In a lone corner of the world, towering trees shiver and sigh against the frigid mountain air while high above a blank canvas disintegrates into boundless flakes of white, covering the landscape in a bulky blanket of winter. Through the frosty haze, two muddled beams of light peek around the bend as an inky black car pulls up a gravel driveway and into an open garage. The driver steps out, snow crunching under hefty boots as he walks around to the trunk and pulls out a stuffed suitcase and three grocery bags.

    Luhan takes a moment to readjust the scarf around his neck before venturing down the walkway towards the quaint cabin. He manages to make it up the stairs, slipping only once, and digs inside his coat pocket for the key. With a gloved hand, he sticks the key into the lock and swings open the creaky wooden door.

    He’s not sure why he had it in his mind that the inside would look like pictures he'd seen in home decor magazines, with cozy flames flickering in the fireplace and immaculate furniture, because this place falls short of such cozy splendor. Shadows peek from the corners, it reeks of staleness, the fireplace is barren and full of soot, and the furniture is faded.

    After wheeling his heavy suitcase inside and shutting the door behind him, Luhan carries the groceries into the out-of-date kitchen and puts them on the tacky peach colored countertop. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a sheet of wrinkled notebook paper next to the sink and picks it up.

Luhan,

Since I knew you'd be coming, I came here earlier this week to make sure everything was in order. Firewood is on the back porch. Clean towels are in the bathroom. Feel free to use the bedroom or loft. If you need extra blankets, they’re stored in the hallway closet. Should you need anything, you know my number. Good luck on meeting your deadline!

Sincerely,
Jongdae

    About a week ago, Luhan had been relieved when Jongdae offered to let him borrow the cabin for the month. Since Luhan is a writer who is notorious for missing deadlines, the lonesome cabin is the perfect place to escape the distractions of society so he can focus and complete his next manuscript on time.

    Luhan sighs at his own lack of perseverance and settles for putting up the groceries while stuffing his thoughts right along with them. As soon as the task is complete, he brings in a few logs from the back porch and works on getting a fire started.

    For a time, he stays huddled in front of the fireplace, warming a red nose and frozen fingers. When he feels thawed enough, he unwraps his scarf, pulls off his coat, and places them on the hanger by the front door. He debates on whether to take off his wool hat but decides to keep it on for the time being since his ears are still cold.

    He gets settled into the loft that evening and stows all of his clothes into a dresser with a missing knob. His resolve waivers when a mouse scuttles from under the bed and into a small crack in the wall. Luhan is quite fickle when it comes to making decisions and sticking to them, but he ends up staying in the loft in spite of the mouse. Truthfully, though, he is just too lazy to change.

❄ ❄ ❄

    Several hours later, after night has crept in and the wind has died down, the cabin is eerily quiet save for the occasional creak somewhere in the rafters above. Luhan has created a disaster zone in the living area. Crumpled paper litters the hardwood floors and food packets and wrappers are scattered everywhere. In a misplaced show of productivity, Luhan had brought the coffee pot into the living area so he wouldn’t have to go to the kitchen every time he craved a fresh up of coffee. As far as he is concerned, it's the best idea he's ever had.

    Three loud knocks echo throughout the cabin, making Luhan to jump and spill a few drops of coffee onto his jeans. He curses under his breath and gets up to answer the door but pauses. The clock on the wall reads 11:55 p.m. Who would be out at such an ungodly hour and in this type of weather? He isn’t so sure about answering the door.

    Knock, knock, knock.

    He knows he shouldn’t answer, but what if it's someone who needs help? He would feel bad if he walked outside tomorrow morning and found a frozen corpse on his porch. So he bites the bullet and opens the door cautiously.

    “It’s about damn time. It’s rude to keep people waiting you know.” The young man staring back at him has a piercing gaze that stirs something in Luhan, like a faint memory prickling at the back of his mind.

