Naturally, she’s an early riser. How early she wakes dictates how long she has to get ready for breakfast each morning. If she had an hour, as she did yesterday, she would take her time. Take a shower, pick out something nice to wear, brush her teeth, comb her hair, and with a smile, she could greet the twelve Guardians who awaited her. If she only had thirty minutes, she would forgo a shower, completing the rest of her schedule as usual. If she woke up two hours late, as she did this particular morning, she would usually have just gone ahead to breakfast after brushing her teeth– nightgown or not.

Feet swift, breath flighty, she would arrive there after breaking a sweat.

But, then again, she never had to. She would always receive a wake up call from one of the twelve who served her. She was an early riser because they never failed to wake her.  

She, on the other hand, didn’t think anything of this thought that drifted past her mind for a mere second. She ignored the doubt she felt, deciding she simply hadn’t heard them call for her. Instead, she decided that if she was going to be late, then there was no stopping it. There was no reason to hurry.

Thus, she took her time, as though she had woken up as early as always.

She walked with poised steps towards the bathroom, discarding her nightclothes along the way. Slipping a, seemingly never used, bathrobe on before she exited her room and entered the door opposite, her personal bathroom. She kept her still blurry eyes forward as she locked the door and went about her daily routine. A hot shower felt good on this particular morning, the mirrors fogging up as a result. She dressed herself in her robe when she was done, letting out a breath as the hot humidity of the room filled her lungs. It wasn’t a pleasantly long-lived moment, however, as minutes later the air had risen. The desired fog was gone.

She stood away from the mirror, brushing her hair into place, smoothing down each and every flyaway with her hands as she felt necessary. She brushed her teeth while walking around her room, getting her clothes ready for the day. She didn’t have another dress she could wear, forcing her to slip on a three-fourths sleeve, loose button up white shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. It had been getting hotter recently, causing her to braid her hair as she sat on the edge of her bed, looking on at the sun hidden behind white clouds outside of her window.

Her fingers twisted through each strand absentmindedly, her focus on that beaming ball of fire that stared back at her. And she mumbled a set of words beneath her breath, a small smile on her face.

"Good morning."

The phrase she spoke as she entered the dining room approximately twenty-five minutes after she woke up. The stray hairs that escaped her messy braid tickled at the goosebumps that formed at the base of her neck, traveling downwards quickly, like a cold shower she didn’t want to take today, due the sight displayed in front of her. A part of her had known but, admitting it, coming to terms with it, was difficult. Not being hurt by the emptiness that greeted her was nearly impossible.

There was no food. Each chair was pushed in, having seemingly not moved since last night’s less than gracious dinner. Chen and Tao having not been there as they usually were. Sehun taking his food to his room to eat – though he most likely went to Luhan in the end. Kai wasn’t there either, gathering his strength for the conversation he had with her following it. There were five empty chairs then.

There were twelve empty chairs now.

Still, she was greeted by the lone person who had been standing there, by the table side, as she entered. With a voice devoid of even an ounce of energy, he spoke, “Good morning.” Like a record player, playing back to her what she had said. Like a broken record, the monotone nature of his gesture left her at a loss of what to do.

Because she didn’t know how to fix it.

Because she had a feeling he had sabotaged himself into his broken state.

And, she couldn’t fix something that didn’t want to be repaired.

“You’re not late.” He clarified, even though she certainly was, “We decided not to have breakfast today, is all.” Yet, there was something more to it than that, wasn’t there? From the absence of five to that of twelve. From the absence of breakfast to what? It could only escalate from here, couldn’t it? It could only get worse from here, couldn’t it?

“It’s alright.”

Words. Just words to protect herself. Just words to block out the pain that threatened to break through her armor and pierce the entirety of her being.

“D.O prepared something for you though. He’s in the kitchen.” He pointed to the door behind him with his forefinger, each sentence he spoke seeming to end wrong. Seeming to be missing something. Because they were.

