Briskly rushing through the seemingly endless landscape of oaks and pines, he could hear the sound of crisp branches snapping under his steps just as clear and as his irregular breathing. As he kept running, he looked back, put a hesitant touch on the trigger but ultimately pulled it anyway. A dog shortly yelped what sounded like dying, last words. But one is nothing when you have tens of them at your heels. The frenzied barking of hounds did not stop.

He glanced back again, still striding, fully-loaded guns in both hands. Then, the sudden, continuous gunshots furiously swept the overwhelming noise, taking the chaos of deathly shrieks to a whole new level. Apparently his bullets had hit most, if not all, of the chasing party and the barking, of men and of canids, subsided to the point where the only audible sound was the rustling of leaves and branches as he forcefully push his way through the thicker patches of vegetation.

“Dammit.”

The young lad cussed and stopped, leaning on a rough-barked tree. As much as he tried to catch his breath, his heart started to ache and his vision grew alarmingly blurred. Then a distant series of barking began again. He dreaded the idea of having to run again. He dreaded the idea of having to use his handguns to take more lives just to save his. Nevertheless, he took off, pushing himself so hard he could feel his legs numbing.  After a few seconds, the pair of legs felt like nothing but an automated swift motion that he himself had no control over.

Much to his surprise, and also relief, they seemed to give up on pursuing him as the angered roars of beasts and cries of men died off after a while. He fell back clumsily as soon as he came to a halt, unable to recognize his darkened surrounding. Briefly guessing that it probably was two in the morning, he gave in to the exhaustion and the urge to just vanish.

Kim Myungsoo first thought it was only his mind pulling off a curious trick of dream but as soon as he woke up, he noticed that the flowery fragrance was real. And as real as his wounds and aching of muscles. He winced at the sheer pain of just moving an arm and decided to observe his whereabouts for now. The wounded youth glanced around trying to find anything he could recognize. Noticing the orderly fashion of foliages around, he figured out that he must had wandered into someone’s garden. His eyes soon found a grandiose house nearby, confirming his guess.

Judging from the luxury and brilliance of the manor and its garden, they most likely belong to a rich family of certain authority. That was real bad. What if the garden-owner discovered and identified him? He would surely be arrested in no time. Panic-stricken and desperate to escape, he attempted to move his legs to test whether they could make it through another run. Unfortunately for him, it was a clear no. It was as though every particle of his muscle stiffened and refused to work properly.

Unsure of what to do, he lied there in temporal resignation. Then the breeze blew wilder and drew his attention to the flourishing garden. Delicate petals danced sporadically as the gentle wind playfully tickled them. A sea of full-blooms formed waves of green, white, red and possibly all colours recognized by humans’ eyes. As if sympathizing with and trying to cheer him, the whole garden burst into a wondrous and vibrant rainbow of nature. He was too spellbound by the magic of spring blossoms that the presence of another person went almost unnoticed.

He jumped as the late realization that someone was watching him hit abruptly. Attempting to put on his usual calm and collected mask, Myungsoo miserably failed as his arms once again ached in terribly irrepressible pain. The poor lad weakly groaned. He looked up, anticipating a sinister laughter of one of the persistent head hunters who had tracked him all the way from the village. But there was no laughter. The eyes he saw was not those of the hunters. His eyes were indeed a little frighteningly cold and curious. But the young man standing in front of him apparently had no interest in causing any harm to him.

Having been awkwardly staring at each other for a few moment, the two slowly opened their mouth to say something. But before any word could escape their mouths, the warm wind began blowing frantically once again, distracting both. Myungsoo tried to shift but to no avail since his wounds protested violently at every motion he made. The other guy made no gestures and breathed no words at first. Soon, however, as if fully aware of the other’s condition, he bent down to clearly see Myungsoo’s face.

“Come,” he softly called. “I’ll help you up.”