    “I’m sorry?” Luhan feigns indifference while continuing to size up his unplanned visitor.

    The boy huffs and frantically rubs his hands together in a vain attempt to warm them. It is then that Luhan realizes the other is very under-dressed for the wintry weather, wearing nothing a pair of sneakers, jeans, and a light sweater.

    “I live nearby and lost power earlier today. I heard you’d be staying here, so I thought I’d drop by to see if you were still alive.” When Luhan doesn’t respond, the young man continues. “And after seeing you now, you don’t seem like the type of guy that lets someone freeze to death so… I’ll be coming in now.” Then just like that, the guy brushes right past Luhan and makes himself at home on the old sofa.

    “What do you think you’re doing?” Luhan shuts the door and stares in disbelief. The audacity of this unwelcomed guest rakes on his nerves.

    “Sitting. What does it look like?” the stranger responds innocently as he flicks a messy silky brown locks away from his eyes.

    “I know that but… I don’t even know you.”

    “And?”

    “It’s weird.”

    “Okay then, how about this?” The young man adjusts his position on the sofa so he can face Luhan. “My name is Sehun. I’m twenty years old, and I hate being stuck up here. There, we’re not strangers anymore.”

    “I don’t think it works that way.”

    “Sure it does. Your name’s Luhan, right?”

    Luhan visibly startles. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

    “I just know things.” Sehun surveys Luhan’s reaction and flinches at the level of disdain he receives in return. “Someone told me you’d be coming. That’s how I knew.”

    “Oh.” Luhan pulls off his hat and runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair. “It must have been Jongdae then.”

    Sehun doesn’t answer, but nods half-heartedly before turning back towards the gleaming fire. He notices the array of papers scattered about the room and picks up the nearest one, eyes scanning uneven handwriting. “You’re a writer?”

    Luhan marches over to snatch the paper out of his hand. “Yes,” he responds curtly.

    Luhan is well known in the literary world but publishes his work under a pseudonym. He doesn’t like it when people look at him with stars in their eyes. All he's ever wanted is a simple life doing what he loves most. He doesn’t know Sehun, or at least he thinks he doesn’t. Perhaps they'd crossed paths somewhere before? In any case, he doesn’t want to take the chance of being discovered.

    Sehun brings his hands up in a mock show of surrender before refocusing on the flames. An uncomfortable silence settles over them, save for the crackle-n-pop of burning wood.

    Luhan isn’t sure how he should act in this sort of situation since he rarely entertains visitors. In the end, he settles for a typical offering. “Would you like something to drink?”

    Sehun seems to perk up at the offer and requests a mug of hot cocoa. Luhan makes himself one as well. He's down far too much caffeine for one day. Washing it down with chocolate flavored sugar is probably adding illness to injury but… what the hell, why not?

    Luhan takes a seat on the sofa opposite from Sehun and tries his best to act normal, which is difficult to pass off when you’re socially awkward.

❄ ❄ ❄

    Luhan's thick lashes flutter open as his tired eyes focus on the light streaming in through the blinds. He groans and rolls over onto his side in an effort to escape the cruel rays, curling into himself as he snuggles further into the thick quilt draped over his body. However, his sleepy stupor doesn’t last for long once the smell of fresh brewed coffee teases his nostrils.

    “Here,” a voice drones, and it takes a bit more squinting for Luhan to register a familiar, stoic figure. His mood instantly sours, and apparently, it’s evident on his face. “Don’t give me that look. I made you coffee as a peace offering. Doesn’t that count for something?”

    A stream of incoherent grumbling falls from Luhan’s lips as he cups both hands around the mug and inhales the soul-warming scent. He isn’t willing to admit it but coffee always remedies his sour early-morning mood. His chapped lips meet the brim as he takes a sip. The heat that slides down his throat soothes each and every part of his body while smoothing the jagged edges of his soul, turning him into something that feels just a bit more human.

