“It’s very odd,” Yunho said as he laid a bunch of papers clipped almost messily Changmin’s study. “Very dangerous.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with Changmin’s lighter. “And… very pretty. I had to remind myself I was editing instead of reading it with enthusiast.”

“Sure it is,” Changmin flipped open the edited draft, eyeing a few red marks on the paper and Yunho’s nearly illegible handwriting. “Now for the title… title is…”

“Something related to human-monster? Anyway, the protagonist says darling a lot, I crossed a few that were so annoying, but whatever.”

“Monster Says Darling,” Changmin said. “Thanks. And I keep the darlings.”

“Yeah, sure. The title itself gives off the disturbing atmosphere inside the story, anyway.”

Changmin tried not to laugh and turned his chair to face his best friend-editor. “You think it’s disturbing?”

“He has necrophilia.”

“That’s not disturbing, at all. You know how I like my stories’ turnabout.”

“Romances you wrote were all abnormal, Minnie.” Yunho took his half-finished cigarette and gave it to the writer. “Finish it. And I can’t help but to feel that something irrational is going on inside your head.”

“You feel, huh.” Changmin took a long drag and turned around, hand reaching towards his manuscript.

“Nope, I know.” Yunho took Changmin’s chin and forced the writer to look into his eyes. “Are you in love, Minnie ah? Are you writing it in your way?” Changmin jerked away. “It’s okay to fall in love. You’re human after all.”

“Truth is…” I’m in love with someone or something I shouldn’t fall for. “I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t fall for.”

“Ah.” Yunho snatched the cigarette’s from his friend’s mouth and crushed it into an ashtray which was filled nearly to the brim. “How fine is the lady?”

“It’s not a lady.” And not a human.

Yunho smiled widely. “What would your ma and pa say for their gay sonny boy?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Well damn, son. Go die.” And have a beauty brings you out of this world.

~~~

The bakery always had the freshest, tastiest, cheapest, and best breads in the whole town; at least according to Changmin. But the store was small and nearly unrecognizable between bigger café and boutique buildings. What a pity. Nearly every afternoon he and Junhyo and/or Yunho would buy mixed berry muffins there or mocha flavored bread. For now he was alone.

Well damn son, go die.

He laughed a little. The word was beautiful, a music to his ears. Die, dead, death, reminded him nothing but one. Pale white, hanja, the beauty... Jaejoong was the name; at least that was what Yunho read.

It had been years. He had been meeting so many beautiful people, kissing a few of them, made love to a couple of them, but not truly loving. He wondered why, even when he thought he knew the answer. Death, dead, die.

For example, when Yunho finished editing his story about a man with a near perfect life and unclearly reasoned suicidal tendency; the editor didn’t let him out of his loft for a few days. He told Yunho that he didn’t want to die and it was merely characterization, but the other wouldn’t believe him. It was disturbing Changmin a little bit for realizing that Yunho knew him much more than he knew himself.

Junhyo had been saying the same; that his stories on Sunday newspaper were quite strange to his taste with the abundant amount of blood, death, and despair. Changmin said he was alright, that those conditions were only for his writings; he loved writing that way, he added.

Changmin wanted to see his love again. But he could only see him when he witnessed a death; would be very rare.

He heard a sharp tire screech and crash, boom, crash. People screamed and an explosion blinded him momentarily. Boom.

It was a bus and a minivan, on a T-junction. There was also a wrecked bike, nearly black from the fire. A body was burned, half inside the minivan; a few people jumped out to escape.

Wonderful. His hope was there again.

But why his body went frigid at this moment? He wanted to move from there; not to help the victims of the accident, but to seek for their grim reaper. Ugh, what an ugly name. He was an angel.

Move, he said to himself. Move, dammit.

Maybe it was how it felt, to be so lovesick. You were being too nervous and not sure what to say. You were so happy to see your object of affection that your system went numb except for the beat of your heart; beating so damn loud and quick and annoying. But it felt so good, tingling sensation in his entire body.

Shim Changmin, what are you looking for? Him, the death. Weren’t you afraid of it? I was. Was. Not now. I’d love to see him.

You sick.

Oh no, how could his rationality judged him that way?

“What are you looking for?”

He could move his eyeballs, and moving them he did. Still looking the same, still pale as moon. On his side, eyes on his. The hanja was the same one he had been remembering.

Yes.

People were looking at the accident scene, horror stricken. Some good men were helping the trapped passengers inside the vehicles. Some had their limbs burned badly, some nastily injured, some burned and dead.

Changmin turned his eyes towards the beauty. “There are lives you must take right now.”

“So you don’t want to see me.”

“I do,” Changmin nearly screamed. “Always have.”

The place was crowded, hard to hear Jaejoong’s words now and Changmin cursed mentally. “I… I always hope that we… meet again.”

“Why?” Jaejoong asked. “You’re going to die anyway, and I’ll be there.”

“And will that not be the last time I see you?”

Jaejoong did not answer. He looked back at the burnt bus and minivan. The schoolgirl who rode the bike was dead and a firefighter unit had helped to die out the fire.

“I should have taken more souls now, of those who are too hurt to keep being alive,” Jaejoong said, “There’s a reason why I let them suffer for a little longer.” He turned at Changmin and smiled. Oh and how beautiful the smile was. “You won’t mind.”

“I won’t.”

“I didn’t question you.”

“I know.”

“I also wish we can meet again. Not in your death though.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to see me?”

Changmin bit his lip. He was sure of the feelings, but he couldn’t trust his words. He couldn’t see what Jaejoong might say then. The answer should roll out easily from his tongue—“I’m in love.”

Jaejoong touched him, his cheek. Changmin wanted to close his eyes and savored the cold, misty contact but he didn’t want to close his eyes. The remaining quarter of his precious muffin fell onto the ground.

So this was the touch his parents felt before they died. The reason why his mother was asleep when taken and his father died with a smile. The touch that would take him out of his body. The touch no one could replicate and—

“That would be my answer.”

