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He was a little creepy at first.

The first time Jongwoo laid eyes on the handsome young man, he felt shivers. These shivers felt like a trip on the highway. At first you drive fast and feel the wind flowing in your ears, your heart speeds up and then you get a bit too close and feel your heart drop.

That was the rollercoaster he experienced, each time his eyes fell on him.

He had a certain amount of char; His smile, the way he ran his hands through his hair, the way he sipped on a cold beer, talking about Jongwoo’s favourite author. Ever since then Jongwoo had felt a connection. He couldn’t quite place his feelings, it all just felt weird.

Never had he felt attraction towards a man, and he did have a girlfriend. Jongwoo was not allowed to have feelings for anyone else, especially a man. The feelings for his girlfriend were something he could never feel toward Moonjo.

However when they were standing on the rooftop of the shitty building, having a beer, watching the sun set in beautiful red and pink, Jongwoo experienced a certain amount of calm he was rarely able to feel.
Ever since moving into his ‘apartment’, or rather broom closet, his life felt like it had turned into every direction he had never anticipated. He came for her.

Min Ji-eun.

But it nearly has been a week and he wasn’t even able to see her face. She was busy with work, he had his dead end job he got from Jae-ho. His computer was broken, and he had to pay for the repairs himself, and to make matters worse, his brother still had seizures and needed medical attention Jongwoo had to provide for. This disgustingly filthy broom closet just made him feel more claustrophobic and feel shitty about his shit life.

Jongwoo had quit smoking long ago, he didn’t have the money for it. In this very moment though, he craved a cigarette. Moonjo just captivated him with his nearly black eyes. He wanted to elude his charms but it was hard. Instead he turned his eyes away, looked at the now purplish sky and sipped at the beer.

“How far along are you with the book? Did you continue?”, Said the fellow Kafka enjoyer. Jongwoo loved that they both had similar interests, especially with authors and they both shared Raymond Chandler, but Moonjo knowing about Metamorphosis made him just as happy.

Jongwoo nodded, he did in fact continue. At first when he came into the building, he experienced a weird form of writers block, he looked at his freshly repaired computer and just felt like there were no words he could type that would feel right.
However ever since they started to talk about Jongwoo’s book, Moonjo had explained his profession and the similarities both had, Jongwoo was suddenly was able to write again.

Each word started to flow again, as if they found their meaning back into his fingers, each key had been tapped perfectly ever since.

“The word count is getting higher. Still, I’m still at the introduction. It will take some time and preparation for him to make his first kill.”

“Art does take time.”

There was truth in his words, but as Moonjo uttered those words, Jongwoo felt that familiar shiver again. It were simple words, nothing was particularly odd about them, but somehow it felt like they carried deeper meaning.

“How do you think will his first victim die? Have you made plans?”

Jongwoo began to think, he had already started to think about the first murder of his main-character.

Murder was art.

His character was a pianist, of course his first victim has to become his first ever perfect art piece. Never has he been satisfied with his work, never once had he played a perfect symphony.
His first victim needed to represent that first perfect piece of art.

It was hard for him to execute the writing of the scene, he was aware that he needed to make it as realistic as possible to capture the reader. He even had put his own hands around his throat, gripped hard and put the most pressure to the front. Jongwoo needed to understand every motion, each feeling each vein that had bulged in pain. 

As he had choked himself, he had wished that someone could help him feel what character was supposed to feel. Of course he did not voice it out.
Moonjo gave him a certain amount of certainty that he could tell him. A lot. Still, he didn’t dare.

“I haven’t, yet. It’s hard to write. My pianist sees murder as art and it is hard to create art in that matter.“ He said, his eyes looking lost in thought.

“I can help you if you like. You know I had this thought, that you might be one of my kind.”

Jongwoo perceived these words as a suggestion, as an observation. ‘Could he read my mind?’

“When I was in medical school I read books similar to what you are writing, I could lend you one.” He smiled slightly through his gorgeous teeth.

Jongwoo’s heart skipped a beat. Somehow he felt like that wasn’t all.

“Mn, I’d like that. Wanna have another beer?” His beer wasn’t even empty, but he wanted to spend more time with Moonjo.

He was too interesting to let go of just now.

---

“I think I know how I want to write the murder.” He began.

One week has passed in the blink of an eye. They had barely seen each other, but it still felt like Moonjo never left his side. As if he was always with him at any given moment.

“What do you propose?” Moonjo asked, his eyes shimmering with glittering interest.

Jongwoo raised his hands and began to squeeze them around an imaginary neck. It was a perfect demonstration. “I want him to murder his first victim in the most possible way. He is supposed to stare him deeply into the eyes and watch the life drain out of him, thus he creates the perfect melody out of his death.”

“Good concept. If I were you I’d make it more artistic. Don’t let him choke, put a syringe up his neck. Make it colder and calculated. He is a pianist, dead on the inside. He doesn’t want to do all the work, he already needs to compose a melody during the same instance his victim dies. An artist focuses on the art they want to create, with his first victim, the art after the murder is the real art. To make the victim the art is something for later. “

His voice was calm, as if he was talking about his favourite food and the sauce which matches it best. He was talking about murder. It felt like a topic he could talk on for hours. His eyes seemed slightly excited as he continued on.
Moonjo went on to describe the technique of the murder, telling Jongwoo where to exactly put the syringe, touching him and caressing the spot slightly.

Jongwoo felt his blood flow up into his cheeks. Never had he been touched there, and never had he expected to feel something so odd towards someone touching him in such an odd space. It was weird, but Jongwoo didn’t dislike it.

He took mental notes, his fingers repeating Moonjo’s motion. He needed to remember, needed to write down what he was told today.

“I can help you write it down when you have time.” He smiled.

“I would like that.” He had time. He had too much time.

---

This job was the purest hell, everything hurt when he was there; His ass from all the uncomfortable chairs, each time he was forced to talk to Jae-ho, not being able to talk to Ji-eun and this weird guy who hated him for no reason. He always had the biggest headache when leaving work.

“How is Ji-eun, is she doing well? Has her butt grown?” Jae-ho had asked, he laughed, his yellow teeth showing. Jongwoo was disgusted.

He hated when he asked those disgusting questions. Jae-ho was a disgusting person. When he opened his mouth and began to talk, he not only felt degraded but not even accepted. This whole company was built with his daddy’s money, he had achieved nothing. Daddy’s plastic was key in this society.

Sometimes he wished he could just lash out. Stand up from the chair, pick up said chair and smash it on top on his face and beat him bloody. Jongwoo really wished to climb on top of him, take one last careful look into those shit brown eyes, lean down and put his arms around his neck. He would love to give it a little squeeze, pop his adam’s apple, make his head explode and see him struggle under his grip, never being able to get up.
Never.
He wished to hear him scream for help, scream for Ji-eun. Seeing her, letting them share one last look with one another, then he squeezes one last time and Jae-ho’s eyes roll, only white being visible.

Jongwoo wished to see the exact moment the life drained out of that motherfucker.

‘Art does take its time.’ He remembered Moonjo saying that. Maybe he would still need to wait.

“Who are you thinking about?” Moonjo asked, he genuinely seemed interested.

During these days, he felt happy that at least one person wanted to hear his thoughts.

“No one really, I’ve been thinking about the victim and how my method is not artistic enough.” He had actually pondered about that. Was that really he correct method?

“It carries artistry, just not enough for the first victim. I once read in school a book called ‘the Perfume’ it was written by Patrick Süsskind, he was a German author. It is a fairly renowned book, nearly all German read it in school. Thus, I was interested. It was about an artist who had killed to reach the ultimate form of artistry which he had found for himself.

You must know, he had an exceptional nose. Smelling anything and everything, he could categorize every smell, but never distinct into good or bad. Up until the first time he smelled his first victim. They call her the Mirabelle plum girl. She was the first girl to make him go to heaven with just her smell. He had to have her, thus she was killed and he had snuffed the life out of her completely. He did that many more times. But the first victim was beginning for a genius to find his destination and fate.

He finally was able to distinct good and bad and made categories, thence he made all kinds of perfumes. But he only craved one perfume. He called his ‘Angel-Fragrance’, he managed to make it. In the end it led to his death. It took him more than 20 girls to achieve what he had been aching for his entire life. Love. But in the end, it was never genuine. You know how all great geniuses end. They die.

What I mean to tell you, you need to find what your character seeks. The first time is an amateur start and then he will find his ultimate piece he needs to create, the method will come naturally.”

Moonjo acted like a guide, he had created a perfect flow for the story. Jongwoo was mesmerized. He should read this book. He took a sip from his beer, still wanting to smoke a cigarette.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about killing anyone.” Liar. “And never was I that aggressive that I wanted end someone’s life.” Liar. “But since I’ve wanted to try and get into this genre, it seems interesting.” Truthful.

