Total Darkness
Title: Total Darkness
Pairing(s): HanChul, slight!KiHae
Genre(s): Romance, high school AU, suspense
Length: 5496 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A haunting love story about a boy who lived in the light and a boy who lurked in the shadows.
Inspiration(s): Let’s just say that I think that the story of the Phantom of the Opera is genius.
```
Everybody knew Kim Heechul. It was like a law in the school. If you did not know about Kim Heechul, you were either seriously antisocial or clinically deaf, and even then there was a good chance that you have at least heard about him. The freshmen would know his story during their first week whether they wanted to or not since the upper years never failed to tell them the perturbing yet chivalrous tale about the Korean man whose name would forever be engraved in the hearts of those who met him.
Such was the case with a certain timid first-year named Kim Kibum, who came shuffling into the cafeteria, practically gluing his textbooks towards his thin chest. While looking for a place to sit, a smiley face waved him over, and he recognized him as a second-year who came from the same middle school, Lee Donghae.
“Donghae,” Kibum greeted formally, bowing slightly. “It’s been a while.”
“Ah, only a year!” he replied optimistically. “You’ve grown quite a bit, though. Last time I saw you, you were only up to my shoulder!”
Kibum smiled shyly. “Protein does that to you.”
Donghae laughed, a bubbly sound that made the younger student’s heart flutter. Kibum had a small crush on the boy back in middle school, and he remembered ogling as Donghae skipped down the halls in his customary cheeriness or sizzling with jealousy when the boy got much too close to his best friend Hyukjae.
“How are you liking the school?”
“It’s very big,” Kibum commented. “I got lost several times this morning.”
“Pfft, you’re a smart boy,” Donghae rolled his eyes amusedly. “You’ll get used to it sooner than others, that’s for sure.”
Kibum blushed at the compliment, immediately averting his eyes.
“So have you heard the story about Kim Heechul yet?”
Curiosity crept its way into Kibum. “Kim Heechul?”
“Guess not,” the older student remarked.
Kibum furrowed his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to tell me now that you sparked my inquisitiveness?”
“Still knowledge-hungry I see,” Donghae teased, winking. “Well, Kim Heechul was a student here some twenty years ago, and this story takes place when he was seventeen, at the beginning of his third year.”
```
“Siwon, you dolt! Are you quite finished?”
The head of a burly man with gentle eyes emerged from underneath the tabletop. “Heechul, can you please be quiet? Fixing the computer requires a lot of concentration, and in order for me to concentrate, you are required to stop yelling into my poor ear.”
The redhead flipped his hair over his shoulder and scoffed. “Whatever. Just fix it soon.”
Rolling his eyes, Siwon sighed and continued with his work with red and blue wires.
Heechul, on the other hand, remained restless, staring up at the cemented ceiling with his sharp hazel eyes as he leaned back on the couch. “This is my first time in the Teachers’ Lounge, you know,” he said, more to himself than his best friend. “I am glad. It is the most beautiful place in all the school. Why are you the only one who has daily access to it?”
“I am their free computer technician,” Siwon muttered. “Pity, really, how they find an amateur student to do the dirty work for no paycheck.”
Heechul laughed, a carbonated sound that sounded surreally natural to the ear. He pushed himself up and started pacing around the room, nodding at the comfort of the fireplace and smiling at the famous Impressionist paintings that were decorating the room. “What painting is this, Siwon?” he asked, motioning towards the painting nearest the ground: an apricot-skinned ballerina dressed in a pale pink tutu and white tights.
“Something by Claude Monet,” replied a muffled voice. “Everything here is by Monet.”
“Well, it’s absolutely beautiful,” Heechul declared.
Siwon chuckled. “Beautiful it may be, but at the moment I cannot waste time admiring it as I have to report to the principal that the computer requires serious rewiring and a thorough voltage check. Stay put, will you?”
The effeminate student only gave a wave over his shoulder as his friend scurried out of the room, for he was much more interested in the painting, or more specifically, the crack peeking out from behind the painting. Heechul found it odd how there would be a small and hardly perceptible blemish in the otherwise impeccable white wall. It was like a slight crease in a supposedly flat piece of paper-touched by foreign hands.
