Luhan wakes with a fright, his heart leaping out of his chest as a voice whispering his name echoes in his ears. His body is covered in a cold sweat and his clothes stick to him. Luhan’s hands are trembling so he grips the sheets with a strength he didn’t know he had in an attempt to stop them. His covers are strewn across the floor and his legs are tangled in them, hanging off the bed.

Groaning, Luhan carelessly hauls himself out of bed, crashing to the floor ungraciously. It’s a struggle to free his legs from the web of blanket and once he is free, he merely lays motionless with the back of his hand resting on his forehead.

Luhan’s head pulses from fatigue caused by a sleep that didn’t feel like sleep. It was more like a complete shutdown of his body while his mind ran rampant. With weary bones, aching muscles, and a whole lot of perseverance Luhan shakily drags himself to his feet.

He staggers to his bathroom and looks in the mirror to see a face he barely recognizes as his own. He is haggard, his cheeks sunken in, bags beneath his eyes, and lips colorless. Luhan turns on the faucet and splashes cool water on his face, shocking him awake. He proceeds to wash his face and brush his teeth in a manner befitting that of a zombie until there is a knock on the door and he is truly woken from his trance.

“Yeah?” Luhan calls out instead of going to answer the door.

“Luhan?” It’s his mother. “Could you run out and buy the groceries for me? Your dad has an important luncheon to attend and I have to go with him.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, thanks sweetie. The money and list are on the counter. Call if you need us. Bye!” Luhan waits and listens to his mother’s footsteps receding as she walks down the stairs. Then, he quickly gets dressed and remains in his room until he’s heard the front door shut and his father’s car leaving. Finally alone, Luhan fetches the note and feather before heading downstairs. A post-it tells him there’s food in the fridge so he grabs the post-it and throws it in the trash. He takes an apple, ignoring the fridge, and stuffs the money and grocery list in his pocket.

Then, he heads out.

When Luhan checks his phone for the time it’s already 11:30. With the feather clutched tightly in one hand, Luhan begins his journey to the supermarket. He’s been walking for about ten minutes when he becomes rooted to the spot by a sight that sends chills down his spine. There is something taped to a pole on the other side of the street, it’s outline and texture seeming all too familiar.

Luhan’s instincts tell him to keep walking but his curiosity brings the guillotine over his head. He warily crosses the street and when he’s about halfway he can make out the object and realizes it is a tawny feather. He steps up to it and compares it to the one in his hand.

“They’re nearly the same,” he whispers. Luhan wants to believe this is a coincidence but he knows it isn’t. Upon further inspection, Luhan figures out that the feather is pointing somewhere.

His eyes follow the tip and he squints in order to catch a glimpse of tawny stuck on the swing set quite a distance away. “No, that can’t be right,” he says because that is the swing set he and Kris walk by on their way to and from school.

An alarm is blaring in his mind to get the hell back on task because groceries don’t buy themselves but Luhan’s already into this by a thing called curiosity which will certainly be his undoing. He leaves the feather on the pole alone and trudges over to the one on the swing set. The feather is taped in place, its tip pointing in another direction and Luhan looks over. His assumptions are correct when he sees another dot of tawny off in the distance.

But, before he follows this feathered path, he sits on one of the swings and gently pushes off. He swings back and forth, getting higher and higher until the wind is in his hair and his body is half-flying out of the swing. He stops when he feels his heart jump into his throat and his slides to the edge of the seat, letting the swing slowly come to a stop on its own.

In the past, and sometimes the present, Kris would challenge Luhan to a game of chicken on the swings. They’d each get on and propel themselves higher to the point where they’d feel they could reach out and touch the sky. Then they’d both chicken out at the same time, laughing like maniacs as they descended back to earth.

There was one particular time not too long ago where Luhan thought he’d be fearless, dared by Kris to swing as high as he could and jump off, and he did just that which resulted in broken bones, cuts, and bruises. The only thing that wasn’t damaged was Luhan’s pride. It was boosted actually, because when he came back from the hospital and was free from a month’s grounding, Kris and his other friends revered him for his courage.

