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1.
It’s too late to be outside and the playground is empty, swings slowly moving under a gentle wind and the light of the lampposts casting moving shadows over the trail Hyungwon follows. He shivers, having forgone his jacket in his haste to get away. But there was nowhere to run, and he had drifted with the falling night until his legs had brought him here, a deserted playground nestled between tall residential buildings, the lights in their windows almost all gone.
He feels tired, a weariness sitting deep in his bones but the cold keeps him awake, awake enough to soon notice he’s not as alone as he thought. There’s a rustle, and when Hyungwon looks up towards the low wall bordering the playground, a darker shadow is crouching there. A kid, Hyungwon thinks as he takes a step forward, a scrawny kid perching on the wall.
There’s something mischievous about him, almost impish, and the smile he gives Hyungwon seems too practiced to be sincere. The lamppost behind him lends a sickish hue to his skin, darkens his hair and his eyes, casting a too tall shadow on the grass before him. Hyungwon takes a few steps back, then, wondering how he didn’t notice him before. The kid shifts, and it’s when he stands that Hyungwon realizes he’s not a kid at all.
His balance on the low wall seems precarious at best, yet that doesn’t seem to bother him as he rocks on the ball of his feet, the same disturbing smile still plastered on his face. It’s only then that Hyungwon notices the guy is only wearing a sleeveless shirt, hanging low from his bony shoulders, despite the chill of the autumn night. This doesn’t seem to bother him either and Hyungwon swallows, the silent stare of the guy unnerving him.
“Aren’t you cold?”
The guy tilts his head, smile widening into something vaguely threatening.
“I’m never cold. What’s up with your face?”
Hyungwon’s hand flies to his swollen cheekbone, knowing from experience the purplish hue it must have taken by now.
“None of your business.”
“Alright.”
The guy shrugs, taking a step off the low wall and it shouldn’t be this graceful, Hyungwon thinks as he alights like a cat on the damp grass. Now that he’s out of the halo cast by the lamppost the guy looks more solid, bright eyes burning in his face with a feverish light.
“Where are you going?”
“What’s it to you?”
A shrug again, the guy playing with the rings on his fingers.
“Come on, humour me. I’m bored.”
Hyungwon stares at the guy’s hands, the thumb twirling a gold band slipped on his index finger. He has an inordinate amount of jewellery for someone so lightly dressed; gold bands on his fingers and gold earrings framing the shell of his ears, bracelets winding around his wrists, a bunch of necklaces resting on his collarbones.
“Where did you get all this?”
The guy stares at him for a moment before lightning up, holding his hands out with something akin to a real smile.
“This, you mean?”
The rings catch the weak light of the lamppost, and Hyungwon nods, staring at the golden shine.
“Got them here and there. Here, have one.”
“What?”
Hyungwon doesn’t have time to protest before the guy strips one of the rings from his fingers and throws it. Surprising everyone, Hyungwon catches it. The metal is cold in his palm.
“See you around, then. And watch your face! Hit back next time.”
Hyungwon watches the guy disappear behind the low wall in a stunned silence, no more than a shadow in the darkening night. He looks down at the circle of gold resting in his palm, the distinct feeling of having escaped an unknown threat nestling in his stomach, raising bumps on his skin. He lets out a slow breath, tension sweeping out of him as he stares at the ring. It seems simple enough, until Hyungwon notices the small bolts on either side of the band. Gingerly, he takes the ring between index and thumb and only then understands that it isn’t made of one simple band, but several folded into one. As he carefully unfolds them, a sphere forms on his palm, numbers and symbols enamelled on its ridges. Hyungwon recognizes it for what it is – a miniature astronomy sphere. He also recognizes that it must be old, very old. And extremely precious.
He folds it back together into a simple band, shoving it into his pants pocket where it rests, a curious weight against his thigh; still cold, as if it had been encased in ice for far too long.
2.
Another night, another flight, and this time Hyungwon choses a crowd to hide in.
A guy bumps into him, roughly; Hyungwon turns but the culprit has already disappeared, swallowed by a side-street lined with colourful neon signs, booming music spilling on the pavement. Hyungwon shrugs, stilling for a while as a laughing couple skirts past him, swaddled in scarves and each other’s warmth.
The chill of the night almost manages to put out the fire burning on his skin but he’s still on edge, eyes darting from people to people, from shops to restaurants to overcrowded bars as he wanders aimlessly through noisy streets and packed avenues. The stars are out of view and Hyungwon’s sinking into the noise, into the light but he lets them, lets them fill his sight, his lungs; fill the void inside him until the turmoil subsides and he’s nothing anymore, a pure entity of flesh and bones steering through the streets, thoughtless, aimless. An empty phantom, the rising wind scattering his remains.
