It’s a story as old as humanity is.

There once was a boy, who lived on a farm with his mother, his father, and his little brother.

The boy was said to be clever by his mother, reliable by his father, and strong by his brother. The boy was said to be curious, always asking questions about everything about the farm they lived on, always behind his father, trying his best to memorize and redo how to do farm work to one day be the one taking care of their lands and his family once his parents were too old for it. 

The boy was also said to love old stories, old legends, ones you could find in old books' people like him shouldn’t even have access to, but the boy was clever and appreciated by everyone in town so that he could borrow those books, he could be taught how to read, he could ask questions to people who shouldn’t answer him. And the boy got curious and wanted to know more and more, but that was it, stories. Stories of escaping his reality, as everyone needs to do sometimes, it was just a detail, an anecdote about the boy, at least for now.

His mother was proud of the boy; she always told everyone who could hear that they’d find him a good girl to marry, that he was a good match, and that he’ll turn their small farm into something bigger one day. 

His father was happy with the boy; he knew he would one day take care of what he had worked so hard for years because his boy had been nothing but reliable.

His brother admired the boy; for his brother always knew every answer to every question, knew what to do to take care of the farm, and was strong enough to pick up everything he couldn’t lift.

The boy was loved. 

However, tragedy always hits at one point or another, especially in those ancient times when the boy lived, where sickness was familiar; tragedies and death happened faster than one could imagine.

A famine happened. The crops died. Winter was deadly. Coldness wrapped the small village he lived in. 

And the boy saw his father dies of the cold, his body frozen on the farm, trying to salvage the few crops that didn’t die in the cold. 

This was the first time the boy saw death as it was; the eyes of his father without any life in them with lips so blue it looked like a berry. 

And death also scared him for the first time. 

Death was a part of humanity, and it was something he was vaguely aware of but was only confronting for the first time now, staring at his father’s corpse he couldn’t do anything about. 

But as it was his first time seeing death, it wasn’t the last one, as his mother was hit by a sickness they couldn’t cure, her body slowly perishing while he could only stare, helpless, as her body decayed until one day life left her.

The boy couldn’t overcome the sadness that came into him at this point, crying and crying, while his little brother tried for once to be the stronger one, but it was hard without his big brother helping him through it. However, he had to be the strong one for once because who would take care of the farm if not him? He just needed to wait a bit and try to do everything alone because his big brother would come back to him; he just needed a little time.

But you see, farm work is hard, farm work is exhausting, and for a boy just old enough to be considered a teenager, farm work could be deadly.

It was an accident; they told the boy. It wasn’t his fault, they told him.

On this day, the boy screamed and screamed, until his throat hurt, until he didn’t have a voice anymore, and he was too tired to keep going and fell down from exhaustion. 

And when he woke up, he was scared. Scared of the world, scared of the outside, but mostly scared of death.

Death took everything from him, and soon, he was sure, it was going to take him as well; nothing was alive where he was; death was coming, death was here, death, death, death, death. 

He stayed like that, scared, incapable of moving on, waiting for something he knew was coming for him as well.

Until he remembered an old legend, an old story.

There was a book talking of a fountain. The fountain was said to grant powers to the one who would drink from it. It is said that the one drinking from it would live for eternity and that the one drinking from it will never die of a disease or the cold. 

The boy thought that was it; he should find this fountain and never die.

And without grieving for his own family, he just left; he left his village, and he left death. 

The road to finding the fountain was long, and the boy would tell you that it wasn’t interesting because it didn’t matter how many countries he saw, it didn’t matter how many people he met, because, in all his human life, he didn’t care about any of them, his obsession so strong, so full, he couldn’t care less about the lives of the others, finding the fountain was the only objective in his mind and soul, everything else was just something to obtain this goal. 

The boy sacrificed many things for this goal.

And in the end, it was all for nothing.

You see, one doesn’t find the fountain. 

The fountain finds you. 

If you want it strongly enough if you wish for it long enough, then, one day, it appears in front of you, in a dream or in reality, the boy wasn’t sure, but it was here, just for him.

The boy wasn’t a boy physically anymore when he found it, he was more of an old man, but his mind never left this little farm in the little village so far away from the place he was in.

The boy touched the fountain softly, and without any thought, without knowing the consequences of this act, he drank from it.

He became young again. 

And the fountain disappeared as soon as he saw his reflection in the water.

For a while, the boy was happy; he celebrated, ate, and drank as much as he wanted because nothing could affect his physical appearance anymore; he could do everything he wanted, and nothing in him would change.

But after a while, happiness leaves, and only one question can be asked in one mind.

And now, what?

What should he do with all this time?

First, he tried to find answers with his peers, but the boy didn’t find any answers with his fellow immortals; they couldn’t even understand why he tried so hard to find one; they all came on earth for a reason; they rarely became immortals for absolutely no reason like he did, and the few that did… Well, they always found a way to stop existing.

Years passed, and nothing changed, he couldn’t be accepted by immortals, and mortals always ended up dying around him or being afraid of him; he couldn’t stay with them as well.

And then, one day, he finally remembered. 

He remembered his little village, the family he didn’t grieve for, and the farm he abandoned. 

He returned to the little village, hoping to find what he had left, finally doing something that mattered and finding closure to an old story not many would remember.

But time passed, and as the boy stayed the same as he left, his village hadn’t known the same fate. And the farm didn’t exist anymore.

No one had been there to grieve his family; the people in the village had other people to take care of; he had been the only one who could have done something, who could have grieved, who could have buried them in a grave, somewhere he could have come back to.

But nothing was there. The little boy came back home, but nothing was waiting for him.

And as he did so many moons ago, he broke again and screamed. 

But this time, when he stopped, he had nothing, no life goal, no idea, nothing.

And that’s when the boy realized he truly was alone.

The boy wasn’t a boy anymore, he turned into a man, but the man he became was just empty.

And the man laughed one last time because it was his punishment, a punishment for all his misdeeds during his mortal’s life, a punishment he’ll have to carry with him for the rest of eternity.

See?

It’s just a story as old as humanity is.

___

Silence came over them as soon as Yesung finished. Kyuhyun just squeezed Yesung’s hand harder because you couldn’t say any words of comfort to that; you could only stay here, be here.

Yesung was silent for a long time after all that; both were, but he chuckled after a while.

“I hope you liked the story; it’s not a really happy one.” Kyuhyun didn’t say anything for a while; he just stared at Yesung, trying to figure out what he was feeling right now.

“Yeah, I don’t like sad stories; they always end up terribly.” He said finally, smiled, and touched the ladybug, caressing Yesung’s hair in the process.

“But a story always has an end, right?” Kyuhyun continued, and Yesung just smiled.

“And it looks like this one is over.”

Aaaaaaaaangst, angst everywhere! *don't hit me*, but the ending is cute, right ;-;?