Luhan smiles at the memory and recalls how his chest swelled with pride the day of his “homecoming”. His mother called him an idiot and his father just chuckled at him but Luhan hadn’t minded especially when his friends respected him.

He hops to the ground and decides to stop reminiscing and continue down the path he’s chosen to take. The groceries can wait, he thinks, and he follows the direction the feather is pointing. The next one has less significance to Luhan. It’s merely a pole in front of a café he went in once several months ago. He does remember his experience there though because it was a bad one, consisting of disgusting coffee and money he’ll never get back again. If anything, this place brings him a certain disdain and Luhan doesn’t understand the pattern of these feathers’ locations.

The following feathers are situated in common places that Luhan passes by, like the convenience store he stops by with his friends to buy ice cream, the bench he rests at when he goes on walks, the bus stop he goes by on his way to school, and many more average places that have no huge relevance to Luhan.

Luhan stops at a feather located in front of the bookstore he went in once or twice because he’d been bored, and pulls out the note. Putting the note into context still makes no sense to him because he has no idea who wrote the note in the first place. Whose unrequited love is this referring to? It is not Luhan’s for he has never seen Sehun at any of the feathers’ points.

Thinking back on Kim Jongdae and his stepbrother, Luhan wonders if maybe it’s the stepbrother’s unrequited love because it sure as hell isn’t Jongdae’s. But Luhan finds fault in that conclusion too. He’s never met Kim Minhyuk, no wait it’s Kim Minseok, and Luhan finds it hard to believe he can be the object of anyone’s affections.

There’s no point in over thinking and Luhan guesses that his journey may be over soon since he’s walked by a dozen feathers by now so he’s bound to reach the finish at some point. Luhan gets up and treks on; walking down the street in the direction he’s meant to go but sees no feather in sight. Even when he scrunches his eyes in a feeble attempt to see farther he can’t make out a blotch of tawny anywhere.

He almost misses the pet store while trying to find a feather but the screeching of a bird and the barking of multiple dogs startles him so he freezes and looks into the window. The dogs place their paws up on the window, mixed breeds most likely because they have a splash of browns, white, and black, and features that can’t be pinpointed to just one breed. The bird is what catches Luhan’s attention most.

He’s unsure of what kind of bird it is, maybe a hawk of some sort, he’s never been knowledgeable about birds. But, he isn’t stupid and can match things to their owners when he needs too and the feather in his hand and all the feathers he’s followed thus far belong to this bird. There is no doubt about it.

The bird stares him down with beady little eyes, his beak small yet razor sharp, talons hooked around a perch set up in the cage, its feathers a blend of tawny and white. Luhan narrows his eyes at the bird, his stomach churning a bit, and he flinches when it lets out another screech. He’s beginning to get annoyed but also excited at the thought that this must be his last stop; this is where the mystery will be solved.

Cautiously, Luhan pushes open the door to the store, vaguely recalling the fact that Jongdae mentioned his mother owned a pet shop, and enters. Bells tinkle as the door shuts and a middle-aged woman glances up from the counter. Her features are marred by fatigue and sadness, but Luhan can see she must have been beautiful when she was younger. She smiles softly at him and Luhan bows in greeting.

“Welcome,” she says and it’s as if her voice is the bell at the door.

“Hello,” Luhan responds quietly.

“I saw you looking at Lu,” she says, “Do you like him?”

It takes Luhan a second to realize she is referring to the bird. “Uh, yeah. He’s…pretty.” Is it right to call birds pretty? Luhan has no clue.

“Yeah, my stepson really liked him. Didn’t want him to be up for sale,” she replies and melancholy appears evident on her aged face. “I was going to give it to him as a graduation present. I guess it’s too late now.”

“What happened to him?” Luhan asks, already predicting the answer but asking just to make sure.

“He…committed suicide two nights ago,” she almost whispers.

“Was it Kim Minseok?” Luhan practically regrets asking because the woman flinches as if she’s been hit but nods afterwards.

“Are you Luhan?”

