Chapter 2- Camellia

Kyungsoo sat on the edge of bed, hands running over his face in frustration at he stares at the random paintings on the opposite wall.

“No.”

Had Kyungsoo been to direct? He shook his head at the thought. Of course he hadn’t; he knew his place. He sighed, hands intertwining with themselves as he thought of the hopeful boy that looked so disappointed at Kyungsoo’s answer. He felt a sharp pang in his heart as he watched the boy trudge off after they had walked out of the gardens together in awkward silence and to the front gate, parting without so much as a glance in each other’s direction.

Kyungsoo was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the sun dimming behind the behemoth brick wall next to his window, or the dark afterglow of the sunset reflecting of the glass to hold the paintings in place, reflecting across the room to make a portrait of love, of portrait of melancholy. Kyungsoo sighed and smiled, completely leaving behind his world an immersing himself in the light. It was funny to think that such little things kept Kyungsoo happy. That a simple refraction of light could be Kyungsoo’s reason for living.

It was ridiculous to think that a simple brush of vibrant paint meant so much more to Kyungsoo than any human possibly could.

But it did.

 

Kyungsoo woke up the next morning to the banging of pots and pans and very non-Korean cussing. He sat up in his bed, his jeans having been turned in an uncomfortable position, and stomped lazily into the kitchen.

“Oh, morning sunshine. Want breakfast?” Luhan asked, twirling a pot in his hand.

Kyungsoo shook his bed head and made his way over to the sink to wash his face, a disgusted Luhan judging him from behind.

“Hey, Grimy, why don’t you take a shower?” Luhan suggested. Kyungsoo looked at him through a sleep-induced haze and shrugged, marching lazily to the bathroom they both shared.

The bathroom inside was clean enough for how much the two never really used it. Their combined incomes never allowed for enough money to have the luxury of a shower every day. Normally, they weren’t nearly as dirty.

The shower had no real shower curtain, just a long towel sewn together. Kyungsoo sighed; there bathroom was a real testament to just how poor the two boys were.

Kyungsoo began to peel his clothes off, absently remembering he needed to do laundry, and turned the hot water on. It wasn’t really his fault he forgot people this day and age bathed every day. He was really lucky Luhan was so understanding of his ways.

 Stepping into the shower, he shuddered at the hot water abusing his skin. One of the reasons the boys were so poor when it came to showers was because how long Kyungsoo took in the shower.

If given enough hot water, Kyungsoo would stay in the shower for days. The sweet warmth and water took Kyungsoo farther than the happiest day could. Kyungsoo was alone, and completely free to think about whatever he wanted. He would stay under the shower and cry, or laugh, or even pray. And no one would ever know. The beauty of the warm waterfall was known to Kyungsoo.

For hours he spent in the shower today, all his thoughts tracing back to the boy with the hot chocolate skill. The tan skin and speckled youth that defined the smile that Kyungsoo constantly saw in dreams. He sighed as the water fell down his face, his dazed face slowly moving back and forth.

Normally, Kyungsoo wouldn’t second guess a confession. He’d had plenty in his time, mostly from people he had never met but simply watched him from afar. Boys, girls, young and old. None of them had mattered to Kyungsoo.

So why was this boy different? Granted, his life now had dramatically changed with Luhan and his new friends. But now a love interest? It could never happen.

Kyungsoo sighed exasperatedly as Luhan pounded on the door to bathroom yelling at him to get out. After drying off and sliding on a pair of worn jeans, Kyungsoo decided maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go to the café.

It probably would, Kyungsoo thought, but the siren call beckons.

 

 

Rêves Décolorés. No matter how much Kyungsoo had planned to stay away, his feet took him back to the place with the elixir of life. Sneakily peeking through the window to make sure that boy wasn’t there, he slid into the café, laptop slung around his shoulder and walked in cautiously.

“Good morning sir, what can I get you?” Chanyeol asked an uncertain Kyungsoo.

“Um, a 16oz. hot chocolate,” Kyungsoo said almost inaudibly.

“Um, okay,” Chanyeol replied questioningly, staring at the frantically searching Kyungsoo who was trying to be as subtle as possible.

“You know he’s not here today, right? He has school today. But he’ll be here tonight for the night shift,” Chanyeol explained to an increasingly relieved Kyungsoo.

“Oh okay,” Kyungsoo sighed, and went to sit down in the back corner of the café. To be honest, Kyungsoo never got a lot done in a café. Normally the excess of people made Kyungsoo distracted and the hot chocolate was far too much to not be distracting, and other times he became so infatuated with his own thoughts, he was almost never able to completely focus on his tutoring notes.

Today was no different. Kyungsoo got all of his material out and his laptop, and putting his incredibly cheap headphones in, Kyungsoo proceeded to forget the entire world. Lost in the sea of his thoughts, circling around in head for eternity, Kyungsoo remained still, a blank expression created on his face as he offhandedly sipped his hot chocolate that was good, but as Kyungsoo continually sipped it, it wasn’t the same. Something was off, something that could have to do with an individual way of making it.

Hours passed. Kyungsoo remained in the same position for most of those hours, head buried deceivingly in his computer, absently typing into a document. The calm piano music played in his head, blocking out the now louder café as the sky began to dim.

“Sorry, sir. He woke up this morning and was running a fever. I told him that if he wasn’t feeling better by five he couldn’t come in today,” Chanyeol explained to an irritated Tao as he walked around, pushing chairs to form a semi-circle around a small stage that was in the process of being put together.

“Excuse me? Are you using this?” a gentle voice coaxed Kyungsoo out of his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Chanyeol looking at him questioningly.

“Oh no, go right ahead,” Kyungsoo said quickly.

“Thanks man,” Chanyeol smiled and took the chairs from the table. Kyungsoo smiled as well, and looked around him for the first time in four hours.

The first thing he saw was Tao on the phone frantically making calls. Kyungsoo took one of his headphones out and watched as the details flowed through Tao’s body.

They were short a singer for tonight’s performance.

Kyungsoo shot up like a bullet as he read a thought that came from Chanyeol. He packed his things at the speed of light, and rushed to the door, but not in time, unfortunately.

“Hey, Kyungsoo, do you sing?” Chanyeol asked as Kyungsoo’s hand touched the door. Chanyeol raised an eyebrow as Kyungsoo turned around, a flustered little turtle while Tao smirked, pressing the red button on his phone.

 

 

Kyungsoo was slumped on one of the chairs as he watched people trickle into the coffee shop. Chanyeol was laughing at the misfortune of the man in front of him, patting Kyungsoo on the back and giving him a thumbs up as Tao leapt onto the stage to introduce him.

“Don’t worry about man, trust me when I say these people are really easy,” Chanyeol whispered as Kyungsoo got up on the stage, sat on the chair and adjusted the mic. Tao had instructed him to just sing something, since Kyungsoo didn’t know any of the songs on their normal list.

Kyungsoo breathed in a deep breath as the café door opened again, and Jongin stepped through, barely visible in the blinding light Kyungsoo had on him.

 

You bought a star

In the sky tonight,

Because

Your life is dark

And it needs some light

You named it after me,

But I’m not yours to keep

Because

You’ll never see

That the stars are free

 

Kyungsoo almost laughed as he sang the song, it was sad how much the song related to him, and how much it really didn’t at the same time. It’s true, the stars are free. But they are also bound to the sky. Is the sky really free?

Oh, we don’t own our Heavens now

We only own our Hell

And if you don’t know that by now

Then you don’t know me that well

Kyungsoo thought as he sang the next stanza. Do we truly own our Hell, but not our Heaven? He ponders this as he sings. He really doesn’t know; because Kyungsoo owns neither his Heaven nor his Hell, for he doesn’t have one.