A flash of gold, someone falling into step beside him. Hyungwon comes back to himself, senses registering again. The cold on his skin, the pain between his ribs, the hunger in his belly and the steps beside his own.
“I knew it was you.”
“You’re the guy from the playground.”
That wolfish smile again as the guy nods while Hyungwon stares. He’s wearing the same shirt, a tired woolly coat thrown over it, too-long sleeves falling over his hands. And the gold, the gold on his ears, the gold over his collarbones, shining in the lights of a breathing town.
“Do you still have the ring I gave you?”
Hyungwon nods, holding up his left hand and the gold band circling his index finger.
“Do you want it back?”
“Nah, keep it. It’s a present.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I do now.”
“It’s old, right? Must be expensive.”
The guy shrugs, looking ahead as they amble down the street. It grows quieter as they reach its end, bordered by small cafés tucked against each other as if to keep warm.
“I guess it is old. But I don’t mind, it means more to you than it does to me.”
“How do you know it means anything to me?”
“You’ve kept it. You’re wearing it.”
Hyungwon feels himself smile as he looks down at his hand and maybe the guy is right. After all, he did keep it, folding and unfolding it endlessly as he laid awake at night, listening to the noises ringing throughout his apartment, listening to the breath beside him; wondering where it came from, how long ago was it made, imagining the kind of person who could have held it, looking at the sphere in his palm and thinking about the cosmos it pictured.
“Okay.”
The smile holds as Hyungwon looks up, the man staring back at him with a feverish glint deep in his eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Hyungwon. What’s yours?”
“Kihyun.”
The guy nods again, stretching his arms over his head.
“Do you wanna see something cool?”
“Sure.”
“Come on, then.”
The hand Kihyun clasps around Hyungwon’s wrist as he takes off in a side street is cold, almost glacial; winter nesting at the tip of his fingers. Hyungwon stares at the hand resting there against his skin, a thought unfolding; touch was never meant to hurt and he remembers the days where it didn’t. A soft voice and warm covers, pretty smiles and loving hands, playful laughter soon replaced by tears and the voice had changed; rough hands and harsher words taking its place.
“We’re here.”
Hyungwon shakes himself and looks up at the tall building in front of them, dark and decrepit, the back door hanging open before them.
“That’s… Great.”
Kihyun laughs, something sharp sounding rusty, as if it didn’t get to be heard very often.
“We have yet to go up.”
“Up?”
“Follow me.”
And Hyungwon does, follows Kihyun along dark corridors, up steep staircases, landings after landings seemingly never-ending and how tall can a building be? Never does he fear, though, never does he think that this is too strange, too suspicious, that Kihyun may lead him to harm; strangely he trusts him, a stranger in the night who gave him a present, a cold golden band, a tiny world in the palm of his hand.
Kihyun stops then, and Hyungwon almost crashes into him, out of breath, legs unsteady. Kihyun did not even break a sweat as they went up, and his voice is even when he pushes open the last door, beckoning Hyungwon to follow. They alight on a rooftop, and Hyungwon has never been this close to the sky. He takes a few steps, head tilted back, staring at the night sky above them, the stars finally visible, high above the noise of the city.
“How did you ever find this place?”
Kihyun shrugs, stepping lightly past Hyungwon, towards the parapet at the far end.
“I just did.”
Hyungwon watches as Kihyun climbs up, standing straight on the parapet as he did on the low wall of the playground but the fall there wasn’t that great; a wave of vertigo hits him as fear roots him in place.
“Get down, you’re gonna fall.”
“I won’t, it’s fine. I never fall.”
And maybe it’s true, Hyungwon thinks as he watches Kihyun balance like a cat, stepping lightly on raised toes as he skirts between safety and a certain death, dark hair swept by a chill wind. He’s beautiful, he thinks, the whole scene is, somehow removed from time itself, Kihyun an immortal shadow against the darkest blue of the night.
“Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
Kihyun stills, glancing at Hyungwon with a questioning look, arms slightly raised to keep his balance.
“What?”
“Nothing, sorry.”
Kihyun smiles, turning to walk back the length of the parapet, a faraway look settling on his features.
“Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light, the blue the dim and the dark cloths, of night and light and the half-light… I like this poem, too.”
The foolishness Hyungwon had felt subsides at Kihyun’s words and he smiles, watching the guy step off the parapet, beckoning him closer with a gesture.
“Let’s sit for a while, yeah?”
