Announcement for those who read this chapter before this update!

Oh gosh, this is really embarrassing. When I checked this chapter, I realize that I posted the unfinished version, uuugh.

I'm so sorry guys, but the part where I left out is vital to the plot and to whatever's going to happen next so I suggest that you read it again. (I only made a mistake on Minho's part so you can only read that)

Sorry... ;__;

Five

Full Moon

The sky is threatening to let loose of its clear and cold wetness. Its tone propagates throughout the man’s view as a chaotic painting of grey and black; the trail of light leading to the sun is absent. Oddly, there seems to be a light of some kind, somewhere that cannot be traced or seen, that illuminates the stretch of the golden field. No hills, no sea seems to be visiting him after the field– just the bleak and daunting sky that marks the end. The sound of deafness swarmed the place – Minho can’t even hear the rustling of the leaves grounding each other. Not even a single thing that defies the monotony of the swaying barley is present in his eyes, even a stone or a barn of some kind. The reach of the swaying produce by some unknown and biting wind is infinite. His mind already accepted that an eternity of walk will be needed to get out of the expanse, or maybe even much greater than that if he was to try.

Minho knows that this is not his world. This is clearly not the place he grew up in or wished to walk around. Behind the golden barley, the empty sky and the strings of wind, he can see right through its lack of life and authenticity. The stillness of everything scared his mind despite the constant rolling and swaying of the leaves which reminded him of the sea. This was an artificial world as he thought, or maybe a world that may be real for another entity. Nevertheless, he is sure that this is not his. He should not be here.

“Let me out,” he said to no one in particular. Or tried saying to no one in particular – his voice did not come out as he wished. A string was struck in his head, snapping his last thread of calmness. He cannot move his head as well when he tried looking down. He only managed to move his gaze downward and see that he is still wearing the same plain white shirt and tattered jeans with his running shoes. Panic and fear started to hold his body when he noticed that he also cannot move his arms. Minho tried walking but failed to order his legs as well. , ! What’s happening? His heart started to constrict from the thought that he’ll be staying in this lifeless abyss as an accessory to mark the field. He can feel the sting of his eyes from the urge to cry and the resistance from the restraint. Scream scratched his throat one gust at a time, begging to come out. For all he cares, he could have let it out – he badly wanted to. But in his situation, the things he wanted and the actions he needed are far-fetched, probably sitting there on the end of the field.

“Hello.”

The speaker’s one word breaks the air of stillness. The stranger’s warm breath tickles the back of his neck as if it knows how bad Minho wants to move and see who he is, taunting and teasing. He could not hear the steps of the stranger but he started to feel the difference in the motion of the barley leaves, indicating that the unknown is starting to move.

From the peripheral view of his right, he can see the outline of the ethereal being, subtly glowing and somehow floating towards his front. The same fear and fainting energy started to remind him of that unfortunate night. Minho started to shout in his mind, Of course! it, of course! He should have expected that these things were all from him.

“As you may have noticed, you clearly cannot move,” Key stared straight into his eyes with a playful smirk but through the façade, Minho can see the seriousness glowing in his orbs. “I prefer to avoid your fist making contact with my face. I can read your mind, as you already know. I also prefer that you stop sending me such disgusting and disgraceful words of human and body parts.”

No. you, Key! You mothering , just let me go! I promise once I get out of here I’m going to drive my fist into your head until I can grab your brains a—

“You know, Choi Minho? You are just giving me more reason to not let you have your way with your consciousness. Heed.”

In that exact moment, Key disappeared. Minho didn’t know when or how but the “er” just did. He can’t keep his thoughts from swimming into rage. With his eyes only able to move, he tried locating the creature’s presence around the golden field. If he was able to move, he’ll be surely trashing around, screaming and punching the ground. What did I even do?

Nothing, a voice answered. It was Key that whispered into his mind.

Now you’re ing my brain? Just let me go!

Nagyon layama kao thatmu… The words that followed were lost into Minho’s thought. What Key was speaking was some other sort of language he didn’t know the existence. Strangely, a warm calmness softly held his mind, slowly seeping throughout out the nerves of his body. He started to hear the crazy beat of his heart turning into a humming melody that can be compared to a slow tempo of etude.

Close your eyes.

Minho followed the being’s voice and closed his eyes. He was surprised that he managed to do it without complaints or restraint. He expected that silence should start ringing in his ears but sadly, everything was empty, even his sight.

Trum, trum

He has descended,

The melody of the song was in a depressing beat, almost deadly in its solace.

He has risen,

He has died.

He has risen,

He is divine.

Trum, trum

Beat of the kiss

Kiss of the beat

You will beget

The spring will go dry

He will beget

The sun will go by

Trum, trum

Catch the catch

Bid the life

Then he felt something metallic run against his left hand coldly, wrapping against his palm in a tight manner. He realized that it was Key’s dead hands holding his. While blinking out of his trance, Key held his left tightly, the back facing them both. Minho notices the sharp edges around his nails filled with unknown dirt hidden beneath it but he doesn’t care. All he was thinking about was the smell of rain around him and the unsheathed silver knife playing in the creature’s free hand.