All my life I’ve been so lonely

All in the name of being holy

Still, you’d like to think you know me

You keep buying stars

And you could buy up all of the stars,

But it wouldn’t change who you are

You’re still living life in the dark

It’s just who you are

Kyungsoo stopped singing. In the soft background of the silent crowd, he could hear the faintest baritone in the background,

You’re buying stars to shut out the light

We come alone and alone we die

And no matter how hard you try

I’ll always belong in the sky

Kyungsoo picked up again, accompanying his voice to match Jongin’s.

And you could buy up all of the stars,

But it wouldn’t change who you are.

You’re still living life in the dark

It’s just who you are

It’s just who you are

 

It’s who you are

 

 

Kyungsoo thanked the last of the crowd who rushed up to tell him how good he was, sighed, and stared at his empty cup. He started to grab his things when a voice whispered in his ear.

“You were amazing,” Jongin mumbled to a surprised Kyungsoo. He turned around to face Jongin, eyes wide and heart guarded.

“Please don’t do that,” Kyungsoo mumbled as he walked towards the door.

“Hey, why don’t I make you another one,” Jongin pointed to the empty cup Kyungsoo was about to throw away, “It’ll be on the house.”

Kyungsoo looked weary, eyes going from the cup to the boy.

“Just one,” Jongin repeated, exasperated.

“Fine, one,” Kyungsoo sighed, walking towards Jongin.

“Good, but you do have to sit with me,” Jongin smirked, skipping to the back when Kyungsoo reached for his cup and making a strangled snarling noise.

 

“So, what brings you back here?” Jongin asked, as Kyungsoo silently sipped his drink. Kyungsoo looked up incredulous.

“Right, so you just came for the drink,” Jongin sighed, taking out his phone and playing with it.

Kyungsoo took this chance to stare at Jongin. More specifically, his details. They were becoming more and more undecipherable, and it mentally killed Kyungsoo.

“What are you staring at?” Jongin asked, eyebrows raised suggestively. Kyungsoo let out a snort and sat back in his chair.

“You,” Kyungsoo stated. Jongin was taken aback at how straight-forward Kyungsoo could be.

“And what do you see?” Jongin asked, sitting back in his chair as well.

“Well,” Kyungsoo began, “you are an orphan. Parents died a strange accident, and you were not allowed to see the bodies, most likely. You’ve lived by yourself since you were fifteen, officially emancipated due to your grandmother’s inability to raise you. She probably got sent to the home shortly after. You’re incredibly good at school, however, you lack the ability to care about certain aspects of it, like writing. However, you’re not very good at math per say, you’re rather just good at all studies. You work here mostly for the flexible hours, not because you need the money. Oh, and you’re also gay. Very gay.”

Kyungsoo relaxed in satisfaction at the slack-jawed look on Jongin’s face. Although Kyungsoo was gifted in sight, he always thought it was cheating to simply read people their life story, so he elected to simply take part in the art of seduction. He was vaguely relieved he was able to; Jongin would have been a hard person to read.

“How the hell did you know all of that? Wait, don’t tell me,” Jongin looked smug, “you’ve been following and you read too much Sherlock Holmes novels.”

“Close, but no dice, I haven’t read Sherlock since-” Kyungsoo stopped, closing his mouth in a hurry.

“Since?” Jongin pressed.

“Never mind. Anyway, that’s not important, the fact is that I’m not interested in you the way you think I am,” Kyungsoo stated.

“Oh, I see. Fine. How about we start over then,” Jongin said, taking the empty cup from Kyungsoo, “tomorrow, if you come back here, I won’t bother you, and we’ll start over. As friends.”

Kyungsoo thought about it for a while. It really couldn’t hurt to be friends with Jongin. It would be like Luhan. And he would be able to figure out why Jongin had the strange details. He stood up, zipped his jacket, and turned to Jongin.

“Fine, I’ll be here tomorrow,” Kyungsoo said.

“See you then,” Jongin smiled as they both left the shop after Jongin locked up. Parting ways, Kyungsoo spared a glance at the boy’s figure, and wondered silently if he should be worried about the friendship that was soon to occur.

 

“Jongin.”

“Jongin.”

“Jongin!”

Jongin was startled from his dreams by an increasingly frantic Chanyeol.

“What the hell are you doing? We have customers!” Chanyeol screamed as Jongin stared blankly at the line of people staring at him.

“Sorry, I’ll be right there,” shaking his head to clear his mind, Jongin went straight to working, trying his hardest to forget the insightful brown eyes he saw just the night before.

 

“Kyungsoo get up!” Luhan shouted as he slammed the door to Kyungsoo’s room open. The boy in the covers groaned, covering himself up like a burrito. Luhan sighed dramatically, and flopped on top of the burrito of sadness.

“Mmdfssgf,” Kyungsoo mumbled. Luhan moved over so he was no longer on top of his friend.

“So,” Luhan asked conversationally, “who is he?”

Kyungsoo stood straight up, but tripped on his blankets, and fell on the floor with a thud, nothing but the covers to cushion his fall. Luhan peeked over the bed with an analytical expression.

“I have no idea as to what you are talking about,” Kyungsoo muttered, getting his pants on.

“Is that so?” Luhan observed, “because that seem like nothing if you fall out of bed.”

Kyungsoo stomped out of the room, glancing at the clock before wrestling with his converse.

“Hey, here’s a thought,” Luhan said while watching his roommate, “why don’t you try un-doing the laces and then put the shoes on.”

“Un-doing shoelaces is for the weak,” Kyungsoo states as he leaves the apartment, and a suspicious looking Luhan.

 

Kyungsoo stared at the beaming college student with resignation.

“Hello sir, what can I get for you today?” Jongin asked, his over expressiveness slowing maiming Kyungsoo. The older sighed, and looked through his wallet; did he have enough cash? Judging by the lack of really anything in his wallet, he judged he would have to take a job, and soon.

“A 16oz. hot chocolate, please,” Kyungsoo ordered absently, thinking about the neighboring cities, and wondering if there were any jobs available. He sighed; he could always just call-

“Here you go sir,” Jongin said happily, interrupting Kyungsoo’s thoughts. He thanked Jongin, grabbed the piping hot cup, and made his way over to an empty table. Pulling out his laptop, he began to search the area for a sign of job listings.

 

“Whatcha doing?” Jongin asked a startled Kyungsoo. The older boy looked up from his laptop to read the clock. 4:56p.m. He sighed, closing his computer as Jongin sat down.

“Where are you going?” Jongin asked, grabbing Kyungsoo’s jacket as the boy tried to leave.

“Back to my apartment,” Kyungsoo relayed.

“So, are you just going to avoid me for the remainder of your life?” Jongin asked.

Kyungsoo sighed. It was bad enough that he caught himself thinking about the man the hung onto his jacket more than he would like to let on, but recently, he started to not mind it as much.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo sat back down, justifying that it was rude to not talk to the young boy, “what’s up?”

Jongin smiled, “Not much to be honest. Creative writing is a total craphole, though. Our teacher is so about the littlest things. Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo smiled. He had only seen Jongin’s writing once or twice, but he already understood that when Jongin meant “littlest things” it probably meant grammar or switching tenses inside the story.

“Do you need help?” Kyungsoo asked, weary of the hope that underlined his voice.

“I wish you had asked that a couple of days ago, but no. I’ve already submitted my assignment,” Jongin laughed, tilting his head in a way Kyungsoo only associated with the boy. He was sly; Kyungsoo would give him that, but also had a pure and loving aura around his snark. Kyungsoo cringed as he felt his eyes linger on the smile that formed on Jongin’s face; the one that slowly grew more genuine and shy the more Kyungsoo stared.

