“Where is he?” Yongguk roared as he burst through Lord Choi’s study room.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bang.” Junhong looked up from the chessboard he was playing on. He quickly glanced at Yongguk, before pouring himself a shot of whiskey. 

“Where is he?” Yongguk repeated through gritted teeth.

“Who?” The duke’s lips formed into a perfect ‘o’, his eyes as round as his mouth when he looked back at Yongguk.

“Kim Himchan.”

“Hmm. I see. This is about your lover.” Junhong sighed. “I’m guessing you couldn’t control yourself. Not that I’m surprised.” He turned his eyes back on Yongguk. His gaze was sharp and unforgiving.

“You’re right.” Yongguk clenched his fist; he didn’t want to fight with the duke. He just needed to find Himchan; a sudden tingle dotting his skin as scenarios of how he’d find his lover played in his head. “I couldn’t.”

“Well you were aware that there would be consequences now, weren’t you, Mr. Bang?” The duke tapped his index finger along the smooth, round head of a pawn, his eyes scanning the checkered board for a strategic position.

“I was well aware.” Yongguk crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly on the Persian rug to indicate that he was not going to leave until the duke gave him the information he needed.

Yongguk had known that his week long stay with Himchan could easily put them both at risk of exposure; especially with his coming in and out of Bordeaux. Yongguk had come back to the city two days ago to finish off the paperwork with Jung Daehyun, paperwork that would be meaningless until next year. Yet, Daehyun had insisted that they be filled out early by both parties.  The bourgeois had not wasted a moment in returning to Créon after his meeting with the Niceois. Upon his return to Himchan’s home, however, he had found it completely empty. Clothes had been strewn across the bedroom as if Himchan had hastily packed a suitcase, but nothing else in the house gave any indication that people had once lived in it.

In a frenzied panic, Yongguk had scoured the small town before searching in every alley of Bordeaux. His steps had led him to the last place he sought to look; Lord Choi’s mansion. It held Yongguk’s most glorious moments as well as his weakest. It was a place of both familiarity and fear, where he had been stabbed in the back by those he had trusted the most.

Yongguk narrowed his eyes at the blonde man before him who seemed absorbed by his solitary game of chess. It intrigued Yongguk that Junhong was playing a social game on his own; almost as if he had been expecting Yongguk, and was just passing the time as best he could. Junhong’s mouth opened in concentration as his fingers fluttered over the black and white pawns.

“What have you done to him? What have you done to his brother?” Yongguk growled, remembering the small brunette whose sweet smile could light up just about every world but his own as he lay in bed, staring at the lively realm before him, unable to be a part of it.

Junhong scoffed, an offended look marking his features. He looked up from his game and locked eyes with Yongguk’s. “I might be threatening, but I am not a monster, Yongguk.” The duke rose from his seat, slowly towering over the bourgeois. “I arranged for Mr. Kim’s brother to be treated in Paris until he is well enough to join his brother.”

Junhong grabbed Yongguk’s face, his thumb and index rubbing against his jaw. But the gesture had no intimate intentions. “You see, Mr. Kim’s achievements have caught the eye of several North American universities.” Junhong frowned, tightening his grip around Yongguk’s jaw when he felt the older begin to struggle lightly underneath him. It was clear that Junhong despised being underestimated because of his age.  “My father’s university is small, but it does have sister schools in the United States. However, Himchan has caught the eye of American greats.” He let go of Yongguk, letting his long arms hang at his side before continuing.

“Harvard, Mr. Bang? Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” Junhong chuckled, not waiting for an answer. “Now, they made me an offer I couldn’t resist. They offered to send me three of their students and spread the word of my university for Himchan.”

“Himchan has never mentioned this before.” Yongguk bore his eyes into Junhong’s, challenging him. He knew that Himchan wouldn’t hide something like this from him.

“Of course not.” Junhong made his way towards the large bay windows. “I only notified him yesterday. I didn’t want him escaping with you. It would be a waste of talent.”

“You have no right to take him away from his home like this.” Yongguk challenged the duke.

“I made it mandatory by the school.” Junhong’s lips curled into a devilish smile. A small chuckle escaped them as he turned to face the large windows behind him.

Yongguk decided he was wasting his time with the duke. “Where is Himchan now?”

Junhong shrugged. He inhaled slowly and turned his face towards the old grandfather clock. The time was still stuck between six fifty-one and six fifty-two. “Looks like this clock is broken.” Said the duke, unfazed, as if he had seen it thousands of times before, but had never said it out loud. “But he’s already at the coast. I doubt you’d make it in time anyways.”  

Yongguk shook his head in disbelief. A wave of despair ripped through his body as he began shaking, fumbling out of the duke’s study. A buzzing feeling invaded his senses, making the world around him spin.

He dragged his feet clumsily, his mind working too quickly for his body, as he desperately hurried to his old car. Yongguk’s throat felt dry as he raced against time to drive to the coast and the port from which Himchan was departing.   He was terrified of being separated from Himchan.