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

He was a liar.

----

Jongwoo had ben writing like crazy, which each key his fingers touched, he felt like eyes were drawing closer and closer to him.
He felt watched.

The people in his apartment were weird, extremely odd. None of them had seemed normal at all. Everywhere he went, he somehow felt that he saw these freaks everywhere. Anyone but Moonjo-

He was thee most distant but the closest at the same time.

Even closer than Ji-eun. They hadn’t really called, barely texted, nothing new, only asking how the day was.

“How was your day?”

“Busy. Lots of stress. Yours?”

“Fine. Jae-ho is nice.”

Done.

Their conversations have never been this dry. Especially when their distances had been far greater than now. It’s been three weeks now. Jongwoo only had seen her once.

He had given her a cheap gift. She liked it. “Thank you, oppa.” That’s all.

None of this felt genuine. Jae-ho continued to make these dirty jokes, degrading her with every chance he got to talk about her, he reduced her to her body. It made him angry, furious, he felt his blood boil with rage.

Each day, a new fantasy grew inside of him.

Maybe he put a pillow on this man’s hand.

Tomorrow he could push him out of the window.

The next day he could water board him. 

So many options and all of them being illegal.

The desire to tell Moonjo grew with each day that passed.

Jongwoo didn’t understand himself. It was Wednesday, the middle of the week, he deserved a drink. Thus he bought four, two for him two for Moonjo.
The convenience store was empty, no cameras, still he felt watched.

He came back to the crappy apartment building. Moonjo was sitting in the kitchen, eating the Kimchi Mrs. Eom made. He seemed to savour each bite, it made sense, he had eaten her food ever since he was under her care.

With three quiet knocks he showed himself. “I bought beer, do you want to go and have a drink?” he offered.

“I bought a pack, you want a smoke?” He offered back.

Yes. He deserved one.

Before they went upstairs he sat himself in front of Moonjo who hadn’t finished his kimchi. “Would you like a bite?”

He couldn’t refuse, he kind of felt bad. Jongwoo nodded his head.

Instead of getting the sticks handed, Moonjo gently shoved some Kimchi inside of his mouth. The taste resembled veal or pork, he rarely ate meat, he couldn’t distinguish the taste between the two. It was defintley red meat, but he still could not like the taste.

He felt his throat burn as he gulped the kimchi down. It felt raw and tough and the meat by itself felt like flavour was lacking. He defintley would not eat it again. He might vomit it out.

Still, instead of spitting it out, he swallowed. “Not my kind of flavour. Maybe Mrs. Eom’s kimchi is just not made for me.”

Moonjo nodded, smiling at him. “Probably, want to drink your beer?”

When they went upstairs, they were quiet. He was walking in front of Moonjo, he didn’t know how fast the dentist was, but he wanted to not seem slow. When arriving the two opened up their cans. At the same time they took a sip, the beer was cheap, and it tasted like it too.
Jongwoo just didn’t have more money for better beer.

“I am getting close to the first murder.” He began. “I feel like my pianist has collected enough resentment, he is ready.”

Moonjo raised his eyebrow, the corners of his lips rising, “Are you sure? You told me that he hates his job as a pianist and that he can’t make something out of himself, but is that enough resentment? Have you focused enough on the people on the outside?”

At this point he should become a co-writer. It felt like he had already read every single word that Jongwoo already has written.

“I’m not sure.” Jongwoo’s mind began to wander. Maybe Moonjo was right. The people around him—no around his main character weren’t developed enough. They haven’t created enough resentment for others to understand. Will he need to wait longer?
Must one of these characters do something so inhuman that he can finally justify his killing-urge.

Jongwoo didn’t know, he was unsure. If he waited, would his perfect chance falter?

“What should the background characters do?” He asked then.

“Just let your main character wait. Let him watch. Every step. He is putting them under surveillance, let him rank who deserves it the most. Then when they do something he doesn’t like, something that doesn’t resemble his art, something he can never agree with. Then let him do it.
Patience is key.”

‘Art does take its time.’ Jongwoo heard these words ringing inside his ear.

“Cheers to that I would say.”

“Cheers to your first soon-murder.”

Their conversation began to flow. Yes, he was indeed creepy, but he understood him. Jongwoo was unhappy. This job, the people, his girlfriend, Jae-ho and everybody else, they all were sucking the life out of him.
As he sipped his cheap beer, he finally got the cigarette offered he deserved for weeks now.

“Did you know that smoking severely damages your oral health? Long term smoking can stain your teeth yellow or brown, cause chronic bad breath and increase the risk of gum disease, tooth decay, and tooth loss.” Moonjo explained it like a machine, as if was trained to say that. He probably was, given that he is a dentist.

Still, he put the cigarette between his lips and lit it. He put the lighter away as fast as he picked it up. Instead of offering him one, his eyes told him ‘put it in your mouth’. Jongwoo obeyed. Moonjo came closer and put the cigarette butt to his. Jongwoo took a drag as the two cigarettes touched. It lit up.

He breathed the smoke out, finally feeling the familiar feeling of a good cigarette. He had loved to smoke, never had he been unhappy with it. Quitting had been hard, but Ji-eun and his money forbid him to smoke. But now, the nicotine flowed through his veins, reaching every cell of his brain and he felt utterly calm. It was just enough to make him forget his for a moment.

Jongwoo breathed the smoke out and saw how Moonjo did the same, but he had been staring at him. Analysing his every motion, seeing how his facial expression changed with that first drag, and how his face calmed down. He was aware that Moonjo was watching, he had always been watching him. Well when they were together of course.

The smoke finished faster than he had anticipated, he craved another one. Although, asking for another one was kind of embarrassing, thus he didn’t.

“Here, have another one.” Moonjo said, it didn’t feel like an offer, more like Moonjo was capable of reading his mind and making suggestions based off of that.

“Thanks.” It felt weird taking another one, he didn’t ask for it, it wasn’t even really offered to him. Yet, Jongwoo still had it lit up just like before, their heads were close, the cigarette butts kissing and him taking a satisfying drag from it.

The second cigarette felt different, at first he had felt his blood circulating wildly, this time though the calm he felt was quite different. The sky was now nearly enveloped in darkness, Moonjo was still looking at him, not noticing anything around him.

The rooftop was quiet, peaceful, and just better than his small, dirty clamped up room. Jongwoo hated it down there the people were trash, behaving weirdly with every chance they got, none of them seemed to accept him. Acceptance wasn’t what he was seeking, but he felt violated at every corner, he felt watched. That pervert was the worst.

He laughed with the stuttering twin more than Jongwoo liked, they shared secret, dirty, disgusting looks with one another. Jongwoo hated them, they were not ‘different’ they were hell. They made his life hell, or rather that residence.

Ever since coming to that residence his life has become hell.

---

“Jongwoo, stop being so sensitive, you are drunk. Go to sleep. The people in the residence are fine, you just didn’t sleep enough.” Ji-eun said to him, she sounded tired, the background was rustling, meaning that she was still outside.

Being aware that she worked a lot and really didn’t have the nerves to listen to him, he only said “Okay” and hung up the phone.

No ‘Good Night’.

No ‘Sweet dreams’.

No nothing, he wasn’t in the mood. He felt his relationship crumbling under his nail.

Back when they were in a long distance relationship, he had always said something of that sort. Jongwoo loved Ji-eun, but ever since moving closer to her, he has never felt their distance more than now.
At first when he arrived, he had felt some sort of excitement, finally a job, a new life, his girlfriend finally with him. Still, no matter how much he had hoped that everything would turn out as he imagined, he was still a country boy who was no real future. He was bound to his limitations.

Deep inside he wanted people to accept his dream of becoming an author. Jongwoo was an artist, an author. No one understood him, no one showed any interest in it, no one supported him.
Yet this new man, who had been a little too friendly, a bit too creepy, managed to make him comfortable, managed to make him forget.
Standing on that rooftop, he was able to forget.

It was a secret haven.

His ultimate Eden.

‘Eden residence’ was not a fitting name for the place he was staying at, he felt consumed. The people were disgusting, making his life pure hell. Furthermore, he did not have an ounce of privacy, ‘We live in different rooms, but we live together, you can hear each and everyone breathing.’, the words rang through his ear. Moonjo was right about that.
However when he and Moonjo were on that rooftop, he was capable of understanding the name and why it was given. 

It was the only ounce of comfort he was able to receive and only with him.

Living in this residence made him feel like he was going through a change.

---

Work was hell, he was the first one to arrive today. Son Yoo-jung, Park Ji-han and Kim Han-jong came after him. Yoo-jung seemed to be in a good mood, she was humming a melody, Park Ji-han seemed to be stressed, except uttering a hushed ‘Good morning’, he kept quiet. Then there was his ‘bully’, Han-jong his eyes were filled with rage.

