“She couldn’t handle it. The truth. The ugly reality of it all.”

I couldn’t. The very truth of the matter is that I couldn’t. After everything. Every resolution. Every promise. Every hopeful hope. After all of it, I gave up in the end. Because I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the truth of my entire life being a lie.

“But, I can. I can handle all of it. Everything. Anything.”

And she did. I wanted her to, for as long as it would take me to accept my own broken reality. The reality that came crashing down around me as I stared at the faces of my parents. A photo she tore and burnt. A memory Cera disposed of for me.

For me.

Everything she did was for me.

Because I didn’t want to even look at myself, she avoided every mirror, every reflective metal, every broadcast that flashed my face no matter where she went. Because I didn’t feel like smiling, she smiled for me. Widely and proudly, she picked up the slack I had left behind. Because of this, I feel anything but hate for her. Like an older twin sister, she served as the foil to my personality. To my strengths. To my weaknesses. The last thing I felt for her was hate. The first thing I felt was respect.

And yet, the Guardians abhorred her. They rejected my more lovely, charming, stronger other half. Because they couldn’t see me, because they could only see her, they assumed I was gone. That she had forced herself forth when I was the one who called for her assistance in the first place. That she was there by her own choice, because I had no one else to turn to as I reflected on my own inconsistent history. They’d be right on that account. I had no one else to relinquish control to. But, she didn’t have to.

Cera didn’t have to come out as she did.

She could have left me to deal with it as she tormented me internally, admonishing me for my own frailty. Yet, she answered my call. Because I needed her, she came out for me. Just like when Baekhyun lay upon his bed, Death at his door, she saved me from my own destruction.

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

Her first reprimand upon my active denial of that which she tore in half.

“But, there’s only so much volume a barrel can hold.”

Her way of empathizing with my struggle, because surely all of her past lives had experienced more stress than I could even begin to enumerate.

“Do not do that which you will live to regret.”

Her advice which warned me against impulsivity.

“Is your anger so slight that it can be relieved by this alone?”

Her question addressing my psychological moratorium which had begun to resign to impassivity.

“It is not that you can not, it is that you will not.”

Her second scolding which cut deeper than the first, time passing so quickly I could barely remember what day it was until she chanced a glance at the calendar hanging in the kitchen.

It could have continued on like this forever. If three specific things hadn’t happened in the span of twenty-four hours, I don’t know when I would have come back. I don’t know if I would have come back at all.

Firstly, there was Chen. He was right on the money, as always, when it came to my feelings, my thoughts, and my personality. Cera was rebuffing his words, as usual. Because they stirred me in a way that made me feel guilty. Guilty because Chen’s image of me was so accurate, so perfect, it was too perfect. Living up to his expectations was burdensome. Knowing he expected so much of me made me want to crawl deeper into the hole I had dug for myself.

But, then, when he came close, when Cera inhaled a breath to speak, I smelt it: the stench of cigarettes mixed with a sweet twinge of alcohol. It was a smell that I recognized. That used to hang to my evening clothes. That used to flit around me so often I would not have recognized it in the past. It had been so long, too long, since I had been there. Apparently, it hadn’t been long since he had been there.

There, at the Two Moon bar.

I almost sprang forth from the pit of my own demise right then and there.

Chen had gone to a place he imagined represented who I was, who I am, in search for me. He understood me so well because he set out to do so. He put in the effort and, without fail, would reap the rewards each and every time we spoke. And at this notion, at the idea that he hadn’t given up on me in the least, at the fact that he would go to such lengths to help me himself, I almost came back.

In the end, however, I didn’t.

Because Cera pleaded me not to, because there was something she wanted to do, something she had to accomplish first, something I didn’t know then, I didn’t.

I hung back and watched and listened to what happened next. 

Secondly, there was Tao. Cera, upon his questioning, elaborated upon a twisted truth. A falsity in some part, but a truth in most. I could hear them. I could see them. Everything they said and did was witnessed by me from the recesses of the vast expanse of black which surrounded me, as though I were third person to all of it. Still, I was there. Still, despite not being there fully.

But, and this is the truth no matter the sounds of my own heart breaking I heard seeing Tao’s downtrodden expression then, this was something I had to come to terms with on my own. His strength was my own, but then and there, I felt too weak to overcome my own twisted truth.

Thirdly, there was our – Cera and I’s – argument regarding both Tao and Kris. I was upset at her for causing Tao to look at me the way he did. Again, so disappointed. So sadly. My vision, despite its events having long since passed, depicted him the way he still looked now. I was angry because of this. It was displaced in this case. I forced it onto her, as though it were her own fault Tao looked at me the way he did. As though she could say anything or do anything to make him smile again, I threw my rage at her.

You could have said it differently. You’re always so harsh with them for no reason whatsoever, I, myself, harshly spoke up from my pitiful corner surrounded by darkness.