*

Death was not beautiful. Yongguk had seen its grey claws clamped at the neck of his loved ones, as if to claim them. He had watched as the color had slowly drained from their faces, leaving them to stare unseeingly before them, eyes glazed, lips parted and blue. He had felt Death’s cold presence seep through his clothes, deliberately tracing his spine, as it cruelly left behind empty shells for Yongguk to pick up and mourn over.

But life was not beautiful either. Yongguk felt like he had been living the last weeks suspended in water. The world around him was caving in around him as he waited and waited.  It seemed to Yongguk that all he was doing now was waiting. He loyally awaited Himchan’s return, the last lingering taste of his lover’s skin against his lips slowly dissolving with time. He knew he had lost everything, and yet, the empty hope that Himchan might return was the only thing keeping him from disappearing completely.

So when news came that Himchan had died of illness, Yongguk felt his whole world collapse on top of him. He had felt his heart turn inside out, each of his limbs growing heavier by the minute.  He, who had been terrified of never seeing Himchan again, was before his worst fear in a cruel twist of fate.

He had long been planning his death. After he had missed Himchan’s boat on the docks, Yongguk had already tried to put an end to his life, not wanting to face the days that would drag on without knowing when Himchan would come back. It was the vain hope of his lover’s return that had kept him alive, suspended by a thin thread.

His steps echoed against the marble floor, nothing to bounce off of except a few pieces of furniture still left.  His heart tapped against his chest, pumping loudly into his ears as he reached the front door.

The night air stung Yongguk’s skin as the cold bit and nipped at him. His tear laced eyes felt dry as he stared out into the frozen air.

Although it was dark, Yongguk could still see the stretch of the vineyards beyond his home. The light of the moon that bounced off the leaves gave the vineyard its shape and charm. He brought the small lantern that was usually kept on the doorstep up so that he could see the green and yellow color of his cherished plants, the brown vines that were cracking and withering in the winter as they s up the stakes. They were the last bit of him that remained, and he wanted it all erased. Yongguk wanted to disappear as if he had never existed. He would gradually become a forgotten thought in peoples’ minds.

Putting the lantern at his feet, he kicked it over, watching the red hot flames spill out over the shriveled grape vines. Like an unsatisfiable pit, the fire roared across the vineyard, hungrily as it engulfed the vineyard.

Yongguk watched as his hard work vanished into smoke, feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. He strangely felt nothing in watching the massacre, except a twinge of sadistical fulfillment.

When the flames kept rising higher into the sky, Yongguk knew he didn’t have much time before the locals came to investigate. With hurried steps, he fumbled around the darkness, illuminated by the soft glow of the flames, and into his mansion.

Jieun had always kept secrets from Yongguk, but he eventually discovered them. He knew very well that she had hidden a capsule of cyanide in case she couldn’t bear the pain of her illness. With clumsy fingers, he opened every kitchen cabinet, throwing out plates on the floor, listening to them smash against the marble and shatter into a million pieces. He wasn’t going to stop until he found what he was looking for.

Finally, his fingers hit a small, glass vial.  The small container, lodged between some wine glasses, contained a light amber liquid that sparkled like a diamond under the catches of moonlight that streamed in from the windows. He opened the top, instantly smelling burned almonds, and he knew he had found what he was looking for.

Without hesitating, he brought the opened vial to his lips, letting the corrosive liquid trickle down his throat. Yongguk had never been more sure of anything in his entire life. He absolutely knew he wanted to die. He had already stood to lose everything, and Himchan was the only person he couldn’t let go of. And if death could reunite him with Himchan, he was ready to die a thousand times. 

Waiting, he thought about what would happen after death. He closed his eyes and began to wonder who would visit his grave, and if anyone did, what color rose they would leave behind. A brief image of a shadow setting a flower on his tombstone floated around his mind. He tried desperately to see the person’s face; but he could only imagine Himchan. He saw the lustrous white skin glowing under the moonlight, large black eyes stained with tears that trickled at the corners of his heart shaped lips. Yongguk tried to call out, but his body refused to move. Desperate tears streamed down his face as he struggled against himself to get closer, his voice soundless as he called out.

As the seconds ticked by he began to feel a searing heat in his gut. It consumed him from the inside out, setting every single one of his nerves on fire. He collapsed on the shard-ridden floor, unable to feel the pieces lodge themselves in the palm of his hands. He trembled as a tug at the base of his stomach tried to expel the poison. His throat itched painfully as blood and bile seeped past his lips.  His vision blurred and he felt like an invisible hand clamping around his neck, slowly strangling him, his mind slipping in and out of consciousness. Yongguk’s ears rang with a familiar sound, like Himchan’s sandpaper voice, calling his name over and over. He tried to focus on the sound to distract himself from the intense pain. All that he saw became bathed in white as he clenched his teeth against the agony he was feeling in his heart, before he slowly felt himself slip away, his vision becoming nothing but darkness.

*

The November air was cold but clear. There was a certain calmness about Bordeaux that night. Anybody sitting on the banks of the Garonne, however, would have seen the orange tint in the water, reflections of the silent flames on the burning vineyard ahead. Tall flames flickered against the black sky, dancing around in the darkness, uninhibited, carving their way through the hillside.