The concrete is cold underneath them and Kihyun shrugs off his coat, folding it in a makeshift seat for Hyungwon, who can only protests. “I’m never cold”, Kihyun says; never cold, just as he never falls, and Hyungwon accepts it just as he accepted everything else.
They sit side by side in silence for a time, protected from the wind by the parapet against which they lean. It’s nice, Hyungwon realizes; the fire in him is out and he threads his hands in its soft ashes, hoping for something else to grow there. He tilts his head back, watching the constellations blinking overhead and when he looks Kihyun is doing the same, dark eyes fixed on the night sky as if it could swallow him whole.
Hyungwon feels the need to talk, to build a bridge towards this being who decided they should be friends. And so he does, pointing his finger at a cluster of stars.
“This one’s Gemini, I think.”
Kihyun tilts his head towards him, an amused glint in his eyes.
“You know the constellations?”
“Not really.”
Hyungwon blushes, looking down at his hands folded in his lap, at the little ring of gold around his finger. He doesn’t want to say he may have spent one or two sleepless night reading on the cosmos, a miniature astronomy sphere at his side.
“Do you know the tale?”
Hyungwon shrugs, forcing his eyes to lift on Kihyun but the guy isn’t looking at him, eyes lost on the constellation blinking above. Hyungwon’s words feel thick as they pass his lips.
“Not really.”
“I can tell you, if you want.”
“Sure.”
Kihyun shifts, sitting straighter, as if the telling of the story required a special kind of solemnity. When he speaks his voice takes on a new quality, too, all playfulness edged out, and Hyungwon listens with attention, knees hugged to his chest.
“Gemini stands for Castor and Pollux. They were twins, but of different fathers. Pollux was born of Zeus and was immortal, Castor was born of a Spartan king, and was mortal. They were great hunters and horsemen, always together, until Castor was killed with the thrust of a spear. Pollux came back to him too late, and while Castor was dying Zeus offered his son to either spend eternity in Olympus with the gods, or give half of his immortality to Castor. Pollux couldn’t bear eternity without his brother, and he chose to give him half of his life. Castor and Pollux then shared their time between Olympus and Hades, the realm of the dead. They were revered both as gods and as mortals, whose deceased souls were worthy of offerings. They symbolise death, and eternity.”
“So Pollux chose death rather than spend eternity alone.”
A strange glim alights in Kihyun’s eyes as he looks back at Hyungwon, something restless on his boyish features.
“Yeah, he did. What would you have chosen?”
Hyungwon shrugs, looking up at the two hunters, forever together in the night sky. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks.
“I’d probably have done the same.”
“You know that if we take the magic out, it’s just a guy who killed himself because he couldn’t bear the loss of his brother.”
Hyungwon lets out a short laugh, folding a bit more on himself, head tilted to look at Kihyun.
“Yeah, maybe. I still think it’s a nice tale.”
“Mh. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone that much.”
Kihyun’s playing with the rings on his fingers, spinning them slowly as Hyungwon stares, eyes lost.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“You’re still young, though. Maybe that will happen.”
Hyungwon laughs, shaking his head as if this could dissipate the uneasy feeling lowering over him like a fog.
“Yeah, cause you aren’t?”
“I guess I am.”
Kihyun takes a beat too long to answer, brushing invisible dust off his worn pants as he stands. In the same flowing motion he’s back up on the parapet and Hyungwon turns to watch him as he takes a few steps on the edge before sitting, legs dangling into the void below. Hyungwon shifts to face the same way, raising on his knees to pillow his head on his crossed arms resting upon the safeguard. The lights of the town spread before them like a distorted reflection of the stars above and Hyungwon feels removed, unconcerned; a bird watching a land where it will never alight.
“Are you hurt?”
“What?”
Kihyun doesn’t look at him when he speaks, eyes lost on the view before them but if his voice is even his face looks dark, deep shadows burning in the hollow of his cheeks.
“Your hands kept going to your ribs as we went up.”
“Aren’t you observant.”
A sigh, and when Kihyun turns back to glance at Hyungwon he looks tired, unbelievably so, something old and weary stirring in his dark eyes. Hyungwon feels compelled to smile, the fog thickening over him.
“It’s nothing. Things just get out of hand sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
“He doesn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, he loves you, that’s what you were gonna say next?”
Something like anger alights between Hyungwon’s ribs, almost painful in its intensity, but before he can express anything Kihyun is talking again and his voice douses the flames; it’s an old voice, almost timid as he speaks into the wind, gaze lost on the darkening night.
“Would he give up eternity for you?”
“That’s– That’s a lot to ask of someone.”