“I wasn’t being harsh. Tao must face the reality of the situation,” Cera replied with arm’s crossed as she stared own at the me reflected in front of her.

You twisted the truth, I revealed to her, as though she hadn’t know what she was doing – even though she always did.

“Whether I twisted the truth to my will or not, what’s done is done. I don’t regret it in the least.”

And Kris? I questioned. You won’t hold regrets about not telling him?

“It’s different with Kris. You know it is. Why else would you cry at the very notion of what you saw?”

Holding back in some cases and going straight forward in others. You’re selectively choosing what to reveal and what to not even mention a word of, I asserted.

“I’m not selectively holding back.”

Are you not? Then why hold back on Kris’s account? Why did you do exactly what I would have done? Why would you make that same, awful choice? Unless it’s because he comforted you regarding Kai? I insinuated to an idea she knew well.

“Favoritism has nothing to do with this.”

Then why do you wish to stay longer? Why did you stop me from taking over when I would have readily done so? What are you trying to tell me, Cera? Because, honestly, I don’t know anymore. I argued.

“Lecture at me later. I’m too tired to deal with you now.”

And, while I was stuck teetering on the edge of unreasonable frustration and utter confusion, Cera happened upon him.

Lastly, there, caught by Cera exiting Tao’s room, was Luhan. The truth is, the truth Cera was trying to convey to me all along is, I wasn’t ready at all. I would never be ready. Not to see Luhan’s face at long last. Not to face the truth. Not to address it bravely. Not to do anything but struggle to move forward, but struggle nevertheless.

“A person who would rather stay locked up in their own little paradise will never be happy!”

Happy. I was trying to find that emotion again amidst the black. I was trying to make sense of all the times I thought were “happy” and all the times that truly were. In my own little paradise, in my own body, not having to deal with my life first hand, it all felt so much easier. I didn’t have to struggle because someone would do it for me. I wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge I now have because someone would do so for me.

But, that wasn’t happiness.

My pursuit had turned out fruitless down the path I had taken – and as Prince Rasselas knows, many did.

I was running, hiding, and saying I’ll face it tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week, or the next month, perhaps even next year until all the days blurred together and tomorrow never really came.

But, I couldn’t hide from it any longer. I couldn’t allow Cera to continue doing that which I should have been doing myself. As the Seeress of Exo, no matter the past I lived, no matter those whose hands deliberately wrote every line and marked every period, I would face the future with new resolutions, promises, and hopeful hope. I would struggle on in my new pursuit. For the Exotians who rely on me and the Guardians who believe in me, the past is insignificant.

It is merely something I must take in stride and move forward from.

For allowing me time to do this I would not otherwise have, for saving me from myself, thank you, Cera.

“Don’t thank the messenger.”

Luhan had watched her fall. He wished he hadn’t. It would have been better if he hadn’t. If he had averted his eyes and missed the moment in which, by the use his powers granted upon him by the Tree of Life and the Moon, he saw her, through one of those empty, translucent orbs hanging in front of him, bang her head onto the door before slumping over. Because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have felt like he did then.

Guilty. Worried. Engulfed by anxious trepidation as he stood for a few moments, simply watching her unmoving image that displayed itself before him amidst the black. Not a single thought ran through his head. Not a sentence, a word, or even an idea presented itself. He merely stood there. Silent. Deathly still. Expressionless.

He wasn’t sure how to feel, how to react, or how to even speak, at the moment.

He didn’t go running to her rescue like a prince in shining armor. It was neither in his ability nor his personality to do so. He had always observed. Like a third person, looking from the outside in, he rarely interacted first hand with such decisions regarding the safety of another. The well-being of her highness. The personal sphere of his Seeress.

The one sphere he couldn’t control with ease. That didn’t show him what he wanted, when he wanted. That he wasn’t allowed to want access to in the first place. And because he wasn’t supposed to want it, to impose himself upon her, to become a prince, he merely stood there.

He briefly stood there.

He only stood there for a few seconds more before he turned slowly, unlocking and opening his door. There, right at his feet, right in his reach, was the sight of that he had seen through omnipresent looking glasses. Her highness, sprawled upon the marble floor, eyelashes cascading down upon unblinking eyes, lips parted, chest moving up and down rhythmically. He sank to his knees, staring on as he reached out with one of his hands, fingertips touching her upon her reddened forehead to judge if she was real.

If he weren’t merely dreaming up this entire, reality-bending experience. If he hadn’t been caught outside of his room without wanting to be. If she had truly called out his name the way she did. If Cera were truly gone, and as a result, he was left to deal with that which he had inadvertently caused.

It was too late now.

But, at the very least, he would make sure he wasn’t there when her highness awoke. That he wouldn’t become her prince. That he would never have another chance to.

He looked up, one of those small, familiar spheres drifting into his sight as he willed it, and said with eerie calmness, “Lay, please come to my room. Her highness has collapsed.”