Myungsoo blinked at the unexpected warmth that one could put in such a short sentence. He slowly extended his arms, half-hesitating. The other lad reached out immediately and carefully pulled the lying boy up. It was surprising how tremendous was the effort he had to put in just to sit up. But what surprised Myungsoo the most was how much the simple offer of assistance had not only shortened the literally painful process but also eased his whole suffering a little bit.

“Oi,” he made a gesture to help Myungsoo further to stand and to walk. “The house isn’t that far. You should have a proper bed to rest in.”

Myungsoo looked at him. He was about to refuse and shake his head when his wounds started hurting more than before. He was too tired to nod either. But the stranger surprisingly appeared to be able to read through him.

“So I’m assuming you’re coming with me?” he asked, politely at first then somewhat sarcastically as Myungsoo delayed in giving any reply. “Well, unless you believe that staring at the flowers all day will completely heal you, of course, you can sta—”

“Yes, I’m coming,” he cut briefly, knowing that he did not have any better choice. “Please.”

Before he knew it, Myungsoo was already resting in a cozy room of fabulously fine furnishing. The room smelled strangely nice and it lulled him immediately. The luxury of a deep sleep, however,  seemed so alien to Myungsoo that, a few hours later, he almost jumped in fear upon waking up, scanning for any possible danger. Other than the absolute absence of potential threats, the first thing he noticed was  the inviting smell of cream soup and cheese-baked rice.

“Good evening,” greeted the guy who he had met at the garden with a rather sleepy, forced smile. “Glad you’re waking up for supper.”

“What time is it?” he absentmindedly asked.

“Five minutes to midnight,” replied the other boy. Now that Myungsoo got the chance to calmly see him up close, he was actually quite...pretty. Unusually pretty for a male, which made him look strangely familiar. “Oh, your soup is getting cold.”

Myungsoo quickly gave himself a mental slap at the thought and uncovered the plastic layer of the soup bowl that was given to him. His arms still ache but obviously they were recovering fast for he managed to reach out for the spoon and hold it in his hand. He was still having problem keeping the spoon in a firm grip but at least he could actually move a part of his body.

The feminine-looking guy left the room but, as soon as Myungsoo was finishing the soup up and scooping his first baked rice in months, returned with a familiar plain white t-shirt and black semi-denim black shorts, both badly soiled and in miserable shreds.

“And I took the liberty of dressing you in something decent. I hope you don’t mind.” he explained, looking slightly embarrassed himself.

Myungsoo froze a while at the thought that he had been stripped and redressed unknowingly but pretended to not care and continued wolfing down the tasty baked rice. Dangerously tasty because, as he had learnt, people with ill intentions usually use irresistibly delicious meal, like the cheesy rice, to deliver poison to their unsuspecting victims. Hunger won over suspicion, though, and even if it were drugged, the added substance obviously had no effect on him. Trying to find a different topic to escape the awkward silence following the sorry-but-I-stripped-you declaration, the wounded young man shifted his gaze to the garden visible from the remarkably clear window and noticed something unusual.

“Yes. What is it?” the younger lad was quick to tell that he took interest in a particular detail of the huge fields of flowers.

“...Those patches of flowers there,” Myungsoo stuttered a bit, slightly uncomfortable with the notion that he had to speak. “They sort of stand out, I guess.”

As a matter of fact, the patches of blue flowers did stand out rather well in the shade of night. Much like the soothing radiance of any other blue flower, the atmosphere about them seemed to emit a cool and positive energy to its surrounding. However, unlike other cool-coloured blooms, they did not appear to be subjugated by the cool presence of the dark at all.

“Ah, indeed. They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

“What’s the name?”

“Those blue flowers? They’re forget-me-nots.”

“And what about this pretty one? What is his name?” He did not know why he suddenly switched to flowery tone and was surprised by how embarrassingly cheesy it turned out to be. He swore people who knew him would laughed out loud had he used such flirty language on them. And when the other boy fell silent, he realized the impropriety of asking someone else’s identity without introducing himself. “I’m L, by the way,”

“Lee Sungjong,” he finally mumbled.