“Yes, I am.” Luhan’s surprised she knows his name but then again maybe Jongdae said something to her about him. Does she blame him for Minseok’s death as well?

“Hmm, you’re much more handsome in person,” she says but doesn’t delve further than that. “Follow me.”

She walks out from behind the counter and pauses, glancing at Luhan to see if he will follow and he does. She leads them to the back of the store and unlocks a door, opening it and making way for him to go in. Standing by the door, she points at a cardboard box with Kim Minseok’s name written on it.

“Minseok wrote in his note to show that to you when you came here. I didn’t understand how you’d ever come here but I guess he had things arranged already. It scary, how planned out it was. I’ll be right out there if you need me,” she says before leaving him in a room with a dead man’s box.

Five minutes pass before Luhan gathers the courage and strength to walk up to the box. His hands fail him though, shaking uncontrollably as he reaches out and brings the box into his lap. He peers in to look at the contents and only finds a cassette tape. He scans the room and notices the TV and VHS player that he didn’t see before. With weak knees and a crumbling resolve, Luhan takes the cassette and pushes it into the player.

He pauses it right at the start when the screen is still black. His breathing is shallow and he’s chewing his bottom lip so much he thinks he must be bleeding. Fingernails digging into the fabric of his jeans, Luhan scratches his legs anxiously because if not his legs he would claw at his face instead.

If this is how he is reacting now though, Luhan is terrified of what could be on this video. It couldn’t possibly be a video of Kim Minseok’s suicide, could it? Luhan would surely puke onto his lap if it is.

Then, at that moment, he recalls Jongdae’s accusations and wonders if this will be a video of Minseok himself spitting curses at Luhan for driving him to the brink. Either way, it unsettles him and makes him queasy.

Inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, Luhan puts the deep breathing exercises he had to make a project about in one of his classes to good use. It calms him only slightly but enough to give him the confidence to press play.

The video starts off with a cute face Luhan can’t recognize but he knows it’s Minseok. He wonders how he missed a face like that, all soulful eyes, round cheeks, and pink lips. He finds himself blushing when Minseok smiles softly, lips edging up minutely in a way that resembles timid first love.

And oh how wonderful Minseok’s voice is, the epitome of harmony and melody, when he says two simple words, “Hello Luhan.”

“He-“Luhan begins to respond but remembers that Minseok can’t hear him.

“You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Kim Minseok,” he says and his smile turns sad. It tugs at Luhan’s heartstrings and his chest aches a bit. The soul seeps out of Minseok’s eyes. “I made this video so I could tell you something that I’ve never had the confidence to say to you when I was alive.”

Luhan chokes at the phrase “when I was alive” and his hands are kneading together and scraping at his jeans, his mind a jumbled mess.

“Are you listening? I hope so. You have a habit of spacing out when things don’t involve Sehun. However, I don’t wanna talk about Sehun right now. I’m being selfish but I want this to be about you and me only.” Minseok chuckles a little and Luhan laughs along quietly. He has no clue what’s come over him. It’s like a shroud that Minseok’s magically cast upon him, bringing him to Minseok’s time then and not Luhan’s time now.

Minseok clears his throat and the camera in his hand shakes. He walks out of whatever room he’s in, which Luhan realizes too late that it’s the room he’s in now, and stands behind the pet store’s counter. He turns the camera around, panning it from one side of the room to the other allowing Luhan to see the various animals and products. He can hear the dogs yipping, the birds chirping and the unmistakable screech belonging to Lu.

Minseok stops when Lu is in the middle of the frame and he begins speaking. “See that bird there, that one’s my favorite. I named him Lu, after you. He doesn’t like me much though and only listens to my stepmom, but he’s beautiful like you.”

Zooming in so Lu’s body fills the whole screen; Minseok calls out to the bird. “Hey Lu, say hi to Luhan, he’s your namesake!”

Lu stares at the camera before releasing a high pitched caw and fluttering to the floor of the cage. There’s rustling and the camera shakes before Minseok has flipped it back on him. He’s grinning now and Luhan can’t believe this is the face of someone who contemplated and executed suicide.