Apparently he had to send him something but Jongwoo was apparently ‘too late’. He was not.

Jongwoo restrained a heavy sigh. He really hated that guy, sometimes he wished he could just plunge at his computer and show him that he fulfilled the deadline. He wished he could just smash that computer on his head and show him exactly what was going on.
These fantasies were getting quite usual on him, of course he did not act on them. He only needed to endure a few more weeks, then he could finally move out of that hellhole and was not below that fucker.

Jae-ho came last. He had a hideous grin on his face. ‘What made him so happy?’. Jongwoo was about to find out.

He had walked out to get to the restroom, this fucker had been getting on his nerves, always scolding him for small shit. This man always needed a reason to be a bitch, it was not his fault that Yoo-jung didn’t like him.

When he came back, already feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins, he heard it.

“I went out with Ji-eun, she is so concerned about our dear Jongwoo. We went to a café and talked about his recent behaviour, he was drunk yesterday. Venting about his residence. Come on, it’s not that bad, I’ve been there a bunch. I am just worried about her.”

Jongwoo felt his blood boil to its rim. How could this bastard say that shit? He could come back any minute, his chest heaved and he felt how his hand formed a fist. He was not just angry, he wanted to kill him, he really did.

This motherfucker had no right to meet up with her and talk about him that way, he always degrades her. Now he is acting as if he is concerned?
He huffed a small laugh as he kept thinking about it.

“Poor Ji-eun, she deserves better.”
‘Someone like you?’

Jongwoo couldn’t listen anymore, he stepped outside. Went to the nearest convenience store, bought himself a pack and began to smoke it. He craved a smoke.

‘Be patient’, kept ringing in his ear. It was like a mantra, repeating up until he finshed his third cigarette.
But what did he need to wait for? Why be patient? Why not just—

He slapped himself, he was not allowed to think about that. He couldn’t.

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

But he did.

He kept thinking about his main character, about how close he was to finally creating his first masterpiece, how he could finally break out. How he—
Maybe they were fusing into one, they both wanted to have their first masterpiece. They both craved one.

Was Jae-ho a masterpiece? Or was he just the embodiment of creating one? Was he the canvas? The musical piece?

Jae-ho deserved to die, he kept spitting out lies and without feeling any shame.

He lit another cigarette, slapped himself again for these thoughts. Fantasies were only fantasies, he was not allowed to act on them.

As Jongwoo continued smoking, he suddenly felt eyes on him. Not like the other times when he was in Eden, it was as if Moonjo was standing close to him. Watching, staring, calculating and analysing him. Jongwoo turned his head, trying to discern his presence.

Nothing.

Jongwoo felt weird, the atmosphere had turned eerie. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, although it didn’t work the way it should. He felt neither calm nor did he want to get up and go back to work. Even this feeling was better than being in the same building as Jae-ho.

Just thinking of him, made Jongwoo’s gut twist in agony. He couldn’t stand his face, it was too smug and overly confident. This man only owned Daddy’s plastic, never had he worked for something. His voice was just as annoying as his non-existent work-ethic.

“Jagiya, have patience.” a voice crept up from behind.

Jongwoo shrieked, screaming out in shock, his cigarette dropped on the floor, leaving a slight burn mark on his jeans.
“What are you doing here?” He exclaimed, it came out weird.

Moonjo said nothing further; his eyes were doing the talking.

“What do you want from me? Why are you here?” Moonjo creeped him out, never had he appeared so crazy. Even though he was wearing glasses, had his hair washed, wore a grey button up and his white doctors coat. From the outside he seemed peaceful, but that perfect smile and on-point appearance…
Jongwoo shook in horror.

“I want what you desire. I want to create art, and so do you.”

Jongwoo understood immediately.

‘Go and create your first masterpiece.’ Moonjo meant what his eyes signalled, ‘You can do what you want’.

With the man left, his smile reaching heaven.

Jongwoo didn’t try to stop him, this interaction was weird enough as it is. Maybe he was already starting to imagine things and he imagined Moonjo. He couldn’t be sure, it was too uncharacteristic of him to appear out of thin air, say two sentences and then leave.

No matter what was real or not. The message was delivered, whether it was by Moonjo or his brain.

The wait is over.

The novel is ready for its first climax.

Act on your instincts.

Jongwoo, thus decided to go back to the building.

---

“Jongwoo, where were you? I was concerned about you, did something happen?”, Yoo-jung feigned worry, it felt insincere somehow.

Even though Jongwoo was aware of her office crush on him, it was somewhat ingenuine. Maybe it was to make Han-jong jealous. The first time they all had went out drinking, and Jae-ho left she wanted to take a taxi with him, but they didn’t need to go in the same direction. Han-jong needed to though, but she had ignored him.

Jongwoo couldn’t quite out a grasp to what she was thinking and why she behaved the way she did. Maybe it was the thrill of being with a taken-guy.

However, he was not the kind to cheat, even though they were currently on rocky terms. He still wanted to salvage their relationship.

“I just went out for a smoke. I’ll get back to work.” He with a cold voice, as he sat down on his chair and turned on the computer.

Yoo-jung suddenly stood up, went to his desk and put her hand on his shoulder, “Jongwoo, you can talk to me, I’m here for you. At any given moment.” She smiled sweetly, her teeth showing, they weren’t as perfect as Moonjo’s.

“Thank you, but I am fine. I’ll get to work now. Don’t worry.” It was a form of reassurance, she didn’t deserve it, she didn’t need it. Still, social convention dictated him to.

“Stop flirting with your female co-worker, Jongwoo. You still have a girlfriend.” He heard a smug voice calling out from behind him.

‘Still?’ Motherfucker…

He really had the urge to punch the shit out of him.

Was the time ripe? Was it Jae-ho’s time now?

---

Work was hell, going home from work was hell, his current phone call with Ji-eun was hell.

“Yeah, we did discuss your condition. You seem different, behave different, you curse out the residents of Eden. We are worried, I am your girlfriend, and he is your childhood friend. It’s normal for us to talk about the person we share a connection with.” She explained.

However, he really did not want to listen to her stupid fucking excuses.

“Ji-eun, where are you right now?” He was at her apartment building. Watching her get out of his car.

“I’m going back home, I just got out of the bus. Why are you asking?” Liar.

“No reason, I maybe wanted to visit you.” He tried to sweeten his voice. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, I feel like we need to talk again. Face to face.”

“I can’t now. I’m nearly home.” She already was in front of her building. “I need to sleep I had a hard day.” Being with Jae-ho, very hard indeed.

“Ji-eun, can we meet tomorrow then?” He didn’t expect a yes, he wanted to seem like he actually cared.

“I don’t think so, I can try and see…” Liar. She hugged him, waved goodbye and continued to go enter her building.

She was a liar.

“Mn, text me then. Good Night.”

The call ended, she was on her way upstairs and Jongwoo had seen everything.

His blood boiled.

---

“Jagiya, you’re angry.” Was the first thing he heard when he stepped into the residence. It was Moonjo.

“Please not now.” He felt as if going insane, Moonjo’s voice was deep and echoed through the hall. Goosebumps were crawling up his spine mercilessly. “I really don’t have the nerves right now.”

“Joong… Joong-woo, wo… won’t you… you play th… the game… game with us?” The stuttering twin offered, smiling manically. His ‘normal brother’, the pervert and Mrs. Eom were sitting in the kitchen, surrounding the table, playing a board game unknown to him. Moonjo was just standing in the doorframe, peacefully watching them.

The twin giggled and it was like he kept laughing at him, as if he had been standing next to him as Jongwoo saw Ji-eun get out of Jae-ho’s car. “Pl… Ple… Please play… play with u… us. Mrs. Eom ma… made kim… kim… kimchi!” His face crept up another hideous smile, as he brought up that disgusting meat.

“Stop it, don’t bother him.” His gaze was dark, piercing through the stuttering twin.

Immediately he lowered his head, he tried to suppress that printed smile with necessity. 

Jongwoo kept quiet, he just walked to his room. Everything was the same; his bed was made, his computer shut, it seemed unopened, the chair at its exact place, and his clothes were still in the same order.
Still something was off.

Looking at this cubbyhole, Jongwoo despised this room even more.

That day he arrived there; the floor, the walls, even the bed were unnaturally dirty, even after trying to clean it, he couldn’t get rid of the dust and the dirtiness. His efforts had all gone to waste.

The people were the worst, he couldn’t wait to finally get rid off them. Each look, each laugh, each action made him tweak out a little bit more. He wished that they would just disappear out of his life.

One day, he would not be able to bear it.