“Thank you, Xiumin.” She bowed her head, her stride as natural as always as she approached him with the intent to pass by. She kept her hands to her side, forgoing the urge to reach out and touch his shoulder; wanting to avoid the same explosion she had witnessed when she had attempted to do so with Sehun.

She would have walked on just like that, with him not saying a single word. Not expressing a single one of the thoughts that exploded inside of his mind each time he heard her foot take a step. Light. Soft. Delicate. A sound he wasn’t familiar with. A sound that, as it got closer and closer to him, caused his anger to grow. Caused his lips to grow looser.

And, he said to her the words he had wanted to since last night.

He poured himself into each one, not caring if he was frozen bit by bit in the process, cold chills running along the surface of his skin as he let go. Of his frustration. Of his annoying thoughts. Of the sense of inferiority that plagued him for so long it was akin to the giant piece of the iceberg that remained hidden beneath the water’s surface.

Something he had never done before.

“I’ve never talked at length with her.” He blurted, an outburst that caused her to turn to him, to stall her ever forward stride for just a moment, “I never shared her weaknesses. I have never divulged to her my deepest, coldest insecurities as she does the same. Our conversations were always lighthearted. Like those you’d expect between friends who have yet to break down the wall that allows them to become more than just that. I could only ever praise her for her strengths. I could only ever watch as she struggled to improve not only herself but also everything around her. The wall between us is as thick as ice, unshakable by normal means. I’m not Luhan or Kai or Chen or Tao.”

He let his eyes fall to her feet clad in a pair of peach colored flats, those that look so unlike her own, “But, that doesn’t mean I miss her any less than them. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to cracking that wall piece by piece, no matter how long it took – because it was worth it. That doesn’t mean I’m fine with all of this.”

He drew his eyes upwards once more, locking them with hers, not wanting to stare into them – whose look was unknown and unwanted – any longer than necessary, “Just because we’re being complacent, doesn’t mean we want you here.”

And he left like that, like a child with a temper tantrum. Just like Sehun, even though she hadn’t laid a finger on him. Even though she hadn’t said or done a single thing to prompt such a response from him. Even though it was just her presence itself that had done it.

But, she couldn’t leave.

Not yet.

There was still so much more to be done.

One of which was breakfast, which she sought out after she watched the door close shut behind Xiumin. And just as he had said he would be, D.O was in the kitchen, cleaning off a dish in the sink, his back turned towards her. At the sound of the door swinging open, he peeked over his shoulder, without a doubt expecting it to be Xiumin.

Because he visibly flinched, spinning on his heel to face her immediately as he bowed deeply, voice cracking, “Good morning.” She returned the greeting, encouraging him to straighten himself up again. When he did, his teeth bore themselves into his lower lip, a series of questions flying through his head.

What should I say?

And,

Should I ask if she slept well?

And,

It’s awkward like this.

And,

What do I even call her?

The simplicity of his thoughts, the basic nature of his personality, caused her to smile. The knife in her chest drew back for a moment, allowing her to breath for a moment, “If it helps, you may call me by my given name. The one given to me by those Exotians who wrote the ancient mythology of the Seeress of Exo.”

He nodded, knowing what name she was referring to immediately. He and the others had studied the history of the Seeress of Exo as well as Exo Planet’s creation myth enough to know it without having to put much working into remembering it.

The name written, the title given, to the goddess bestowed upon the people, birthed from the Tree of Life – the modern Seeress of Exo – translated from ancient Exotian script, read as: “Cera,” D.O called, the name rolling off his tongue so easily, so naturally, that it caused him to pause from saying anything further.