When he looked at Key to silently plead and stop him from whatever he will do, all he saw was pure blackness in his eyes that struck Minho colder than before. His mouth seems to be moving, chanting and whispering words in a fast pace that scares Minho so much – the emptiness in his eyes, the foreign sentences and the foreboding danger looming in.

And when the danger came, it was in a form of the knife slashing before it reaches his wrist, continuing in a straight direction towards his middle finger. The claws of the shouts have never been persistent in Minho’s throat when he fought the invisible bind that kept him from springing. He can already feel the warmth and wetness spreading throughout his eyes.

When he looked back at the back of his hand, the blood seems to flow endlessly and the thought of dying from blood loss in an unknown place where no one was to find him stayed on his mind. Only Key was the witness and the probable saviour in all of this. It surprises Minho this much that he still finds hope in being saved by the monster that pushed him in all of this mess.

“Minho,” Key called him, digging the silver knife deeper in his hand.

“I’ll give you a gift. I’m sure you remember about it the last time we talked, hm?” He started twisting the knife slowly, rendering Minho shouting inside his mind. He did remember about the deal but the pain in his left hand jugged up his mind in order to answer.

“Before the Dead Moon comes; before the Lunar Rain ends – use my gift. Tell me anyone on this Earth you want to see and I’ll give the person in your knees,” with his black eyes, Key said with a smile. The spilled blood dropped on the golden field, hungry for more.

The lunar creature leaned closer to his face until Minho can no longer see his eyes. Still holding the knife and his hands, Key his left earlobe that was sure to make him shudder only when he was able to move.

“Boo.”

He is back – he is back in his world.  When the knife was harshly tugged out of his hand, Minho found himself lying on the ground. He was sure that everything around him came back, even if he fails to hear the motorbike running past the road below him or the clatter of plates from the building a walk away. The expectation of the dizziness circling in his head was not there. He is in his apartment’s rooftop, relieved and extremely happy that he is back. Even for now, he thought.

Everything is right.

Minho is aware that he can move his body with his own will at the moment but he didn’t try testing it out. He was safe for now and he is sure about it. He did not need to worry. The tall man just stayed in his position with his arms on his side, back flatly placed on the concrete ground that radiates coldness. His breath is even and uncontrolled, as if his lungs has its own mind and power. The echo of the lunar creature’s song resonates and echoes in his head repeatedly, it’s sad melody turning into something sour as seconds pass by. In a thrilling sense, a part of his mind can comprehend the words from the song yet he cannot tell what exactly it is. He feels – he knows – that something not beautiful is about to step into his world once more.

What will happen next?

The stirred boy tried to think less about what happened. It’s all just a nightmare I will forget, Minho tries to make himself believe that everything that’s starting and will start are eventually just dreams, just ugly and shameful dreams. He gained control of his breathing once again when he sighed heavily, pushing the depressing effect of all the things that seemed to pull him.

His eyes never left the object that he first saw when he got out from his recent encounter with Key, the thing that has been bugging his life. With his scarred hands being raised from the dusty concrete, he tried to grab and crush the object into his long finger but he already expected what will happen. He failed and gave up. Minho brought back his bruised hand down to his chest, trying to empty his mind from all the problems and emotions. He didn’t even know when or how the sun managed to creep up into the sky when all he ever saw was the full moon -- the Lunar Rain ever so slowly pouring down in its elegance – throughout the whole night.

_____________

“Be careful on your way, sir.”

“Thank you Mister Lee. Don’t hesitate to call us whenever you need our assistance.”

Taemin bowed again for the last time and shut his apartment’s door close. He finally let out the breath that he has been holding all along the interrogation. Walking back into the living room, he gathered the glasses and the plate with the remains of the crackers he offered to the investigators an hour ago and placed them into the sink. They were still nit-picking on every possible lead or evidences that will lead them to the suspect responsible for Yuri’s death. It was a well-planned execution, according to the prosecutor. It was probably too flawless in its way that Taemin fears that the culprit may have been as well sentenced as free. He cannot imagine what Minho plans to do once he finds out about the progress.

Minho, Taemin tries to remember the last time he saw the man. He has been missing for two days now but this did not bother anyone related to his friend. Prosecutor Jung asked for Minho’s whereabouts for when his team visited the flat that the man is staying, his brother told them that reporter left without a note. Taemin just told them that it is normal for Minho to wander around without telling anyone where he is headed. “Especially at this time when something this bad just happened, I think he’s just taking his time alone,” he added while pouring another set of juice into the investigator’s glass. Much to his guilt and dismay, he knows himself that it’s a lie.

When he called Eunhyuk, the last mutual person between him and Minho in his contact list, he heard the same words from everyone he contacted before, “He’s just taking his time to move on--let him be.” He knows that it might be possible that that would be his friend’s reason but he knows the guy too well. This was certainly out of his nature. Taemin just mumbles a ‘You’re right’ to everyone he called, forcing himself to believe the same thing. He wish he could shrug it off like the others; he wish that he cared for his friend less.

 “Just come back,” Taemin lets out from his mouth in attempt to send out the worry and fear breaking free along his voice from his body, the words echoing back into his place among the air in his small and cold apartment.