The boy slumps over the counter, his arms tucked close to his chest as he feels his head pounding, along with the heavy bass blasting through the speakers lodged in every corner of the stuffy room. He’s waiting for his drink, and he’s getting impatient. He watches the bartender smile and talk to the other customers, his sharp features fresh. This boy’s name is Kris, and its one of the few times he willingly dragged his lifeless frame into a bar in this manner. He’s not too sure if he’s filled with euphoria, or drowning in anger but he’s off the equilibrium. Dipping his head as he leans forward further, he rests against his fist as he feels his head throbbing once again.

“Your drink, sir.” He looks up as he hears the man’s tender voice and he nods before pushing himself back up only to lean back against the cold marble surface. He’s weak, and he doesn’t like it. With his eyelids half closed, he brings the cup close to his dry lips as he thirsts for the sensation of drowning in something, the sensation of ice cold liquid against his throat, the sensation of anything but heat. The dimly light room stinks of liquor and cigar and he scrunches his nose up at this – afterall nothing is more familiar to his sense than the smell of burning objects, the fumes. And as he finishes his last drink, he lets the glass settle on the table before dipping his head forward and tucking his hands inwards as he fell into light slumber.

-

Sehun only wakes up because of the sound of the water running through the bulky frames of the water pipes. It’s always been like this and it annoys him but its all he can get for a cheap rental. Glancing across the small room, he frowns and runs his fingers through his hair; its still dark outside and he grunts at the realisation that he’s up too early again, because staying awake at such hours wasn’t a good thing. At least it wasn’t for someone like him. He trudges towards the door with a pendant clutched tightly in his right palm.

The only thing that comes to mind as he reaches the mirror in the corner of the room is flames.

He remembers the heat and the smothering black fumes clouding his vision – he remembers the sensation of having flames against bare skin, the feeling of his skin melting away at the thirsty orange-yellow entities. He runs his calloused fingers over the pendant hanging from around his neck as he glances at the scars on his wrist. He remembers the meaning behind this wood plate, a character in an ancient language that speaks of courage and strength; and he believes in it. 

It’s barely dawn and the touch of icy water against his face wakes him up proper as he smoothens the hair on the back of his head with his moist hands. It isn’t long before he grabs a cup of blueberry yoghurt in the fridge and slams it shut. The sound of the key entering the lock follows as the apartment fades to black. Sehun stops as he stands with his slightly hunched back against the stained doorframe, his eyes fixated on the dim corridor. Its been years since he step foot into this distasteful block yet there was something about its dirt and darkness – it was somewhat soothing, because spending each day witnessing the death of helpless souls isn’t the most comforting thing to do.

Sehun exhales heavily as he reaches the bus stop, a black haversack hanging off his broad shoulders. Peering in the distance, he watches cars approach and speed past him, their freedom intriguing as he notes the features of the people behind the wheels with the aid of the dim yellow lighting in the cars; and he notices the differences in every driver – the first one was a lady with disheveled hair, a small child sitting in the passenger seat with her arms around her bag. The second was a businessman, his hair gelled up in a neat manner as a cigarette emerges from the corner of his lips. The last was an old man with spectacles hanging off his nose as he squints to look at the traffic ahead. The road was close to empty, and for once he wonders why he notices things about people so easily and quickly; as swift as breathing.

Its six and he presses his palm against the window next to him as he observes the bus driver and the evidence of his hasty breakfast as the wrappers unfolds from its crinkled form on the platform next to him. The ride is painfully long, and he eventually gets to the hospital as he sighs and gets off, remembering the smile the old man gave him as he stood up.

“Sehun, you’re early again.” He hears the boy’s familiar voice as he enters the building and turns around to see his senior standing behind him, his arms tucked behind his back.

“Yes, hyung.” A forced smile makes its appearance on his face, but Yixing doesn’t notice this as he walks closer and pulls him in for a light embrace.

“You seem a little down recently, take it easy.” The boy whispers before pulling back. Sehun blinks as he leaves his thoughts to fill the gap between them both. He isn’t too sure about his mood, neither does he want to know – because his head is like an ocean and its full of thoughts he cannot fathom whilst he’s left to drown; to sink to the bottom, like a rusty anchor left out at sea.

-

“Sir?” Kris frowns as he opens his eyes and pushes himself back up to meet the brown eyes of the bartender standing behind the counter with his palms pressed against the tabletop. Shaking his head, he mumbles an apology before fumbling with his wallet to pay for the drinks. The bartender looks back at him with a gentle smile mixed with a tinge of worry as he stood in an awkward position whilst watching Kris hobble back to his feet; the fact that he is still half drunk and has a terrible headache is not mentioned but the bartender knows this, because he’s been working here for as long as he can remember. He walks towards the boy as he tries to offer assistance but he gets swatted away, hearing nothing but the boy’s groans and his incoherent words.

