One
Limbo
The Present
“So, why don’t you start with telling us your name?” The man in the tight business suit asked, reclining back in his plush chair as he scribbled notes down on his notepad.
The young man sitting across from him, no older than eighteen, had his arms crossed over his chest and was slumped down in his chair, a brooding look of petulant irritation plastered to his otherwise-attractive features.
“Isn’t it in my file?” he snapped, but the man in the business suit didn’t seem fazed by it.
“Yes, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
A sigh. “It’s Jongin. Kim Jongin.”
“Good.” More notes were taken. “Well, according to your parents, you’ve had a remarkable and quite sudden shift in attitude. A lot of your behavioral patterns have changed, including the fact that you’ve started talking less, and you’ve gone from generally sociable to completely anti-social in the spans of –”
“I’ve never been sociable,” Jongin cut him off with a sneer, as if the term was distasteful. “In case you didn’t know, I’ve had agoraphobia since I was eleven. But that should also be in my file.” He shook his head, tapping his fingers restlessly against the arm of the chair he sat in. A nervous habit. “My parents always liked to try to shove me into large social situations and encouraged me to go out and party and make lots of new friends, thinking it would help.”
“Did it?”
“No. In fact, it only seemed to make it worse.”
“Hm.” The scratching of the psychiatrist’s pen on paper filled the room once more. “So, what social interaction do you have, then?”
“Mal de coucou.”
“I’m sorry?”
Jongin’s gaze was fixed on something very far away. “It’s a phrase to describe when a person has an active social life, but very few close friends. That practically embodies my very existence.”
“An active social life?”
“Remember my parents encouraging all that partying? Well, because of that, even though I don’t like it, I ended up having an active social life.”
“But lately it hasn’t been as active.” The psychiatrist said a matter-of-factly. “It also says here that you haven’t been spending much time with your close friends, either. Can you tell me why that is?”
“They’re nothing compared to him.”
The man leaned forward, his too-small jacket straining against the bulge of his belly. “Him?” He urged, but when Jongin didn’t respond, he settled back down on the cushion. “Alright, how about we start from the beginning, then?”
Jongin straightened a bit, suddenly seeming excited. His eyes were sparkling, his face flushed, his fingers digging the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white “The very beginning?”
“Yes.”
Jongin smiled. “If you must know, it all began when I found myself in Limbo.”
The Past
Jongin wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.
The place looked real enough. But something about it just felt sort of surreal; timeless, as if nothing really existed there. Or at least, not long enough to be remembered. The sky above was a murky hue of red, and it roiled with tendrils of black clouds and oncoming storms and far-off lightning hidden by tall mountains rising against the dark horizon. The air was thick and humid, and yet somehow cold at the same time, and the grass beneath his feet echoed the color of the midnight sky; swaying softly in a wind he could not feel against his skin.
Aloud, he said, “Where am I?” As if hoping the way his voice echoed endlessly through the darkness would give him an answer.
“You’re in Limbo.”
Startled by the sudden voice, Jongin spun around to see a boy around his age standing there. He had wide eyes and sleek features and even though he was the one who’d startled Jongin, he looked afraid. Or perhaps wary was a better word. Either way, he was beautiful – mysteriously beautiful, in a way that seemed almost alien.
Jongin was entranced.
“Who are you?” He asked in a near whisper. “And what’s Limbo?”
The boy seemed to hesitate.
“My name’s Jongin, if that helps.” Jongin said, hoping to get the boy to relax a bit.
“Kyungsoo,” he said finally.
“Kyungsoo.” Jongin repeated the name softly, letting it slide across his tongue like the sweetest honey. “And what’s Limbo?”
“It’s where we are.” Kyungsoo gestured around them, “It’s a barren, bitter wasteland where the souls of the dead and the insane and the just plain unfortunate land. It’s the crossroads between Heaven and Hell. Nothing exists here, Jongin, so why are you here?”
Jongin shook his head, trying to remember. “I – I think I’m dreaming.”
“Dreaming?”