The saying, ‘Hell is other people’ has never proved itself to be more correct than when applied to these people.

Staying any longer would drive him into ultimate madness one day. Being there, writing at this small desk, with his barely working computer and Wi-Fi. Inhaling the dirty fumes and smelling the trashy food, was even more disgusting.  It was hell indeed.

Jongwoo dropped his backpack down on the floor and quickly went up the rooftop. He couldn’t bear being in that room any longer than he needed to.

Moonjo was already at rooftop.

He was looking at the sky, the sun was setting, painting the sky into an intensive orange-red colour. As he held a cigarette in hand, he sipped from his beer.

‘Did Jongwoo imagine their interaction today? Why was he acting like nothing happened? Did they actually see each other today? Is he going insane?’

Then, Jongwoo stepped next to Moonjo, without asking he grabbed his beer without permission and drank from the can. He handed it back to him and faced the sky. Jongwoo was finally able to breathe, he had kept so much pent up anger in his heart.
Once he stepped onto the rooftop, all the anger subsided. He felt calm.

“Are you angry at her?” Moonjo asked as he put the cigarette to his mouth.

‘How does he even know?’

Why was everyone prying inside his business?

“Yes.” He couldn’t say more, however Moonjo understood, even if Jongwoo had decided to not answer him.

“Your book, you think that your character is ready for the first climax?” Moonjo wanted to know.

“I feel like that there is still time left before he crosses the line.” Liar.

He was ready, the climax was finally allowed to approach.

Jongwoo knew, and so did Moonjo.

“Do what you want to do with him. He is yours, you are embodying a deity in your book. You can control everything and everyone.” Moonjo added as he stared into Jongwoo’s eyes.

“I’m not a deity.” Jongwoo took out his cigarette from his freshly bought pack, leaned closer to Moonjo, so close that their cigarettes touched. Suddenly Moonjo grabbed his wrist, not hard enough to let the cigarette fall, but hard enough so that he was stuck under the dentists grip. Stuck looking into those deep dark eyes.

“What do you truly desire?” Moonjo mused, his eyes analysing every micro expression in Jongwoo’s face.

Moonjo came close, too close. His voice echoed through his ears, making his heart beat go at a rapid speed. The words were stuck in his mouth, unable to come out. As those eyes pierced through him, Jongwoo felt his lungs tighten, he had trouble breathing with the other practically breathing down his neck.

Moonjo shortened their distance even more, making only a finger being able to fit through.

“Tell me, what do you truly desire?” he cooed.

With his wrist still stuck, he couldn’t avert his gaze. Moonjo reminded him of a wild animal, ready to hunt and swallow his prey. All of a sudden, he began to caress his wrist with his thumb. It was a gentle touch, but it still made him shiver under the man’s touch.

The dentist truly wanted a response to a question he could answer himself. Still, for no reason he kept pushing him.

‘You’ he wanted to say.

Instead he said, “I want to kill him.”

“Who?” A slight grin appeared.

“Kill Jae-ho.“ Liar.

His smile turned eerie as it widened.

He has always been a liar, never had he admitted the complete truth, neither to himself not to anyone else. He didn’t need to with Moonjo, still the man wanted to hear it.

“Then create your masterpiece.” He let his wrist go.

It felt strange, Jongwoo didn’t dislike the touch, but he hadn’t enjoyed it either. However, now that the hand was gone, so was its warmth. He craved that warmth, he wanted it.

As he took a look at his wrist he felt the, now half burned cigarette between his two fingers. Instead of mourning that half of it was gone, he put it into his mouth and inhaled deeply. Jongwoo couldn’t understand Moonjo.

Why did he come so close to him just now, literally?

He let the smoke out and analysed the wonderfully looking sky. It reminded him of a carefully crafted painting.

“Then help me.”

--- --- ----

 “Jae-ho, we need to talk. I want to apologise. Meet me at my residence.” Jongwoo said, as the call came to an end. Moonjo hovered over him, caressing his hand.

 “Jagiya, you did well.” His grin looked despicable, Jongwoo hated it. He knew what they were about to do.

Jae –ho arrived after in less than hour. Jongwoo already waited for him at the entrance. “Jongwoo, my dear friend! Thank god you came back to your senses.”

“Yeah, I had a rough couple of weeks I guess.” He signalled Jae-ho to follow him. “Let’s go to the rooftop, my rooms too small to talk.”

“Are you ashamed of its size? Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He laughed, so very much. It would be his last time.

“Just follow me upstairs, we can even have a smoke.” Your last one.

Jae-ho let it go, he somehow seemed glad to that Jongwoo had invited him. Once their feet touched the platform of the rooftop, the cold and chilly air hit them. Their hands started to freeze slightly, even though it was summer, their surrounding felt cold.

“Got a lighter?” Jae-ho asked, as he took out a cigarette from his pocket.

“Mhm, here.” He handed him the lighter, it was a cheap one and made out of plastic. The distasteful look on Jae-ho’s face was undeniable, he has always looked down on him.  

With their cigarette lit, Jongwoo began to talk. “Jae-ho, I really wanted to apologize. Everything has been a bit too much for me. All the people surrounding me, they’re just unbearable. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t concentrated enough at work as I should have been.” He took a drag from his cigarette.
“I am still so very grateful for the job opportunity you handed me, not many would’ve done so.”

Jae ho looked incredibly smug as he listened to these words, his chest puffed up like a king would when showered with praise. In this moment he felt high and mighty, as if being on top of the world. His stupid employee had apologized, his hot girlfriend wanted to leave Jongwoo and get together with him and his company was doing well.

Everything was so utterly perfect in this moment.

“Do accept my apology?”

“Of course, but I must deduct your pay because of your work-ethic. Hope you won’t mind, take it as the first step of redemption.” He could barely contain his bursting laughter.

“I understand, Jae-ho. Thank you for not firing me.” Jongwoo seemed remorseful enough, Jae-ho thought, as he looked at the man who would never be able to make it far.

Jongwoo put out his cigarette.

Jae-ho did the same.

“The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?” Jongwoo asked, the air suddenly felt chillier.

“Defintley.”, Jae-ho though, didn’t feel the switch in the air.

The man kept staring on the setting sun, not realising that Jongwoo suddenly came close to him. He was standing directly next to him.

Staring, watching him.

“Jongwoo? What are you doing, punk?”

He kept quiet, his eyes turning manic.

“Jongwoo? I should not have forgiven you! You are fucking insane.”

“You should not have come.”

Suddenly Jongwoo charged onto him, using the moment of surprise. Jae-ho fell on his back, grunting in pain and surprise. His eyes had widened in shock, he had not expected this.

His once so smug smile was replaced with genuine fear for his life. Jongwoo was sitting on top of him, holding him down.

“You think you can withhold my grip?” He laughed, then “Did you fuck Ji-eun!?” shouting at the man below him, tightening his grip, making Jae-ho cry out in agony.

“NO, no, I never did!” He whined, it sounded as in genuine as it could get.

“Don’t fucking lie to me! I saw you walking behind her that night when she got into her apartment. You fucking followed her!” Jongwoo yelled, draining the blood out of Jae-ho’s arms.

Jae-ho still cried, “I never fucking touched her! You are imagining things, you are a crazy motherfucker!”

He took a deep breath and located his hands on Jae-ho’s neck. His cold hands gripped onto his fat hot neck, he felt his hands burning.
It was nothing like in practise.

They started to tighten, little by little. Making the pain more and more excruciating.

His grip tightened with every second. So did his breath in excitement, Jae-ho clinging to his dear life and Jongwoo feeling his heart rush and his breath get more even.

He wanted to make Jae-ho jealous, for one last time.

Without blinking Jongwoo pressed on his adam’s apple. Jae-ho chocked and grasped for air.

“Fucking tell me!” He loosened his grip.

“Okay, yes… I fucked her.” He choked out, barely being able to breathe.

Nothing could be said anymore.

Moonjo appeared out of the dark, he leaned over Jongwoo. He put his icy hands on top of his, caressing them gently, giving him the confidence he needed. Then the two put their hands back around Jae-ho’s neck.

Out of Jae-ho’s mouth came a muffled shriek.

The hands around his neck began to tighten. Their grip unyielding.

“Jagiya, finish what you started.” Moonjo cooed, his breath hot in Jongwoo’s ear. It made him feel hot. In this situation, not very practical.

But he couldn’t help himself. Moonjo was utterly perfect in this moment, the way he was leaning over him, holding his hands, and just whispering in his ear.

Fuck.

He was hard.

Whilst being in the process of killing someone.

Whilst creating his masterpiece.

Fuck.

Jongwoo, tried to get his mind back to business.

As Jongwoo leaned above Jae-ho, he saw the panic, the fear. His end was near, so near.