Tao didn’t like waiting. Waiting to find out when he would be able to walk without a limp again. Waiting to find out what would happen when it came to the Boards in Sector E. Waiting to find out if her highness was alright after Luhan broadcasted throughout the hall that she had collapsed suddenly and without warning. The latter of that sentence something he didn’t say at all. And yet, Tao couldn’t help but feel it was such.

Just hours ago, she was visiting him in his room. Now, as D.O had told him not long ago, keeping him from running of to her as he felt every nerve in his body telling him to do, she was sleeping in her room. Lay said she merely fainted. Stress. Exhaustion. Overbearing worry. All of it piled up and she simply passed out. That’s all.

That’s all, D.O said.

And yet, Tao begged to differ.

In the past, the present, and the future, her highness’s health has been intertwined with her mental state. With her visions. With the sheer number she would have at any one point in time. With her tendency to impulsively move to action when something troubled her. Whether that be to reach out and hold him close, or bang her head upon a door – that which he had learned to be the physical cause of her collapsed.

Right there.

Right outside his door, he had heard banging. Her voice yelling. Then, nothing. And then, sometime after, Luhan announced what he did. D.O soothed him, kept him in his bed as the others exchanged yells between themselves. And now, Tao himself felt all of that which it was supposed she had: stress, exhaustion, and overbearing worry.

Yet, he couldn’t fall asleep so easy.

It all kept him awake, staring up at the ceiling, pile upon pile of thoughts building up like snow on a soundless winter morning. He, equipped with neither a shovel nor a snow plow. Barefooted, the ice stung at his skin as he attempted to wade through it. To clear it from his mind, to feel the warm sidewalk beneath his feet once more that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. To fall asleep, because everything would be better tomorrow.

It had to be.

It had to be, as his bedroom door opened just then, the footsteps of who he anticipated to be D.O, Lay, or Kris coming to check on him sounding flat against the marble flooring. They had come in barefoot, it seemed. He moved to turn his head as he saw the dim light from the hallway slowly disappear from behind the closing door. He opened his mouth to say a slew of words regarding his present condition, questioning her highness’s, and reassuring whoever it was that it was fine to leave him alone.

To go check on her instead.

“Hey.”

He had never expected she would come to him herself.

At the sight of her highness standing there beside the light of his bedside lamp, one hand waving to him blissfully as the other gripped into the fabric of her nightgown, a tender smile on her face, her hair a mess as though she had just rolled out of bed, he attempted to move to a sitting position. She immediately took steps forward, bare feet tapping down upon the cold floor, her hands reaching out to stop him from doing so. And so, he remained, at the insistence of her gesture.

“Cera?” He questioned, questioning the situation itself more than anything.

She seemed to somberly smile again then. The act of her chin tucking inward, hiding her expression, made it hard for him to catch full sight of it. Made him regret not sitting up all the way.

“Tao.”

She called his name. Freely, as though it didn’t matter if the entire planet were listening. Melodically, as though humming it to herself on a morning stroll. Like she used to. Not directly and sternly, as a mother would. Rather, as a friend would. Rather, not like Cera would at all. And upon that single conclusion regarding her inflexion upon his name, he called out her own.

Her real name.

Not Cera. Not “her highness.” Not “my Seeress.”

In response, she meekly nodded, smiling a smile that seemed to go on forever.

He felt like crying, his eyes watering as he turned his gaze to the ceiling once more, reality seeming too good to be true. He felt like yelling out, because he wasn’t allowed to do so when she fainted earlier this night. He felt like laughing, because he was happy. He was left smiling in the end, as she crawled into his bed beside him, laying atop the covers.

“I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s sleep.” She stubbornly announced as the reason behind her action, eyelashes fluttering closed, hands gathering together in front of her, before she whispered, “Tomorrow will be better, Tao. So, let’s sleep for now.”

Her bare feet pressed against his own, shoveling away that insurmountable pile of snow, melting the ice, soothing the sting, giving him back the warm pavement he had grown so fond of. That he had missed so much he could only smile as he felt it return to him, turning on his side towards her as well no matter how much his body protested, wrapping her hands in his own.

He fell asleep then, forgetting his stress and his worries, giving into his exhaustion.

And he was happy.

That’s all.

A/N: 

I really love how simple and short this chapter is. Luhan's scene turned out much differently from how I was going to write it at first, but, as I finally sat down to do it, what you just read came out instead. And, I feel like it fits so much better. If you read nothing else, please read this. By the way, this chapter was inspired by Exo's "Miracles In December." It's almost eerie how well it fits (lyric wise) with this story's plot as it stands now in general. Or, perhaps I'm just twisting it to my liking. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 

Also, this story is officially one year old! Oh my goodness! Let's all pat ourselves on the back for making it this far, shall we? Thank you for sticking by me through thick and thin for this story and I hope that I can continue to receive your support in the future too!

I wish everyone a warm morning, afternoon, or night wherever you are in the world as we battle the winter season together.