    He tries his best to ignore Sehun, but fails miserably as he takes in every detail — sweater sleeves that cling to soft fingertips, dark tendrils of hair that glisten gold in the sunlight, a tongue that slips out to moisten dry lips — yet all of those things pale in comparison to the wave of nostalgia that plunges deep into Luhan’s innards like a red-hot poker.

    He’s missing something important. But what?

    “Keep staring off into space like that, and your coffee’s gonna get cold.”

    Luhan snaps out of his daze and chucks back the rest of the burning liquid, washing down the lump that has been forming in the back of his throat. “You should go,” Luhan rasps as he stretches his muscles and pops his bones. “I have work to do.”

    “Right. I forgot that you have mysterious writing to do.” Sehun stands and flattens out his wrinkled jeans. “Don’t drown yourself in coffee. I’ll see you later.”

    Luhan knows he should feel relieved but he can’t help the mild twinge of disappointment that bubbles to the surface when the door shuts with a resounding click, leaving him with somber walls and suffocating silence. He heads straight for the coffee pot, pouring the second cup of a what will undoubtedly many, and notices a pair of soggy sneakers staring back at him. Luhan stops what he's doing to grab them and fly out the door, but all he sees is a never-ending expanse of white and a single pair of footprints leading towards the dense forest.

❄ ❄ ❄

    His writing takes a new turn that day, coming effortlessly and with head-spinning ferocity. Luhan drags pen across paper, leaving behind harsh that reach out for something tangible. Their maker doesn’t live in reality; he lives in a place created by his subconscience, a place fortified of insecurities and forgotten dreams.

    Seconds flit by like snowflakes, minutes fall like pine needles, and hours collect like icicles. It isn’t until the wind is howling against the windows and the fire has fizzled out that Luhan notices what time it is, and that his extremities are going numb from the cold. Just after he brings the fire back to life, three precise knocks rap against the front door. Luhan takes a look at the clock on the wall and squints to make sure he hasn’t read it wrong. It reads 11:55 p.m. again. He stares at the sneakers sitting next to the door and wonders how Sehun managed to make it through the freezing snow barefoot.

    “Hi,” Sehun drones with a worn expression on the porch. Luhan takes quick note of the boy's barren feet and slightly purple toes.

    “Hi?” He responds, moving aside so the other can escape the cold.

    Sehun stands in front of the fireplace to warm shivering muscles and chattering bones. His hair is frosted with blotches of snow before they melt and disappear. Luhan walks around the edge of the sofa to peer at the living riddle, this young man named Sehun, who has literally stomped all over his sanity. Nothing about the young man makes sense. Sehun says he lives nearby, but hasn’t said where. He walks through snow with no socks or shoes, is twenty, and makes a mean cup of coffee. That is the extent of Luhan’s knowledge about him, and although he is not willing to admit it, he is curious and maybe a little enchanted.

    Inquisitiveness soon turns into admiration as Luhan watches the way the flames cast an orange glow and alluring shadows across Sehun's defined jaw and sunken cheek bones. He looks exhausted and stretched to his limit.

    Luhan almost says something about it.

    The writer has a gift for words on paper but when it comes to speaking them, those words twist and die like ashes in the wind. He settles for making the other a mug of hot chocolate instead. When Sehun detaches a transfixed gaze from the fire to Luhan's inquiring eyes, the foundations of a carefully-guarded soul begin to crumble.

❄ ❄ ❄

    They spend half the night in each other’s company, sitting apart yet somehow connected. It's amazing how silence can speak a hundred words yet Sehun’s eyes seem to speak a million of them. The writer wants to say something, debates over distorted words and hushed confessions. He tells himself that he does not care, should not care, but he knows he's only lying to himself.

    “You wrote a lot today,” Sehun begins with a twinge of a smile. He’s staring at the large stack of notebook paper sitting at the corner of the coffee table. “What did you write about?”