Heechul was a curious (not to mention capricious) boy who wanted to know about everything, and it was hardly any wonder why this instance would not be any different. Without any trace of hesitation, he removed the painting from its former location and set it on the ground, marveling at the little square door that lay behind it. He reached out his hand and jumped back in surprise when the door opened at the slightest turn of the knob. There was a single string in the middle of the pitch black hole of darkness, and Heechul immediately pulled on it. A light appeared at the end of a long tunnel. Overcome with curiosity and with absolutely no willpower to restrain himself, he impulsively crawled pushed himself into the dark space and started crawling towards his objective, paying no heed to the dirtying of his clothes or the murky things that he may have touched.
It turned out that the light source came from a dusty black lantern with a cracked covering and heavily dented wax. There was another string a meter away from it, and Heechul pulled on it to find that the previously lit lantern was immediately extinguished while a new one on Heechul’s right blossomed. “Perhaps there is some creature living here?” he asked himself. “And if I just follow the lights, I will eventually come face to face with it!” The scavenger hunt idea excited Heechul to a frenzy, and he hurriedly went on down the endless tunnels, pulling on stray strings and following the lit lanterns.
The last lantern that he came to did not have an accompanying string. Instead, there was a square door, an exact copy of the one in which Heechul came from. Heart pounding, he twisted the doorknob, and the lantern was put out, leaving him in complete utter darkness. Panic arose in the lad, and he frantically waved his hand out in front of him, disappointed when he felt no string that would give him enough light. Huffing, he reached out even farther but lost his balance, falling for a short while before landing on his shoulder with a groan.
Pitch black.
Heechul stood up quickly, breathing heavily at his blindness. “Hello?” he called out. “Is anybody there?”
All he was met with was an echo of his voice. For the first time in Heechul’s life, he was all alone. And for the first time in Heechul’s life, he was perfectly absolutely terrified.
“HELP!” he shouted, eyes watering with fright. “Please! Somebody help me!”
He blindly ran in a random direction until he collided with a brick wall, and started pounding on it with his feeble fists, ignoring the bruises he was inflicting on himself. “Please! Help!” he yelled as he made his way around the circular chamber, terrified tears pouring down his face, but after a while he realized that he was trapped, and that he would have to wait until somebody found him. “I’m so scared,” he whispered to himself, crumpling to the ground, sniffling. He closed his eyes and prayed that he was only dreaming-that he was just Alice in Wonderland, ready to open his eyes to tea time.
But he was not dreaming, and despite all his self-condolences, he knew that all too well.
Then, a lantern was lit on the other side, and relief washed over the naive Heechul like a tidal wave. Crying out in happiness, he ran towards the light, wiping his tears on his sleeve. But when he reached the object of hope, he saw not a human being, but a message on the wall freshly written in blood. Instead of being scared, Heechul scoffed and thought that blood-writing was cheesy. “Follow the light,” Heechul read. “Hide the passage. Tell no one.” Once he was done reciting, the lantern beside him was put out, and another one across the room lit up.
The person who was lighting the way was definitely human, Heechul decided. His fear vanished and in its place came annoyance. He pouted and grudgingly walked towards the light. “You know, this is unfair,” he proclaimed to his mysterious guide. “You might be a rapist just trying to corner me even more. How can I trust you?”
Instead of a reply, another lantern lit up.
Heechul sighed and kept walking. “I would like to see who I am placing my trust on. Don’t you think that I have the right to do so? That way, I can have some peace of mind and I can thank you properly. I don’t even know if you are a ghost or a living breathing creature, or whether you are male or female. Hopefully you are a guy. No offense if you are female; I am just terrible at talking to women, you see.”
A low chuckle was heard some ways off, and Heechul’s ears sharpened to the sound.
“Fine, if you are so determined not to show yourself, can you at least make an effort to comfort me? I’m bloody terrified here, for god’s sake! Let me hear your voice so that I know that I am not just following some phantom.”