The humour Hyungwon had wished to sip in his tone falls flat, Kihyun simply humming under his breath, heels thumping softly against the parapet. Hyungwon knows the answer, he does, but putting it into words would mean too much, bear too much; he is not ready for the change it would have to bring.
“Do you know what this is?”
Hyungwon looks up, following the twisting line Kihyun traces on the night sky with a raised finger. When he doesn’t answer, Kihyun lets his arm fall and his old voice raises again.
“It’s Eridanus. It’s a river, and it’s also the way Phaethon followed when he was driving his father’s chariot, losing control and scorching sky and earth until Zeus stroke him down. But some believe it is a path of souls, the way you tread when you go up to the Heavens. Maybe it’s true. There’s a void there, no galaxies for a billion light years. Maybe it’s a gate to somewhere.”
“Why do you know so much about space?”
Kihyun laughs his sharp, rusty laugh, tilting his head as he keeps looking up at the sky.
“I gave you my ring, didn’t I? You figured it out?”
“The sphere? Yeah, I did.”
“Then you got your answer.”
Hyungwon doesn’t feel like he has much of anything but he doesn’t insist, the wistfulness on Kihyun’s features somehow keeping him to probe any further. He has things he’d rather stay buried, too. So he speaks of something else instead, asks about Phaethon and his chariot, about the void, about Castor and Pollux and the path of souls and Kihyun speaks his weary words and it feels of eternity, there on this roof. An eternity he wouldn’t give up, not for anything, but the wind rises, hunger pangs and his knees hurt from keeping his position for too long. Suddenly he wishes he didn’t have a body, only a mind to hear of old stories, only a soul to tread on paths of stars. But he belongs to the world below, not the one above, and if Kihyun, with his strange otherworldliness, offered him a glimpse into something else, it cannot last forever.
Hyungwon shifts, getting to his feet like a century old man and he watches Kihyun for a bit; the short hair caressing the back of his neck, the lines of his nape, the slump of his shoulders as he leans forward, cold hands braced on the edge of the parapet. He watches and wonders what his life is like, what he does during the day, what he does at night, when he’s alone, stalking the streets in a too-big coat that does nothing against the cold. But he’s never cold, just as he never falls and there’s so many things Hyungwon wants to ask, but he doesn’t. Kihyun’s motionless like a stone and Hyungwon knows he cannot reach him, knows he’ll never be able to, knows that once day breaks the bridge they built between them will burst into flames.
“I’m gonna go.”
“Yeah? Alright. I’m gonna stay there a bit more.”
“Okay.”
Hyungwon stays rooted in place for a split second, unsure of what to do now, if he should touch him, get him to turn around, but his hands stay inert at his sides and he turns back after renewed parting words, the door at the far end of the roof standing open like a gaping mouth.
He stills for a while as he reaches the street, looking up, up towards the roof of the building, looking for a shape perching on the parapet. Hyungwon cannot see it, cannot see anything; nor the safeguard they leaned against, nor the stars they had looked upon, the soul path obscured by artificial lights and a heavy fog. This is my own world, Hyungwon thinks, and I was never meant to voyage far.
3.
Kihyun stays seated for a long time. The wind tangles in his hair but he doesn’t feel its chill; it cannot rival the ice of his own being. His breath does not fog against the sky, his hands do not warm when they are held. His soul will not tread the paths of heaven.
He stretches, bones moving under flesh and muscle; spreads his fingers in front of his face, pale against the night sky. I’d probably have done the same, Hyungwon had said, this strange boy full of night, bone-deep bruises that will never heal. A boy Kihyun should have devoured but did not.
Kihyun knows that given the choice he would not give up his eternity, that is too dear to him, despite the loneliness and the cold; that the stars will always be there, that he’s a bird of high places and the deepest night. Standing on the parapet he stretches as far as his arms will go; if he trains his eyes on the sky it seems nothing else exists beside him and the cosmos, and it’s so easy for him to feel only what he wishes. The caress of the wind on his skin, the stretch in his muscles, the pull of the gravity; he’s only a body, a feeling entity, exquisite in the soft moonlight.
And so Kihyun looks down for the first time that night, to the world below, the one he plays in, the one he’s trapped in. Spreading his arms like wings he takes a step, and lets himself fall. Nothing ever reaches the ground.
4.
It’s almost dawn when Hyungwon reaches the apartment he left that same night. The man resting in their shared bed is still there, breathing softly in his sleep, and Hyungwon watches his face for a long time, standing at the room’s threshold. The scene looks inviting, a warm body in a warm bed, hands outstretched to Hyungwon’s side of the bed, where the sheets have gone cold.
