Warning(s): cursing

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        Heechul strapped the shirtless Henry into the chamber gently, softly, as if he were the Angel of Death putting Henry to his final rest. "Be still, okay?" he said.

        Henry nodded slowly. Heechul was supposed to be extracting Henry's soul to make him an official Soul Stealer. Honestly, he was a bit scared. Heechul wasn't the friendliest person in the world. In the short time he had in the first few weeks at Heechul's department of Soul Stealing located in Korea, Henry had made good friends with a guy named Kyuhyun who taught him how to play a video game called Starcraft. 

        Heechul took a deep breath, as he fixed the mirror that hung behind him. "Alright," he said to Henry, walking over to the chamber. It was nearly like a twin sized bed but without the bedspreads, blankets, and pillows, and with padded cuffs tying Henry's wrists and feet down. 

        Locking the cuffs around Henry's hands and feet, Heechul then carefully slipped a hand behind Henry's head, caressing the soft locks of brown. 

        "Sit up," Heechul ordered. "Slowly."

        Henry did so with the aid of Heechul's hand behind his head and with the man’s hand on his abdomen to prevent him from bending too far or shifting position. 

        Once Henry was in place, sitting how Heechul wanted him to, the pretty man let go of Henry so that the boy could support his own weight. Kneeling in front of the chamber, Heechul glanced behind him to make sure that they were positioned correctly, with only Henry staring right back at them and Heechul an invisible figure within the frame.

        "How come you don't show up in the mirror?" Henry asked as Heechul placed a small, decorative box that was already emitting a pulsating red glow, containing Zhou Mi's soul.

        "A mirror is a portal to a different dimension, a different you," he explained, patting Henry's knee. "When you've gotten your soul taken, there is only one you, in one dimension. Your soul is a reflection of the person you are supposed to be, but the real you is your soul. Within a mirror you see your real self. When you're stripped of your soul there is no more facade, so there is only the real you left. Soul Stealers have a sacred tradition that when we find our true love, we exchange souls, but in your case, we will combine yours and Jomiryo's in that box and you can carry it everywhere."

        Henry just nodded slowly, having no reply. 

        "Are you ready?" Heechul asked, kneeling before Henry again. "You might spasm, so try to keep it in."

        Henry nodded, teeth clenched.

        "Alright. Keep your eyes on me, okay? And when I tell you to, look at the mirror."

        Henry nodded again as he gazed into Heechul's eyes. Deep brown, soft, gentle, almost motherly, it felt like Henry was drowning in the depths of the man's eyes. There in the irises loneliness, pain, and fear were portrayed, quivering deep within Heechul's hidden heart. 

        In Henry's eyes, Heechul spotted sorrow, loss, and admiration. Like drinking from the fountain of youth, or eating of the fruit of the tree of good and evil, Heechul felt he was tainting precious territory and that he'd be thrown out of the gardens of Eden, stripped of his immortality, but the pain in Henry's eyes brought Heechul back to his task.

        From the soft, maternal emotions Heechul had portrayed earlier, Henry now gazed into the eyes of a leader, a dictator, one with nonexpendable power, stronger than an ox with a heart of steel. Hard and cold, ruthlessness displayed itself before Henry, and it hurt him. To see the disapproving gaze, the uninterested, dead eyes, it bore through Henry's soul. Yet at the same time, the different emotions that Heechul could bring to life with only the brown orbs fascinated Henry; it was beautiful.

        "Look at the mirror," Heechul ordered, eyes wavering slightly.

        Henry obeyed immediately, lifting his head as Heechul pulled on a pair of gloves, black as night. In the mirror, Henry was a pale ghost, shimmering with bright pink, red, and black streams of light. A pain stabbed through Henry’s chest, his breathing becoming ragged.

        “Keep your eyes on the mirror,” Heechul reminded him.

        A shiver up Henry’s spine and he resisted the urge to arch his back. His fists clenched tightly within the restraints and he ground his teeth.

        “Try to relax,” Heechul murmured with a gloved hand over the boy’s chest.

        Henry nodded slightly and let out a deep breath that he’d unconsciously held in. Swallowing, his fists slowly began to loosen, and his back relaxed, slouching in his usual way.

        “That’s it,” Heechul reassured him. “That’s good. You’re doing well.”

        Henry took a deep breath, watching his figure in the glass slowly fade as the bright lights became brighter.

        “Over… Yet?” he asked, wincing at the pain in his chest, trying not to move a muscle.

        “Relax,” the older answered, patting Henry’s leg with one hand. “You’re too tense. It’s almost over.”

        Biting his lip, Henry managed to relax again, the last of his image wiped away from the mirror’s surface as Heechul stood and stumbled backwards slightly.

        “You can look away from the mirror now,” Heechul said.

        Henry’s eyes instantly flew to Heechul’s hands, a tiny sphere of orange shaking in his gloved palms. Breathing deeply, Heechul compressed the ball until it was nothing more than a tiny, glowing marble. Blindly groping behind him, Heechul managed to fumble with the tiny box before quickly placing the orange marble beside the red marble that was Zhou Mi’s soul.