“So, I take it you like writing,” Jongin changed the subject, “since, you know, you’re a writing tutor.”

“Actually,” Kyungsoo frowned shaking the empty coffee cup, “I detest writing.”

Jongin’s eyebrows rose incredulously.

“You hate writing?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Kyungsoo sighed again. He wasn’t particularly used to probing questions; even Luhan tended to keep his distance when it came to Kyungsoo’s personal life. He decided to answer the curious boy, though. Putting down the cup, Kyungsoo looked Jongin straight in the eye.

“Because, authors are selfish, deceitful, and manipulative. They prey off of good ideas, and rip them apart. The idea behind writing is verbose, especially with non-fiction. History is never written without bias, and nothing you can believe with the past is completely true. Fiction is the lesser of the two evils, but not by much. Authors portray their protagonists with as little fault as possible, and when someone does find fault with the character, they are deemed acceptable flaws because of how the author portrays them. It’s taking a light on a person, and shining the light at an angle, hiding the less appealing qualities.”

Kyungsoo stopped, breathing slightly heavier, and watching as Jongin sat silently, as if still processing the string of words that flitted from the older’s mouth.

“I……see,” Jongin finally spoke, eyes focusing.

“You asked,” Kyungsoo sniffed, playing with his cup to hide his embarrassment.

“No, I know I did,” Jongin sat up and leaned in towards Kyungsoo, “I guess I was just not expecting that answer. I don’t really think I ever expect anything you do.”

“Should I say I’m sorry?” Kyungsoo asked honestly.

“No, I like not expecting things. It keeps it interesting,” Jongin smiled.

Kyungsoo couldn’t help it. Despite the nagging feeling and the worry of the future, when the mysterious boy with the strange details that sat in front of him and smiled, something inside Kyungsoo stirred. He couldn’t really describe it, even if you asked him now he would not be able to tell you, but it felt good. Kyungsoo felt alive. Kyungsoo was happy.

The two sat in the corner table for the rest of the day, drinking hot chocolate and telling jokes until closing time. And all the while, a huge cheesy grin played on Kyungsoo’s face, and gave no sign of leaving.

 

Kyungsoo came home that night on cloud nine. Luhan wasn’t too distracted to see how Kyungsoo practically danced inside the house, scrounging for food through their pathetic fridge. Luhan wasn’t too oblivious to see the yard long smile that was plastered to his roommates face. Luhan wasn’t too kind as to not point it out to Kyungsoo, causing a theatric display that landed dollar store ramen on the floor Luhan just cleaned. Luhan wasn’t too sadistic when he decided to pin Kyungsoo to the floor until he told him who the person was. No, Luhan wasn’t too attached to his dramatic side at all.

Luhan was determined to find out just who this person was. Even if it meant resorting to less than dignified means. Slipping on his hat, he followed Kyungsoo, who was practically skipping with joy, into a dark alley. Luhan looked around in confusion, surely Kyungsoo couldn’t be into this kind of crowd.

“Did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” Kyungsoo called to Luhan from the other side of the alley.

“,” Luhan muttered as Kyungsoo disappeared. Looking around, he threw his hat on the ground in frustration. It seemed as though Luhan would have to resort to even less dignified means.

 

“I see you too much,” Tao deadpanned as Kyungsoo walked into the café. The wide-eyed boy stopped in confusion.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll leave right away,” Kyungsoo opened the door again.

“That won’t be necessary!” Jongin practically screamed through the flappy doors that lead to the back. He came out and playfully wrapped his arm around his flustered boss, successfully trapping him in a head-lock.

“Are you trying to block me?” Jongin whispered menacingly to his boss.

“Even if I was, it wouldn’t much good if you got fired for rough housing your boss,” Tao shot back.

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. Even though he was not within earshot, he could read the conversation off of Tao.

“Am I missing something?” Kyungsoo asked wryly as Jongin immediately let go of Tao.

“Nope, not at all. How are you today, Kyungsoo?” Jongin asked, rushing to the disbelieving man at the door to the café.

“Uh huh,” Kyungsoo muttered, “good I guess, Luhan tried to follow me here-”

“Who’s Luhan?” Jongin asked, interest piquing.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo looked at the man in front of him with surprise. Had he never told Jongin about Luhan?

“He’s my roommate and best friend. And a total fairy,” Kyungsoo laughed at the flamboyant nature of his best friend.

Jongin furrowed his brows, “Like, he’s gay?”

“Um, yeah, pretty sure that’s what fairy means,” Kyungsoo retorted while walking to his usual table. He laughed lightly as he read a little sign that said “reserved for Kyungsoo”.

“I didn’t know you had a gay friend,” Jongin muttered. Kyungsoo looked at him incredulously, and then sighed.

“Do you wanna sit with me after you get off of work?” Kyungsoo asked, suddenly nervous.

“No,” Jongin stated, leaning back on the bar, watching Kyungsoo’s ego sink to Hell.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo mumbled.

“You should leave,” Jongin stated, getting up, “and go get ready for our date. I’ll pick you up at six.”

Kyungsoo stared at the retreating figure in absolute shock.

“Hey!” but it was too late, Jongin had disappeared, and Kyungsoo was left being pushed out of the shop by an incredibly happy and supportive Chanyeol.

 

Date.

Date.

Date.

Date.

Kyungsoo waited for the bus in a daze, the four letter word encircling his head, glazing his eyes, and setting a mood of obliviousness.

What the hell was he going to do?

Kyungsoo had never been on a date before, although he probably thought that went without saying. Not only that, Kyungsoo was fairly positive that in the span of his entire life, he had never been a part of a romantic relationship. He hadn’t the faintest as to what he was supposed to do, and what did Jongin mean by “get ready”? Kyungsoo’s mind swam in uncertainty.

He did the only he knew he could at a time like this.

 

 

Luhan’s print shop was sometimes way too much for Kyungsoo to handle. Colors of the rainbow mixed with vintage Starbucks photos in a plethora within the store. Kyungsoo visibly shuddered at the standard of art that had depleted throughout the ages. Sighing, he made his way to the front desk.

“Can I help you?” a teenager drawled in an empty tone. Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow, and looked around.

“Is Luhan around?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Hold on,” the teenager replied, “Luhan!”

Kyungsoo shrugged slightly.

“What?” Luhan asked harshly, coming out of his office. Seeing Kyungsoo, his work face immediately fell off in a giddy smile, followed by feigned hurt.

“Oh, Kyungsoo! What brings you to my humble business?” Luhan asked, draping himself over Kyungsoo heavy shoulders.

“I need a favor,” Kyungsoo spat out, cringing when Luhan’s cunning smirk crossed his face.

“Oh?” Luhan asked, turning away from the boy, “Why could you possibly need my help. You did try to ditch me today.”

Kyungsoo sighed, either way he would have to tell his best friend sooner or later.

“I have a date tonight,” Kyungsoo said tightly. Luhan turned around slowly, making Kyungsoo roll his eyes at the dramatized air Luhan carried with him wherever he went.

“Missy,” Luhan said, stalking to his office quickly.

“Yes?” the teenager looked up from her magazine as her boss put on his coat and packed his things.

“I’ll be leaving, make sure you close up,” he said, leading Kyungsoo straight for the door.

“What? Where are you going?” Missy looked surprise, her voice raised with underlining panic.

“I’m going to help a friend get ready for his first date. You know what to do,” Luhan smirked, and, with a blushing Kyungsoo who was complaining about “revealing private matters”, he left his frantic employee. Kyungsoo almost felt bad for her. Almost.

 

 

“Are you sure this isn’t too formal?” Kyungsoo asked, stepping out of the bathroom in a designer suit.

