Tenth prefecture- States of Korea, 2245  

 

The sunlight streams in through the windows and fades in her small eyes, dusting away the tender paleness of her skin, slowly, folding frail yellowness between the creases of her skin. The sound of her cough discourages Kyuhyun at first, but as he comes closer to her, he realizes there's nothing he should be afraid of.

"We are time travelers, Kyuhyun. Butterflies living for a day. There's nothing to romanticize at this thing we call life, as there is so much more beyond here than your mind can perceive."

Though they barely blink, looking at her eyes, Kyuhyun thinks he's never seen her more joyful than she is in these last moments. The sun drifts slowly to the other side of the universe, leaving patches of gold on the cloudless sky.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm just asking you to not be afraid. Wake up from this dream and do what you are supposed to do. Break the cycle of separation, as there isn't much time left now."

Kyuhyun doesn't really understand; he's got plenty of time. He's barely twenty-eight ,and he's young and courageous, and there are more tomorrows for him in the future than she can perceive. He's been a part of the old revolution, he can run through this one as well, no walls to stop him.

Brushing her hair behind her ear, Kyuhyun leans in and kisses her forehead. "I'll be okay."

"I don't doubt you capacity of being 'okay'," she tells him, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt with a last effort," but is very difficult to not get caught up in your own emotions, truths, problems.Stop arguing with him. You may not need him, but they do--"

"He won't help us," says Kyuhyun, taking in a deep breath of air, scared at the tone of his own voice. "I know him too well to be mistaken about this one."

"You're not listening to me right now."

"You're telling me to befriends with the enemy!"

"I'm telling you to learn patience."

Someone knocks at the door. Kyuhyun pulls away in that very moment, and the sound of stones thrown away impulsively makes him lean in and cover her body. A boy runs inside the room, bumping into Kyuhyun's shoulder as he gets up again, and hurries to the windows to close them.

"What happened?"

"The commander sent people in, told them you killed the Prime Minister, and now they're after you."

The boy is somewhere around eighteen, fresh tears glazing the edges of his young face as he comes close to the bed and puts a white rose next to her head. Kyuhyun's eyebrows furrow. The boy's voice didn't even stutter, Kyuhyun notices, although his eyes are red and his lips are chapped and dry, and he shouldn't be here. 

"She's dead. We should go now. They won't be able to keep them out for long."

Kyuhyun breathes in. The nervousness in the streets gets to him. He thinks he can hear every single scream and cry, the hearts of children weak with fatigue shrinking at the thought of people hungry for their bodies, waiting for Kyuhyun's bending fingers to straighten and show them the way to freedom. He swallows all the noise in that second and gets up on his feet.

Another wave of stones are thrown, some manage to break through the glass, but Kyuhyun does nothing much but stare at the sea of people, lost in lies and weakness; an abyss of nothingness awaits for him.

"What's your name?"

If only he could move.

"What?"

"Your name," says Kyuhyun again, and this time turns his face towards the boy.

"Sungmin."

His breath stops for that moment.

The boy doesn't cry anymore, and it's like Kyuhyun can see him so much better now. The darkness in his eyes.The warm tent of red caught in his long, soft hair. The lines lazily stretching along his small palms, and Kyuhyun turns his head away, trying to catch his breath. What the hell was that?

"I-- just go. I'll come and..."

Feels like he's met him before, in another life maybe. Secrets like cheap fabric tucked up to his chin, black fringe hiding his round eyes from the sun, a forever wild child gazing at the night sky. 

A shoe smacks the floor lightly. Kyuhyun realizes the kid is behind him, has his hand on his cheek and there's blood on it.

"Why are you still here?" Kyuhyun asks, trying to avoid the people shouting from everywhere.

But before Sungmin has the chance to answer, another boy appears and runs through the room, let's go, he says, grabbing Kyuhyun's hand and leading him out and on to the hallway.

"What about him?" Kyuhyun asks, what about him, the boy says back, fearlessness trying to fit in between all those sobs.

Then, they suddenly stop.

*

China, 1726

For the first time in a while, maps are no longer luring for neither one , which means that Hyukjae , or so was his name, really lacks stamina. Donghae can't blame him though, they've been running for three days straight with cold rain forcing their bodies to shut down, and they almost got caught twice. Looking at the sun peeking through the laden branches, Donghae notices it's almost noon. They could rest for a bit.

"I'm tired too," Donghae finally says, throwing his bag on the grass. They are not safe here, in the midst of the forest, and they both know that, but Hyukjae's foot has been limping for good hours now and Donghae knows that if he doesn't do something about it, the wound will get infected.

"Here," says Donghae, letting the other one rest on a piece of fabric, "sit there until I figure out what to do with those herbs."

The look of uncertainty on Hyukjae's face fails to surprise Donghae.

"I'm not going to kill you, so don't worry, I do know some of this stuff," and although the way his forehead wrinkles should worry Hyukjae, as it worried many before him, for some reason, Hyukjae says nothing back. Simply unveils his arm to Donghae and then stretches on the grass, an elusive frame flawless for Donghae's tired eyes.

