Splashing cold water on his face, Wonpil gets ready for another day—although it’s already noon time. Even though he’s been waking up late for the past days, ironically, he’s not feeling lethargic but energized instead.

“Why have you been coming late for the past few days?”, Jinyoung asks when the older approached him on the counter asking for an iced Americano. He answers it with a shrug before lifting his right arm, elbow on the countertop, and rests his chin on his hand. “You’ve been reading?” With eyebrows raised, Wonpil looks at his best friend as his lips part. “Between the Lines.” The younger raises his brows waiting for answer.

The brown-haired releases a soft breath of relief and gulps before answering. I thought I was caught. “Well, yeah… I read every night” he presses his lips together in guilt.

“You need the second book?”

“No. It’s fine. Not yet… maybe”

A customer excuses and asks for help. Jinyoung scans the shop and sees his worker attending to a lady and the other seems to be doing the same to another patron between one of the aisles. Wonpil offers to look after the counter for his friend to tend to the guest.

Standing behind the work surface with nothing to do, the brown-haired surveys the spot, thinking what it feels to be working behind the counter for the whole day. He sighs and pouts as he opens a drawer, hoping to see something amusing or somehow entertaining. I’d probably just see a book that Nyoungie’s reading these days.

His hunch does not disappoint him. Behind Closed Doors, the title says. He reaches for the book but just as he is about to take it out, a vintage box shows itself. It’s wooden box, which seem like a ring box, with an ornate engraving. Without a second thought, he gets and opens it. A familiar earing lies inside it.

Did he lose this? His forehead furrows as he thinks about the guy whom he’s excited to see when everyone and everything else are asleep except the moon and the two of them.

“Who—what are you doing here?”, he asked the blond guy he saw at his best friend’s café two days ago. Wonpil’s chest started to beat faster. What’s with this familiar sensation? He came closer to Wonpil and the latter had to tilt his head to look at the guy who’s towering over him. Man, he’s so tall.

“Shouldn’t I ask you the same question?”, he smirked before he chortled and shrugged “It’s such a nice place here, don’t you think? The ambiance, the vibe, and oh… interesting books!”

“How did you get here? If you won’t leave the place, I’ll tell Jinyoung you—“

“Can you?”, the tall guy lifted his eyebrow and pierced Wonpil’s gaze with a challenging stare. The latter averted his eyes as a lump started to form in his throat. He knew what the blond guy meant. If he’d tell Jinyoung about the guy, he would also know about him going to this place that he’s not supposed to enter. “Let’s keep it as our little secret, okay?” he winked.

Wonpil swallowed the lump and released a breath to calm down. As he settled himself on the couch, the taller one leaned on the aquarium-like thing which served as the wall. He opened the book he’s been holding and seemed to continue reading. Off The Page? His eyes widened in amusement.

“You’re reading Off the Page?” he asked as if it wasn’t still obvious. The stranger lifted his head and stared at him. An earring dangling from his right ear shined “That’s the second book. Have you read the first one?”

“N—no. I was wondering why something’s off.” He chuckled and shook his head before walking toward the shorter guy. “So, this is the second book, huh?”

“I have the first book, Between the Lines. Do you want to borrow it?” Wonpil queried looking at the guy who just sat across him. He has tiny eyes and narrow nose. Why does he seem so familiar? The young man’s small eyes looked down and his gaze landed on the book lying on his lap.

“Tell me about that book instead”

Since that night, which is almost a week ago, they’ve been seeing each other at past midnight. They share stories, share opinions, and somehow, Wonpil’s hoping that they share the same sentiments.

The presence of an employee brings back his wandering mind to the present. He turns to him with the box still in his hand “Did someone perhaps drop this earring?”

The workman looks at the cross earing with acknowledgement “No, it’s Jinyoung’s”

His forehead creases “Jinyoung’s?” He asks again, making sure. The worker nods his head with confidence. Wonpil looks at the second-story deck and as if on cue, Jinyoung goes out from one of the aisle talking to the customer who needed help. He hastily closes the box and puts it back in the drawer. He moves out and leaves the counter to the employee.

Feeling guilty, he bites his lower lip and tries to calm his drumming heart. He feels bad for hiding something—going to that secret library with a stranger, well not a stranger now, reading the book he was told not to read, and some things he can’t seem to point. But it’s not like he’s not hiding anything from me, too. Am I not just being fair? He tries to justify his actions.

He sits on his usual place and static seems to travel all over his body when he meets someone’s gaze. He’s seated near the glass walls, just when he first saw him. The blond gives a salutation smile and the brown-haired beams back but the face he’s looking at is suddenly replaced with a more familiar one.

“So, are you really planning to spend your whole vacation in my café?” The younger asks teasingly and he just shrugs which translates to ‘yes, most probably’. The black-haired chortles and shakes his head. The older can’t help but look at the visible eye wrinkles of his friend. “Anyway, have you already seen your brother?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Seungmin?”

The younger lifts a brow up “Do you have any other brother? Who else could it be? Of course, it’s no other than him. He’s with my brother right now” As if on cue, two attractive young men come in. Wonpil needs not to turn around to know whose new voices that entered the place belong to, still he does.

He stands up to acknowledge them. Seungmin, who’s a centimeter shorter than Wonpil, and Hyunjin, who’s a centimeter taller than his older brother, stand between them.

“You’re here”, Wonpil, once again, states the obvious.

They settle down and talk for a little while before the two younger ones head out again.

When the longer hand of the clock hovers over seven; while the shorter one is a little before one, Wonpil stands up and walks out of his room. Seungmin, who just came out from the room adjacent to his, looks at him from head to toe. He is wearing a maroon hoodie, with ‘mvp’ printed on it, over a plain white tee, a faded denim pants, white socks and a pair of slides flip flops.