“Oh, I see,” Taken aback, Myungsoo replied after a brief pause. If Sungjong saw the others’ half-startled expression, he simply ignored it. “Shall forget you not then.”

The reddish brown-haired young man chuckled at the lame pun. He took the aluminium tray with the emptied bowl and plate on it and made his way to the door. He walked out past the door and turned back to the stranger, his hands slowly groping for the light switch. “Light off?”

“Oh, just leave it on.”

“ For a guy who appeared out of nowhere, you’re quite a scaredy-cat, you know.”

He kept quiet for a while as if trying to come up with a witty response. Or perhaps thinking whether it would be wise to reply with a witty response. “Well, now that you know I’m easily scared, why don’t you keep me company here?”

Sungjong slammed the door shut. He did not know why but he just did. No way. But his name is L. It could not be him right? He stood there in front of the guest door, staring blankly at the door for a minute or so before retreating.

He went back to his own comfy bedroom and once he reached his bed, slumber took over him. But it was not long until he was awaken suddenly. As if a college student recalling some work he forgot to do before sleeping, Sungjong rose and hurriedly made his way to the door. For a second he looked back at his darkened room,  examining his bedside table and then grabbing a small box lying on it. He then left his room for the guest room.

He poked the pale face of the other youth whose wrist bore a long cut of slowly seeping blood. Myungsoo stirred a bit and reluctantly opened his eyes, focusing his bleared vision until the image of the younger boy turned shockingly sharp to him. Not expecting Sungjong to go back to his room that night and find him in such a miserable state, the darker-haired lad tried to contain his surprise. He failed though.

Sungjong hushed him just when the usually composed man started to utter unintelligible murmurs in panic. Calmly opening what looked like a white first-aid box, he began to wrap the wounded wrist tightly with a long strip of sterile padding to prevent further bleeding. Myungsoo winced.

“S-Sungjong? What are you, I mean, why are you here?”

“You really don’t want me to ever find you, do you?” whispered Sungjong. There was a hint of perhaps disappointment, for the lack of better descriptive words, in his otherwise honey-sweet voice.

“...That’s not true,” he denied cautiously, unsure of what exactly the younger lad was hinting at and how to explain everything.

As he was finishing up the neat wrapping, Sungjong gazed up. He looked as if he was resisting a strong urge to say something. And he finally spilled it. Hard. “You changed your name.”

L fell momentarily silent. It struck him just how much Sungjong might have figured out. “I did not. L is merely an alias. Or else they will find information about me easily.”

“They?”

Myungsoo instantly broke the eye-contact. He never gave an answer.

“Never mind,” Sungjong dismissed immediately, noticing that he may just cross the line if he kept insisting on a reply. “But look at you now, hyung. I thought you had got rid of your suicidal old habits seeing how you’re still alive,” he commented, partly joking to lighten the mood up and partly expressing his sincere concern. “I guess I was wrong.”

Little did the shorter guy knew that Myungsoo was indeed recovering from it. He had not cut himself for months. But that night he could not suppress the thought that he had run into Sungjong. How are you supposed to suppress your guilt when the one whom you have wrong, although both parties were unaware of each others’ identity at first, were there standing so close and conversing with you? Myungsoo ended up resorting to his old way: inflicting a physical pain to distract himself from the emotional ones.

Sungjong put back the remaining white padding to the box and left at once. He ran to his room, upset and crying without himself realizing. He climbed to his bed, hugged his human-sized teddy bear, covered himself with a big blanket and turned his face the wall. Why did Myungsoo leave that day? Why did Myungsoo come to him now? What actually had happened back then and what was happening now? Why did Myungsoo hide so much from him? And why had he, Lee Sungjong, who had nothing to do with the jerk cared? It was none of his business, Sungjong convinced himself.

Then, just when the silence and darkness of his room were about to fully lulled him to sleep, the door creaked open and he heard the voice he wished would never speak to him again.

“Hey, I just want to apologize,”

The 'sleeping' lad did not answer.