"It's going to hurt a bit so--"

Donghae tries putting the mixture on the wound but stops the moment he feels Hyukjae tensing under his hand, shoulders slightly hunching and trembling, but Hyukjae gives him a nod, telling him to go on. He knows too well that if they stop now, they will get caught by the guards.

A noise startles Donghae. There's some kind of pressure in the slow movement of leafs that gets him nervous, but as he turns around to see Hyukjae again, fingers clasped hard, eyes closed, he all of a sudden rips a piece of fabric of his blouse and ties it around the wound.

They are close, Donghae can tell that much.

"If we don't go now, they'll catch us," Donghae says, and although he  thinks that things will turn out wrong this time, something inside him assures him they'll be okay.

He only wonders who that man that has been following them for so long could be.

*

San Francisco, 1994

"This may be the quietest snowfall of all."

"So?"

"It makes me sad. I feel like crap."

"Kim Heechul feeling like crap? Now, that's something worth listening to."

The echo of the cathedral choir makes Heechul's skin pale from the thought of getting inside again, makes him sad and empty, weak in front of everybody. Makes Siwon wonder how the selfish and proud-spirited Kim Heechul, the passionate and strong-willed artist could back away at the first insult. 

"You have a car."

Siwon simply raises an eyebrow; it's been a while since the strongly emotive kid had this kind of behavior. He's a grown-up now, or so he was said to be. But looking again at Heechul, at the way his teeth bite the lower lip, the way his skin wrinkles around his eyes, Siwon sees it all again.

It's the same witty soul, only its vasel got older.

Siwon has been his friend since they were in their first year of high school, stealing glimpses at the cutest girls, skipping classes because have you listened to their newest album, and so on. 

It was Heechul who gave him the first kiss ever, small-mouthed and chapped-lipped, leaving Siwon breathless, mad and angry for his religion didn't allow such thing. He felt slightly weird the following days, spending most of the time locked inside his room, trying to avoid Heechul, because it was so much easier to do that instead of showing Heechul the heavy blush covering his face.

Siwon smiles at the memory now; they're not eighteen, nor do they share kisses anymore.

Looking at his left, he sees the color fading from Heechul's cheeks. It's cold. They should go back. The bride will come soon.

The snowflakes lie still on the streets; a shoe smacks the floor lightly.

"I don't even know where you live," says Siwon, without the slightest hint of hesitation; it's weird, thinking about it now, we've been best friends for so long and I don't even know where you stay, he thinks, but it's not like it's his fault. Heechul switches places quite often anyway. There's really no way to keep track of his newest apartment, so why bother finding out.

"I'm living downtown," Heechul responds. " I don't know how can one live at the outskirts. The stillness would kill me."

Somehow, Siwon understands the feeling. Living in the suburbia feels quite the same, so pricelessly peaceful, monotonously so when the sun always peeks from between the opposite blocks, never an inch to the left or right.

For a moment, Siwon closes his eyes and tries visualising. Another life. Another future. Kids with legs like stick sprawling them wide on the rooftop of a school back home in Korea, boys with looks like needle pricks and steps bold and fearless. One more obedient than the other, with soft eyes gazing at the stars and backpack full of flowers, the other one with emerald green eyes and blanket tucked up to his chin and skinny elbows.

Heechul's hand over his own startles him.

"Are you okay?"

Siwon says nothing. He feels his heart heavy, inflated with desire, drunk with yellow dreams and strands of black hair caught between his fingers. 

*

Seoul, 2026

"Sometimes, I gaze at the starts with one eye; someone once told me I can paint them better that way."

Kyuhyun has meet painters before; has met special people before. He realizes now, as he stays and watches the way the bare sky coocons the moon, that no one is quite as special as this boy.

"Other times, they fail to amaze me."

His voice keeps him awake in the middle of the night; people in the neighborhood are asleep at this hour, blankets pulled over their heads to stop the thinnest ray of light from seeping underneath, one foot on the wooden board of the bed. The confines of their neat rooms doesn't appeal to Kyuhyun that much, not even in the late hours of a cold winter night; he leans his head and lets it fall on Sungmin's shoulder. Although he wears the thickest jacket he owns, and his back is hunched, Kyuhyun could swear he's never felt more comfortable than now, never felt something as warm as Sungmin's breath against his forehead. Sungmin smiles against his skin, entertwining their fingers. 

One of them turns on the radio. Sungmin sighs.

"Will you remember me when you become famous?" asks Kyuhyun, eyes almost closed.

"If. That's the word,"  Sungmin replies, and although Kyuhyun would want to take it as a joke, an unimportant word between two friends, he knows Sungmin doesn't really mean it. They both know Sungmin will make it big sometime in the future. He's had his first art exhibition when he was nineteen, critics praising him for his talent and the good taste for vivid colors. Plus, he's quite popular among the big names in Seoul. No one cares that he was the weird kid in highschool, the one pushed against the bathroom door because how can a boy be so pretty, the one Kyuhyun took care of later on, although Sungmin was the older one.