“Of course I’m sure,” Luhan sighed, getting up from his throne, he insisted on calling it that, and straightening Kyungsoo’s crooked suit.

“I swear Kyungsoo; would it kill you to use a mirror? I know you don’t like them, but you’re getting ready for a date. At least use it when you need to look good,” Luhan chided. Kyungsoo froze under Luhan’s comment, much to Luhan’s obliviousness.

“Here,” Luhan threw another outfit at Kyungsoo, “try this on; it may be more your style.”

Kyungsoo begrudgingly took the outfit, and went back into Luhan’s bathroom. It was huge, bigger than Kyungsoo’s, and was full of beauty products. Kyungsoo often heard Luhan’s other friends at their college that Luhan’s closet and bathroom were a girl’s dream. After Sehun died, Kyungsoo soon became Luhan’s only real friend, and Kyungsoo just now realized they were right.

After slipping on the outfit on, Kyungsoo slowly realized that Luhan was, in fact, right. Not only did Kyungsoo look appropriate in the navy blue, long-sleeved shirt, but, dare he say it, he also looked kind of good.

“I like this one,” Kyungsoo shouted through the door.

“I thought you might,” Luhan replied, opening the door, “and I agree. Now, fix your hair and whatnot, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Kyungsoo swallowed hard, but did as Luhan said. Standing in front of the mirror with closed eyes, he took a deep breath, and opened them.

Brown.

That was the only way to describe it, to be honest. Brown. And gooey, Kyungsoo supposed. He just stood there, looking at his own reflection, afraid of moving at all.

This was the price you paid of being an Identifier.

The shape of his was had eroded away, his once defined cheek bones softened and rotting. He was decomposing, like a new corpse. He wasn’t as bad as the other identifiers; those who lived for hundreds of years doing the bidding of the Novel were almost completely wasted away; as if they had been mummified.

Kyungsoo reached up to touch his face, his hands deformed and wrinkled with age.

Oh, but it wasn’t age that caused this.

It was knowledge.

The knowledge of the universe was held in the minds of the Identifiers. Their minds were able to handle it, but their bodies weren’t. Eventually, their body would give way to the bone-crushing weight of the job, and begin to die. Kyungsoo, based on the estimation of his body, has been dead for ten years.

This is why he hates mirrors. He is not afraid of his reflection, the basis on which he can see what he truly has become, but rather, he is angry. He is angry, and relieved, that others cannot see him for what he really is; a monster.

Yes, Kyungsoo thought, I really am a monster.

As his fingers traveled around his jaw, tracing the holes and bone that is now visible, he thought of Jongin. The vibrant youth reflected in his dark brown eyes. If anything, Kyungsoo envied Jongin. He has no idea what it is like to experience blissful ignorance, the warm embrace of a friend you’ve entrusted your life with, the sweet protection of knowing someday, you’ll grow old, and your time will come to die. Kyungsoo envies how Jongin will be treated as a human in Heaven, where untold riches await the happy and eager boy. Kyungsoo wondered just how peaceful it would be to die. How warm it must be to wake up in the early afternoon, the bed and blankets warm from not one, but two bodies.

Kyungsoo wonders what it’s like to fall in love, to be human, like Jongin, and find another who understands you.

Kyungsoo laughs at his own reflection, the starving image of an empty and loathing soul. He stares into the blank atramentous eyes and mocks them.

It would be impossible for a person like Jongin to fall in love with a monster like Kyungsoo.

 

“Hey, Kyungsoo? Are you in there? You’re gonna be late,” Luhan knocked on the door softly, and when no answer came from Kyungsoo, he opened the door to find Kyungsoo, lying on the floor, his head covered by his small knees.

“Are you okay? Kyungsoo?” Luhan asked, shaking the man in front of him. Kyungsoo looked up, eyes filled with sadness and desperation, and smiled at Luhan.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a bit nervous, I guess,” Kyungsoo said, standing up and making his way to the door.

“Are you sure? I mean, I guess you would be nervous, this being your first time on a date and all,” Luhan tried to joke; eyes scanning his best-friend’s every move. Kyungsoo left the bathroom and jumped across their small living room, looking for his jacket.

“Luhan,” Kyungsoo called from behind the kitchen island, “have you seen my jacket?”

“This one?” Luhan asked; the jacket hanging on his index finger. Kyungsoo sighed and thanked his friend, reaching for the jacket.

“Hey, by the way Kyungsoo, I won’t be back tonight until late,” Luhan stated as Kyungsoo ran out of the house with a small “okay”.

Kyungsoo left the nice warm apartment and was instantly hit with the chilling cold of an April in Seattle. Shivering, he zipped his jacket up and ran to the café, in an attempt to keep warm.

 

Upon arriving at the café, Kyungsoo walked through the two doors to be assaulted by hushed whisperings from the other people who worked there. Kyungsoo only sighed in relief when he spotted Chanyeol, serving a girl who as obviously into him. Kyungsoo vaguely remembered that Chanyeol was in a relationship with a man named Baekhyun, Chanyeol thought it was serious, but, from what Kyungsoo could read, Baekhyun had told Chanyeol repeatedly that it was just a physical thing. But, nevertheless, Chanyeol clung to the man Kyungsoo hadn’t even met, and probably wouldn’t. Chanyeol's future predicted Baekhyun would be out of his life in three years. Kyungsoo shivered, not even wanting to think about the last time someone important in a friend’s life mysteriously disappeared.

“Hey Kyungsoo. Jongin texted me saying he was running a little late. Have a seat if you would like,” Chanyeol beamed. Kyungsoo nodded silently but friendly, and sat down, staring at the people in the café, sifting through the words that encircled his brain, to find exactly what he was looking for.

Ah, yes, he had found it.

Date areas.

A long list of random areas filled his mind. First dates, engagement spots. Several places.

Alki point?

No, keep it local.

A place for broke college students.

Nothing?

Every spot he turned down. Nothing felt like it would work for either of them. A quiet place to talk, not full of people, yet social. Kyungsoo was completely fine with going to the museum, but it closed at 5 on Tuesdays. Why were they going out on a Tuesday anyway? Kyungsoo shook the thought away.

The in occurred to him.

Ruby’s.

Granted, it was a small, informal place, and Luhan had liked it better, but Kyungsoo couldn’t think of anything. As the door chimed open, Kyungsoo sighed in relief that he had figured out where they were going.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Jongin spluttered, who obviously had run here.

“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo replied, getting up from the table.

“Shall we go?” Jongin stepped out of the way, motioning Kyungsoo passed. Kyungsoo turned to glance at Chanyeol, who had the dorkiest and most all-knowing grin on his face, and smiled back. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad, Kyungsoo had thought optimistically.

 

“Do you like this place?” Jongin asked as they were settled into the table. Kyungsoo looked up from his distracting thoughts and stared at Jongin, whose eyebrows were raised in question.

“Oh yeah. My friend and I come here every so often. It’s nice. Actually, we came here about three weeks ago,” Kyungsoo rambled. Jongin became pensive, and Kyungsoo studied him in confusion, before the waitress came up and took their order.

“Wait. Does your friend have blonde hair and look like a girl?” Jongin asked as she left, startling Kyungsoo at the randomness.

“Um, yes. That’s probably the most accurate description of his outer appearance,” Kyungsoo mumbled.

“Oh! So you were that guy!” Jongin slammed his hand on the table in joy, and then in pain when began to baby it. Kyungsoo laughed, his head rocking back and his shoulders shaking enthusiastically. Jongin began to laugh too, stinging in both of their eyes from giggling. They only feigned being sober when their confused waitress came out with their food.