It was as if he was high, everything felt perfect.

Jae-ho’s life was draining out of him, slowly, consistently, just like it was supposed to be.

He couldn’t stop gripping tighter and tighter, his hands were pressing wherever Moonjo was guiding him, each new spot making him choke slightly different.

Then, like a cord being snapped, he stopped struggling. Jae-ho had accepted his fate.

In the beginning he had tried to resist, gripping Jongwoo’s hands, shoulders. Yet, Jongwoo had held him down giving him no chance. His only form of resistance being his body and his eyes.
That resistance was gone.

Finally.

Moonjo was guiding him perfectly through the process of it, naming each artery he was touching, pressing, squeezing, playing with.

It was time.

Resistance gone, his will to live gone. His fate accepted.

One last push, one last squeeze and he was gone.

Dead.

Jongwoo, finally let go.

Fulfilled at last.

His masterpiece was about to be created.

--- --- ---

It started off slow, as he began to press the keys on the piano. It created a slow, deep, depressing and monotone atmosphere.
He saw them together as he began to compose.

As the harp set in, the piano began to quiet down. Its melody slowed down even more and he only pressed little keys. The strings were carefully plucked and filled the background with its round, soft and soothing sound. It came off as angelic, sweet and bright.
It felt even softer than the piano in the background.

They began to sink into one another,  transforming the composition into his first great masterpiece.

The flute was her.

Gentle, not too loud, oftentimes overlooked but still desired by every orchestra. Without it, the orchestra would never be complete. In this instance, she wasn’t overlooked. She knew her worth, she became selfish.
She played a game, her being the prize. The participants were there against their will, but still, they kept fighting.

For her.

Then the violin wove itself into the composition, as the second lead instrument. It was barely audible as it set in, but it’s always in the background. Watching, knowing, being there at all times. It guides the piano, being the ultimate partner of it.
They match each other perfectly.
The violin understands the piano, their connection undeniable.

A cello rose beneath the still steady and quiet harmony, disrupting its course. It overpowered the violin. It tries to come off as deep and strong, still it was near as a graceful as the violin or the piano. The dominating instrument wants to become the center of attention, desired and loved by everyone.
As it kept playing and getting even more prominent in the composition, the piano dies down. The violin still being there, just letting the cello be. At least for now.

She appears, the flute gets played. It sounds lively, happy, exciting. It tries to collide with the cello, making them sound excellent together. The collision hits and a highly complementary sound is created.
A sound that blends the airy, high-pitched, and agile melodic lines of the flute with the rich, warm and resonant bass tones of the cello.

It offers a significant contrast between metal and wood, creating a balanced intimate and romantic texture.

Playing alongside, felt right. As if they had always belonged together.

The piano plays silent notes, still being kept in the background.

Suddenly the cello and the flute stop playing and the piano is speeding up, trying to overpower the two. The harp stopped, and the piano begins to play almost maniacally, representing its inner turmoil.

The cello starts playing again in a slow manner, creating a tense atmosphere, due to the piano still playing and trying to overpower the cellos play. The piano dies down again, demonstrating the power the cello hold over it. It has always been stronger.
At the same time the flute makes a reappearance. It were a pleading notes that were played, the liveliness being gone. The piano continues on playing silently making its way into the background position. 

Suddenly all the instruments stop playing, letting the silence simmer before the violin starts playing quick yet silent notes, before the piano joins it. They create a perfect chorus. Before they had had a deep connection, now they formed into one, fusing their consciousness into one melody.

The violin quiets down as the piano begins to play the same four notes all over again represent the thoughts, doubts that came across his mind. It was a decision he needed to make.
The melody became chaotic, yet quiet. Deep notes dominate the sound of the higher ones, illustrating the persuasion of the violin.

‘Kill him!’ repeating over and over inside his head, it was a peaceful imagination for the piano. The life of the cello and flute taking over his life.

Both the cello and the flute start playing alongside each other, whilst the harp tangled along.

The piano suddenly flew into a rage, playing abruptly as fast as it could, making the violin stop playing and letting it watch. The notes are chaotic, messy and have no ultimate meaning.
The cello and flute are overpowered by the piano, the flute dying down especially quickly, even her high, almost pleading notes were for naught. While the cello struggles to get out any notes. Its warm and resonant tones being choked out by the piano.

For one last time in this composition, the violin joins the piano. The thrill of the murder leading to an ever more high, a high none of them can ever achieve again. They play bestial, like they know that this is the product of their fusion.

The cello starts to become hollow, a rhythmic melody that just carries out in the back; it sounds less dominant than it ever has, than it could. Its flame was dying down.

It was in the background now, no one loved it anymore, no one wanted it anymore. It was a useless instrument now.

After a moment of complete silence, the piano plays rhythmic, calm, comforting notes. The violin playing alongside, caressing the melody of the piano. Following along is a harp and clarinet, they undermined the happiness of the violin and piano. The melody becoming as innocuous as ever.

The piano plays quietly, sounding more peaceful than ever.

Fulfilled, at rest.

His masterpiece was created.

--- --- ---

The night was strange.

Jongwoo was laying bed, staring at the dirty ceiling, counting stars. He couldn’t sleep.

The thought of finally completing his first masterpiece led him to an indescribable high.

Jae-ho was gone for good, he finally had written something to be proud of, and his novel was finally unravelling into its purest form of art.
Nothing could have prepared him though to get hard while killing…

Moonjo had been caressing his hands, whispering in his ear with his seductive voice. It had gotten all too much.
All the adrenaline had flown into the wrong part of his body.

He was ashamed.

Not of the murder, but the fact that he got hard from Moonjo…

“Fuck.” He whispered. “How could this happen?”

It wasn’t a real question, he knew how it all works. But did killing turn him on that much, that Moonjo was able to give him the final push?

Nothing was the same anymore.

Ji-eun had cheated on him.

Jae-ho was dead.

Moonjo turned him on, whilst killing Jae-ho.

He had created his first masterpiece.

Nothing would ever be the same.

How would the next morning look like? Would anyone suspect him? Was Moonjo going to cover for him? Who even ‘cleaned’ Jae-ho up? Would he be able to be identified if found?

Before Jongwoo had left the scene, he had spit in his face, stepped on him, put a cigarette out in his eyeball and gave him one last final punch.
Obviously it wasn’t enough to not identify him, but could Ji-eun? Would he need to?

Too many questions for one night.

Before he left, Moonjo had told him to not worry, and to just “Write your masterpiece and then let me read it.”

He had finished it, should he go to his room? Was he even awake?

Probably, murdering would not let you sleep peacefully for a while. Jongwoo assumed so at least.

Instead of questioning it too much, he picked up his laptop and knocked don Moonjo’s room.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The door was opened. He was in his black, oversized shirt. This time it was a short sleeved one, making his scars be visible. Jongwoo’s gaze was directly at them, staring. He wished that he could count them, caress them and heal them.

He quickly averted his eyes though.

“You told me to show you my masterpiece.” He held up his laptop, “Here it is.”

“Come in, Jagiya.” Moonjo let him in.

As Jongwoo placed his computer on the clean desk, he tried to scan the room for anything personal looking.

Nothing really.

Only one single framed picture.

Mrs. Eom, was on there, still looking the same. Many other children where there too, he assumed the ones who were currently living in this very residence. A small boy on the left was there too, he looked sad and angry. He wore a black shirt and his neck was all bruised up, and the wounds visibly dragged down his neck.

Jongwoo’s heart stopped beating for a second. That must’ve been Moonjo.

“Yeah that was me, I was a ugly little duckling.” He laughed, silently. “Show me your work.”

He did.

Moonjo consumed the pages like a hungry, sleep deprive animal in desperate need for meat. He read carefully, analysing each word. Jongwoo watched him and felt his heart skip a beat.

The way he was reading Jongwoo’s work made him feel excited and appreciated at the same time. Finally someone understood him, understood what and how he wrote. They had a deep understanding below the surface level.
Never had anyone ever been this dedicated and interested toward his book.

When Moonjo finished reading the scene, there was a tear forming in the corner of his eye. It wasn’t a tear filled with sadness, it was a tear from the soul.
He smiled manically, back then it creeped Jongwoo out. But now, he was capable of understanding.

“You indeed created a masterpiece.” He was impressed.

“Without you, it would not have been possible.” Jongwoo remarked.

“I was only the help, it was all you.” His voice was deep and rusty. Jongwoo felt his heart fluttering, being reminded of the night made him feel giddy and hot at the same time.

With that he was back to being reminded of his previously hard dick. Jongwoo was quite aware that what had happened was not a turn-on in the least but, as he kept thinking of Jae-ho, especially the way he had struggled below him and Moonjo being there, caressing his hand and guiding him.