        Swallowing gulps of air, Henry was astonished. Quite frankly, the pain hadn’t been as strong as he thought it had, but the after effects of removing his soul left him dizzy and nauseous.

        “You’ll get used to the feeling of no soul,” Heechul muttered, slipping the black, charred gloves off of his hands and into a trashcan.

        He walked by the chamber and pressed a button, releasing Henry’s bonds. “Your soul was much strong than I anticipated,” he commented.

        Henry reached out for the box on the vanity and caressed the smooth surface, now pulsating with both orange and red. “This is really mine?” he asked Heechul.

        The older nodded and picked up his bag next to the door. Just as he was about to step out of the room, Henry asked, “Where’re you going?”

        “China,” he answered. “Stay with Kyuhyun for now. I should be back by the time he has to prepare for his trip to Barcelona.”

        Henry just nodded and Heechul left for the airport.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(  庚希 )~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Annoying lines and fake smiling women who greet people with sultry grins and overly sweet eye-smiles, the airport annoyed Heechul sometimes. Too many people going in and out; the building was always too crowded and the security check was always the worst of it, the policemen and security guards scrutinizing him and his luggage, assuming he was a threat to their country, glaring at him because they didn’t know whether he was a man or a woman; therefore, giving them the pretense that he was an undercover agent or something.

        Though, today in particular, the airport was less crowded than usual and the security guards smiled sincerely. His luggage was easily located and this had probably been the most enjoyable time he’s ever had at the airport. The one downside to the entire thing: Heechul spoke little Chinese and read none.

        “Ta ma de…” Heechul swore under his breath in, of course, the only Chinese swear word he knew. It was like how Yunho only knew “d’accord” in French.

        “Tsk tsk tsk…” A soft clicking of someone’s tongue came from behind Heechul, but he didn’t turn around, barely hearing the sound. “Zang kou,” a voice breathed down Heechul’s neck.

        Whipping around, the Korean nearly bumped foreheads with a foreigner—well, Chinese mainlander. Heechul was frozen stiff as he stared into deep brown eyes that mirrored the pain and hardships he had buried deep in his heart. Something clicked in the half a minute that Heechul took to memorize every feature of this man’s face—soft lips, tan skin, medium-length black hair, and deep, emotional, brown eyes that Heechul could see held a smoldering fire of passion and potential, creativity and inspiration, eyes that Heechul himself used to have but had long since abandoned his dreams after finding his powers as a Soul Stealers.

        In that half a minute that Heechul stood in shocked silence, the stranger began to chuckle softly, snapping Heechul out of his trance. “Y-Yah! We—Weisheme ni xiao?!” he stammered, suddenly noticing how close this guy was to him.

        The man chuckled again and patted Heechul’s hair, soft, short, spiked, and blood red. Without even speaking another word to Heechul, the man gently took Heechul’s luggage for him in one hand, shouldering his own bag, and wrapped an arm around Heechul’s waist. Flushed, Heechul didn’t even try to protest. The grip this man had on his middle nearly made him faint. He felt like a woman trapped with a strong man’s well-built arms.

        “What the is this?” Heechul muttered to himself in Korean, pulling his scarf over his burning cheeks.

        “Lost…” the man’s smooth voice replied in Korean. “You looked like it.”

        Heechul’s heart caught in his throat. Like smooth, creamy chocolate was the man’s voice, deep and rich, with a slight accent in his Korean words.

        “I’m Han Geng,” he said, smiling warmly at Heechul.

        Heechul glanced at him for a moment, never smiling, but heart fluttering like crazy.  “Heechul…” he answered softly.

        Han Geng patted Heechul’s head again as he led them outside where some taxis were waiting patiently. Unconsciously, Heechul clung to Han Geng’s arm as he spotted the amount of people. A sudden rush of travelers and tourists decided that at eight in the morning, their flights should take off, so there was a mob of people just arriving from the taxis. Again, that deep voice vibrated within the Chinese’s chest and made Heechul shiver as he felt the chuckle transmit to him as well.

        “You need a ride?” Han Geng asked Heechul lowly in a husky tone.

        Heechul shot puppy eyes up at Han Geng and the latter laughed again. If Yunho had seen him, he’d have left him by the side of the road in a box with a sign that read: “Please take this toy home. It’s broken. Fix it!”

        Taking Heechul hand, Han Geng pulled him through the crowd, weaving him in and out, through and around the disorganized crowd. Heechul nearly smacked someone because they’d nearly cut off his connection with his , and another time he almost threw up because someone had elbowed him firmly in the ribs. Luckily Han Geng had been there and carried him the rest of the way through the hectic jumble of people, hot bodies and thick jacket brushing against his own milky skin, making him feel uncomfortable and dirty.

        Han Geng finally managed to make it to the end of the crowd and to the parking garage without having to push people aside. Setting Heechul on his feet, Han Geng fished in his pockets for his car keys and he and Heechul began the search for his car.

        “Han… kyung…?” Heechul said softly.