“Oh my freaking God, that was funny,” Jongin commented, sipping down a diet coke. Kyungsoo wiped his eyes with his napkin, nodding wholeheartedly.

“Why did you ask about my friend?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Oh,” Jongin said his mouth half full of burger, “because I used to work here. You were that weird one who took the check from me.”

Kyungsoo flushed, and changed the subject, “Why did you stop working here?”

“Oh, because of the health hazard here,” Jongin stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “it hasn’t been proven yet, but I can feel something nasty is going on here.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes at the serious look in Jongin’s eyes. It didn’t make him menacing, it made him look like a puppy who thought he was too big for his pants. Jongin noticed this, and his face softened to the most adorably sad expression Kyungsoo had ever seen. He had to put his burger down and stare at the younger boy in disapproval with a side of adoration. Jongin laughed.

“You’ve totally fallen for me,” Jongin jokes, making Kyungsoo flush again.

“You are totally, completely, verbosely wrong-” Kyungsoo was cut off by the sound of Jongin’s phone. He looked at it, and furrowed his eyes.

“Hey listen,” Jongin said, getting up from the table, “I got to take this.”

Kyungsoo nodded, and watched Jongin’s retreating figure. He sighed; there was no way he was going to be able to tell what’s going on. Kyungsoo elected to watching Jongin’s lips and eyes. They began to harden, and Kyungsoo’s concern grew. He watched the lips as they were flinging words harshly and biting into the phone. His eyes grew as he watched the lips with a more broadened view. The plump lips that moved with fluidity and grace, their tint of pink complying with the tan face they were placed on. Kyungsoo let out a breathy sigh as he watched them stretch into a thin line. He wondered vaguely what they felt like. Were they tough, like he had always imagined boys’ lips would be, or would they be soft, like kissing a flower petal?

Kyungsoo shook his head at the thought, and moved his eyes from the boy’s lips, to the diner. The woman, to be more specific. She shouldn’t still be there, but it was worth a shot.

“Um, excuse me,” Kyungsoo asked as a waitress passed his booth.

“Yes, how can I help you sir?” she asked with the fake voice all waitresses use.

“Is Rachel still here?” Kyungsoo asked about the woman he saw in window. Judging by the way the other waitress’s face fell; he guessed she wasn’t, although he knew the answer.

“No, I’m afraid she’s not. Are you a friend of hers?” she asked.

Kyungsoo shook his head.

“No, I’m not.”

The waitress smiled and excused herself. Kyungsoo was left contemplating if he should, in fact, ask the manager to hire the woman. He shrugged it off, though. He couldn’t do that.

“Hey, sorry about that. My roommate said the apartment was flooding, so I have to go back and deal with the insurance people,” Jongin explained. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Then why the hell are you still here?” Kyungsoo shouted as Jongin sat back down, asking for the check.

“Because I’m on a ing date. I told him that under no circumstances is he to interrupt me. Now he has to do the grocery shopping for two months,” Jongin laughed, not noticing the incredulous look on Kyungsoo’s face.

“I’ll pay for your dinner if you admit you like me,” Jongin stated greasily. Kyungsoo grimaced and through a twenty at Jongin’s face.

“That should cover it,” Kyungsoo said, getting up and walking off.

“Hey, wait for me!” Jongin exclaimed as he ran after the older boy, who stood frozen at the sheer non-existence of warmth outside.

“Cold loser?” Jongin asked, poking fun at Kyungsoo while putting on his leather jacket.

“You know, if I was a crappier person, I would take that jacket from you,” Kyungsoo mused while walking next to Jongin.

“Here, take it,” Jongin shrugged off the jacket to reveal a sweatshirt. Kyungsoo shook his head.

“No freaking way. Besides, my apartment is closer than you think,” Kyungsoo rebutted, but stopped when he felt heaviness on his shoulders.

“Brat,” he muttered, putting the jacket on as Jongin laughed.

They walked in silence. The air wasn’t as awkward as Kyungsoo had thought it was going to be. There was something wrong with him; he knew he had to admit it. Why did Jongin like him? Why was he on a date with Jongin? Why did it feel so wrong, yet so right? Kyungsoo shivered, and then was pulled closer to Jongin’s side. He stiffened a bit, but then relaxed. His heart beat frantically inside him, and it did until they got to his apartment door.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo said, shaking off his jacket. Jongin took it wordlessly, looking at the floor.

“So, I’ll see you later?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Will you?” Jongin asked back, looking up at Kyungsoo with an unreadable expression.

“I think so,” Kyungsoo guessed, getting closer to the door as Jongin got closer to him.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin whispered as the distance lessened. If Kyungsoo could feel his heart when they were walking home, it was about to pop out of his chest now.

“See you later,” Jongin said as their lips brushed, closing the distance completely. Firm but soft lips molded with Kyungsoo’s surprised ones only for a moment. Jongin parted, and left without a word down the street, leaving a stunned and red Kyungsoo on the street, beaming like a madman only after the retreating figure was no longer visible.

 

Kyungsoo dreamt of red and pink Camellia. The sweet scent of Jongin invaded his dreams, and the petals graced his lips like those of the boy. The dream was heavenly, and the end was bittersweet. As the light peeked in through window, Kyungsoo rolled over, sadness and joy overflowing. It was hard to decide if he was happy or he was worried. All he knew was he wanted to see him, even if it was just for a second, Kyungsoo yearned to know what the boy was feeling.

He arrived at the coffee shop earlier than Jongin’s shift by three hours. He contemplated standing outside, or even walking back to the plaza he passed to make his appearance less suspicious. However, after several minutes of dawdling, Chen opened the door, a knowing smirk plastered on his face, and ushered the boy to come in. Ears painted crimson, he did so, walking into the shop awkwardly and stiff, arousing laughter from the two baristas.

“Hey, there is someone here for you,” Chanyeol said, pointing towards the spot Kyungsoo normally sat at. Kyungsoo’s hope grew higher at the impossible notion that Jongin could be waiting for him.

“Hello Kyungsoo. It’s been a while,” Kyungsoo gasped at the man before him. Blonde hair, and a smirk that told Kyungsoo to run.

“Kris,” Kyungsoo announced through gritted teeth. Kris smiled.

“Hey,” standing up, Kris took Kyungsoo’s hand as they left wordlessly from the café, leaving Chen and Chanyeol in confusion.

“Where are you taking me?” Kyungsoo bit through his struggles.

“Somewhere we can talk. Alone,” Kris stated. Kyungsoo froze in fear; there was no way he was going to-

Kris smiled and, with a gust of wind, took off flying. If Kyungsoo wasn’t so afraid, he would have screamed as the ground that was once below him got smaller and smaller. All Kyungsoo could here was the rushing of the wind, and Kris’s maniacal laughter.

 

“Why are you here, Kris?” Kyungsoo asked as they reached the top of a tall building. Kris’s hard eyes and leather jacket were incredibly intimidating, but Kyungsoo knew better. He stood his ground. All Gatherers were thought to be intimidating.

“You know exactly why I’m here, D.O, don’t play stupid,” Kris replied menacingly. Kyungsoo cringed at the nickname he was bestowed by the Gatherers. He had always hated it, although Kris continued to use it as a sign of either endearment or entertainment.

“Please don’t use that name, and I have no idea why you here,” it was no secret that Kris didn’t like Kyungsoo very much.

“You know why, dumb-! You’re not stupid. Think, Kyungsoo,” Kris stomped towards Kyungsoo angrily before composing himself and taking a step back.

Kyungsoo thought long and hard about what could’ve possibly driven Kris all the way here from South Korea.

“Oh my God, Kyungsoo. The guy. The guy,” Kris repeated, rubbing his temples. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. It was Jongin. That was the reason he was here.