    Luhan takes a deep breath and exhales. “I don’t know.” He was hoping the answer would be good enough, but shifts uneasily when Sehun asks him to elaborate. “I started writing this morning. To be honest, I don’t really recall what I wrote. And I’m not so sure I want to know.”

    “That’s sort of weird, don’t you think?” Sehun finishes off his most recent cup of hot cocoa and sets it on the table, leaning forward to his rest elbows onto knobby knees. “The answers you seek could be right in front of you.”

    The sentence hangs in the air like a lingering fog. Luhan suspects that Sehun is trying to tell him something but brushes it off, because everything about this entire getaway has been strange. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t recall the drive up to the cabin either, which makes him feel extremely uneasy.

    Luhan tries to distract himself by getting up and peering out the window. The night is still and calm, almost as if it's a spectator to the gentle ballet of the snow flurries. They’re beautiful, but the silence of the night is suffocating.

    Sehun convinces Luhan to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace with him. There is something comforting about having someone close by, especially in this lonely expanse of wilderness, so Luhan obliges.

    “You know, Luhan…sometimes I wonder what our reason is for being here.” Sehun wraps the blanket around his shoulders and picks at a loose string hanging from the seam of his jeans. He pauses as if debating whether he should disclose something before continuing. “Sometimes, if I listen hard enough, I can hear them.”

    This catches Luhan off guard. “Hear who?”

    “The whispers. Haven’t you heard them yet?” Sehun stops picking at the thread and flashes a concerned look.

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The writer bites his lip nervously because this conversation has taken a very uncomfortable turn.

    In one mischievous swoop, Sehun drapes the blanket over the tops of their heads. “You can keep pretending like you don’t care or notice that nothing lines up quite right around here. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to deal with it.”

    Luhan focuses very hard on his gray socks while resting his hands in his lap. The sizzling fire casts a ginger glow over their miniature tent, and although the heat is comforting, Luhan feels as though he's freezing slowly from the inside out. His body is slipping further and further beneath the ice, and there’s this overwhelming sense, as if it's only a matter of time before he disappears entirely.

    Suddenly, cozy hands reach out to grasp Luhan's clammy ones, pulling him out of the icy abyss and back into the present. He stares at Sehun for a moment and is temporarily transfixed by the look of quiet understanding in the other’s eyes. Then Luhan slowly pulls his hands away and tucks them into the folds of his sweater.

    He wishes he could return the gesture, or at least show Sehun that he appreciates it, but he doesn’t know how to go about such things. So he swallows down his feelings and hides them away deep inside, just like he always does.

    They stay huddled under the blanket and get lost in a series of conversations, some spoken and some not. Sehun is the first to sprawl out and fall asleep. Luhan isn't too far behind as he lies next to the sleeping man’s thin frame. Just before he closes his eyes, the faintest of whispers slips from the rafters above.

    “Wake up, Luhan… wake up.”

❄ ❄ ❄

    Days go by in this fashion with Luhan lost in writing yet found when Sehun visits. And each time the younger shows up at the exact same time, 11:55 p.m. Curiosity finally gets the best of Luhan and he starts asking questions. Where did you say you lived again? Why do you sometimes forget your shoes? Why do you keep looking at me like that? It’s like you know something that I don’t. Each time Luhan receives a vague answer he gets more and more frustrated. However, he stuffs those feelings into the darkest corners of his mind and heart, because forgetting things is much easier than actually dealing with them.

    Everything seems so shockingly cavalier to Sehun. Even under the cloudy shroud of night as he unleashes a swarm of snowballs towards Luhan accompanied by sing-song laughter, Luhan can sense an underlying hint of desperation, so one evening when they're sprawled out in front of the fireplace again, Luhan allows his mask to slip away for the first time.

    “Sehun?” The name almost sticks in Luhan’s throat, “Why don’t you answer any of my questions?”