~~~

Jaejoong was gone without him knowing, despite that his eyes didn’t shift away from the angel the entire time.

He was very upset. Yunho asked him whether he wanted to go bowling with him and Junhyo; he shrugged it off. Work was his excuse and he was pretty sure they could see through his lie. Whatever.

He made a new storyline. Once he finished he noticed the story was impossibly more despairing than his usual.

Changmin didn’t continue and went to bed instead. He couldn’t sleep. He repeatedly muttering wish to meet the angel over and over even as he tasted his saliva thickened.

He didn’t dream of the angel that night.

~~~

One day Junhyo visited him and cooked him healthy lunch.

“Do you like it spicy?”

“No.”

“You like spicy soup.”

“Pepper is on top of the rack.”

“You should place it at the bottom, hyung.”

“Do you think Jaejoong is a beautiful name?” The look Junhyo gave him was as if the younger was about to laugh.

“Yes?”

“Don’t answer that merely to please me.”

“Umm… yes.”

There were a set of colored pen by Changmin’s hand and he grew tired of arranging them according to their colors’ wavelength. There was also his sketch book, where he drew a strange colored monster surrounded by rays and strange objects.

He went back watching Junhyo cooking his meal for today; chicken soup instead of instant noodle. There were also frozen strawberries in the fridge which Junhyo would dip in chocolate for snack later instead of chocolate ice cream. He sighed again.

“Is it done yet? I’m hungry.”

“Not in ten minutes or so,” Junhyo chirped back. “Anyway, why did you ask me such question?”

“I’m going to use that name on my next paper.”

“Hmm…”

“The story of a boy and his imaginary friend, who happened to be a spirit of a serial killer, how’s that?”

Junhyo was silent.

“And not to mention the boy is a druggie—”

“Or he is brought to a psychiatrist and is saved from mental illness.”

Changmin laughed a little. “That’s dumb plot twitst.”

Junhyo turned around after putting on a lid on the soup’s pot. He crossed his arms. “Yunho and I had been keeping this talk from you for a while, but I can’t help it now,” he said in stern voice. “You’re about to turn insane.”

“Excuse me?”

“Even Agatha Christie might have putted more fluff in her books more than you do,” Junhyo continued. “Why, I’d ask. Why hyung?”

“I like it that way.”

“I call bull.”

“Junhyo, I don’t want to pick a fight right now.”

“I’d pick a fight if it means I can save you. You despise humans and you constantly write you want them to die and tell you what, Yunho read you like a book. So do I. I’d say mother’s death change you in more way than one. You were drawing nature and not accident site like now.”

The elder bit his lip and looked away.

“Hyung.”

Still not meeting Junhyo’s eyes, “You think I’m insane.”

“I’m sorry.” Cue a few seconds of pause. “I love you hyung. I’d do anything to let the least amount of harm hurting you.”

Another pause.

“You’re my brother, after all. One drop of our blood is the same blood.”

“Yes, yes I am.” He stood up from the chair and went approaching his brother. He raised his fore finger, the same one he pierced that day and took Junhyo’s. He touched them together and smiled. “I’m okay. Trust me.”

His brother looked at him as if he was about to cry. He hugged Changmin as if his brother was a lifeline, as if he would evaporate into the air if he let him go. Being shorter, it wasn’t difficult for the younger to bury his face into Changmin’s chest and cried for real.

“What are you crying for?”

“It’s a promise.”

“For me to be okay? Alright then.” Changmin laughed and hugged the younger back.

With an arm.

 “Hyung…”