“Why are you here because of him, we just talked, that’s it,” Kyungsoo tried to distract himself from the growing knot in his stomach. He knew he was dangerously close to falling, but he wasn’t there yet. Kris sighed, looking at Kyungsoo with hard eyes.

“Do you love him, Kyungsoo?” Kris asked. Kyungsoo spluttered.

“Of course not! Why would I love him, that’s ridiculous! I just met him, for Christ’s sake!” Kyungsoo reasoned to an unresponsive Kris.

“Look Kyungsoo,” Kris said, leaning on the railing at the edge of the building; it was there to keep people from committing suicide, which Kyungsoo thought about doing, “You know people are getting whispers, right? My people, from Heaven. Ming Yun isn’t happy. I just want you to know that what you’re doing is treading on thin ice. If Ming Yun finds out that you’ve fallen in love, which don’t even tell me you’re not going to, she could have your neck. I just worry about you.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened at the last sentence. Kris and Kyungsoo had been chosen at the exact same time to be part of the great Recording, the way the Novel is recorded. All they had was each other. They were two halves of a whole. Granted, they almost hated each other, but they were dependent upon the other.

“Look, Kyungsoo. Just don’t get killed,” Kris said, looking directly into Kyungsoo’s eyes. Kyungsoo nodded.

“So, how have you been, Wu Fan?” Kyungsoo loved to use Kris’s real name. Kris looked at him with spite in his eyes.

“Don’t use that name. And I’ve been alright, just saving my Identifier’s ,” Kris replied nonchalantly, sitting down on the building, overlooking the Aurora Bridge. Kyungsoo joined him silently.

“Why do you think people jump from that bridge?” Kris asked after a while. Kyungsoo was silent for a moment, thinking about the best way to explain the reason.

“From what I can gather,” both snorted at the bad inside joke, “is that people dream of beauty. Normal people want to be surrounded by happiness and beauty. I think that’s why people choose to die in beautiful places. Granted, this bridge doesn’t seem like a place to be thought of as beautiful, but the view around it draws people. I’ve never understood why Humans love beauty so much,” Kyungsoo muttered.

“They like beauty because they can’t see past face value,” Kris said. It was times like these when Kyungsoo wondered if Kris was trying to comfort him. Both of them knew that Identifiers had it the worst. Kris will never look like Kyungsoo. Kris will never be able to see what Kyungsoo can. Sometimes Kyungsoo wondered if Kris was the only Gatherer that knew and fully understood that.

“I’m sorry you’re like this,” Kris mumbled; he was never good at expressing his feelings. They both knew why, as well. Identifiers and Gatherers were Humans once. At the Age of Accountability, they were chosen by Fate to carry out the work of the Novel. They were bestowed every power imaginable to Humans, and entrusted with the Knowledge of the World. A long time ago, Identifiers and Gatherers were one entity. But they were corrupted by their power, and Fate decided to split them in half. That’s where the Grecian myth of Humans comes from.

“Don’t be sorry. I know we’re in this together,” Kyungsoo replied, his head leaning down. Kyungsoo knew Kris better than anyone, and he could see that Kris was worried.

“You realize you should stop seeing him, right? Remember what happened to Yonghwa?” Kyungsoo shivered at the thought of Yonghwa, one of the first Identifiers in Korea. The legend says that Yonghwa fell in love with a Concubine in the castle. The woman, named Joohyun, love him as well, and they conceived a child. Fate was livid, and took Joohyun and the child for herself. Completely crushed over the news that Fate had taken his love, he flung himself off of the nearest mountain. However, Identifiers, nor Gatherers, can die, so he lay there for days in anguish as his bones tried to heal back. Fate came after he was healed and destroyed him. In the process, his Gatherer was destroyed as well, for you cannot have one half without the other.

“You’ll fall in love with him,” Kris went on, “and it will destroy you, and it will destroy me. I’m already cutting you slack by being next to Luhan, but this, this boy, he’s too far, Kyungsoo. Cut ties with him and walk away before it’s too late,” Kris begged. Kyungsoo was shocked to hear the broken voice. He nodded silently. Even though it was loud on the rooftop, Kyungsoo could hear the faint sound of breaking glass. It was his heart. Kyungsoo almost laughed; his heart couldn’t possibly break if he didn’t have one.

“I want to back now,” Kyungsoo stated, leaning to look down at the ground below them. Kris sighed, and looked at the sky.

“I’m too tired. Maybe later,” Kris said, yawning as if for emphasis.

“Fine,” with that Kyungsoo leapt from the building, gratuitously about fifty stories, and plunged to the ground. All he could here was the sound the rushing wind and a far-away “, Kyungsoo,” before he was grabbed and placed on the ground safely in an alleyway.

“You are such an , you know that?!” Kris yelled, shoving Kyungsoo up against the wall by his jacket. That was Kyungsoo’s breaking point.

“I don’t want to let him go, though,” Kyungsoo mumbled, voice breaking from the rawness of his throat. Kris sighed and let him go. Kyungsoo was always the emotional one. He had empathy, regardless of whether Kyungsoo would like to admit it or not, he did. Kris sighed; think frantically of what he could possibly do to make his Identifier feel a bit better.

“Kyungsoo, I’m sorry. But you know the only way to get a pardon is if Shangdi comes back-” Kris’s face connected with Kyungsoo’s angry fist.

“But he won’t come back, don’t you see? Shangdi is never coming back, and once again, I have to put up with !” Kyungsoo screamed. He stopped, covering his mouth as he looked at Kris’s broken lip.

“Then fine,” Kris stated coldly, “then fall in love with him. Get caught. And die. It’s just my life too, why would I care?” Kris left, disappearing from the broken Kyungsoo’s sight.

Kyungsoo ran straight home, forgetting his bag, forgetting Jongin, forgetting everything. Yet, he remembered it all. As he fumbled with the keys to his apartment, all he could think about was every life he’d ever seen dying in front of him.

If he could die, he would have right then.

 

 

A long time ago, in the Garden, lived the great Shangdi. Throughout all of creation, he watched, carefully guarding his masterpiece with watchful eyes. From the trees that sang with the call of sparrows, to the might waves that crashed upon the sand, everything was his own. The land was called Eden, and the rulers of this land were called Humans.

The Humans were Shangdi's favorite creation. Built with the intelligence of angels, and the beauty of the most delicate flower, Shangdi saw himself in the innocent eyes of the Humans.

Because of their faithfulness and their empathy, Shangdi bestowed unto the Humans a gift. The gift was said to be the most valuable prize among Heaven.

The prize was free will.

Ecstatic, the Humans built a fire and danced in praise of Shangdi, who was the guest of honor. They celebrated for many days and Shangdi was happy.

After the Fall, Eden was left empty. Shangdi wondered the Garden distraught; for nothing was the same without his favorite creatures. Many days later, the Great Shangdi left the Garden to seek the company of the Humans on the outskirts of Eden.

Upon walking to the nearest village, something in the distance caught the eye of Shangdi. In the middle of the sea, a small boy was drowning, overtaken by the destructive force of the waves. Aghast, Shangdi commanded the sea to relinquish the boy. The sea hesitated, but did as it was told. As the boy washed ashore, Shangdi walked to him, and healed him of the water in his lungs. The boy went back to the village, alive and grateful for the stranger who had saved him.

Shangdi smiled as he walked among the shore, for the boy had reminded him of the times when he walked with the Humans. After thanking the sea, he started again for the village.

“You should not have done that,” a woman’s voice said softly from behind Shangdi. He turned around to find a maiden, clothed in the purest of white. She stood by the shore, looking out onto the calming ocean.