Would he give up eternity for you?
No, Hyungwon thinks, he wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t either.
Hyungwon retreats, closing the door behind him, careful not to make any sound. He goes to sit at the kitchen table, the clear light of daybreak falling softly over the furniture they chose together, over the walls they painted together. He sits and he stares, searching for meaning in these mundane testimonies of his life with this man. He cannot find any.
“Are you hurt?”
Kihyun had noticed, he’d noticed when Hyungwon himself didn’t anymore. There had been sadness in his eyes, a sadness Hyungwon had felt a long time ago; sadness and regrets that had resolved themselves in a deep nothingness. He’d watched the pieces fall away and they didn’t fit anymore, lost amongst pain and hurt.
Hyungwon pillows his head on his crossed arms upon the table, a tight feeling in his chest. He needs to put an end to this life, he knows, put an end to their self-destruction. But he isn’t sure there will be anything left once he does. He isn’t sure he will still be standing there, after the end.
I love you, Chan would always say.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it.
I love you.
Yeah, well, Hyungwon thinks. I don’t.
5.
It’s cold, sitting there on the low wall. And yet Hyungwon doesn’t move, hands shoved between his thighs to keep them warm. He waits, night deepening around him. Cold air in his lungs, treading his skin with icy steps. He waits, knowing it might be in vain, as was the last night and the one before that. But he doesn’t mind. The lampposts paint dancing shadows on the grass before him and he stares, finding meaning in their elusive shapes, the wind rustling the leaves of the alder trees above him, lending whispering voices to his shadowy tribe. He doesn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching, doesn’t see the figure standing at the edge of the light. He only notices when it speaks.
“Free my ashes with the wind, and do not weep for me; my short life was fine and full.”
Hyungwon looks up at the voice and Kihyun’s smiling, standing there on the grass, a few feet away from him. He looks boyish, hair dishevelled by the wind and hands shoved in his coat’s pockets.
“It’s windy as hell. What are you doing here?”
“The first thing you think of is ‘free my ashes with the wind’?”
“Too morbid?”
Hyungwon laughs, shaking his head. Kihyun takes the few steps to the wall and sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder. He’s as cold as the wind, Hyungwon thinks; still he huddles closer, a strange giddiness pushing against his ribs.
“You didn’t answer, what are you doing here? Waiting for me?”
“No. Maybe. I thought you might come back through here.”
“It’s a nice playground.”
“It is. The kids love it.”
“How are they doing? How’s the wife?”
“Dandy.”
Kihyun chuckles, reclining back on his hands, heels thumping softly against the wall upon which they sit. He stays quiet, eyes half closed, the wind tangling in his hair. Hyungwon stares, and he knows Kihyun can feel it; it’s in the arch of his brows and the set of his mouth.
“Do you have a phone?”
“A phone?”
“Yeah, you know. So I can contact you. Instead of waiting in places you might pass by.”
“You want to contact me?”
“Maybe.”
Kihyun straightens, wiping his hands on his knees. He spares a searching glance towards Hyungwon, hesitation in his face, but something else, too, something bright in his dark eyes.
“I don’t have a phone.”
“What? Everybody has one.”
“Not me. It’s not like there’s anyone to call or anything.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Everyone’s gone.”
“Oh.”
Kihyun shrugs like it doesn’t matter, a small smile playing at his lips. Hyungwon stares at him, noticing again how pale he looks, how his clothes never fit the weather, how strange, really, how strange he is, an animal grace nesting in each of his limbs.
“Will you just stay awake with me, then?”
“Sure. It’s not the sort of night for bed anyhow.”
“What do you mean?”
“Full moon.”
Kihyun points above his head and Hyungwon looks up for the first time. It’s true, the moon overhead big and full, bathing the night in a clear light.
“Do you feel it?”
“What?”
“The energy.”
Hyungwon doesn’t feel anything but he nods nonetheless, watching as Kihyun hops off the wall to stand in the grass before him. His dark hair flop into his eyes, loose shirt gaping on his collarbones and he looks new, somehow, standing there bathed in moonlight. A hesitant smile makes way on Hyungwon’s lips as Kihyun stares too intently and he almost feels like fleeing; a trap’s closing on him but it’s too late to move.
“What’s going on?”
“A lot.”
It happens quickly. Kihyun closes the gap between them, cold hands resting on Hyungwon’s thighs as he raises on tip toes and he’s there, filling out every crevices of Hyungwon’s space and maybe it’s Hyungwon who does it, bridges the last inches between them; they’re kissing and Kihyun is cold, so cold; winter breathing into his lungs and Hyungwon pulls him closer, opening his legs so Kihyun can nestle between them, body flush against Hyungwon’s, nibbling at his lips, hands wandering up Hyungwon’s thighs who shivers, cold and breathless.