“Yes?” She answered, hands held in front of her, awaiting his voice to say more.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, pushing himself to continue, “Cera, I prepared something simple for you today. A ham and cheese sandwich.” He moved to the fridge, opening it and producing from it said item of food. He placed it on the kitchen island, withdrawing his hand quickly as she approached it, eyeing it. Eyeing it a bit too hard for his liking. He coughed, gathering himself again, “Is it not fancy enough? I apologize. I didn’t want to use too many ingredients this—”

“It’s fine.” She interrupted, stopping him from excessively explaining himself when there was no need to. There was only one problem regarding the food he prepared. Just one. “Though, if I may request one thing,” she upturned her eyes to him, finding him waiting attentively for her to finish, his shoulders so square he appeared to be a nutcracker with the way his mouth moved robotically in response to her following words, “If you could take out the cheese for me, I’d be very grateful, D.O.”

“Of course.” He reached out, grabbing the plate and tugging it closer to himself reluctantly. He went to work straight away after that, pulling a plate from the cupboard and extra slices of bread from the pantry; along with the simple ingredients he had decided to work with. He’d figure out what to do with the rejected breakfast item later.

Later, as he now stole glances at her all the while, finding her eyes to be holding his gaze without pretenses or an implacable countenance. She was merely looking at him, expecting nothing more of him that what he was already doing. There was nothing off about her expression, something he found again to be so natural and easy that it left him apprehensive of his loyalty.

And that worry caused him to drive a wall between himself and her, telling himself he would never call out that name of hers again. Lest he become attached to it. Lest he grow fond of it. Lest he forget who he was attached to, who he was fond of, the most.

Thus, he pushed the wedge in, mumbling another, submissive repetition of, “Of course,” his hands moving to take up the ham and cheese sandwich before moving it farther out of the way – his own breakfast yet to be had decided then and there.  

From the absence of five to that of twelve. Really, it could only go up from here, couldn’t it? Only through putting in an effort to maintain that which the twelve once adored could she begin to be accepted. Isn’t that right?

Or had disillusionment clouded her ever-seeing eyes?

The afternoon sun had set in, casting an array of reds, oranges, and yellows across the sky. He held his breath at the sight, unable to breath for that one perfect moment in which time never seemed so out of reach. So unattainably fleeting. He held it longer as he turned his eyes to the building he stood in front of, red bricks lining the walls, the sun dying them maroon with its light, casting a thick shadow over the wooden entryway.

He had never been here before, though he had heard of it. Not from personal experience but rather from someone who derived their power from the rays which stained the world right at this perfect moment. He had told him that this is where she once spent each and every night. From this perfect moment to the next, that brilliant reflector he himself was akin to shining high up in the sky.

The Two Moon Bar.

This place held the air she breathed, the air he found too thick for his lungs, as he pressed onward, pulling open the door to his first experience. Wisps of smoke clouded his vision, disorienting him briefly, before a woman with a smile on her face greeted him. She had asked him something, to which he simply declined, his mind having been too fuzzy to process her words.

He moved past her, deeper into the walls of rich aquamarine covered with mirrors and unfamiliar paintings and, what baffled him the most, empty picture frames without a story to tell. Dim lamps lit up faces whose features he couldn’t make out sitting in black, ornate lounge chairs, facing each other. He reached out, his fingers skimming past a leather sofa he had almost tripped over as he continued his trek deeper and deeper into the unknown.

It was all disorientating to him. The smells – cigarette smoke penetrating his tightly clenched chest. The sights – so blurred, too blurred, for him to see anything clearly. The sounds – low mumblings directed towards him as he reached that which draped itself down in front of him.

He had spotted him, amidst the blue and the gray and the black. He spotted him there, his backdrop the brilliant red. He was sitting there at the counter of the bar, thick red curtains cascading downwards on either ends of the wooden barrier separating a sober mind and a sweet, sometimes bitter tasting, hallucinogenic dream.

He approached without making a sound, his eyes focused only on his visage through the smoke. He avoided knocking himself into a piano on the way there, deciding it was best he steady himself by leaning against the wooden counter at this point in time. He didn’t look up at him right away, but he must have known he was there. He must have known, despite his eyes which stared onwards at nothing but his reflection which danced across bottles of green, white, and blue.