Of course he noticed.

Suddenly Moonjo stepped closer to Moonjo, their distance was already short, however Moonjo was determent to close their distance.
The room began to feel tighter and he wasn’t able to breathe anymore.

Moonjo was invading his personal space without permission, he drew their faces together, grabbed Jongwoo by the waist and began to caress it slowly. The goosebumps appeared without permission. Their breaths were joined and both exhaled hot air.

Never had Jongwoo’s heart beaten faster than this. Even when he asked Ji-eun to be his girlfriend, with flowers and chocolate in hand, he had waited in front of her class. Being patient and hoping to hear what he wanted to. In conclusion, it all worked out, Jae-ho was sick, Ji-eun got out of the room, Jongwoo asked and then he had his first girlfriend.

As he kept thinking of her, he could only see Moonjo who was currently with him. A man he had only met weeks ago, a man that was capable of murder, and capable of murder with him. They both shared the same fantasies and beliefs. They were the same.
Now that he was so close to him, Jongwoo felt better than ever.

Truly, he never felt that much desire for Ji-eun. As he looked at those deep, dark eyes, Jongwoo wanted to just rip them out and keep as a souvenir. They were staring through his soul, through his being.

Actually, he wanted to kiss him.

Was it wrong? Was it wrong for him to want this? To want him?

Jongwoo’s judgement was clouded, he just killed a man and wrote about it. His morals were completley fucked. Maybe they always have been. 

Looking at those red and plump lips did him do no good. He wanted to swallow him alive.

Jae-ho loved to say that to him ad Ji-eun, ‘You would love to eat her up, don’t you?’ This motherfucker has always been a pain in the asshole. Degrading, not knowing when to stop and just someone with no form of social conduct. He was dead now, yet as he kept thinking of the man, Jongwoo felt the rage building up in his chest.

“Are you angry yet? I love it when you’re angry.” Moonjo uttered into his ear.

In that moment Jongwoo lost all of his senses. He grabbed Moonjo’s neck, and with a sudden pull their mouths crashed together.

The kiss was rough, almost violent at first, teeth grazing, breath mingling in heated bursts. Jongwoo pushed him back a step, his fingers tightening at the base of Moonjo’s neck as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to choke him or drag him closer.

Moonjo responded immediately.

His gripped Jongwoo’s hair, just enough to force his head back before capturing his lips again. The movement sent a sharp shiver down Jongwoo’s spine. Moonjo kissed him like a man who had been waiting for this moment, hungry and deliberate, each movement slow enough to feel intentional but intense enough to steal the air from Jongwoo’s lungs.

Their breaths tangled between them, hot against cold night air.

Jongwoo’s anger hadn’t disappeared ,it had simply changed shape. It was burning through him, feeding the kiss, making it deeper, rougher.
His grip moved from Moonjo’s neck to the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer until their chests collided.

Moonjo hummed softly against his lips, almost amused, almost satisfied.

When they finally broke apart for a moment, their foreheads nearly touched. Moonjo’s fingers were still tangled in Jongwoo’s hair, his dark eyes watching him like he was studying something fascinating.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

----

Jongwoo was back in his room, he was lying in his bed, replaying today’s events.

His masterpiece was completed.

It was finally finished.

Nothing could ever go wrong.

Ever again.

He had kissed Moonjo.

It was a great kiss.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

It could never be enough.

Jongwoo knew that only one masterpiece could never be enough, he needed more. The people in Eden, they still had unfinished business with him.

----

It was 5:30 Am in the morning, Jongwoo was already awake. He was standing in front of Moonjo’s door, watching.
He saw the man sleeping in his bed, he looked like a dead statue, not moving, silently breathing. Completely different than yesterday night.

He wanted to watch longer, but he had ‘work’.

Being prepared was one thing, but having to act normal whilst doing everyone a favour was not quite easy.

Jongwoo went into the kitchen and saw that there was only the kimchi from Mrs. Eom left, thus he grabbed it from the fridge and began to eat it.
The horrible taste was still the same, but Jongwoo realized that he would need to get used to it. Somehow he felt the need to eat it.

Mrs. Eom’s kimchi was disgusting, swallowing it was a difficult matter. However Jongwoo still did. If Moonjo eats it, then he should too.

Before he finished it, Moonjo actually joined him. He was kept together like always, wearing a black shirt and white pants. He looked amazing.

“Jagiya, how has the morning been treating you?” He was clearly implying the kimchi. Moonjo could distinguish Jongwoo liking and disliking something, and currently he was eating that kimchi because he had to.
Moonjo knew that.

“It’s okay, I might need to have some more of it though.”

“Then I will make you some personally.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“Your little girlfriend.”

Their conversation had never been about the kimchi.

“I would like that.”

----

“Ji-eun I know we had our differences, but we need to talk.” Jongwoo tried to sound disturbed, as if he was in deep shock, he couldn’t quite tell if he succeded, but Ji-eun arrived in after only half an hour.

She clearly had been in a rush.

“Jongwoo, what happened?” She asked, her face soaked in worry.

He put on his best face, took her icy cold hands and told her, “Jae-ho is dead, they found him in the forest, hanged. He committed suicide.”

Ji-eun’s face widened in shock, her face suddenly as pale as a wall and her hands began to shake uncontrollably. With a shaky voice she responded, “A suicide? Why would he do that, he had always seemed so happy…” With me.

“You never know what a person thinks on the inside. I had called him yesterday and I wanted to resolve our issues, however he told me that he was going on a walk, ‘trying to forget the things he had done’. At first I thought that it was harmless, then I went to sleep, and when I came to work, they told me he was dead.” He explained.

As he had begun to talk, he had gripped Ji-eun’s hands tightly, squeezing them intensely. She scrunched he face in hurt.

Before she could even comprehend all that information, she burst out in tears. They began to stream like a dripping waterfall. Unconsciously she fell into Jongwoo’s arms, trying to find the comfort in them, which she never had been able to find.

“How could he do this? Why would he—?” She repeated over and over again, the shock made her look manic.

Never had she been this sad, so emotional, especially when being around Jongwoo. Ji-eun had never showed him this side of hers, never had she been able to. Now she couldn’t hold herself back, as she cried in his arms.

If Jongwoo wouldn’t have been the reason for Ji-eun to cry so desperately, he would have felt jealous. He wasn’t, he experienced glee. That bastard was dead, and he was the reason for it.

In this very moment, as she kept hugging, gripping his shirt, repeat the same words over and over again, Jongwoo didn’t know how to feel. If it would have been him, from a few weeks ago, he would have relished in that feeling. The feeling that they were finally able to open up to one another, but now…
Yes, once he was in love with her.

But when thinking of love, Jongwoo could only see the depiction of Moonjo inside his mind…

Fuck.

He brushed it off quickly. His plan was unravelling.

She needed to grieve. Feel the pain of how it is to loose someone you love, and just getting ripped apart, but never being able to be with each other.

Once she finished grieving, he would grant her the mercy of letting her see Jae-ho again.

---

Moonjo had a good day at work. He even hummed a tune at work.

“Mr. Seo, what are you humming so early in the morning?”, one of his employees asked.

“Just a melody, I have been imagining one for quite some time now, and since yesterday I finally know how it’s supposed to sound like.” His smile was uncanny, the nurse didn’t say anything just nodded with a smile.

Work came easy to him today, he gave a class of children a workshop on how brush their teeth properly, had their teachers flirt with him, had two teeth removals, and then just a normal check-up.

Throughout it all, he kept humming that same tune over and over again.

He wished his pianist would join him.

Being a lone violinist wasn’t satisfying enough.

Moonjo was a patient person, he had waited long enough for his masterpiece, he was able to wait a little longer.
Today he didn’t come and go look for Jongwoo. He didn’t need to, before it all, he needed to put Jongwoo under surveillance.

However, today it wasn’t necessary.

He could just let him be.

The day ended in the blink of an eye, he was back in his little room, watching Jongwoo write manically.
Not manic enough.

They needed to wait, wait for her to grieve. To feel the pain she needed to experience.
There was no clear estimate on how long it all would take, but he gave it a week.

Up until then, he needed to occupy Jongwoo plenty.

“Jagiya, you are awfully angry today.” He whispered through the little hole in his room.

Jongwoo listened. He put the hands from the keyboard, stood up from his chair and turned around. He kept looking around, trying to find the hole, but he just couldn’t.
He was going insane.

“Time to get to work.” He only whispered.

With that Moonjo opened his own door, knocked on Jongwoo’s entered without permission and he just stared at him.

“Jagiya, are you angry enough?”

‘Ready to play the piano?’

“Of course. That fucking pervert has been getting on my nerves ever since I arrived. He tried to harass me in the shower.”