A moment passed before Heechul saw another light, and he was just about to give up hope when his savior’s soft voice reached his ears: “Fair enough.”
“You talked!” Heechul cried. “How wonderful!”
“I am to comfort you, am I not?”
“And so you are,” the redhead stated triumphantly, edging closer to the sound. “My name is Heechul, by the way. Kim Heechul.”
“You can call me Han Geng,” said the voice.
“Han Geng? That sounds like a foreign name. Well then, Han Geng, may I ask how you found me?” Heechul inquired lightly. He opened his ears to the fullest extent, and deduced that every time he made it to a lantern, Han Geng was on the other side holding on to the string.
The shuffling of feet was heard. “It was not difficult, you shouting and all.”
“I said to comfort me, not to taunt me!”
“My apologies,” Han Geng laughed.
Heechul rolled his eyes. “Are you a student here?”
“Not exactly.”
“Do elaborate.”
Han Geng ignored him. “Beside the next lantern is a latch. Pull it and the door will open.” The last lantern lit up, much dimmer than the other ones.
A plan hatched in Heechul’s mind, and he smirked secretly. He walked towards the last lantern and bent over in feigned speculation. “Han Geng, there is no latch here.”
“Impossible!”
“Do believe me when I say that I see no latch!” he protested most convincingly, slowly but steadily untying the lantern as clandestinely as he could. “Look at it yourself if you distrust me so!”
Quiet footsteps on Heechul’s left made the hairs on the redhead’s neck stand upright, and once he was sure that Han Geng was close enough, he lunged. Keeping a firm grip on his only light source, he pounced upon his guide and sat on his waist to hold him still. It did not take Heechul long to realize that Han Geng was physically stronger, but just when he was going get thrown over he reached for the lantern at his side and held it above the other boy’s face.
Han Geng all but shriveled into the ground, covering his eyes with his arms in a frenzied fit.
The high school student was relentless when it came to appeasing his curiosity. “Hold still and look here, Han Geng. I am not going to hurt you; don’t squirm so!”
Shivering, the boy stilled while Heechul looked him up and down. Clad in a filthy shirt and ripped trousers, Han Geng had messy black hair, sallow skin, pale lips, pronounced collarbones, and toned limbs. Heechul found him sickly handsome.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Open them.”
Unable to move, the nocturnal boy obliged and squinted up at his capturer with his dark incandescent orbs. When their eyes locked, Heechul wanted nothing more than to fall into those bottomless pools of knowledge and never resurface. And whatever Heechul wanted, he got.
Slowly and cautiously, he lifted his weight from the shuddering boy beneath him, still keeping a firm grip on his bony shoulders. “Tell me about yourself.”
Han Geng blinked and moved the lantern so that shadow covered his face. “You must leave. People will be looking for you.”
“Not until you tell me what I wish to know,” Heechul insisted. “I want to know everything about you. Where did you come from? Who are your parents? How old are you?”
Han Geng seemed to realize that arguing with the pretty redhead would be a lost cause. “I come from China. I have no parents. I am sixteen.”
“One year younger than I, then!” the diva exclaimed. “And how do you know of this passageway? You seem to know your way around this place quite well.”
“That is enough questions for today,” he growled. “Now, please leave.”
“What if I want to know more?”
Han Geng’s mind started spinning at a hundred miles per second. “Then come back tomorrow. Four questions a day.”
“Only four? How about six?
“Five,” the black-haired boy compromised.
Heechul stayed silent for a moment before nodding. “Deal. I’ll see you at the large chamber where we met at twelve sharp tomorrow.”
Han Geng agreed and then motioned to the latch. “Now go. When you open the latch, you will see a door. The door is covered by a painting. Look through the holes of the painting to make sure nobody is watching, and then push it away from you. Replace the painting once you are out. Also, do reposition the picture of the ballerina; you left half of the door exposed for the public eye.”
The elder frowned. Heechul loathed being told what to do, especially from somebody younger and thus less experienced than him, but just this once he decided to keep his trap shut and do what the Chinese boy wanted. However, before he put the painting back into its proper place-what a surprise, it was a portrait of Queen Elizabeth the First-Han Geng quickly grabbed his hand: “Please do not label yourself a gossip machine and keep this passageway a secret between you and I.”