“You’re not wearing your robes.” The first thing Tao said to Chen, who he came here, to the Two Moon bar, to find. Who hadn’t returned to the Hall of the Guardians since his less than pleasant departure during breakfast yesterday. 

Chen shrugged, breathing out as he kept his eyes ever forward. His fingers moved along the side of the glass in his palm, condensation dripping down his fingertips that he paid no mind to in the least, despite the flickers that sparked and died with each drop. He had come here for many reasons. At least three that he could name off the top of his head.

But, he still wanted to know. He still wanted to know what Tao thought he was doing here; a second opinion always and forever calming his thunderous thoughts.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Chen glanced at the younger male, keeping his eyes down, only seeing the curve of his elbow which kept him propped up against the bar.

“Luhan.” Tao explained simply, meaning that Chen’s one-on-one meeting with him had long since been divulged to the rest of the group; the only reason the time-controlling Guardian would know to go to Luhan to find out his whereabouts. 

But, that wasn’t all. He didn’t end it there, his head turning to look on at Chen who wouldn’t look back. Not right now. Not until his next words left his lips, “But, you’re always in places like this.” He surveyed the four walls of the establishment once more, “So dim to the point where darkness is only a step away.”

Chen managed a smile, despite not knowing how or why he was able to, “It’s funny how well you know me.”

Tao nodded, “Isn’t it?”

That’s right. One of the reasons he had come here was because it matched the environment he felt most at peace in. Bordering on complete darkness. An absence of judgment. Lacking in those who would hold his faults against him. This place was one in which people would forget those they once laughed merrily with, as well as those they once fought fiercely against. That was one of the reasons he was here, as well as one of the reasons he had stayed since dawn greeted the vacant city streets. But, it was the third of the three.

The second was because he had wanted to see the place she had been unknowingly hiding from them in. He wanted to know the nights she knew. He wanted to see it, smell it, hear it. He wanted to melt in it, blend himself into the mix; the reason he came without hearing his ceremonial robes. Because maybe then he’d grow to understand her even more. Maybe then he’d be able to experience first hand the fondness she had for this place and its glasses, smokestacks, and idle chatter.

Maybe then he’d see the meaning behind the name “Two Moon” that he had been attempting to discover since he first set foot through that creaking, wooden entryway.

The first, and most important, reason of the three, however, didn’t stem from his own wonderings. The first was one he had been left to think about on his own after last night, when he spoke with Luhan through a streetside payphone.

“She left me a note, ya know? The afternoon before she changed, she had slipped it under my bedroom door.” He reached down, sliding his hand into the pocket of his jeans, his fingers feeling the familiar, twice folded piece of paper whose message he had repeated so often, that had bounced against the walls of his mind so much, that he had memorized it, “Two Moons is where it starts.” And, yet again, it didn’t fail to send tremors running down his spine, his body reacting to that which his mind knew not, “If only I knew what that meant.”

Tao didn’t respond, his ears taking in Chen’s words. His mind storing them for later use, even if he – as Chen did – knew not when they would be, or if they ever would be, useful.

“I’ll come back.” Chen answered the question Tao never asked, “But, for tonight, I’m staying here.”

Tao hummed to himself, spinning slowly on his heel before taking a seat at Chen’s side, “Fair enough.”

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did.” Chen clarified, giving him a pointed look to emphasize his lack of regret for his past actions that, at the very least, occurred just yesterday.

“I didn’t ask you to.” Tao smiled, leaning on his elbows which laid atop the counter he once struggled to remain propped upon. And the two said little to much else from then on, Tao’s acceptance of Chen, of the “nothing” they had ended up doing together, burdenless and heart-warming.

Acceptance.

There’s something both comforting and frightening about it. About that word and its positive connotations. And its negative connotations. And its unsaid, unspoken denotations.

There was something both comforting and frightening about the way the moonlight pierced through the windows then, striking the mirrors with the light it carefully stored during the day bit by bit.