“You’re – You’re freezing.”
Kihyun breaks away to kiss at his neck, gently biting the soft skin there, and Hyungwon whimpers despite himself.
“I know. You mind?”
Hyungwon quickly finds that he doesn’t. Chan was warm. Big, warm hands, a warm body and an anger like a burning sun. He’d only left scorched earth behind him, a desert where Hyungwon was left to find the broken pieces. Kihyun’s touch is soothing, soft fingers spelling winter on his battered skin and Hyungwon leans into him, kisses him again and it’s like kissing the ocean, something wild and untameable he wouldn’t mind sinking into.
But he knows he can’t, and it comes to him with a jolt. Hyungwon pushes Kihyun back, holding him lightly by the shoulders and he looks beautiful, like this, lips parted and spit slick, eyes wild, something electric on his skin, a pulse thrumming under that isn’t entirely his and maybe that’s what he meant, Hyungwon thinks, that’s what he meant about the moon. It’s not the sort of night for bed Kihyun had said, and it’s true, something heralded in the wind and the fullness of the moon yet Hyungwon cannot decipher what it is and he’s scared, suddenly, sweat cooling on his skin, a tightness in his belly, a shiver against his spine.
Kihyun’s dark eyes are on his and Hyungwon swallows, still holding him back, and words weight to much on his lips.
“I don’t want to do this, not like that.”
“What do you mean?”
Hyungwon isn’t sure what he means, yet he trudges on; it’s like standing on the edge of a precipice, not knowing which way to fall.
“I’m still – even if it’s nearing the end, I still have someone else.”
“Does he have you, though?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Kihyun takes a step back, out of Hyungwon’s grasp, out of the halo of the streetlamp and there’s something sinister in his silhouette standing there, in the shine of his eyes, almost unnatural in the darkness.
“I don’t understand. But I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kihyun tilts his head, the movement almost lost in the absence of light.
“It’s okay. You’re not hurting me.”
And then, Hyungwon wishes he could. Wishes he could mean enough to this strange boy that his words could hurt him, deep and bleeding. It almost chokes him, this sudden anger, this cruelty. Hyungwon gasps, forcing air in his tight lungs. He wants to reach out and touch, grab the boy by his hair, crush their bodies together until nothing is left but bones and he doesn’t know where this is coming from, this sudden desire, this destructive fire inside him. And so Hyungwon drops his eyes, staring at his hands bathed in moonlight and Kihyun is out of their reach, always has been, something of high places and the deepest night, something Hyungwon can only look at; there’s a vice grip crushing his ribs and he knows what it is. He will never get out.
Does he have you, though?
He does, Hyungwon thinks. He has me like a jailer and there’s no getting out, it’s been too long, it’s went too far; there’s bruises which will never fade and it’s hopeless, it’s hopeless.
“I think maybe you should leave.”
Hyungwon looks up as he speaks and Kihyun doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. He’s there, and then he isn’t. Swallowed by the night and Hyungwon stares at an empty space, unblinking, his anger receding until nothing is left but a bleak emptiness.
6.
Kihyun rides on the wind’s tail. Higher still and the moon pours her light on him, warm and loving; he’s her child, after all, a bad child, a greedy child, one who thieved and murdered; eternity isn’t enough and he’s hunting still, listening and seeking and maybe something could fill the hole inside him, gaping under his unbeating heart. He tries not to think of the taste on his lips, tries not to think of the warmth lingering on his skin, tries to ignore the cracks left in his blackened heart. It is so easy for him to feel only what he wishes: the caress of the wind on his skin, the stretch in his muscles, the pull of the gravity; but not tonight, tonight there’s the draw of the moon and something else, too, that he’d tried to ignore; soft hair and softer lips, a laugh and sad eyes, a kindred spirit, on the other side of eternity.
Kihyun lets himself fall from high, wind rushing in his ears, whipping his hair about his face and he closes his eyes, knowing it’s never high enough, the ground too close, always too close. He lands like a cat, always, body acting when his mind isn’t and it was like this, too, the first time he met him. Somehow he waited, poised on that low wall ready to strike; he waited until he was spotted and the boy had talked to him in his sad voice, bruised face too pale under the streetlight. Kihyun had forgotten his hunger, then, had forgotten everything else. He’d given him a piece of himself, too, his ring, the one made for him, the one he was buried in. He would never reach the stars anyway.