    Sehun furrows his brow and sits up. “What are you talking about? I always answer your questions.” The way he says it makes it sound humorous, like he's more interested in playing games right now instead of having a serious conversation.

    “You answer them, but you never give a real answer. I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”

    Sehun sighs and gazes into the fire. “Sometimes, I don’t wear shoes because the agonizing cold makes me feel like I’m still attached to this world… like I’m alive and not just passing through.”

    “What do you mean? Of course you’re here. If you weren’t, how could we be sitting here together like this?”

    “You don’t get it because you don’t want to understand, Luhan! You’re happy drowning yourself in papers and pens and words. I can’t be like you! I can’t be like that! I can’t accept that this is all there is!” Sehun stands abruptly with fists balled at his sides. “Well you better snap out of it, because if you don’t, we’re both going to be stuck here!”

    By the time Luhan moves to stop Sehun, the door has already slammed shut. The writer pinches the bridge of his nose and frowns at the pair of sneakers mocking him from beside the sofa. They glare at him, as if silently judging him.

    “Two forty-six… two forty-six.”

    A hushed voice glides past Luhan's right ear, causing an icy shiver to trickle down his spine. He whirls on the spot, eyes wide and heart sputtering. There’s no one there but he knows he heard it. It was so close. Almost as if someone were standing right next to him. For the next half hour, he curls into the corner of the sofa while the voice echoes from corner to shadowy corner.

    Luhan doesn’t sleep at all that night.

❄ ❄ ❄

    The first night that Sehun doesn’t show leaves Luhan perturbed. The second night, he starts to grow uneasy, and by the third night Luhan is starting to worry that perhaps something bad might have happened. Not only that, but Luhan hasn’t been able to focus on his writing at all, and he only has a few more days left until it's time to pack up and go back home. He's nowhere near meeting the deadline. It looks as though he'll have to bribe his editor into giving him an extension again.

    Luhan busies himself that afternoon by chopping more firewood. It wouldn't be polite to use it all up without replacing it. After all, Jongdae had been kind enough to let him stay at the cabin for such a long time. It's the least he can do. He sets a fresh block of wood onto the enormous tree stump and brings the axe down hard, snapping the block perfectly in two. He sniffles and brings a coat sleeve up to his reddened nose. It's unusually cold today, much colder than it has been so far. It seems to invade his very bones.

    “Two forty-six… two forty-six… two for…”

    Whispers clash and collide with the wind as they reverberate off the mountainside. A different type of shiver slices through the writer’s body. He tosses the axe to the side and heads in the direction he thinks they're coming from. He wants to know who or what they are, where they are coming from, and why they’re here. They have to be coming from somewhere because voices don’t just come out of thin air.

    His boots crunch through the snow during his march towards the frosted treeline. Luhan stands still and strains his ears for even the slightest sound. He’s mortified when he's greeted by a murmuring of voices and unnatural sounds, almost as if he were standing in a public place. He rationalizes that he has probably gone insane, that what he's hearing is the product of sleep deprivation and an unhealthy, caffeinated lifestyle. But if that's the case, how come Sehun could hear them too? In fact, it was Sehun who had first heard the whispers, not Luhan.

    “How long... How long? Wake up… wake up!”

    This time the voices are so loud that Luhan flinches as they boom across the landscape. He has had enough. Something isn’t right, with either him or this place, but he isn’t sticking around to find out which one. Suddenly, a blast of winter air pushes out of the forest and sweeps a wall of snow right in Luhan’s direction. He doesn’t hesitate — he runs.

    He can’t reach the cabin fast enough, and when he does, the whispers taunt him from the rafters above. He tries his best to ignore them and gather his belongings, but he’s far too frightened to stick around. Luhan hastily grabs his writings off of the coffee table, snatches his keys, and flies out of the cabin door, not even bothering to lock it behind him.

