“Seriously, how can you stuff so much food in that teeny human body of yours?” Youngjae stared at Daehyun from across the table. The chilly autumn weather meant two things for Daehyun. One, eating all the yummy fall food and two, it was getting colder than a witch’s tit out there.  

“You’re just jealous that you can’t eat any of this.” Daehyun brushed off Youngjae’s comments as he continued to stuff himself. 

“I’m a collector I don’t need food like you, plebeian.” Youngjae rolled his eyes, but a slight smile twitched on his lips. 

“Aww, I love you too, Jae.” Daehyun snickered, earning him a slap to the head from a certain poltergeist. 

Youngjae began looking out into the crowd of people in the small restaurant they were at. Friends, families, couples. All of them chatting away with big grins on their face, not knowing how fragile their lives were. It saddened Youngjae, knowing that any moment he may be the one taking the last seconds of their life. Away from their loved ones, away from their joys. His thoughts began to trail to Daehyun and all of the people he would leave behind when Youngjae had to take his clock. Himchan. Jieun. They were practically his parents. And Daehyun’s actual parents...Youngjae could only hope that they too would feel some form of grief hearing of their son’s passing. Youngjae glanced at the bright eyed, chipmunk cheek boy from the corner of his eye and he felt a tight squeeze in his heart. Youngjae tried to suppress the feeling. He was a collector. This was his job. But just because this was his job it didn’t ease the pain. Youngjae shook his head, trying to get the bittersweet taste out of his mouth. 

“We need to go.” Youngjae jolted slightly at the sudden serious tone of the teen. 

“What happened? You finally got a tummy ache from overeating?” Youngjae snickered, but he immediately clammed up at the sight of Daehyun’s expression. The teen’s eyes dark as he glared daggers at a table behind Youngjae. A scowl plastered on the previously happy puppy’s lips. 

Youngjae slowly followed Daehyun’s gaze to a group of boys that looked all to familiar. Former classmates of Daehyun's. The group of boys were laughing boisterously about something which Youngjae presumed to be stupid rich boy crap. Before Youngjae could even question Daehyun any further, the teen had already walked past him and out of the restaurant. Daehyun let out a frustrated groan, lightly kicking the fallen leaves that trailed the floor. Youngjae floated by Daehyun, slightly uncomfortable by the scowl and silence between them. It reminded Youngjae of their time two years ago when things were on thin ice. 

“Sorry about that…” Daehyun scratched his head in frustration. “I just don’t want anymore trouble…especially not when I’m finally getting my life together.” 

“I mean from the way those arrogant pricks treated you back then, they deserve a beat down.” Youngjae shrugged, trying to assure the teen that he was not judging him in the slightest. Daehyun let out a light snort and a twist of a smile at Youngjae’s words. 

“Thanks…” A small blush crawled on Daehyun’s face. 

The teen wasn’t used to such touchy feeling emotions. His parents thought he was a disgrace to the Jung name. His peers thought he was a sewer rat, chasing hopeless dreams instead of inheriting his family’s business like a good little boy. In their eyes, he was expendable, an eyesore within their elite society. It was no surprise that his peers thought it was their right to get rid of trash when they saw it, and his parents? Well, they wouldn’t dare press charges if it risked tarnishing his father’s election campaign or sully his mother’s charity party. What were a few beatings and bruises on Daehyun’s skin in comparison to the greater good of the Jungs? It was surprising that Youngjae of all people would be so empathetic towards him. Daehyun assumed that in the perspective of a ‘collector’ a human life like his was worthless. Of course the collector thought that of first, but at least Youngjae tried. He tried to understand Daehyun, and through a strange twist of fate, became Daehyun’s pillar of support. 

“Ew, are you actually being cute for once?” Youngjae let out a bubble of chuckles, causing the teen to immediately retract his blush.

“I take back my thanks, you rude poltergeist.”

“Cold!” Daehyun let out a light sneeze as he squeezed his arms closer to his body. Even the warm can of coffee in his hands couldn’t dilute the chilling air. 