“He’s feisty, isn’t he?” Minseok laughs and Luhan’s eyes sting from the few tears pricking them. “Anyways, do you remember this place? You probably don’t.”

Luhan can’t remember ever walking into this pet store because he’s never looked for a pet but then he recalls a moment where he was bored and wanted to buy anything and nearly ended up buying a pet. His friends had been out of town that day for some dance competition that his parents wouldn’t let him go to so he’d roamed the city on his own and mustered the nerve to almost purchase a pet bird.

“This is where we first met. I bet you didn’t know that,” Minseok says. His voice draws Luhan back to reality, or at least Minseok’s reality. “You came in, huffing and sighing nonstop, your eyebrows were furrowed and you were just plain angry. I thought it was interesting. I’ve never seen anyone walk into a pet shop looking angry. I greeted you from the counter and you only grunted in reply. I didn’t mind though, everyone has their off days I thought, but there was also something about you that I liked. I didn’t know what it was then and I still don’t know now but I embraced it.

“You stomped around the store for a bit, glaring down the puppies and kittens, growling at the guinea pigs and rabbits, hissing at the snakes. It was an amusing sight to say the least. But then, you stopped in front of Lu. Lu squawked at you first and you blinked in surprise. It was a cute look on you.

“Then you turned to me and asked me how much he cost and what his name was. I told you he was over $100 and that he didn’t have a name yet so you scoffed and turned away. You mumbled something I couldn’t understand before storming out the store and that was the last time you ever came in.”

Minseok finishes his story with a warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a while and Luhan sits in the silence, his breaths shallow, his palms clammy, sweat glistening on his brow, lips pulled into a thin line, eyes burning from tears unshed. He doesn’t remember that happening, not at all, and guilt gnaws at his insides.

Next, Minseok smiles wider and begins moving again. The camera moves from side to side and Minseok murmurs a quiet apology for not being able to hold the camera still. He exits the pet shop and filming what he sees. Luhan watches the world in Kim Minseok’s eyes and gulps nervously. It’s so real, so utterly real that Luhan thinks he’s walking with Minseok now instead of watching a video made by a dead man.

Luhan gasps when Minseok stops in front of the same bookstore he found a feather at and watches Minseok tape up that very feather in the exact same position.

“This is the second place we met. You were browsing for a book with lots of action and I suggested one for you. You smiled at me and actually bought it. That was one of the happiest days of my life,” Minseok says tenderly. “You probably don’t remember that either though. You got a text from Sehun right after I suggested it to you and scurried away to buy it and meet up with him.”

Luhan remembers this but not Minseok’s face, not his voice telling him anything, not his hands giving him the book, nothing about Minseok at all. Guilt eats him slowly, agonizingly slowly, in the cruelest way possible. Is this Minseok’s plan? To kill him with guilt?

After that, Minseok continues down the same path Luhan followed to get here, only backwards. At each place, he describes scenes where he saw Luhan. Like how he saw Luhan trip and scrape his knee at the bus stop, how he saw Luhan and Kris arguing about music artist on the way to school, how he saw Luhan’s face twist in disgust when he drank that nasty coffee at that café he never went to again, or how he saw Luhan fly off the swing before crashing to Earth like a fallen angel.

“These moments I saw you, they were never planned. At first, I thought it was a coincidence the first time and then after the second and third, I believed it was fate. But, you never noticed me. Not once,” Minseok murmurs.

 He’s now standing before the first pole, sticking up the feather, and then collapses to the ground in a heap. The camera sits in his lap, pointing in the direction of Luhan’s house. “This is where I stood when I realized I loved you.”

A drop of water lands on Luhan’s quaking hands and he’s puzzled about when he started sweating. But it’s not sweat he quickly learns, they’re tears. He brushes them away and reaches forward to stop the tape because he doesn’t want to hear anymore, he’s frightened out of his mind and he truly thinks he might die.

