palms bawling into pale white. 

Realising her tendencies, her mother backs onto the door. "Fine. If this is how you cope, then let it be. But please Yeoshin," her eyes pleaded of guilt. "You're still so, so young." And then a click. "Don't let it go to waste."

Yeoshin feathered the sheets which captured her body into a standstill position, enchanted by the texture which felt gentle under tactile sensation. She stared at the slated ceilings and draws a face.

"It's okay," she smiled, joy evaporating into air. "I won't leave you."

Her eyes were distant. 

---

Kyungsoo despised the distance. Of all kinds.

It alienated him of any permanent sense of attachment and fueled his sense of longing. A beggar to distant dreams. 

He furthered his gaze onto the edge of his living room, confined in such an empty space had devoid him of any sense of space and time. By the next morning, it was as if Chanyeol would pop in and visit him: a delirious thought. 

Then, he caught sight of a strand of dust fleeting through the air. Eyes spasming; he stretched his palm and summoned a thunderous weapon.

Eyes glitching red- and then...

He summoned a broom.

(On his defense, it was coated in gold and held immeasurable value.)

"in' dead skin," he grumbled under his breath, hands itching as he drove away the contaminants out of the confinements of his humble home. 

Before anyone could have blinked an eye, his bare hands were clothed with thick, rubber gloves just a second away before it touched the hands of the broom. 

"Must be Chanyeol," he cursed, before the earth swallowed such particles and was never to be seen ever again.

Kyungsoo dumped his slack body back into the cushions of his Chesterfield and rolled a head back, eyes facing his ceiling. He stared at the unmoving surface. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock-- and so it goes. 

The never-ending cycle of time processed him into nothing but a machine. Kyungsoo couldn't count how many seconds, minutes or hours have passed since he sat down- but by the time he knew it, he feels something probing at his bottom lip.

He gasped for air, as if he was drowning, eyes glancing towards the kitchen for his life's supply. He choked with one hand against his throat, watching as his world dissolved into darkness and without a word, he slumped back against the couch, similar to a sack of potatoes.

His arm fell dead onto his side.

A moment, or two, and then it occurred.

Gently,

then all at once.

His eyes flashes red. 

A smirk.

A whistle.

A tune.

And then, a snarl.

"Feels good to be home," he pranced around, scrunitising each section of the room as he angled his head from side to side. "Ah, Do Kyungsoo," he tastes the vile corners of his lips. "How soft have you become?" 

A concentrated red. 

The swipe of his lips. 

"Should I play a game?" But this Kyungsoo knew- the other was in deep sleep. He scoffed at the lack of reply and latched onto his surrounding.

Nothing.

There was simply nothing going on.

No footsteps, presence, signs- nothing. Suddenly, he felt nauseous and partly claustrophobic. The air was void of scents and the only one he dimly felt was a small waft of Park Chanyeol.

The last time he had risen was more than centuries ago- of course, it was when-

Oh.

Oh, he sees it.