“It was your dolphin screaming that made Himchan kick you out.” Youngjae rolled his eyes, watching Daehyun freeze his off as he comfortably sat in the plastic chair of the convenient store patio. 

“It’s called practicing. There’s only a few month till school and I gotta show those guys what I got.” Daehyun nuzzled his face into the collar of his jacket to keep his face warm. 

“I’ve heard cat’s mating noises that are more attractive.” Youngjae snorted. 

“Says the one who quietly hums along to my singing. You know, you’re not that subtle.” Daehyun flashed a cheeky grin as Youngjae’s face lit up with a pink hue. 

“I was not humming!” Youngjae puffed out his cheeks. 

“It’s okay, denial is the first stage to acceptance.” Daehyun knelt down and placed his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder like this whole scenario was an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

“ off!” Youngjae hissed and grabbed his plastic chair to turn it around so that his back would face Daehyun. The teen clutched his stomach as he laughed at the collector’s childish antics. Youngjae would hate to admit. Actually, he’d rather be stabbed repeatedly with a spoon than ever admit that he thought the teen’s laughter was a heavenly melody of angels shining a light on this potato of a world. No ,Youngjae would never admit that. He would also never admit that he thought it was quite adorable how Daehyun had a whiskered smile that caused the teen’s beauty mark to scrunch up ever so slightly. Denial. The first stage to acceptance. 

“Who would have thought we would see you here?” Youngjae turned around at the new voice only to see Daehyun stiffen as a group of boys approached the teen. Daehyun had the same rigid expression on his face as he did in the restaurant a few weeks ago. 

“It’s an unfortunate turn of events.” Daehyun grumbled, discarding his coffee and attempted to leave. 

“Where you going, Daehyun? Don’t you want to hang out with your old classmates?” The leader blocked Daehyun’s way. 

“The last time we ‘hung’ out you got your handed to you.” Daehyun smirked, pushing past the boy as he tried to make his way back home. The leader’s face bloomed a furious red as his friends snickered at Daehyun’s comment. 

“Yeah, cause the only thing you’re good for is your fists,” The leader let out cocky snort. “The only reason you didn’t get kicked out of school was because of your dad,” The leader scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re worthless to your family and I bet the only reason they don’t disown you is to save their image.” 
 
If there was ever a moment Youngjae wanted to rip someone’s clock out, it would be now. Humans were so fragile yet so cruel. One minute Youngjae wanted to mourn for them and the next he wished that the Clockmaker never even conjured them in the first place. Youngjae fumed with so much anger that he wished he could hit the arrogant prick. Daehyun wasn’t useless. He wasn’t a disgrace. It hurt Youngjae to hear those words thrown at the teen. If it was the Daehyun of two years ago, he would have erpunched the . But Daehyun changed, he couldn’t let stupid fights get in the way. 

“I mean I would have disowned your , especially since you like to hang out with that and queer from the bar.” Youngjae couldn’t even utter a sound as Daehyun quickly threw the first punch at the other’s jaw. The collector’s eyes grew wide as Daehyun grasped onto the other’s collar as he continuously punched him. The rest of the boys pulled Daehyun off and attempted to retaliate, only to earn them a knee to the stomach. One of them landed a successful punch to Daehyun’s face, splitting the teen’s lip, but Daehyun only scoffed, his lips and spitting the blood onto the asphalt. 

“Daehyun stop!” Youngjae had to stop Daehyun before the police came, but his words fell onto deaf ears. Daehyun was so blind with rage that he looked like a rampaging tiger. Youngjae threw himself into the fray, wrapping his arms around Daehyun to prevent the teen from hitting back. The difference in strength was obvious. Youngjae’s strength was limited being as he didn’t belong to the material world. To Daehyun it probably felt like rubber bands on his arms. “Daehyun stop! You’re better than this!” Youngjae pleaded, seeing from the corner of his eye the shining blue and red lights. “Daehyun please!!” Youngjae clung onto the teen, but the pleads were drowned out by sirens and whistles. 