    In such a short period of time, the wind has picked up and the sky has began to release a storm of snowflakes. Luhan has a hard time seeing the road. There's only so much that the window wipers can do before it's a lost cause. He drives slowly through the sudden onslaught of winter weather, trying his best to remember how he got here and how to get back, but he's drawing a complete blank. Nothing about this area looks familiar to him. Despite that, he pulls over to consult the map he keeps tucked in the glove compartment.

    Luhan's jittery fingers fumble with the oversized map as he tries to get his bearings. What road is this? Is this a highway? He isn’t having much luck and hasn’t seen anywhere to stop and ask for directions. It looks like he's going to have to trust his non-existent sense of direction and pray for the best.

    A few more miles up the road, Luhan finally sees what appears to be a snow covered sign in the distance. Finally! Now he can at least figure out what road he's on. Just as he reaches the sign, he notices something curled up at its base. Perplexed, he unfastens his seat belt and steps out of the car. What he'd been hoping would be a mound of snow turns out to be a mutilated deer. He cringes at the distorted and partially frozen corpse, its eyes still plastered with the fear it must have felt right as it died.

    “It’s only a matter of time… time… time.”

    Luhan is rooted to the spot, too frightened by the whispers to move an inch. They had followed him. He doesn’t know what to do, where to go, or if there's even a place for him to go. And as the dead animal’s coal-like eyes pierce his soul, Luhan realizes that he's lost in more ways than one.

    ”Make a decision… before it’s too late.”

    He makes a decision right then and there. Luhan makes a promise to himself not give up until he's out of this nightmare, because he doesn’t know how much more he can take. He uproots his feet and gets back into the car, determined to reach his destination before nightfall arrives.

❄ ❄ ❄

    By some miracle, he makes it back into town a few hours later. The place looks barren under a thick coat of frost and snow. He plugs his cell phone into the car adapter and silently cheers at the one measly bar of signal. He finds Jongdae's number under his contacts list and presses the send button.

    “We’re sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.”

    Coincidence. It has to be coincidence. Perhaps the cell towers aren’t working because of the snow storm? Luhan tries to find logic within chaos because it's the only thing keeping him together right now. By this point, he's so freaked out that he's starting to scare himself.

    He drives past the local hospital but slams on the breaks. The car slides another few feet over the snowy road before coming to a stop just before the next intersection. His friend, Jongdae, works at the hospital and is probably still there. If Luhan is lucky, he'll be able to catch Jongdae, give the key back, apologize and go home where he can pretend like none of this ever happened.

    Once inside the hospital, Luhan tries asking several people where he can find his friend, but they're too absorbed in their work to give him an answer. He sets out to find Jongdae on his own. Luhan knows that he works in the intensive care unit. It should be easy enough to find him. Maybe while he's at it he can have his head examined as a bonus.

    Just as Luhan turns the last corner, he sees Jongdae enter a room at the end of the hallway. He waits outside the door so not to be disrespectful to the patient in the room. His eyes scan his surroundings awkwardly until they land on a set of familiar numbers. 246 is plastered right in the center of the door. Coincidence again, he tells himself, but Luhan knows he won’t be satisfied until he has checked for himself.

    “Jongdae?” Disheveled and shaking, he knocks briefly before slipping through the door and approaches his friend from behind. Jongdae does not answer. He's recording notes off of several monitors.

    The closer Luhan gets, the more uneasy he feels. A familiar wave of iciness pulls Luhan into a bottomless darkness that reminds him of the lifeless, coal-like eyes of the deer. He already knows who's lying in that bed, but he doesn’t want to believe it. His suspicions are confirmed the moment Jongdae turns and walks right past as if he weren’t even standing there. Luhan swallows as he lifts his gaze. Lying in the hospital bed is a lost and confused soul. He knows this because that soul… is him.