The red-haired glances at the wall clock which reads 12:35 before looking back at his older brother “Why are you wearing denim pants? Are you heading out?”

“Uhh..” he swallows a lump before answering “No, I’m heading to the kitchen. Gonna drink water”

His younger brother narrows his eyes at him. “I’m gonna drink, too. You can go back to your room. I’ll get you a glass and give it to you later.”

“Uhh, no. It’s okay. I’ll do that instead.” Seungmin tilts his head as if studying his brother. Wonpil averts his gaze and bites his lower lip “Alright, I’ll just wait here. Thank you”

 Wonpil waits for more than an hour before he goes out because his brother stayed in the living room after getting him a glass of water.

“I thought you’re not gonna show up anymore.” The tall blond guy states when Wonpil enters the secret library. The latter just responds with a smile and asks for an apology for coming late.

He still doesn’t know his name. Every night—early morning, rather—they’d just sit across each other with a book on hand, having little confabs from time to time, sharing their viewpoints from the books they’re reading. But they could not actually read in a normal pace. They read a single sentence for ten times or just lock their eyes on the page for a couple of minutes as if they’re reading.

“You’re actually a slow reader, too” Wonpil said when he asked the tall guy one time on which part he was already on.

“Well, yeah.” The blond-haired shrugged. “I tend to repeat a lot of parts for me to really absorb what’s going on. It’s like chewing the food slowly, savoring its taste before swallowing it”

That’s one reason. But if he had been more honest, it’s because he keeps on being distracted with Wonpil in front of him—who actually feels the same. They keep on letting their sight linger on the other when one’s not looking.

“You’ve been reading?” Wonpil asks as he reach out for the book, Inlusio Fit Vera, and takes a seat.

“Uhh, yeah.” The other nodded “Actually, I went back to square one,” he shrugs. No matter what the reason is—which actually being bothered by Wonpil’s late appearance—the brown-haired decides not to ask.

“Aren’t you afraid of being caught going here secretly?”, the blond queries a few moments after.

Wonpil bites his lower lip and  averts his eyes for a second “I actually am.”

“Being scared just meant you had something worth coming back to,” He states in a serious manner, eyes looking straight at Wonpil as if trying to deliver a message. The latter raises both his eyebrows in question and thinks why that line seems to be familiar. The young man with the glasses smiles  making Wonpil shift his gaze back to his book and swallow a lump. “It’s a line from this book,” he closes the book, Between the Lines (which was loaned to him by Wonpil few days ago), and holds it up to show it to the brown-haired.

I guess that’s true. Getting caught would mean not being able to spend time with you like this anymore. And I’m afraid of it, even if I know it’ll eventually happen. Wonpil’s mind says but his lips remain sealed.

A person’s life is foreknew and predestined by a Divine Being, whom humans believe, who created them. Their lives are predestined—the Deity who brings them to existence has already designed their paths, like an Architect who designs a house; yet they are the engineers. This Divinity, whom they call God, gave them free will to choose for their own lives—to follow his design, or build their own; to follow the path He leads them to, or walk on a different one—which makes their existence also unpremeditated (despite being predestined) but the Divine One foreknows them. He knows which course they will take; He knows whether they’ll follow his ways or not; He knows the epilogue of each life.

The Iluvirs, on the other hand, do not have this free will that humans have. Thus makes their lives only predestined ones. In Orbisia, the dimension of the Iluvirs, is a universe of determined routes. Like a character on a novel with a life painted by ink on paper; or a puppet controlled through strings by its master, these beings live according to the life designed for them.

Wonpil takes a deep breath and the other raises his head to check on him.

“What’s the matter?”

The shorter one shakes his head with his lips forming a thin line. “It’s just so sad,” the taller narrows his eyes on him “I mean, the lives of the Iluvirs are so…” failing to find the right word, Wonpil releases a deep sigh. “I just can’t imagine, you know, living a life like I’m a puppet being controlled.”

Wonpil notices the sudden change, although subtle, on the other’s features. He suddenly becomes serious yet his eyes are yearning. He closes the book on his hand and leans a bit forward.

“Tell me more,” the tall one raises his arm and rests his chin on his hand.

“I—I just want to take them out of Orbisia to live freely, to live how they want their lives to be and not how whoever-made-them want it to be; not like a character on a novel, a comic, a movie, or whatsoever, who needs to just act their parts like how the writer, the director or the artist wants them to. I want to save them,” he lets out another sigh “I’m sorry for being so dramatic, it’s not like this book, the Iluvirs and the Orbisia are real.” He shakes his head.

“If… If they’re real, do you think that these Iluvirs know the kind of lives they have? Say, if one tries so hard to keep himself alive but he can’t do anything because he’s destined to die in a certain point, do you think they know that they have a fixed life?” The blond pauses for a bit “Just like Oliver in this book I’m reading, he knows that he’s a character in a book—that he has to play his part when the book is opened and to act freely when the book is closed.” He asks because he, himself, wonders—do Iluvirs’ lives only follow the flow of the book when it’s opened and do they act like how they want to be when it’s closed; or either way, their lives go the way their creator want it to be?

Wonpil makes an effort in taking a gulp—he didn’t know that swallowing could be hard but just imagining himself being an Iluvir makes him want to cry in rage. The glasses guy discerns how hard it is for Wonpil and tries to lighten up the atmosphere.

“Don’t take it too seriously, it’s just a book.”

“But… if ever the Orbisia really exists and there are Iluvirs, I really wanna do save them”

The next thing Wonpil hears makes him wonder what it means for the next hours. “You already saved one”