“Daehyun, please come out and eat...it’s been days…” Himchan murmured, his knuckles lightly tapping against the door. No reply. “There will be other schools. You could always apply again and-”

“What school is going to enroll someone with a record?” Daehyun’s growl. 

“Daehyun-”

“My parents won, Himchan. I ed up and give them the opportunity to blacklist me permanently…” Himchan opened his mouth, wanting to tell him everything would be alright. However, no words could leave Himchan’s mouth because he didn’t know if everything would be alright.

“There is some other way, Daehyun…I promise.” Himchan’s voice was like a gentle breeze as he walked away from the teen’s door. 

Youngjae stood in the living room, watching the scene unfold. He was frozen, stuck in limbo as to what to do. He pulled out the pocket watch, it’s large hand resting on ‘III’ while the small hand spun around more rapid than usual. Youngjae clutched th small device. Daehyun was wasting away, Youngjae didn’t need to see the boy to know that. The hallow look in Daehyun’s eyes when the teen received the admissions retraction from the university. It haunted Youngjae. Even when Daehyun knew that his life was limited, there was still a spark in the teen’s eyes. Now? Now there was nothing. It was simply black. It reminded Youngjae of the people who’s clocks he had to collect. The last spark of life ticking away from them. 

Youngjae floated up to the rooftop where Daehyun and he often spoke with one another, and Daehyun would practice his music. The place was now desolate like a graveyard of fond memory. Youngjae once again pulled out the pocket watch, dialing for Yongguk.

“You don’t look good, Youngjae…” Yongguk’s brows furrowed in concern for his friend. “I heard about the Daehyun boy…”

“I couldn’t do anything, hyung...I tried to stop him, I really did..but…” Youngjae chewed on his lower lip as he looked up to the sky and blinked furiously. Deep breaths to keep his composure. 

“We’re observers, Youngjae. It isn’t our place to interfere…” Yongguk’s voice was calm, understanding Youngjae’s pain yet reminding the younger of their role. 

“I ing hate this…He doesn’t have much long to live and then this happens…” Youngjae slumped down against the rooftop railing, his forehead resting against the cool metal. Youngjae closes his eyes. He hated this. He was suppose to ‘guard’ Daehyun’s life. Instead, he could only watch as the teen’s life derailed. A passive observer. It made him sick. He knew his role yet he hated it. He was supposed to be strong, handle these situations with ease. But he was weak, soft. If it was any other collector…

Youngjae’s opened his eyes at the sudden sound of soft music. It was faint, but beautiful. Youngjae peered through the railing to see a young woman with a guitar, sitting in a public area surrounded by a crowd of people. The collector’s eyes twinkle, watching as the woman happily sing away melodies as the crowd clapped and cheered for her. An occasional donation was given here and there. It wasn’t much, but to the young woman it didn’t seem to matter. She was doing what she loved.

“It’s called busking,” Yongguk’s deep voice broke Youngjae’s dazed stare. “It’s basically a street performance. It doesn’t make much money, but I don’t think that’s why people do it.” Yongguk smile, hoping Youngjae would get his subtle hint. 

“Another way...” Youngjae’s murmured, his eyes never leaving the performer who seemed to shine under the sunset rays. Yongguk grinned, seeing a shimmer in the younger’s eyes. 

Daehyun groaned at the sound of off key strumming played in his bedroom. Couldn’t a teen mope in peace? Youngjae had invaded his room, took his guitar, and start playing horrendous music. Didn’t the poltergeist know that he didn’t want to talk to anyone? It didn’t matter anyway. He ed up. His parents were right. His classmates were right. He shouldn’t have retaliated against destiny. A dream is exactly what it was. A dream. A figment of desires that can never be reached. He was an idiot to think that he was special enough to attain the impossible. 

“Can you stop?!” Daehyun hissed, making Youngjae flinch slightly as he saw the furious teen standing before him. “Can you just ing stop!?” Though he appeared angry, the teen’s voice sounded as if it were pleading for help. 