❄ ❄ ❄

    A black car crawls up the mountainside, winding up slippery roads and curves. For hours Luhan had remained at the hospital, talking, crying, screaming, and pleading with his lifeless vessel to wake up. In the end it proved to be useless and a waste of time. How do you fix a situation like this? How do you force yourself to wake up when you don’t even know how or why you even ended up like that in the first place? And what about Sehun? He had to be real. They spent time together, drank hot cocoa together, and even argued. There's no way none of that had been real.

    By the time he reaches the cabin, it's dark outside, but at least the snow has finally stopped. Before getting out of the car, he reads the clock on the dashboard. It reads 11:54 p.m. Any time now, Luhan thinks, as he gets out of the car and flies up the steps and through the creaky front door. It hits the wall with a blunt thump.

    Standing in front of the lifeless fireplace is Sehun. When Luhan approaches him, heaving for air and out of breath, he notices that once again Sehun isn’t wearing shoes. His lips curl up into a faint grin as he reaches out to touch the young man to confirm that he’s real.

    “I tried to tell you. I just didn’t know how.” Sehun turns and smiles apologetically.

    “I know. I can be pretty stubborn sometimes,” Luhan returns a genuine smile. Sehun looks even more worn than the last time he'd seen him.

    He feels guilty for making Sehun deal with this alone for so long. He realizes that he has been pushing away the one person that, in the end, actually made more sense than anything else in this god-forsaken place. Sehun’s fragile soul had been the tiny light flickering in the darkness, its glow faint but still there, ready to ward off the shadows and point Luhan in the right direction.

    Somehow they're in the same boat, and now that Luhan has made it this far, he's ready to get them out of this prison, this torture, this limbo they've been into. He doesn't know Sehun’s situation or what has brought him here, and it doesn’t matter, because Luhan is determined not to leave Sehun behind to snuff out in the darkness all alone.

    “Are you ready to remember now?” Sehun asks hopefully. Luhan hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Come on,” Sehun urges as he grasps Luhan’s hand and tugs him towards the door.

    “Where are we going?” The writer stumbles down the steps as he's dragged towards the forest.

    “I told you I had a place nearby. I’m taking you there,” replies Sehun.

    They jog through the forest, shuffling clumsily through a foot of snow. The deeper into the forest they venture, the more anxious Luhan gets, and a heavy layer of dread starts pushing down on his shoulders.

    “Sehun. Wait.”

    “Come on! We’re almost there!” Sehun keeps tugging Luhan around trees and under branches coated with ice cycles.

    “Wait a second. Wait!” Luhan digs his heels into the ground. “Stop!” Finally, Sehun whirls around with a look of confusion plastered across his features.

    “What is it? I thought you wanted answers?” Sehun’s warm breath escapes in puffs of humid mist.

    Out here in the dead of night, Luhan finally feels like he can be truthful and say what he has never had the courage to admit. “I do want answers. I’ve always known that something wasn’t right about our situation, but I brushed it off because I was scared.”

    “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sehun reassures.

    “Yes there is. If you take me to this place, and we find all of the answers, what will happen to you?”

    “That’s not important.”

    “That’s not true!” Luhan yanks Sehun into his arms. “You say that like it doesn’t phase you. You’re always pretending like everything is okay, but I know that’s not the case. Why else do you run through the snow barefoot? It’s because you want to feel something. Because in the end… you’re afraid. You’re afraid you’ll disappear.” Sehun stiffens and his breath quivers against Luhan’s neck. “I’m not going to let that happen! If finding the answers means losing you, then I’d rather stay here!”

    The reply Luhan gets is barely above a whisper. “But it’s already too late. We’re already here.”

    “What?” Just then Luhan hears the sound of an approaching vehicle as two beams appear over the hill through the trees. The oncoming memory shoots through his mind like a sharp blade.

    “No! I don’t want to remember! Make it stop!”

    “I’m sorry, Luhan.” Sehun’s voice fades with the rest of the world as Luhan collapses into the snow.