Stopping outside the bar, Kris slumps against the wall as he lets himself slide towards the ground, his hands coming in contact with the damp yet cold ceramic flooring of the corridor. He’s a mess, and he doesn’t want to see himself at this moment – he doesn’t wish to see anyone in this moment because he thinks that people are just creatures who have long lost their emotions, the only things which made people true and genuine. He thinks that people have become so fragile that they’re just waiting for their death, he thinks that there isn’t any reason left for him to carry on with his job. He’s a firefighter, and he’s been working alongside his father in his team since he was sixteen. His father was once the best firefighter in his division, one of courage and stealth. He takes pride in the fact that he has a cabinet compartment full of his shiny medals and Kris loves admiring them; or at least he used to when he was younger. In such an environment, he grew to like these things, enjoying the fact that he could become someone who saved the day – the usual child wishing to become a hero of some sort. And he’s been doing decently.

For a while he felt invincible, as though he could save anyone he wanted to; as though he could fool death. Yet his father’s death brought him back to reality and he finds that perhaps he isn’t as strong as he wants to be. Ultimately humans are just clumps of flesh with a large percentage of fluids and unorganized thoughts – their capability aren’t all that astounding and Kris understands this perfectly.

He glances at his phone, which slipped out onto the floor beside him as it vibrates with the usual jingle. Its his teammate Luhan, the one which was a few months his senior; and as he picks up the phone, he hears nothing but the latter’s fervent screams and gasps – he knows him too well. He asks for his whereabouts because he knows he’s been drinking, and Kris tells him because he feels too vulnerable. Yet he doesn’t wait for the boy to arrive as he trudges towards his bike stopped against the lamppost on the empty street as he hurls himself towards the bike’s frame and gets on it with difficulty before reaching into his pockets to dig for his keys. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tries to fight the throbbing pain in his head; and the buzzing sound in his ears. Glancing at the road with his half opened eyes, his eyelids close on him occasionally but he starts the bike anyway. The sound of its engine serves to wake him up slightly as he exhales heavily and pushes off.

But what he doesn’t notice are the lights flashing behind him, and the sounds of honks accompanied by the screeching of rubber against the gravel.

Luhan arrives minutes later, and he breaks down, his trembling fingers barely pressing the correct digits on the phone screen. He kneels beside the boy and notices the boy’s phone lying near to his body. Picking it up, he spins it once with his fingers before clutching it tightly - he hates seeing crimson against this boy’s skin.

-

“Hun, there’s a patient outside. He doesn’t look too good.” Yixing’s voice trails into the room as he ends his words with gasps for air. Sehun turns away from the window to face the older boy with a frown before nodding in acknowledgment – part and parcel of his mornings, facing nothing but souls on the cusp of death as though death was some sort of solace. Biting his lip, he follows behind his senior as he rushes into the emergency hall where he eyes the group of grown men huddling over the man who’s being wheeled towards the surgery room. He flinches at the sight of the neon stripe on one of the man’s grey pants. He recognises this colour combination well, and the past flashes across his brown eyes before he’s awoken by Yixing’s screams. Rushing over, he shuts his eyes before his eyes flick over to meet one of the boy’s. He dips his head forward a little as the boy mouths words which run along the lines of car accidents.

Sehun flinches as he feels moist skin against his forearm as glances towards the man who’s barely breathing, his hand barely hovering over his skin. Bending downwards, he hears the boy’s gasps for air – he’s wasting his own time, feeling his life slipping through his fingertips.

The man’s voice is a bare whimper, close to incoherent as his grip on Sehun’s forearm gets stronger despite his weak breathing, “I-I’ll get y-you out of here.”

Sehun nearly flinches at the boy’s words as he pauses, his right fist clenching as his arm hangs limp by his side. Its funny how these words would have come off as plain nonsense to another’s ears, yet it means something to him. It reminds him of his past – the hour of darkness; flames, courage and salvation.

He pauses for a few seconds as he feels a trail of moisture on his cheeks before wheeling the boy towards the surgery room with hurried steps

-

The small boy huddles in the corner as he shuts his eyes tightly. His grandmother lies a few metres from him in the other corner of the room facing downwards as the flames surround her, their orange hues threatening to penetrate her skin. He shrieks, and he ducks, covering his head with his small arms as the statues on the cabinet beside him fall off their usual spots. Watching the piano in the corner of the room getting swallowed by flames, he winces as he watches the house crumble in front of his eyes. He feels helpless, and he blames this on his parents for walking out on them. He blames it on whoever hurt him before. He might be young, but he knows how the world works – he knows things he would have wished to never understand, he knows things because he was forced to grow up before there were two digits in his age.

He cries for his parents, but he knows that they aren’t coming.

Yet salvation comes in the form of another boy’s figure. Sehun looks up as he watches the figure dart towards him, blocking the falling wood with his arms as he finally stops in front of him as he pants heavily.

“Quick, get up on your feet. I-I’ll get you out of here.” His voice is a mere whimper as he tries to catch his breath.