----

Before knocking on his door, Jongwoo did something so unexpected that Moonjo was like paralysed. Jongwoo had grabbed his neck, pulled him toward him, gave him a sloppy kiss, and then knocked.

He opened, knife in hand, smiling.  “Hahaha—, you little… I’ve been waiting for you… You stupid fucking bastard!”

“Have you?” Jongwoo asked smiling, “Last morning you clearly did not have any patience…”

“I should have killed you when I first saw your tiny ass come in here!” He said, full with confidence, smiling to the brims.

“Then you should have been faster.”

“If you want to hate someone, you have to hate them fully and truly. If you want to kill someone, you have to commit fully.” Moonjo added with no mercy, only philosophy.

Hell has always been other people.

And Jongwoo decided to create his own hell.

He stormed toward that pervert, letting out an inhumane scream, in process the knife fell out of his hand, and Jongwoo was already on top of the stinky-never-using-deodarant-man.

The air suddenly smelled metallic, bloody, eerie.

Moonjo just watched as he climbed onto him, and began to beat the shit out of him. He shouted the same sentence over and over again, “You fucking bastard.”

He continued on and on, until there was nothing left of him, even the pervert stopped laughing at a certain point, he only let out pain stricken screams. His face grimaced in agony, he looked as if a little cat was scratching him until he would no longer recognize his face.

Each punch that was thrown made him groan further.

Moonjo just watched, patiently.

When Jongwoo decided that beating him was enough, he finally wrapped his hands around that pervert.
Never had he been this weak, but Moonjo had already told him what was coming.

Eden was about to become his salvation.

As Jongwoo started to choke him, he began to whisper something in his ear, manically. He truly has gone insane.
Moonjo smiled.

Only choked out screams came out after a while, Jongwoo was so dedicated in his artwork that he couldn’t stop. He kept hurting him until there was no life in that man, everything turned cold.
The pictures of the naked woman in the wall kept staring down on them, encouraging Jongwoo silently. That whole room was screaming with him.

The porn on his computer had died down the second Jongwoo had entered the room, now there was only a woman on the scream, looking scared and humiliated. Jongwoo was about to free her.

When going for the last push, Jongwoo let go of his neck, grabbed the knife and began stabbing him, blood dripping everywhere. His face, his clothing, the wall, were covered in the perverts blood.

Jongwoo felt ecstatic, as if he was on a rollercoaster and going for the looping, making him feel the perfect amount of adrenaline in his veins. He just kept pushing and pushing, until the knife his the ground, through him.
But he wasn’t finished. That face that had so much hatred in for him, it needed to be made unrecognizable.

He began to take little cutting, than deeper ones, until it all began to spurt out. There came out goo, and all other kinds of fluids.

Jongwoo was inspired, he just couldn’t stop laughing at himself, the man was finally dead. He created a new artwork. But the face wasn’t finished yet. He carved a big fat dick with the knife on his face.

A masterpiece, finally created.

----

Moonjo was pleased.

The pervert was tied to his chair, mouth being held open, and teeth ready to be taken out. At first he used a specialized instrument called an elevator, Moonjo gently separated the gums from the bone and loosened the tooth from the socket. Once loose, he used dental forceps to grasp the tooth and remove it.

“If the tooth is broken at the gum line or impacted, I might need to make an incision in the gum to reach the tooth, potentially removing bone or cutting the tooth into smaller pieces.” He finished explaining to Jongwoo, who was watching him patiently.

He cleaned the socket, removed any debris and then put the clean tooth on the tablet next to him.

“What will you do with the tooth?”

“I am creating my ultimate artwork with them. Each person is one artwork.” He said it so factually, as if it was the only truth.

“Do you do that with everyone?”

“My work is never over. We are the same. You and I. Art can never sleep.”

Then Moonjo began to cut up some organs of the pervert, only small parts ad flesh rests. A lot of parts had already been cut up by Jongwoo, making them useless. Jongwoo had an idea as to why Moonjo did that, but he couldn’t voice it out yet.

Once the pervert was chopped up, they put the rest of him inside a black plastic bag, and they began to drag him into the forest. He was heavier than a rock, even in death making it hard for them.

“Do you think that anyone could ever catch up onto us?”, Jongwoo wasn’t filled with worry but anticipation.

“As long as you don’t give them reason to, no. This man will never be missed by anyone. You released him from his misery. You create art. It’s not the same as murder.”

“Was it really art with this one?”

“Of course. Did you long for it? Did you want his death so bad that it ate you up?” He smiled.

“Yes.”

As they reached the deepest point of the forest, they dropped the bag on the dirty ground of the forest. The air was quiet and cold, not even a breeze in sight. It made Moonjo feel glee, never had he done the dirty work himself. He never had to, but today he wanted to.

He wanted to do it with Jongwoo.

Before going into the forest, the two had grabbed a shovel each. Now they started digging. The dirt was nice and soft, easy to dig down fast.
It wouldn’t take long.

Digging in utter silence made Moonjo feel so extremely happy, he couldn’t stop grinning.

Finally he was able to view his masterpiece in silence. Watching him through the hole in his room had never been enough. Now that he was able to analyse him properly, he felt his heart flutter.

Jongwoo was a diligent worker who was dedicated toward his work.

They were cut out of the same wood.

Moonjo was staring at him, barely being able to concentrate on the process of making that fucker a grave. It wasn’t a real grave, more of a hiding spot until he would decay.

It took them more than an hour to finish the perfect hole. It was deep enough, wide enough, and perfect to hide a body from everyone. Together they picked up the bag and dumped him into the hole with a loud thud.

Upon their return, Mrs. Eom was already standing before the entrance door.

“My dear and his handsome young man… It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Would you mind joining me for kimchi? I’ve cooked some more meat too. Let’s go eat some.” Her smile was excitingly big and inviting.

“Ham-bok has been taken care of.” Was the only thing Moonjo said.

“I know, you can never lie to me. None of you can, I raised you don’t forget that.”

“Mrs. Eom, I had a long day. I’ll go to sleep, I promise I’ll eat your kimchi tomorrow.” He tried to sound polite, but he did not actually care, nor did he put in any effort. He left, getting to his room, ready to write.

“You always make him uncomfortable. Stop that.”

“Don’t you trust me enough? He already knows our secret. I can say whatever the hell I want to him. Once we leave, you can’t take him with us. He still has his little girlfriend.”

Moonjo’s eyes turned dark. Would Jongwoo join them? Or would he leave him after killing his final piece?

“Do not talk about her to me, she doesn’t hold any place in his heart.”

“But you do?” She laughed out loud.

Did Mrs. Eom try to humiliate him? Did she actually believe that he would choose her over his ultimate masterpiece?

One day it would be his turn to laugh at her.

---- ---- ----

That had come faster than anticipated.

As Moonjo’s soul was leaving his body, he did not see the white tunnel everybody talks about, neither did he see the garden of Eden. Instead he saw his 7 minutes replay, his most important memories.

The first day he saw Jongwoo, it was not when he had invited him for beer, it was not when he first arrived into the building.

It was back in his little hometown.

Back then, he had some business to attend to. It was a dentist excusrsion, volunteer work. He never liked being a volunteer, but to keep up his flawless mask, he went. There was no art for him to create there.

What a shame it had been.

However that weekend trip had changed something inside of him.

The first time he saw Jongwoo, he was with her. They were smiling, holding hands, talking about something only these two could understand. At first he didn’t pay them any mind. Everything changed when three men approached him.

Jongwoo looks quite cute and innocuous, as if he could not even kill a fly. Yet, the eyes, they never lie.

They came up to him and Ji-eun, trying to talk to her. With their smug smiles, they tried to intimidate him. Nothing worked.

His eyes stayed unyielding, unrelenting, ready to fight if necessary. His potential buried deep inside of him.

The men were sticking to them like glue. Ji-eun obviously uncomfortable, began to hide behind Jongwoo.

He on the other hand was ready to protect her. “Stay behind me, don’t move.” He whispered into her ear.

Then, he threw the first punch. A fight broke loose. One fragile looking man against those three. With all odds against him, he still managed to win. Firstly he knocked out the leader with only aa single hard punch, scared the other two, climbed onto the biggest one, ripped chunks of his hair out and began to beat the crap out of them.

Moonjo had watched silently, not wanting to get involved. As he kept staring at Jongwoo, he was fascinated in the least.

“Jagiya, I see you. I’ll make you mine.”

It didn’t take him long to react accordingly. He went over to them, tried to act like he wanted to help Ji-eun and broke the fight apart.

“Gentlemen, do not fight in front of a lady.” His gaze was deadly, giving the men the last push. They ran and left a wounded Jongwoo and a scared looking Ji-eun.

“Thank you so much! Are you a doctor by chance?” She asked, due to him wearing white, his glasses and a stethoscope.