❄ ❄ ❄

    Luhan is driving down a darkened highway. It’s cold outside but the roads are clear. It looks as though he's going to make it to the cabin early, which means he'll be able to start writing right away. For once it seems like the stars are in his favor; he'll be able to meet a deadline for once. He can’t wait to see the shocked look on his editor’s face.

    He takes a glance at the clock on the dashboard. It reads 11:55 p.m. as he rounds the next curve. When he looks back up, time turns into oozing molasses. An oncoming car slides over a patch of black ice and veers into Luhan’s lane. He slams on the brakes, but the tires lose traction as he’s blinded by a pair of headlights. Metal crunches into metal and glass shatters into thousands of trickling shards. Through a sea of chaos, Luhan can only focus on one thing — a pair of chocolate-colored eyes full of fear and regret.

    The world tilts, crashes, thrashes, and tumbles violently before it's filled with stillness accompanied by a blast of winter air. Luhan blacks out for only a moment before regaining at least part of his senses, enough to know he’s lying in the grass next to a pile of twisted metal that used to be his car. From the corner of his eye, he sees another car crumpled upside down against a tree with a body thrown out to the side. He wants to move. He wants to get up. He wants to help that person, but he can’t because his body won’t obey.

    Pain receptors register and calculate the damage that has been done. That damage is too great. Luhan’s body and mind begin to shut down, and just as his vision wanes, the sky opens up to release delicate puffs of white that mingle into a familiar ballet.

    Luhan can only think of one thing, beautiful. The last thing he sees is the young driver, bent and broken upon the grass, being kissed by dozens of dying snowflakes.

❄ ❄ ❄

    An ominous fog clears as his consciousness steps back into a familiar, yet strange reality. For a moment, Luhan thinks he has woken up right where he left off, in the wilderness with his body bruised and broken. But wait… that doesn’t feel quite right.

    He's lying on a bed, tucked snuggly under warm flannel blankets. He looks down and sees a jumble of tubes and wires rigged to his body. His first reaction is to yank them off, but he resists the urge for fear of making a mistake. He tries to sit up but quickly realizes that he can’t. His body feels foreign to him, like it isn’t his body, but he knows it is because… those are his hands, aren’t they?

    A muffled beeping sound reaches his ears. Luhan manages to strain his rigid neck just enough to see a heart monitor settled next to his bed. At first he's filled with elation. He’s finally woke up from his horrific nightmare. However, that elation soon morphs into dread when he realizes that he has left Sehun behind, and that he might never be able to find or see him ever again.

    Luhan is angry with himself. Just when he'd realized his mistake and had finally opened his heart to the prospect of deep friendship, it’d been snatched away before he'd had the chance to pursue it.

    He's only vaguely aware of his friend, Jongdae, leaning over him with tear-streaked cheeks. He's saying something, but Luhan can’t hear him, because the guilt and disappointment that fills his heart threatens to rip him in half. He hates himself. He wishes he could go back. If he closed his eyes and wished hard enough, would his wish be granted?

    Luhan feels the encroaching coldness starting to pull him under. This time he doesn’t fight it because he's ready to go. Anything would be better than facing a lifetime of remorse. But just as he feels himself start to slip into the ice, he hears another set of beeps echoing throughout the room that are not his own. Hope floods Luhan's veins as he cranes his head just a bit more. He's greeted by a pair of sleepy chocolate-brown eyes.

    Sehun is here, with him, and it's real. Memories of their time at the cabin swirl and spill out to the surface. Had it actually happened? Had it all been a dream? Luhan knows that he'd been there and remembers it all, but would Sehun?

    His answer comes in the most unexpected way. In the form of raspy, short-winded words…

    “It’s… about damn time. It’s rude… to keep people waiting… you know.”

Edited May 26th, 2022 / Thank you everyone who has continued to read this story throughout the years, even as we've all grown and moved on to new phases of our lives, while at the same time EXO and its members have gone through many changes, some good and some bad. May you all be blessed, happy, and successful in all that you choose to do.