It was reported that a famous american-korean painter was found dead in his apartment earlier today...

"You're moving to the States this summer, right?" Kyuhyun asks, "And don't say no, because your mom told me."

"I don't know. I don't know what they expect me to become if I get the chance to move to the States. I don't even know why they're making such a big deal of me moving somewhere else."

...Kim Heechul was found hanged in his apartment in New York by a close friend who immediately announced the police...

"Well, if that doesn't make you happy, why are you trying this hard?"

Kyuhyun lifts his head, heavy and dizzy, sleep pressing on his eyelids. "You're sacrificing your own happiness for the big words of some people you'll never get the chance to meet, let alone respect."

... he was said to have been in relationships with various persons in the artistic elite of New York...

"You're letting them kill your soul for an illusory fulfillment."

...was a declared 'fighter' for human rights...

At that, Sungmin stands up, eyes cold and empty, frozen fingers dangling near his body. It's hard, Kyuhyun thinks, to reach out for him when he's like that, to show Sungmin that things are worth fighting for although he won't be succesful in life, to grab his hand and kiss his mouth because he's always wanted to just do that one thing, but maybe now it doesn't matter anymore. He'll leave soon, no roots to hold him still in Seoul, locked inside this dazzling paradise. And Kyuhyun sits, waits for Sungmin to jump over the balcony and straight into the street.

...he was rumored to be homoual, although sources from his antourage strongly denied those info--

A distant motorbike disturbs the quietness; Kyuhyun thinks he's more sorry than asleep, but that's okay. He's often mistaken sadness for sleep.

*

China, 1726

Donghae only closes his eyes so that he could hear better; someone once told him--

"Yeah, I got that one, people often tell things to you," says Hyukjae, somehow too abrasive for Donghae's ears so early in the morning; not that nice, especialy coming from someone who's slept the entire night, safe and sound, having Donghae by his side to comfort his wound and protect his back from enemy's arrows. Still, Donghae says nothing back. Instead, stays humble and smiling under the morning sky, breathing in only the freshness in the air, trying to let out the pungent smell of iron in Hyukjae's blood.

"We should get going soon,"he says, gently pulling Hyukjae's arm; there's something in those small, green eyes that has Donghae's breath stop sometimes, makes his cheeks blush madly  and feel all those weird things inside his stomach. Things a man shouldn't feel, Donghae tries convincing himself because maybe Hyukjae doesn't feel the same. And why should he? He's been kidnapped from his palace, taken away from the symphony of colors blooming in the imperial gardens and slammed in this godforsaken forest where guards track him like he's the most horrendous criminal of all.

"Why did you save me?" Hyukjae asks Donghae at some point. 

At that, Donghae doesn't know what to answer. It's not like he saved Hyukjae though; he's saved the crown prince, the one their country deppends on. He does it from duty.

"I didn't save you. It's my duty to take you back home to Korea. And," Donghae looks around him, raises his head to see a little better the surroundings, " We've been walking in circle for a while now."

This time Donghae notices it wasn't just tiredness that confused him; it also has been that strange dream he's had a night before when he almost, almost fell into the deepest sleep, with the white men dressed in weird clothes embracing their bodies, and noise, noise everywhere. He woke up in the most complete silence after that, but the feeling hasn't been washed out yet. If the old witch were here with him, she would have interpreted his dream. Would have also helped him with the herbs, as he isn't that skilled with all of them, but she's dead, Donghae remembers, and dead people aren't able to save Hyukjae from the silver lining of a blade.

"What do we do now?" asks Hyukjae. 

The possibility of a dead end doesn't scare Donghae. Not when he looks in Hyukjae's eyes and sees hope.

*

Tenth prefecture- States of Korea, 2245

The words come out as shy whispers, low and quiet, until Heechul finds the courage to let his mouth slip past his teeth, " I think I like you," but Siwon just wrinkles his forehead. The noise is just too loud. Seems like they're taking down buildings, not shooting people in the street, but Heechul doesn't pay them any attention. There's blood on Siwon's lower lip, a bright shade of burgundy blending with dust and yellow sunlight that has Heechul staring at it for a while, until Siwon's features change. It hits Heechul that they should go somewhere safe.

"There's no time for that, we should go," says Siwon, and though Heechul's soul tells him no, we should just stay here, die here with me, his body reacts on his own. He knows he has people to take care of at any risk, and anyway, he tells to himself as Siwon pulls his hand and guides him through the intricate system of hallways of the building, there's no chance for us in this life. Maybe we're not meant to be.

Although he tries to convince himself that things are what they look like, at some point Siwon stops from running. 

"What you just said... is that true?" asks Siwon. He doesn't turn around, but Heechul feels that his hand gets sweaty and realizes Siwon is nervous. 

The shift of shadows makes them turn their heads. A pale, young boy whose face was scratches by rocks walks towards them. Kyuhyun killed the Prime Minister, he tells them. For some reason, seeing Sungmin hurt like that makes Heechul's throat to close up.

They're running out of time.