“I do not understand,” Shangdi replied. Shangdi was known for arrogance, and the maiden before him was foreign. His fists balled with anger at her informalities.

“You should not have saved the boy from the sea,” the maiden stated louder than before. Shangdi laughed in spite.

“And who are you to tell me what I should and should not do?” Shangdi questioned her, moving closer to the maiden.

“I am not a creature of you,” the maiden replied turning towards Shangdi, “nor am I a creature of Creation. I am simply a consequence, a design that took place once the reality was brought forth.”

“I do not understand,” Shangdi stated.

“My name is Ming Yun. I am the consequence of every action taken and received by the Humans whom you bestowed the Gift upon. I am Fate,” Ming Yun replied. Her serenity was alarming to Shangdi. She had no presence, yet she was presence, she had no life, yet she was life.

“And what did you mean by what you had said before?” Shangdi questioned.

“To tamper with the strings of one’s Fate is to tie the noose of consequence around the necks of many,” Ming Yun said.

With a breath of wind, the maiden named Ming Yun vanished. Shangdi took confused along the calm shore before heading off into the night for the village.

 

Several years later, Shangdi met the maiden again.

“Tonight, I want you to see what has happened with your tampering,” Ming Yun instructed, “go to the village as a poor beggar seeking refuge. You will soon learn of your consequence.”

Shangdi did as instructed and left for the village. Upon arriving, the shouts of chaos and bickering filled the ears of Shangdi. He arrived at a food cart, and asked the nearby people for help to the nearest inn.

“I can help you, sir,” a young boy said, leading Shangdi with glee to the street corner.

“Thank you, kind lad,” Shangdi smiled, as he fondly remembered how kind Humans could be.

They got the corner of the marketplace before hearing a piercing scream. Shangdi turned around in with horror etched in his features.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fifteen people stabbed on the street. Shangdi watched as the murderer was hauled off by men, and saw the face of the man who had stabbed the people.

It was the boy from the sea.

Shangdi was in torment. He pushed and prodded his way out of the village before finding seclusion in the forest. Shangdi wept and Ming Yun walked towards him, her face emotionless.

“I told you what was to happen,” Ming Yun whispered.

For days Shangdi wept.

“What am I to do now?” Shangdi asked.

“Give the boy to the ocean,” Ming Yun stated. Shangdi did as he was told.

Watching the young boy drown in the rushing waters of the angry sea, Shangdi’s heart began to erode.

“I don’t want others to see my Creation as this. I want others to see them as I saw them in the Garden,” Shangdi murmured.

“The only way we can remember that that has passed is to cling to it. But, the time of the Garden was before you bestowed the Gift to the Humans. What do you intend to do, take it back?” Ming Yun asked robotically.

“No,” Shangdi stated, eyes filled with determination, “I will be leaving this Earth. While I’m gone, you will simply make a recording of the way I will forever remember the Humans. Each and every human will take part in this great Recording. So, when others read of the Humans, they will know the good that Humans can be.”

Ming Yun and Shangdi formed a pact; if Shangdi does not interfere with Fate, Ming Yun will do all in her power to write the Novel that best represents the Humans for how Shangdi once saw them.

 

The story of the Novel was passed on through several generations of Identifiers and Gatherers. Each time a new one heard it, it would forever be marked into their memory. The great Pact between God and Fate. Shangdi and Ming Yun. Kyungsoo sighed as he took another swig of some unnamed alcohol. After the Pact, random Humans were chosen as greater than the rest. Identifiers were given Knowledge, while Gatherers were give Power. Kyungsoo had always been jealous of Kris. He didn’t know anything about the people he was sent to collect; not their weaknesses, strengths, secrets, or worries. He hadn’t the foggiest as to the future these people held, if they were not to die. Kyungsoo thought about Sehun, and the night he died.

Sehun wasn’t supposed to die on Luhan’s birthday.

Agony filled Kyungsoo as he lay down in his dark room, counting the glow in the dark stars that Luhan had gotten him for his birthday. Kyungsoo had the markings of a terrible friend.

He thought about Jongin.

Jongin was already different. The fact that he almost had no details was offsetting to him, but now he was under the radar of Heaven? What would Heaven do if they had found out Jongin was different, not a normal subject at all? Would they kill him? Kyungsoo laughed at his own thought; of course they would kill him. Ming Yun would have him executed on the spot.

Kyungsoo sighed, and tried to sit up, the alcohol and the darkness hindering him.

He thought about the legend of Yonghwa.

When he first became an Identifier, Kyungsoo never would have thought that he would ever be able to relate to Yonghwa. Now, he sees clearly the reason behind Yonghwa’s torment.

He was in love.

Love was a beautiful emotion that clouded judgment and made up for every mistake Kyungsoo had ever made. He couldn’t admit to himself he was in love. But really, what made sense anymore? He never thought he would experience love. Or was it even love? Kyungsoo sighed, his head fogging up from the alcohol.

One thing was true; even now he could admit it.

He didn’t want to lose Jongin.

He thought about what he saw in the mirror yesterday, and laughed. Jongin doesn’t love him, though. He probably never could. Not only was Kyungsoo jacked up on the inside, built with too many secrets and too many emotional problems to be stable in any sense of the word, but he was deformed, disfigured, and immortal. What would Jongin say if Kyungsoo told him that he was born in the 1940’s? what would Jongin say if Kyungsoo told him that he could read people’s life stories on their bodies, all except for the one person he could read to get Jongin’s belief? What would Jongin say if Kyungsoo told him that he might know how Jongin’s parents died?

Kyungsoo’s throbbing head hit the soft pillow in defeat. Even if he was able to fall in love with Jongin and have Jongin fall in love with him, there was still the inevitability that they would both be caught, and destroyed. The thought of Jongin ceasing to exist was painful, as if glass shards began to protrude from Kyungsoo’s heart.

Oh, to be in the fragile state of Human.

He wished he was a soft, tender boy who could make Jongin happy. Not a cruel, jaded man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wanted to be a man Jongin could be happy with, and die with. Not be the man who will stand over his grave, ridden in sands of frozen time, looking at the aged and peaceful corpse. He did not want to be the man who had to send his condolences to a widow dressed in black, crying over a man she got to keep in his life.

Kyungsoo didn’t want to be an admirer from the shadows as Jongin lived a fulfilled life.

As tears crept down his face, Kyungsoo wanted nothing more than to be more than just a string of memory in the tapestry of Jongin’s story.

 

It had been two weeks since Jongin has seen Kyungsoo, and light bulb of his sanity was starting to flicker out.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Jongin asked, banging his head against the counter. Chanyeol looked worried, and Chen looked amused. Tao came in at that moment, carrying heavy bags with ease and strutting through the café in very expensive attire. Chen sighed.

“It’s nice to know our boss isn’t really hinging on this café being a success to live,” Chen stated dramatically. Jongin stopped banging his head at the mentioning of boss, and sluggishly slid himself up to look at least half-way interested in his job. His shoulders slumped, and Chanyeol shot him a sympathetic look.

“Hey, where’s that guy you always hang out with, Jongin?” Tao asked, putting the coffee beans away. Jongin groaned, and fell again on the counter. Tao looked at him in surprise, missing the flamboyant signs of “shut the up, boss” that were coming from the two C’s.

“Did something happen?” Tao asked as Chen through his arms up in frustration.

“I diffed tim, and how he kates be,” Jongin said, his mouth covered by the granite countertop.

“I’m sorry, didn’t catch that. What?” Tao asked again. Jongin scooted his face two centimeters to the left and repeated himself.

“I kissed him, and now he hates me,” Jongin murmured in anguish. Tao shook his head in understanding, a big O formed by his lips.