There was a knife on the counter, which then moved into Changmin’s hand.

“Truth is, Junhyonnie, I’m falling in love. But don’t worry.” The knife landed on the younger’s shoulder, into his ribs. “I’m merely using you for my reunion with him.”

“Hyu—” Junhyo choked out blood.

“Sorry. I won’t kill you right away though.” Instead of stabbing he sliced a part of his brother’s neck. “This will make you bleed for a while, prolonging my time with my darling.”

“Darling—” another of his choke and Changmin chuckled.

“Not deep enough, I guess?”

“What are you doing?”

Changmin turned his head so quickly he was sure he could get whiplash right away, eyes darting around for a little until he found the angel. Except that the other didn’t look pleased.

“You’re detestable.”

 “Brother and friend think I’m going to be insane. Well I’m not, as long as I get to see you.”

“Shame on you.” Jaejoong walked past him, towards the bleeding man. “How did you…”

“I had to,” Changmin said again, even placing away the knife. “There’s no other way.” Junhyo’s eyeballs moved towards him, eyes wide. Apparently Jaejoong was invisible to his eyes. The elder watched Jaejoong’s hand on his brother’s cheek and he remembered how it felt like to be touched by the angel.

But it was quick. Jaejoong disappeared and so as the younger’s breath. Goodness no. It was too fast.

“ it.”

Jaejoong said he wanted to see him too. It didn’t explain why he looked so unhappy. His humanity towards his brother was no more there, which eased their reunion, so why was it?

He opened the lid of the pot with boiling soup inside. Taking a spoon, he tasted the meal Junhyo made for his first healthy food after a while. It was overcooked, of course.

~~~

It was a peaceful morning. Changmin’s phone rang a few minutes before his alarm went off.

“How’s the manuscript?”

“Ah, fine. Three quarter is worked on.”

“I haven’t seen you for a while, anyway. Breakfast date?”

“Sure. Pick me up.”

“I’ll call Junhyo too. I miss you guys.”

“Sapporo was not enough to make you forget about us?”

“Funny. See you in an hour.”

Changmin got up to make his early breakfast.

There was a trail of blackish red going from his kitchen towards his closet and he didn’t plan to wear any piece of clothing inside it. When he made his morning coffee, his phone rang a few times; following short was his cellphone. The caller ID was Yunho.

He took a handful of white pills from a plastic bottle and crushed them with his teeth. The coffee was piping hot but he gulped it down anyway, washing down the drug. He got a voicemail from Yunho which was less than one minute long. Yunho never left short voicemails unless he was panicked or it was an emergency.

Changmin sat down on his dining table, waiting for another death; on him. A newspaper from yesterday was on his table and he flipped through it. Page one, five, eight, and then his hands felt numb. He tried to move his leg; he couldn’t feel it anymore. But he still could move his fingers, letting the newspaper fell. It took all of his power to lower his arms to his sides.

He kept his eyes open, not wanting to miss the view of his beloved. And say it. I love you, I love you, and it hurt me but I love you. I sacrificed my sanity to see you and I love you.

It hurt to dart his eyeballs around. Then he felt like crying blood. “Not Jaejoong,” were his last words.

“You’re not willing to stay alive,” said the angel. “He doesn’t take such filthy souls.” He placed his hand on his cheek. Not as cold as Jaejoong’s, not as soft. He almost forgot the feeling of Jaejoong’s hand, but he was sure this touch was nowhere near as—

What a grief.

Changmin’s cellphone rang again.