“For simply assuming that you would be hurting without me. For assuming that you wouldn’t be alright without me,” He took the continued silence as a cue to go on. “For assuming that you’d be weak without me.

“But look at you now. You’ve become such a strong man. At this rate, it wouldn’t have even mattered if I am here or not,” L chuckled mirthlessly as he gently rubbed the back of Sungjong’s head. “I know it’s asking too much so I can understand if you won’t forgive me. But, hey, just letting you know that I...well, I regret it, Lee Sungjong.”

Sungjong clenched his fist under the sheet of blanket at the apologetic, milky tone –the worst part is that the deep, milky rich voice which he used to be so familiar with was mentioning his name— but he remained quiet nonetheless. L dreaded having a mouthful of cliché to say but he hated the lack of response he received even more. Despite the fact that he was unable to fight back the tears by then, the younger lad stubbornly refused to stop pretending that he was asleep and made no move.

“I see you never change,” Myungsoo whispered. “Still the same sleepyhead.”

Sungjong could not decipher based on his tone whether he had successfully fooled the other young man or that L was just pretending like he was buying it. Myungsoo had always known whether Sungjong was truly sleeping or not back in the days. Moreover, Sungjong was not such a deep sleeper and Myungsoo should have known it. It was obvious that Sungjong should have been awakened by Myungsoo’s talking by now.  So there was no way that he was fooled. There was no way he did not know that Sungjong was wide awake.

But the thought of the older guy pretending simply hurt.

It hurt more than he could bear so, instead of turning from the wall to face his idiotic hyung who thought that he had been okay without him, that he had not been hurting all that time, Sungjong chose to resist the desire to just yell at him and reveal how Myungsoo had made him suffer. 

“I’ll be fine then,” L lied. “Just like how you were fine without me all this time.”

The ‘sleeping’ boy silently screamed and begged for the other boy not to go. But he could not bring himself to really do it even as the tentative footsteps became increasingly fainter and distant. And then they ceased for a moment before the sounds of his bedroom door being opened and closed again signalled that the other had left.

Last night felt too dream-like for Sungjong to believe it actually happened. He woke up slightly disoriented and bleary-eyed. How silly. Why would he cry for someone who had left him long ago? Sungjong reminded himself to get over what he once had managed to get over.

The guest room was empty as if there had never been anyone there. It was as though he was just a dream, haunting Sungjong overnight and vanishing just before the dawn.

Sungjong almost put an extra bread in the toaster before reminding himself that there is no need to make a meal for anyone else other than himself now. He smeared a bit of butter on one side of each toast before taking one bite. Once he finished his toasts, he went out to check the mailbox, just like what he was doing when he found the other lad lying in his garden yesterday.

As he peeked into the mailbox, he discovered no letter inside but there was a small piece of paper, slightly crumpled, with something blue attached to it. Pulling it out, he was greeted by a blank white sheet, except for a big capital ‘L’ written in black ink which had not fully dried. Sungjong cringed, suppressing the almost instinctive urge to tear or crumple it on the spot. But then he noticed a stalk of blue flowers put inside the mailbox with the one-word letter.

The flowers still had its roots and grains of loose soil fell from them as Sungjong observed closely. It was obviously one of his prized forget-me-nots uprooted most unceremoniously from the garden.

“Babo,” he murmured under his breath while staring back at the piece of paper. “Just how am I supposed to forget you now?”

Then he averted his gaze to the light-blue petals.

“And, for goodness’ sake, can’t you steal from someone else’s garden when you’re giving me flowers?”

A/N: Lol no this story shall remain as a one-shot. If you find some parts confusing, it’s alright, it is meant to be like that ‘cuz I leave quite a number of holes in the plot lol just try to use your wild imaginations to fill in those gaps.

Not my best piece but oh well, this is the first time writing a story and omitting so much details to emphasise on the present angst and suffering of the characters and to let you, my dear readers, figure things out yourselves. I saw some of great fanfic writers doing this and it really helped making lame stories interesting (but then again, they are great writers and then there is me lol). So yeah, do tell me whether it works for you.