Sehun reaches out to take his hand as the older boy pulls him back up to his feet and carries him out of the house, the huge pieces of wood falling against his shoulders. Sehun sees nothing but the burning interior of the old flat going by in a flash and a blur image of the boy’s face before he is greeted by the pelting sun against his skin and he knows he’s safe. But his grandmother isn’t, and this realization hits him in one instant – he feels his eyes turn watery, his fists curling into tight balls as his nails dig into the supple skin of his palm. Surrounding him, he faintly hears the murmurs of adults crowding around him as he’s carried and placed onto a stretcher where he is left to rest. Sehun isn’t injured, but the boy stood metres away clutching his shoulder as a slight frown creased over his forehead. Yet the boy turns to meet his gaze, and in a split second he covers the frustration up with a gentle smile before walking towards him.

“You’re still young, but you’re strong. And no matter what you lose, you’ve got yourself. Stay strong, kid.” Sehun notices that the boy isn’t much older than him as he leans forward and grins a little as he speaks, his voice husky albeit soft. Reaching for the pendant hung over his neck, he pulls it off with one swift motion and places it over Sehun’s head. He wants him to have it, because it symbolizes courage. And that’s what he would need most.

The boy turns back to leave as Sehun’s soft utterance of gratitude is left to echo in the crevices of his mind, his fingers running over the small wooden piece against the fabric of his shirt.

-

The first thing Sehun sees when he leaves the surgery room is Luhan running towards him, his eyes bloodshot and moist.

“He’s safe. However, he’s still unconscious and there may be some repercussions due to the great impact involved in this accident. We can only be sure when he wakes up.” Sehun tries his best to hide the quiver in his voice as he speaks to the boy, his arm uncomfortable under the boy’s strong grip before he eventually lets go and nods softly.

“By the way, I have some things to ask you.” Sehun bites his lip before speaking as the boy looks up to meet his eyes and nods.

“Did he by chance, partake in the rescue mission in an old building in Seoul ten years back?”

“Yes he did. That was his first mission where he worked along with his father. My father was there as well, and he often speaks of how Kris was oddly courageous back then. He could’ve gotten killed, dashing into the building without prior experience. He was rash, but he was lucky. And he saved a young boy I think. It was a major issue though, and Kris remembers it really well. He always tells us that he’d like to find the boy again, and see how strong he had become.” Luhan dips his head forward slightly as he speaks before stopping and glancing back at Sehun, “Why?”

Sehun almost flinches at the boy’s recount as he finds himself reaching for the pendant instinctively. He shakes his head and mutters softly, “Nothing. He’ll probably wake up in awhile so you can head over to his ward to keep watch. We’ll be over shortly.”

Sehun pauses as he watches the boy rush towards the ward at the end of the corridor before stopping to push the door open hastily. It takes mere seconds before he leans against the wall beside him, watching the hands of the clock on the opposite wall moving in swift sharp movements as its usually inaudible sounds resounds in his ears. Its been ten years and the realization of the boy being a mere human hits him suddenly – it tells him further of how life is fragile, and its ironic to him because even if someone has the strength, the courage to save lives, when its his turn, he can’t do much to save himself.

-

Pressing his palm against the door, he bites his lip before proceeding into the room as he inhales gently, noticing the flowers by the boy’s bed. It’s been a day, and he’s conscious. Sehun lifts the clipboard up as he glances at the boy’s particulars.

“Kris Wu?” He calls as he looks up to meet the boy’s soulless eyes, his head tilted towards the left side of his bed.

“Yifan?” This isn’t right. Sehun frowns as he glances back at the paper and runs his finger over his lips as wonders if he pronounced something wrong in his previous attempts.

“Patient?” The boy finally responds to this as he turns towards the doctor standing at the edge of his bed.

“Y-yes.” His voice is husky, and Sehun remembers this, but there’s much more vulnerability in his tone. He’s not the same warrior, but its understandable because all humans crumble under the right circumstances.

“Kris Wu Yifan is your name isn’t it? Why didn’t you respond earlier, you scared me there.” Sehun lets out a soft chuckle awkwardly as he runs his hand over the back of his neck. Yet the boy’s fingers close in on the small area of the blanket as he clutches it tightly. And as he watches the boy blink back at him with a mixture of confusion and helplessness in his eyes, Sehun understands this situation perfectly. Too perfectly. He sighs and speaks again, his voice weaker than before, “You can’t remember can you?”

The boy pauses as he lets go of the blanket. He doesn’t.

“I’ll contact your friend, Luhan to accompany you.” Of course he doesn’t know who Luhan is. Neither would he remember the boy whom he saved years back – because its just a fragment. A small shard lying in the debris.

As Sehun turns back and walks towards the door, he hears the boy shuffling in his bed as he almost flinches. Reaching towards the pendant on his neck, he pulls it off and turns back to Kris.

“This, you gave it to me years back. And I’m returning it to you, because you need courage now. More than I do.” Sehun places it on the boy’s palm as he watches him tremble slightly, a frown forming itself on his forehead. Sehun flashes a smile as he turns around to leave the boy to painful silence.

Kris frowns as he fumbles with the necklace in his palm, trying to sort his thoughts out.

His name is Kris Wu Yi Fan, and he got into a car accident. He wasn’t injured badly but he lost his memory – yet he remembers a small boy distinctly, a young boy who sits in the corner of the room as flames surround him.