        The Chinese chuckled at the fact that Heechul couldn’t pronounce “Geng.” “Yes?”

        “How do you know Korean?” It was a pathetic question, but with his pounding heart nearly drowning out all other thoughts, what other generic, somewhat interesting, unanswered question did he have in mind to ask?

        “When I was younger, I studied in Korea and I had a good friend who tutored me in Korean. His name was Choi Siwon,” he answered.

        Heechul scowled. What is with this Siwon guy!? First he’d been friends with Zhou Mi, now this handsome man!? Now Heechul didn’t regret drowning the religious body builder’s muscular body into the Han River near a church after stealing his soul!

        “He was a childhood friend,” Han Geng continued, “but he was a… I don’t know the Korean… A… yige tongku de pigu…”

        Heechul giggled. He understood that pigu meant , so it seemed that Han Geng didn’t like this Siwon guy that much either.

        “He was always trying to get me to go to church,” he said, “because I’m atheist and everything. And he talked too much and always squished up against me when we shared a dorm in middle school. Ah! I wanted to switch dorms with another classmate, but no one else wanted to bunk with that rock!”

        Heechul laughed mirthfully. This Chinese was funny. He understood everything Han Geng was saying. Siwon was exactly like that when he’d met him too. The first day Heechul and Siwon met, the latter trapped him in a giant, bone-crushing bear hug. Heechul had bruises up his arms and sides for four days!

        “Yeah,” Heechul said softly. “Siwon always said he wanted to be known as a cuddly teddy bear, but who could see him like that when he’s got washboard abs and rock hard arms?!”

        Han Geng chuckled. “You know Siwon too?” he asked. “How is he?”

        Frowning, Heechul bit his lip, wondering how to answer. “He’s… umm…”

        “Si…” Han Geng finished, bowing his head in reverence for the dead.

        Heechul barely understood the word, but he nodded anyways.

        “He was annoying, but a good friend…” the Chinese muttered, glaring down at the pavement.

        Heechul glanced around, unaffected by the talk of Siwon’s death, and nudged Han Geng in the side. “Is that your car?” he asked, glancing between the insignia on Han Geng’s car keys and the one on the car.

        “Shi!” he answered suddenly cheerfully, unlocking the car and throwing his and Heechul’s bags into the car.

        Sliding into the passenger’s seat as Han Geng started the engine, Heechul asked, “So what were you doing at the airport?”

        “Eh… Traveling…” he answered almost uncertainly.

        Heechul furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly thinking that he looked very familiar to someone he might’ve known, but he ignored the feeling and shook his head as Han Geng began to back out of the parking garage.

        The car ride was silent and Heechul had no idea where they were going. Thick was the tense air between the Korean and the Chinese. Heechul suddenly realized that this might not have been the smartest idea ever, climbing into a car with a random stranger in a foreign country. Nice going, Chul. You’re so smart! But Han Geng seemed harmless, like someone he’d known since forever, but he couldn’t put his finger on where he’d seen him.

        “Are you hungry?” Han Geng asked Heechul suddenly.

        “Uhh… No…” he answered. “I’m okay…”

        Han Geng just smiled slightly and turned the car gently, rounding the street corner and into a neighborhood.

        “Where’re we going?” Heechul finally asked.

        “My house,” the Chinese replied, passing by some pretty boring looking houses, white walls and terracotta roof shingles, symmetrical and uninteresting.

        “Why?” he asked.

        “Ni shuo de tai duo,” Han Geng said softly, holding back a chuckle.

        “What?” Heechul asked.

        The Chinese laughed.

        “What?!” Heechul yelled. “Tell me what you said!”

        Han Geng laughed and turned another corner, out of the neighborhood, as Heechul weakly slapped his arm.

        “I said you talked too much,” he answered, patting Heechul’s head. “You asked a lot of questions.”

        Heechul blushed and kept his head down. He was confused. He never acted like this around anyone, all shy and reserved. He was always loud and boisterous, causing trouble and confusing everyone, but this guy had taken that position between the two of them in such a subtle way. Maybe it was because Heechul was in a different country that he lost his swag.

        “Why are we going to your house?” Heechul asked again in Korean.

        “Because you need a place to stay, and staying in a hotel isn’t really an option since you don’t speak Chinese,” he answered fluidly.

        Heechul exhaled a deep breath. He regretted not taking Mandarin lessons with Kyuhyun now. The rest of the ride was spent in a blissful silence as Heechul decided to take out his book to read, but the jerking of the car made it difficult, so he stashed it back into his bag. Having nothing better to do, his iPod dying earlier on the flight, he resorted to staring out the window until he fell asleep.

        When they had arrived at Han Geng’s house, a large, country styled antique, Heechul was still knocked out, the jetlag kicking in. The Chinese just chuckled under his breath and put all of his and Heechul’s stuff into a room before coming back out to his car and unbuckling Heechul out of the car, carrying him past the large bamboo door and into the quaint mansion.

        Laying the flower on a bed of feathers, Han Geng quietly kissed Heechul’s forehead and whispered, “Good night, my sweet little kitten of a Soul Stealer.”