The street Kihyun alights on gives way into an avenue and he steps lightly, gauging his surroundings. It’s been too long since he’d fed, way too long. This is a night for hunting, a restless energy crawling on his skin as he slithers between people, past blinking lights and noisy bars, a path drawn by the moon overhead, hanging full and bright. He lets his instincts overtake him, a kind of freedom he doesn’t allow himself often and something unthaws in his veins, in his calcified bones, something wild and buried coming to a new life. There are no thoughts anymore. No thoughts, no voice in his head; only a deep awareness, senses sharpened almost enough to hurt, sounds echoing in his hollow chest, smells and colours filling his emptiness.
And then, he finds it. The right colour, the right smell. And he follows, a shadow taken apart from the night, cold and silent. He follows and it’s easy, so easy; the smell is familiar, maybe too much so, etching a deep craving into his being and Kihyun needs to possess it, possess the flesh it belongs to, devour the body and the soul. It’s easy, so easy. There are no thoughts, no voice in his head; only a body, a body of claws and shadows, a hunter, a destroyer.
7.
Hyungwon knows something is wrong as soon as he steps into the apartment. It’s in the air, the curtains of the living room fluttering in the wind, windows opened on the night, something menacing in the full moon framed there. All lights are off and he doesn’t dare turning them on, stepping lightly in the corridor and the air is cold, too cold, a metallic smell floating there.
“Chan?”
He lets his fingers course over the walls as he steps deeper inside the apartment. The bedroom door stands ajar at the end of the corridor, a soft light streaming over the floor and Hyungwon stops to listen. A rustling sound, a soft whimper, barely audible over the hammering of his heart and his throat is dry, hands sweaty as he pushes the door open.
“Chan?”
Blood is the first thing he sees. Blood on the white sheets, dripping to the wooden floor, filling the ridges there. Blood over the body on the bed, a body he knows well; blood pouring from its thorn throat and the gaping hole in its chest. Blood on the hands of the creature crouching over it, blood over its mouth, over its shirt where it dripped. Blood pouring from the heart in its hands.
Hyungwon hears a sound like a choked sob and it takes him a while to understand it’s coming from him, from his own body, chest so tight it might burst, white knuckles draped over the doorknob until in hurts.
The creature looks up and Hyungwon knows this face, knows those eyes, and Kihyun has never looked so alive, a feverish glint in his wide eyes, a blush on his skin that didn’t use to be there. Hyungwon wants to run but his legs won’t move, he’s not fast enough, never fast enough. There’s a sickening sound as the heart drops from the hands holding it and Kihyun is at Hyungwon’s side, grabbing his wrist and he feels revoltingly warm, Hyungwon’s eyes dropping to his red fingers, sticky against his skin, pulsing with a stolen life.
“Hyungwon–”
He looks up and Kihyun’s eyes are streaked with red, pupils blown wide, lips stained almost black.
“Did you. Eat him?”
Kihyun opens his mouth to speak and Hyungwon’s gaze falls to his lips, to his teeth, and it’s a wolf’s mouth he’s looking at, predator fangs meant to tore out flesh, break bones, steal the pulse from an unwilling heart.
“What…”
He doesn’t feel himself fall but soon he’s on the ground, Kihyun crouching beside him, words falling from his lips Hyungwon has trouble understanding.
“He smelled like you, he smelled like you and I followed, I was so hungry, when I knew who he was it was too late, and he hurt you, I know he hurt you–”
There’s a smell wafting from Kihyun, blood and something else, something old and earthy, dead leaves and the rain at night; Hyungwon closes his eyes and that’s all he focuses on, a buzzing sound in his ears, sickness in his stomach. He grabs blindly, finding Kihyun’s shirt and he fists his hand in the fabric, quivering at the slick dampness of blood and he tries hard to stay grounded, he tries hard but it’s not enough; the earth opens under him and he sinks in a bleak darkness.
When Hyungwon comes to, it’s to the soft light of daybreak. He’s laid out on the couch in the living room, a tired coat thrown over him as a cover. It takes him a while to realize the garment isn’t his and he tears it off as he sits up, throwing it far from himself.
Soon he stands in front of the bedroom door on unsteady legs, but the smell is gone and he can feel a soft breeze coming from the unshut door. He pushes it open with his foot, ready to run. But there is nothing. The bed in the middle of the room is stripped bare, the wooden floor scrubbed clean, the body gone. There is nothing.
Hyungwon steps in, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed. It dawns on him, then. It dawns on him, and he cries.
8.