“Yes, I can take him to my friend’s clinic, free of charge. We are currently volunteering here.” He explained it, and began to strike conversation with her. The three then followed him into the clinic, Jongwoo gave the secretary his data and Moonjo’s colleague went to treat him. 

That was four years ago. Jongwoo never remembered, but Moonjo did.

He had kept his eyes on him for all these years.

And he would never stop looking.

As he kept floating further and further, until he saw the dead Mrs. Eom.

Of course she had been killed, perfectly indeed.

Jongwoo had a horrible day, Ji-eun called him crying about Jae-ho, pissing him off badly. He was not in the mood for anything. Not even writing. Moonjo had always known ho to cheer him up. He only needed a small push.

He had always given him a little push. Moonjo was his guide, his moral high-ground.

“Jagiya, how angry are you?” He whispered, hovering above him and his computer.

“I really am not in the mood.” Liar.

“I know what can get you in the mood.” It was a clear implication.

They hadn’t killed in a while. Their last murder had been almost two months ago. Jongwoo was pent up, he needed to let it out.
Ever since Jae-ho’s death, Ji-eun kept calling him non-stop. Crying, whining, playing into the role of the perfect little victim.
The love they once shared was completley gone. Never could she stop talking about herself or Jae-ho.

Moonjo had never gone too far with him, the time wasn’t ready yet. But he did love to play with Jongwoo. There was so much fun in that. He caressed his neck and placed slow, hot kisses on top of it.

He didn’t stop there, he sucked on it as much as he could, claiming what belongs to him. And only him.

“Don’t do it too much, Ji-eun might see.”

“Then wear a scarf.” Easy as that.

The kisses turned into a heated saliva transmission between the two. That’s how it always ended. Moonjo had his hands around Jongwoo’s dick, jerked it enough to make him cum, cleaned him and then just watched him write.

It was never enough for Jongwoo.

Moonjo could see that dangerous, hungry, starved glimmer in his eyes.

“Let’s get to work.” Jongwoo said. Moonjo only smiled.

It had happened all too fast, the pleasured Jongwoo, was desperate. He needed this. He absolutely did.
Grabbing the perverts axe and went on a rampage.

Mrs. Eom had been sitting in the kitchen, cooking meat in the kitchen. Even humming a tune. They rarely saw each other anymore, but when they did, their conversations were never pleasant.
Jongwoo had enough. 

“Handsome young man, what pretty thing you got in hand?” She smiled sweetly not afraid in the least.

The air turned colder than it was, giving everyone but the two the appropriate goosebumps. It was eerie, them staring at each other. Jongwoo with the axe he had been targeted to get killed with, she with the knife she had cut up so many different people.

But as they stared, they had to decide who would live today and who would take his last breath.

She was experienced.

He was an ex-military officer with ptsd.

Jongwoo inhaled deeply and ran toward her.

With the knife in hand she tried to react faster, but Jongwoo was already mid-run. He grabbed the axe tightly, swinging it into the perfect direction into her head, exhaled and struck.

She fell down, her smile disappearing forever.

Moonjo was flying over the two. Mrs Eom had raised him back when he was a child, but never had she actually cared for him. Her time was ripe, she had to go. His masterpiece had to finish his book.

The piano still has keys that need to be pressed.

Therefore the play wasn’t over. His recap showed him how he had killed that annoying little baldie and his obnoxious always smiling brother.
As Moonjo kept watching Jongwoo find the missing piece to his puzzle, the bridge to connect the piano to its final melody, he saw himself.

He could see how the twins died, being killed by the same knife Mrs. Eom wanted to murder him. He could see how he kept slashing their wrists, crashing that knife into the two, putting them next to each other and then creating a hole in the same space.
Connecting the two for all eternity.

One of them died quietly, accepting his fate, the other one died laughing.

Then there was the very last one.

Min Ji-eun.

“Ji-eun we have to talk. It’s important. Please visit me at Eden.” He sounded desperate, playing into the role of being in utter shock.

Since he was the only one she could lean on, she rushed there immediately. Taking the taxi approximately took her half an hour. When she arrived, Jongwoo was already standing there. Looking utterly perplexed, Ji-eun only could hug him.

The significant change in their relationship, had been bothering ever since Jae-ho died. It was regular for her to start visiting him at his workplace. Like she had formed some sort of weird attachment toward him.
Jae-ho being gone only made her more clingy, more desperate.

Guilty.

Because she was, and Ji-eun was quite aware of that.

Jongwoo had let her grieve. Let her go through the pain of never being able to see him again, of only having him in her life.

The time has come, it was her turn now. She now would be granted permission to see Jae-ho again.

Moonjo, still flying over that scenario, was hovering above a blur of action. He felt like a dust particle, just watching, not being able to take any measures for or against something. Just being a spectator on his memories, chosen by his soul.

He could only see how the two went up to the rooftop. The air was warm and cosy. Making Ji-eun genuinely smile. “Oh, it’s about to rain. Do you have an umberella?”

As if you’d ever need one again.

“It won’t take me long.” Small rain droplets started to fall onto them. “You know, there is something I have been meaning to ask you, something I had always been afraid to ask. Especially since Jae-ho died. But now is the perfect time.”

Jongwoo got down on one knee, putting his hand into his pocket.

Ji-eun’s eyes widened, the rain started to fall harder now. She was in utter shock.

Is he about to propose?

It never came to the proposal.

“You fucked Jae-ho, didn’t you.” His voice suddenly turned dark, as he pulled out a slender wooden box.

“Jongwoo what?! What are you talking about! I—I coul—could never!” she began to shake, the rain making her feel the cold even more.

The wooden box was opened. A syringe inside of it.

He got up from his knees. The rain was now at its peak.

“It doesn’t matter if you did or not.”

For one last time he looked at her, pushed the syringe inside her neck, injected the fluid into her and waited.

Moonjo was as if in a daze, he could only see her fall down to her knees after only a few seconds. Then she began to gasp for air, as Jongwoo began to scream questions at her. It was his first murder all over again. But she was not his last.
She was not allowed to be.
She did not deserve that privilege.

Once he had squeezed the light out of her, he left her there on the floor.

Min Ji-eun your final act has ended.

But his had only begun.

Then he appeared, it was Moonjo himself, who had watched them. Jongwoo stormed over to him, hugging him at first. Then he leaned up to his mouth and kissed it with all his might. A salty, hot tear was dripping into their mouths.

It was a desperate, sad kiss. Jongwoo cried into it, grabbing his neck as tightly as he only could. Today he had killed too many people. He was overwhelmed.

Or was he?

Moonjo kissed him back passionately, putting all his desperation, success, happiness into it. Nothing could ever stop them anymore.
Their souls had finally joined.

His pianist was playing his final composition, and the violin was supporting it with all the strings could give.

As the piano was playing loudly into Moonjo’s eardrums, the violin was quiet but steady, it could be described as a balanced individual instrument. Nothing could hinder it from playing anymore. Except the piano.
However they were one, they could never play the finished masterpiece without one another.

His obsession with his pianist had never been enough for him.

When one is meant to do great things, they will overcome their guide and do not need that certain final push anymore.

The dust particle sighed to himself, he had created this monster, made the pianist a solo artist.
Maybe they were never meant to be to play the final tunes together.

As Jongwoo grabbed the man tightly, he pressed their foreheads together. It would be his last act of pure love, dedication, and desperation. He kept on crying, leaving gentle kisses all over Moonjo, trying to preserve that taste for one last final act.

Then it came, their final kiss.

Jongwoo pulled him close, saliva connection. Their bitter and sweet taste connected for one last time, their tongues battled each other for one last time. Moonjo roamed over that familiar body, as much as he was allowed. The his fingers wandered upwards, to Jongwoo’s Adams apple, feeling it twitch one last time under his touch.

Before he knew it, Moonjo felt a cutting sensation inside his neck. He yelped unconsciously.

At this very moment Moonjo knew what he had created. His Jagiya was a true masterpiece, a masterpiece that had overtaken him in every way possible. The art he was now able to create was flawless, calculated, just perfect.
The piano finally had struck his last key, the violin was still trying to cling to its strings but it was finally over for the both. The piano was always meant to play on its own, the violin could have never changed that. But now it was strumming its last tune, trying to joining the piano for the last few silent, rested keys.
It just couldn’t.

“Jagiya, you are my perfect masterpiece. I love you.” With that, he grabbed a bracelet out of his pocket, his last action to put it over the crying Jongwoo’s wrist.

The violin was never going to pull a string ever again.

They were right, as Moonjo flowed. He realized that Art did Take its Time.

His time had finally come.

Salvation in Eden was about to dawn on him.

But never was he ever going to be alone again.