“Have you tried going to his house?” Tao asked.

Jongin shot up from the counter. No, of course he hadn’t thought of that. He smiled for a second before plunging right back into despair.

“No, but, if I were to go there, I might get shot,” Jongin mumbled. Tao raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous statement, before sighing.

“Alright everyone. We are closing early. Jongin, get your to Kyungsoo’s. Stat,” Tao commanded, Chen and Chanyeol rejoiced, and Jongin looked at his manager with wide eyes.

“Okay, Jongin. Since you’re just standing there, how about if you don’t leave right now, you’re fired,” Tao stated. Jongin nodded, slipped his apron off, and ran out of the door with a container, and straight to Kyungsoo’s apartment. Tao sighed in relief, watching as Jongin left in exuberance.

“Good luck, Jongin,” Tao whispered.

 

A sudden rapping at the door startled Kyungsoo from his notes for tutoring. It took almost all of his energy to make it to the door. Looking through the peep-hole, Kyungsoo almost squeaked as he saw the brown hair and the crescent-moon eyes.

“W-what do y-you want,” Kyungsoo mumbled just loud enough to be heard through the thick door. He watched as Jongin stepped back in surprise.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Jongin bit out despite being nervous. Kyungsoo sighed.

“Now’s not really a good time. Luhan’s away for the weekend, and I have to catch up on tutoring, so,” Kyungsoo trailed off, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I brought you something,” Jongin said, holding the container up to the peep hole, “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

Kyungsoo groaned, being defeated with his favorite thing was embarrassing.

“Alright, hold on,” Kyungsoo replied as Jongin silently cheered in victory.

 

“So. This is your place?” Jongin asked as he walked through the hallway into the living room. Although it was messy, Kyungsoo didn’t think it was that bad. But, with him having Jongin inside, he suddenly realized that his apartment was, in fact, a piece of .

“Yeah, sorry about the mess,” Kyungsoo stated, leading Jongin into the kitchen.

“It’s okay, it’s cute,” Jongin commented, looking around for a measuring spoon. After finding it, Jongin began to make the beverage in silence. Kyungsoo guessed the silence was only awkward for him.

“Here you go,” Jongin smiled as he handed the drink to Kyungsoo. The older flinched at the pained expression Jongin held as he was smiling. Kyungsoo only wanted to see the genuine smile that lined his features and played repeatedly in Kyungsoo’s dreams. A twinge of sadness overtook him, and he stared down at the broken coffee cup that held the delicious drink of the Gods, and frowned. They sat in silence again, Kyungsoo feeling studied as Jongin drained his own cup.

“That’s a nice drawing,” Jongin complimented. Kyungsoo looked up and saw the rough draft he drew about two and a half weeks ago.

“What kind of flower is that?” Jongin asked, walking to fetch the drawing.

“It’s a Camellia,” Kyungsoo said shortly.

“Oh? Are we doing more symbolism?” Jongin joked, studying the picture, “Did you draw this?”

“No, and yes. I already know what the Camellia stands for,” Kyungsoo said, trying to sip the drink and keep his mouth shut.

“Oh? And what does the Camellia stand for?” Jongin asked stepping closer to Kyungsoo, eyes entrancing the older’s.

“It’s a symbol of love,” Jongin took a step closer as Kyungsoo’s words caught in his mouth, “It’s said that in the Middle Ages in China, people would give them to each other as a sign of devotion,” a step closer, “Also, it is said that those who share the gift of the Camellia will be eternally happy in love.”

A step closer.

“Does it really?” Jongin asked, feigned fascination in his voice as he moved closer to Kyungsoo, only mere inches separating them.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo gasped out.

“And by you drawing this flower, did you plan on giving it to anyone,” now just centimeters separated them.

“It’s possible,” Kyungsoo whispered, nerves too high-strung to talk any louder.

“That must mean you love them,” Jongin suggested. Kyungsoo’s eyes closed slightly.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Kyungsoo retorted breathily.

“So why have you been avoiding them?” Jongin asked.

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened as Jongin’s lust filled eyes closed slowly.

“Say it,” Jongin commanded.

“Say what?” Kyungsoo asked flustered.

“Tell me the reason you’ve been ignoring me if you love me so much,” Jongin stated, grabbing onto Kyungsoo when he tried to leave.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kyungsoo could now see the abyss Yonghwa had chosen to jump into. It was cold, damp, and eternal. It had no joy. All it had was destruction.

“Yes, you do Kyungsoo, don’t lie to me,” Kyungsoo was pinned against the wall of the kitchen.

The abyss began to open wider but, much to Kyungsoo’s surprise, he didn’t fall in just yet.

“I can’t,” Kyungsoo gasped.

“Yes you can,” Jongin prodded, and bigger the abyss got.

There’s a saying among Humans that the falling in love is the easiest thing to do.

For once, Kyungsoo saw that they were right.

He just didn’t know who fell first.

The abyss opened up and Kyungsoo fell. Faster and faster, into complete and total darkness he fell. However, instead of feeling afraid, or hurt, Kyungsoo felt alive. He could feel the beating of his heart, the rush of adrenaline, and the sweet smell of chocolate floating through the air. He opened his eyes, and gasped in surprise. Because, right next to him, was Jongin. Soaring towards the never-ending darkness with the most beautiful smile on his face. Kyungsoo couldn’t help it. He began laughing, and crying; his heart overwhelmed with the joy and emotion he had lost over the years of being an Identifier. None of that mattered anymore. All Kyungsoo could think about as the wind ruffled his hair and Jongin’s laughter pierced his ears, was that none of it mattered anymore; the Novel, God, Fate, Kris, his job, his appearance. Nothing. Because in the arms of Jongin, he was happy, loved and warm with life.

Jongin’s lips molded over Kyungsoo’s in a wild frenzy. It was hard, and it was messy, but it was so wonderful. Kyungsoo melted into a pile of goo as Jongin tantalized his wet, soft tongue around the rim of Kyungsoo’s lips. The body heat that radiated off of Jongin and onto Kyungsoo was new and foreign.

Kyungsoo tried to talk, tried to ask what was happening, but his body told him to just feel. After Jongin had picked him up and carried him to his bedroom, every question was forgotten.

Kyungsoo was thrown on the bed as Jongin ripped his shirt off. Kyungsoo would have rolled his eyes, but was frightened at what was to come.

“Are you okay?” Jongin asked breathily. Kyungsoo didn’t know the answer. He searched Jongin’s chest for some answers, anything that would help him get through this. All he could see was the equivalent of smeared tattoos. He soon became entranced with them, sitting up and running his hands over every crevice of Jongin’s toned abdomen. Jongin shivered, but Kyungsoo was unaware.

“What are you doing?” Jongin asked. Kyungsoo looked up at his face. If he was going to hell, and taking Jongin with him, he might as well get the most he can out of it.

“I love you,” Kyungsoo stated. It wasn’t dramatic, no sappy poems. Just a simply quiet statement.

“I love you too,” Jongin mimicked the intensity. They both sat on Kyungsoo’s rickety bed, staring into each other’s eyes as darkness began to creep up.

After a little while, both boys closed the gap, lips molded perfectly over one another’s in sync, the dim glow of the dollar-store stars bouncing off the scattered papers of drawing and poems, and reflected off the two quivering bodies. The gasps and weakened moaned reflected off of the walls to harmonize with the lights impeccably.

Laying by the bedside, was the Camellia, half-way drawn and crinkled from several eraser marks, but all the while still evident in its pure and enriched meaning, and innocent in its pink hue. It was almost funny to think that the drawing Kyungsoo made right after their first date would continually be a testament to their love; unorthodox and doomed, yet pure and deep.

It was funny indeed.