And, that’s when one of many of Chen’s questions was answered.

He knew it now.

He knew now the significance of this place’s name. Because, as he let his eyes drift across the walls, he saw it. He saw the two moons which were reflected back towards each other, a trick of mirrors and murky lighting that he never found more breathtaking.

That night, the Two Moon bar enjoyed the company of two moons who existed beyond the mirror. With no trick up either’s sleeve. With clearer eyes than they should have had despite the smoke that clouded the path ahead of them.

“Tao didn’t come back with much, did he?” Suho kicked the marble floor with his foot, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand in a worrisome manner.

“He was rightfully distracted.” Kris defended, hands deep within the recesses of his robe pockets, “Considering what he witnessed that morning, I don’t blame him for coming back with so little.”

Suho begrudgingly nodded, agreeing with him even though he was still put on edge by the entire ordeal, “I know.” He let out a deep-rooted grunt, accepting the reality of the situation much harder than he would have liked it to be. So, like a mantra, he repeated his words, hoping to convince himself with each empty syllable, “I know.”

“Has Kai reported back regarding their recent movement?” Kris asked, looked upwards. It was a question not posed to Suho, but to the one whose voice inhabited the translucent orb floating above the two, taking part in the conversation they were having in front of the entrance to the Hall.

“I still don’t think we should have chosen him to send out today.” Suho mumbled beneath his breath, his eyes tracing deep lines in the floor beneath his feet.

“And who should we send instead?” Kris apprehensively shot back, “Lay? He’s not exactly suited for fights outside of the one-on-one parameter. D.O? If something happens, how can we expect him to be fast enough to get away? Sehun? He’s got some ugly pent up rage he’d be more than ready to relieve at the drop of a hat. Baekhyun? After the fiasco he caused two days ago, we couldn’t send him there again so soon. Chen, Xiumin, or Tao? The three are nowhere to be found. Don’t even get me started on Chanyeol—”

“Kris.” Luhan called out, his voice booming as it bounced from wall to wall of the long halls around them, echoing off of every corner and every edge. The ability to transmit his voice in such a way was always useful. Especially now, as he stopped Kris from over analyzing the situation any further, something he had the tendency to do on more than just one occasion; especially when things got particularly tense.

Kris in a breath, breathing out through his nose to calm his nerves that felt like Chen had jolted him to life all at once. He faced Suho, whose lips were set into a firm line. Who, despite all the more than reasonable explanations Kris had just provided him, was still sure of his previous words. And, he ended up giving in.

Kris ended up relinquishing to Suho the very truth. Kris ended up admitting, with his head hung low, retracing those lines Suho had so meticulously drawn, “You’re right. I know, you’re right. I know. But,” he looked up, a sigh that seemed to stretch as long as the horizon leaving him, “what else could we do?”

Who else could they send when no one else was able enough to do that which was required of them? When, as entities threatened them on all sides, the two themselves had to remain beneath the surface? What else could they do, as the pieces of what used to seem so perfectly, effortlessly, stitched together laid in ruin all around them?

The door to the Hall opened then, revealing beneath it the pair of unforgiving, sharp scissors which cut the thread that bound them. That so easily disrupted the peace they had maintained for years, even when change rocked their current days.

“Good evening.” She greeted, the flame-controlling Guardian at her side. As it were, it was his duty today to look after her as she walked in down the streets that held danger at every corner. Through the city whose outliers threatened her existence. Across the surface of the world whose weight lay on her shoulders. As it were, Chanyeol, whose day was filled with silence, bowed to the two, muttering a soft greeting before disappearing down one of many halls.

As it were, she was smiling despite it all; clouded eyes staring into a fogged up mirror. 

A/N: 

Empty author's note is empty. So, let's move onto logistics!  

Sidenote #1: Cera is pronounced as /see-rah/.

Sidenote #2: Click here for appreciation post.