Jongin nodded. “I often go really weird places in my dreams. But this one is definitely the weirdest. Especially since I can usually explain away my dreams, and while I could easily enough explain the aura and landscape of this place as something just from my overactive imagination, I highly doubt I could ever imagine someone like you.”
Kyungsoo blinked. “Someone like me . . . ?”
“I’m not an artist, Kyungsoo. My mind would never be able to imagine someone as beautiful as you are. Therefore, this cannot be a dream.”
Kyungsoo abruptly blushed, making Jongin laugh.
“This is no laughing matter!” Kyungsoo said in a vain attempt to steer the conversation in another direction, “You could get stuck here like I did!”
Jongin’s laughter faded away; caught on the listless, stagnant air of the world he stood in. “Like you did? What do you mean?”
“I’m a Planeswalker.” Kyungsoo said, “A person with the ability to move from dimension to dimension. However, I’m a lousy example of one, because I could never really control my powers. So I ended up Planeswalking here by accident while I slept, and now I cannot get back.” He smiled sadly, “That was three years ago.”
Jongin stared, mouth open in disbelief.
“But,” Kyungsoo continued, “If you’re sure that this isn’t a dream, then you must be a Planeswalker too. You just don’t know it yet. And if you are, you could help me get out!”
“Wait, wait, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jongin said quickly, “I – I’ve never heard of a Planeswalker before. I never even considered something like that until now. I just thought I was dreaming. So how can you expect me to help you get out when I don’t even know what I’m doing?”
“Obviously you’re a lot more powerful than I am.”
Jongin opened his mouth to say more when suddenly he heard an odd sound from somewhere behind him. It . . . it sounded almost like someone calling for him. Frowning, he turned more towards the noise, squinting against the odd darkness that seemed to seep from the land.
“ . . . Jongin . . .”
“I think my mother is calling for me.” He said.
Kyungsoo nodded. “That’s good. It means you still have a connection to your Plane, and you can get back and forth easily. So, go. But please, promise me you won’t leave me here alone.”
“I won’t.” Jongin said sincerely, “Just, how can I be sure this is real? I’m afraid that when I wake up I’ll just convince myself it was a dream.”
Kyungsoo hesitated, worrying on his bottom lip.
“ . . . Jongin, wake up.”
“Hurry,” Jongin urged. He could already feel this odd sort of tugging sensation on his body, as if he was being pulled back to his own Plane – it was astounding how easily he’d accepted that – just by the sound of his mother’s voice.
“Do you trust me?” Kyungsoo asked suddenly.
Jongin hesitated only a little bit before nodding, and so Kyungsoo stepped forward, startling Jongin who instinctively tried to rear back when the shorter man pulled a small knife from his pocket. But Kyungsoo grabbed onto his arm, stopping him as he brought the knife up.
“W-wait, wait!” Jongin gasped. “What are you -?”
“Calm down,” Kyungsoo smiled at him, “Look, if you get hurt in any of the Planes, that injury will stay with you even when you go back to your own. That’s why you have to be very careful and why it’s good that you know these nightly walks you have are not dreams, or else you could seriously get into trouble.”
Jongin felt something akin to horror plummet in his stomach. He’d been doing this for so long, it was a wonder he hadn’t killed himself already.
“So, I’m going to give you a little cut,” Kyungsoo continued. “Nothing big, just a little something to remind you that this really happened, okay?”
Jongin nodded. It made sense.
And so, with a practiced sort of ease that made Jongin wonder, Kyungsoo brought the knife up and sliced a small cut into the back of his hand. Jongin instantly hissed in pain, watching as a trickle of blood began to seep from the wound, bubbling up like a spring in summertime.
“Go,” Kyungsoo said once he was finished, pulling away. “And hurry.”
Jongin nodded, feeling the world beneath his feet begin to fade, just as it always did. “I’ll come back for you,” he said softly, and then he was gone, leaving Kyungsoo and Limbo behind.
A/N: This is a work in progress, but I like the idea I have behind it.
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