He heard her on the horizon, the epiphanies of a rising desire for the flame to find her. He felt her magnificent sound waves purring from the depts of a heartbeat. It was the magic that transcended and lifted with the light of day in symphonic colours of fire.

The door of the bedroom is ajar, as Yoona enters.

The bedroom is almost pitch-black, with the soft lights illuminating through the contemporary windows that give a clear view of the city’s splendid skyline. Myungsoo keeps his face forward, eyes distant as if he’s reaching for the unreachable glimmers in the vast horizon.

“Myungsoo,” she says, her voice is gentle and calming, “Why aren’t you in bed yet?”

“I was just having some trouble sleeping.” He replies and walks over to the bar table beside her before pouring the amber liquid from a bottle into two glasses.  

There’s a record spinning on their record player, soft music playing in the background. It’s a love song, but it sounds sad and broken, the kind that she always likes.

“You’re back late.” Myungsoo says in a low voice and swivels around, the directness of his gaze makes it difficult for her to blink or say anything.

Yoona nods in response, lips pressed tightly together, as if she’s anticipating what’s to come next. She picks up one of the glasses and almost hisses as the taste of the whiskey touches her lips. However, much to her disappointment, he doesn’t question further. She doesn’t tell him why because he doesn’t bother asking. 

Not because her running into Sehun at the bookstore is anything worth hiding.

Myungsoo takes another sip of his whiskey, letting the liquor linger on his tongue, burning as it slides down his throat. Immaculate and sophisticated. Just like everything else in this mausoleum of their house. Just like Im Yoona, who will always be all kinds of flawless.

They share a moment of stillness, with silence in the air, and thoughts and too many questions left unanswered between them—questions that don't need to be answered to be understood.

Yoona feels his piercing gaze on her and she wonders if this is what it feels like to be loved. She is still as she watches the desire in his hooded eyes intensify when he leans over to hold her waist, pressing his lips passionately against her tender skin. She swallows and it’s a second later that her fingers make their way into his hair, fervently raking through the strands while her other hand wraps around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” Myungsoo gasps between kisses. He pulls the strap of her dress down, his heated lips now travelling to her neck, collarbones, leaving her breathless. Their eyes meet; it’s hypnotic and oddly dizzying like the world is spinning around them. She likes his lingering touches, the way he whispers her name and the pleasure when he pushes her closer against his body. They eventually fall back onto the bed together and she settles mindlessly in his arm, a haunting sense of security.

Under the moonlight, Yoona looks even more delicate, even more pure. Her pale complexion is glowing, and she seems almost ethereally white. Love, he wonders and then wishes, lacing his fingers into hers as she falls asleep with his breath in her ear. He traces the curves of her nose, cheeks and jaw. It’s perfect, isn’t it?

Myungsoo closes his eyes and takes in the scent of her – a soft floral scent, possibly lavender, and strangely intoxicating. Behind his closed lids, he thinks here is home and he’s never leaving because there’s nowhere else he wants to be.

“Good night, Yoona,” he whispers, then pulls the blanket over their bodies.

What bothers Myungsoo though, is how her skin feels painfully cold against his warm flesh.  

But, even so, he is happy.

For the first time in a long while, Jongin does not wake up to his manager. Instead, he awakes in a permeating silence with an excruciating pain in his lower back, the same soreness that has been tormenting him for years now. It really doesn’t matter, he thinks, because no one will see it anyway. He makes sure of that.

He takes a look at his watch—it is just a little past four. He pushes the covers off his body and staggers with difficulty to the balcony doors and slides them open. The sun has barely risen at this hour and the sky is a lucid violet, the moon dull in the sky, the stars all but non-existent. The blue-hued gaze of the night spells sorrow, and loneliness.

Freedom – something that he has yearned and wished for every single day. Like a kite in the wind; string-less, adrift and tragically awry. He’s almost had it now, but freedom often comes with a huge price. His feet moves, one step after the next, mindlessly slow. He leans precariously over the edge, and closes his eyes to brace himself.

He imagines the moon splitting in half and the stars in the universe crumbling, falling like riveting fireworks into the sea.

“Hey.” Kyungsoo stops him and arches a brow at the younger man when he turns behind in shock. Jongin flinches slightly at the warm hand on his toned shoulders. “Penny for your thoughts?”

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