Title: ReWrite
Pairing: Sunggyu/Sungyeol
Fandom: Infinite
Rating/Genre: PG-13 (may go up), Angst/Romance
Comment: GyuYeol story o n o 
Haven't stayed on a firm storyline for this one but I can say it'll be a two-shot (I think). And I'm not going to update this yet. Just wanted to post this beforehand.

Prologue

Soft footsteps echo through the large hallway as a figure strides forward with a goal set in mind. It's dark, save for the several dozens lit candles lined against the wall, casting the area in a soft orange glow. And it's due to that that he can see the large bookcases lined side by side on his left and right.

But these are not just any books- they are the lifelines of living beings.

When he stops, he tilts his head up to the left and eventually, settles forward to retrieve a certain book. He stops again- the book he wants is located at the topmost shelf near the ceiling. A few feet too high for him to reach at his height. However, with a gesture of a finger and eyes squint in focus, the book shudders and within a few seconds, it pushes itself from its position and elevates down to him with ease. Raising a hand to tentatively touch the bright orange spine of the book, he takes hold of it and heads toward the end of the hall, where a long case of stairs is located.

He thinks a lot about this and even though he knows he shouldn't interfere with the lives of humans, he takes sympathy on one. He believes it's the Lady Fate that brought him to the book because once he turned to the first page, his heart- empty and void of emotions, was pulled.

How can that be? He isn't meant to carry any sort of emotions for anyone; after all, he's simply a book keeper- one who maintains the history of every individual in the mortal realm. It's his sole priority to see that the lives of humans are carried the way they are written, as the Lady Fate wants it to be.

But this is something that he never expects.

He carries himself up the stairs and straight toward a pair of doors at the end, feet shuffling slowly against the dark wood. Pulling the door open, he eventually heads in and gazes around with a sense of firm resolution. He's really going through with this, he thinks to himself. Consequences be damned.

A short sigh escapes his lips as he strides toward his work desk and gingerly places the book down, his fingers still lingering over the silver glinted etch of the name. He then takes a seat and flips to the first page, like he did the first time he saw the book.

The first page stained red, with five streaks that seems to resemble fingers. Words, inked in cursive black, are still visible, despite it. This alone, tells a story- and with words, it forms into one of a young boy born in the times of war and died at the hands of another.

(he can picture the image of the boy huddling and trembling in the corner of the age worn room, his eyes wide and frightful as he gazed upon the long blood-stained sword pointing right in his face)

So young...and his page cuts short from there.

He was then reborn nearly half a century later and after the first page, comes a group of five- with the fifth page also in red. Murdered.

(shrill, maniacal laughter rings against his ears as if the person’s right before him, followed by screams of pain and choked words of mercy)

And it continued on. Every couple of pages, there would be something. Suicide, murder, kidnap, executed...each and every life this person experienced throughout the years had gone in tragedy. Is the human cursed, he isn't sure but it feels too unnatural for it to be a coincidence. Fate, no matter how she creates the end of a person's life, is not ruthless that she would do something like this.

He flips through the pages, until he reaches one whereas is being written down. Seven and a half pages so far- possibly one of the longer lifelines this person is living in. Good.

Taking a feathered pen from the side, he gently smoothes the page out and begins to write.

This time, there will be a happy ending.