“There's other ways.” Youngjae stared at the teen, unfaltering. 

“There are no other way! The school had all the resources, all the opportunities! What do I have huh?” Daehyun’s hands balled up into fist. “A ing record and this stupid guitar!” Daehyun gripped onto the guitar and attempted to pull it from Youngjae, but Youngjae refused to let go. “L-let go!”

“You have people who care for you!” Youngjae growled back. “You have Himchan and Jieun!” Daehyun’s pull weakened as he stared into Youngjae’s determined eyes. “So what if you can’t go to some university? You can busk! Get your name out their on your own. Himchan and Jieun believe in you. You’ve even convinced me…” Youngjae’s voice became softer as his grip loosened on the guitars, his arms sore. 

Daehyun stared at Youngjae. The collector was right. Daehyun was acting like a pathetic loser. Was his dream really that petty that he would just give it all up just because of a little setback? All the fights with his parents? All the dirty stares? Were they all for naught? Daehyun let out an exasperated sigh, sitting down in front of Youngjae who followed his movements carefully. Daehyun looked down at his carpeted floor, scratching his head vigorously before looking up at Youngjae, slightly ashamed.

“Your guitar skills …” Daehyun murmured. Despite the insult, Youngjae smiled.

“Like you could do better.” Youngjae scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“I could.” Daehyun smiled slightly. 

“Then prove it.” 

“So how does it feel?” Youngjae chuckled as Daehyun had this stupidly happy grin on his face. 

“It feels amazing! Even more than when I got admitted to that music school.” Daehyun’s eyes twinkled with excitement and pure bliss of his performance.

“I told you so,” Youngjae sing-songed. “I’m a genius hence all my ideas are works of genius,” Youngjae pointed his nose to the air as he made a dramatic pose with his arms in the air. “Busker to pop star courtesy of Youngjae.”

Daehyun scoffed at the collector’s ridiculous antics. Daehyun would be lying if he didn’t say his first time busking was like a shot of adrenaline, despite the initial fear and anxiety he felt about the idea. What if people didn’t like him? What if it was simply another failure because he wasn’t good enough? Those thoughts ate at him before Youngjae smacked him in the back of the head telling him that the collector was getting tired of these rollercoaster of emotions. Daehyun was talented. Now he just had to show the world his talents. The teen had to thank the poltergeist for convincing him of that. Of course, the teen would never publicly say it. The collector’s head was already too big. 

“Hey,” Daehyun hadn’t realized that they were already at the subway station when Youngjae pulled him out of his thoughts. “Take this.” 

Daehyun lifted a confused brow as he stared at a yellow fabric square in Youngjae’s hands. “What is it?”

“A pizza.” Youngjae rolled his eyes. 

“Rude.” Daehyun scowled slightly, taking the yellow plush fabric and began unfolding it.

“As always,” Youngjae grinned brightly, watching as Daehyun’s eyes grow wide. “Since you tend to talk non-stop to the point where my ear practically bleeds, I thought that you might need at least something to protect your voice.” Youngjae giggled lightly as Daehyun’s mouth was agape, the teen’s eyes darting back and forth between Youngjae and the hand knitted scarf. “You should thank me, I used my precious time and hands to make that you know.” 

Daehyun smiled brightly, his eyes turning to crescents as his whiskers showed. He pulled on Youngjae’s arm, enveloping the other into a hug. Youngjae stiffened at the sudden affection, his cheeks heating up a bright pink. Usually the collector would throw a fit, his embarrassment taking over. But not this time. He didn’t know what to call the bubbly feeling in his stomach. The warmth emanating from Daehyun, the light touch of the other. The feeling foreign, but enjoyable. Daehyun hugged the other tightly, burying his head into the crook of Youngjae’s neck. His warm breath fanning against Youngjae’s skin that somehow made the collector weak in the knees. 

“Thank you, Youngjae. For everything.” Youngjae smiles at Daehyun’s words as he wrapped his arms around Daehyun.
 

Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback are welcomed!