The coat that was too big for Kihyun fits Hyungwon perfectly. He starts wearing it by accident; it’s raining, and his own jackets are still in his moving boxes, piled in the living room of his new apartment. All except the one, and he takes it without thinking, only stopping when he catches a glimpse of himself in the elevator’s mirror. He stares for a long time, then, way too long, remembering that night on the rooftop, where he’d gaze at the stars and he’d felt free, talking of eternity with a being he knows now was part of the night, part of this immortality they’d spoken off, part of the stars and the full moon and the eyes shining in the dark.
He’d been angry, at first. Angry and scared, grief taking possession of him as sleep had deserted his nights. But soon he’d spill all the tears he had and when the horror had faded, nothing was left but a deep feeling of loss. He’d said a goodbye, a long one, and death was really only hard on those who stayed. There was something else, too, a new freedom he did not know what to do with, a freedom he felt too guilty to enjoy. And so Hyungwon sat on his balcony at night, staring up at the sky, but the stars were out of sight.
9.
It’s cold, up there on the roof. Winter was here, snow softly falling over the city, far under his feet. If Hyungwon looks up it’s like being lost at sea, only the sky and the dark of night; white snow falling like soft feathers, white and pure. Hyungwon stares, hands shoved deep in the pockets of that coat which isn’t his despite smelling like him, only like him. There are stars overhead, far and indifferent and he does not want to look at them anymore; they only held false promises and he knows that he, too, won’t tread on that path of souls, not anymore.
Hyungwon looks at the falling snow and he waits, and he hopes; the wind isn’t breathing, there’s no trees to whisper, no light to bathe him but still he waits all the same, hoping it won’t be in vain.
And he doesn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching, and he doesn’t see the figure standing behind him. He only notices when it speaks.
“What are you doing here? Waiting for me?”
A gasp, Hyungwon twisting on the safeguard where he sits, lips parted.
Kihyun hasn’t changed. Dark hair and darker eyes, a thin shirt gaping on his collarbones, gold hanging from his ears, circling his fingers and Hyungwon smiles, eyes crinkling at the corner.
“Yes, I was.”
Kihyun tilts his head, motionless for a bit as he worries at his lower lip and then he moves, snow crunching under his feet.
“Aren’t you afraid you’re gonna fall?”
Kihyun climbs beside Hyungwon, dangling his legs in the emptiness below while Hyungwon sagely crosses them, sitting shoulder to shoulder and he’s still cold, still so cold.
“No, not anymore.”
“You’re not scared of me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?”
Hyungwon shrugs, looking at the snow in front of him and it shrinks their world, it does, nothing visible beyond the little square of their roof, walls of white and a ceiling of night.
“I’ve always lived with monsters, and you’re the least scary of them all.”
A tired smile stretches Kihyun’s lips as he huddles closer, stealing from Hyungwon’s warmth and he gives it freely, linking their arms, bodies fitting together like missing pieces.
“Did you miss me?”
Hyungwon glances at Kihyun but he’s not looking at him, eyes lost on the dark before them, watching the snow fall, down, down, down onto the city, blurring its lights and its noise, finally quiet and subdued.
“Yeah, I did.”
Kihyun nods and his hand finds Hyungwon’s, a shard of ice against his palm and Hyungwon embraces it. He’s tired of warmth; it was always deceitful, always a salve for broken bones. Kihyun’s voice is soft when he speaks, barely there, something vulnerable that didn’t use to be and maybe that’s who he really is, someone lonely, someone lost.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
There’s a sudden weight on Hyungwon’s shoulder, Kihyun letting his head rest there, dark hair falling into his eyes and they stay unmoving, snow alighting lightly upon their shoulders, upon their brow. There’s something almost reverent in the silence that shelters them and Hyungwon whispers, afraid of breaking something that should remained untouched.
“Would you give up eternity for me?”
Kihyun answers with a renewed playfulness in his voice, raising his head to look at Hyungwon.
“That’s a lot to ask of someone.”
A quiet laugh, Hyungwon knocking their shoulders together but there’s something new in Kihyun’s face, a seriousness he didn’t expect, and he falls silent again, waiting for the words that are sure to come.
“Would you give up your life for eternity with me?”
Hyungwon stills and Kihyun’s eyes are bottomless, depths where he would sink where he to stare long enough. And he knows, he knows the right answer.
“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”
A nod, and Kihyun brings his head back down to Hyungwon’s shoulder. They stare into the night, sheltered and peaceful.
It feels like a kiss. Soft and loving, at the slope of his neck.
Red on the white snow, the last traces of warmth.
10.
“Why should you love him whom the world hates so?”
“Because he loves me more than all the world.”