“And, this is when I realized I could never have you and that I couldn’t live without you. Sehun went over to your house that day and while you said your goodbyes, I saw the look in your eyes. Filled with nothing but love and adoration, like mine for you.” Minseok’s voice is barely above a whisper and it cracks, the only indication that he is crying.

“This is all I wanted to tell you Luhan. I wanted you to learn the truth about my unrequited love and how much of a fool I am. How cowardly I am for not being able to tell you in person. This is as close as I can get. But please remember, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I’m sorry,” Minseok breathes and the video cuts off abruptly.

A black screens screams at Luhan, dark, ominous, daunting, and he remains statuesque. His limbs are stiff, stuck in place, his eyes no longer suppressing the flood of tears, his heart no longer beating rhythmically but rather sluggish. Luhan wants to scream. His throat is dry though. He wants to cry. Wait, he’s already crying.

He wants to die.

He cannot.

He is a coward too, he learns. He wants to die to be rid of guilt, the move of a coward. He wants to live for fear of death. It’s a vicious cycle, his emotions caught in a cyclone of this and that, of sorrow and guilt, of shock and fear.

Luhan sits in front of the blank TV screen for what feels like hours, weeping silently in place. Jongdae’s mother opens the door eventually and finds him in his present state, bewildered but motherly instincts kick in and she gently leads him out of the room. She makes him sit down and disappears for a bit only to come back with hot tea.

In his peripheral vision, Luhan catches Jongdae’s figure standing by the bird cage. He stays there with his eyes glued to Luhan, a look of malice in them.

“Are you okay?” Jongdae’s mother asks gently. Luhan nods. “What was in that box? To make you like this?”

Luhan shakes his head and Jongdae’s mother accepts it without putting up a fight. She understands the grief all over his face and allows him to have his moment. “I’m sorry. I should go now. I’m sorry,” he says and dashes out the store before Jongdae’s mother can protest.

There are footsteps behind him and a hand clutches Luhan’s wrist in an iron grip forcing him to a stop. “Where do you think you’re running to?” Jongdae growls. He all but drags Luhan towards a bench illuminated by a pale streetlamp and Luhan realizes he’s spent his whole day following those feathers.

“What was in that box?” Jongdae asks when they’re both seated.

“You don’t know?” Luhan replies.

“No, it was meant for your eyes only. We couldn’t disrespect Minseok’s last wishes,” Jongdae responds, softer this time with pain coating his tone.

“Then all I’ll tell you is that it made me see how much of this is my fault,” Luhan answers solemnly.

Jongdae keeps silent and soaks in the words, a tiny sort of satisfied smile on his lips. “Good. If only your friends knew and the kids at school knew too that they’re to blame as well.”

“Wait, what?” Luhan’s eyes widen and he gazes intently at Jongdae for an explanation.

“You think you’re the only one who never noticed Minseok? Well, you’re wrong. No one noticed him except for me of course. Minseok always did good things, worked hard, and volunteered. He worked in the cafeteria when I should’ve but I was too embarrassed to serve food to my peers. He wasn’t, he was glad to help me and my mother in any way he could.”

Eyes piercing straight through Luhan’s, Jongdae struggles to maintain his composure. Luhan can see the tears welling up and he blinks rapidly to dispel them.

“Because of this, kids used him and mercilessly. They took advantage of his kindness and then forgot who he was the day after. And even after Minseok took his own life, they had the audacity to gossip about it and wonder at his reasons for doing so. They don’t know how responsible they are for it,” Jongdae practically spits the words out venomously.

Finally, Jongdae chokes on his breaths and his shoulders shudder. He fights the tears but they win and spill forth. Luhan tenderly reaches around and draws Jongdae into a tight embrace, ignoring his own tears. They wallow in their own misery and anguish.

It’s comical how they hate one another and yet here they are, clinging to the other like a lifeline in a tempest of chaos, confusion, and woe.

A thought pops into Luhan’s mind, or rather a quote he revives from the dredges of his brain. It’s a quote from Voltaire, the French writer and philosopher. The quote matches the situation so well, it makes Luhan sob harder.

No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible.

---

A/N: Inspired by Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher in case you wanted to know.