“May I ask why you bestow such a request?”
“Safety purposes. After all,” the Chinese boy’s voice turned skeptical, “if you keep this secret, it would most inevitably be that much more exciting, would it not?”
Heechul had neither resolve nor desire to contradict that statement.
```
With much persuasion on Heechul’s part and with much cooperation on Siwon’s, the third-year was back in the teacher’s lounge the next day, peeling off the painting of the ballerina and crawling through the door, making sure that the painting was positioned adequately before making his way through the tunnels lit only by alternating lanterns. In no time, he was in the pitch black room again, heart pounding with excitement.
“Han Geng, I have arrived at your doorstep!” he called out into the blackness. “Do hurry and come on out! You promised that I could ask you five questions, don’t you remember?”
A moment passed before Heechul heard a sigh. “Then let’s begin.”
“What is your story about this passageway?”
“I built it when I was fourteen, and have lived in it for the last two years by myself.”
Heechul stood there in wonder. “How did you survive all that time?”
“I survived mostly through my inventions. For food, I created a movable robotic arm that reaches into the cafeteria oven through its backside so that I could steal whatever gruesome nutrition the ladies have conjured up without them noticing. For cleanliness, I have a shower-like device that connects to the water system of the school, and I devised a drain that distributes through the pipes into the public toilets. For clothes, I wear whatever the students leave in the changing rooms. For recreation, I visit the library or think up other inventions. As for education, sometimes I listen in on lectures. The Physical Sciences course is one of my personal favorites.”
Thankfully it was dark, so Heechul was able to hide the startled expression that would most evidently be on his face. “What about your family? You said that you are an orphan; what happened?”
“My father was a soldier, my mother a nurse. Both died during the war when I was ten, my father from rapid gunfire, my mother from hepatic disease. I had an uncle, but I would have been better off on the streets than with him and his alcoholic ways. There were too many beggars in China, though, so I secretly hopped on a truck and eventually ended up in the middle of Korea. You have one question left.”
Heechul started. “No, I have two more!”
“As I recall, you used two questions when asking about my family.”
“That is unjust of you! You know very well that it should be considered one question!”
“It is not unjust if it is perfectly legitimate,” Han Geng declared smugly. “Just a warning, Heechul: any instructions that come out of my feral mouth should be taken at face value.”
“Fine,” the redhead sighed. “What is your greatest invention?”
A soft laugh resonated around the echoing room. On his left, a click was heard, and suddenly the room was brightened by dozens of light bulbs overhead. A music box played in the background while the bulbs started moving around the ceiling in an elegant circular fashion, like shimmering stars being pushed about by a gentle wind. Heechul looked up in awe and laughed breathily at the almost magical sight.
“Does that answer your question?”
Heechul spun around and saw a slim figure hovering in the shadows. With a smile dominating more than half of his face, Heechul nodded fervently, practically glimmering with admiration.
```
“Can you take me on a tour of your living spaces?” he asked the next day.
“No.”
“Why in the world not?!”
Han Geng exhaled sharply. “There is really not much to see; there are some passages where I did not bother to install a lighting system. You, having lived in clean topnotch environments for so long, would not enjoy such a dark tour.”
“It does not matter!” Heechul cried. “I find everything you do remarkable! The fact that you lived for two years in such a minimalistic location has already blown my mind! Please, Han Geng, just this once! I beg of you!”
Silence prevailed until Han Geng let out a succumbing breath. “I’ll show you one section. Do not lift your hopes too high; my living quarters are not at all extravagant.” A lantern lit up, casting an orange glow on the Chinese teenager’s arm but not strong enough to give away his face. “This way, if you must.”
Grinning triumphantly, Heechul skipped towards the boy and easily fell into step with his brisk gait.
Eloquence spewed from Han Geng’s mouth. “Everything I am showing you now is underneath the school architecture. Think of it as a basement of sorts. There is a grand sum of eight tunnels that all stem from this room-I call it my main headquarters, for your future reference-each of which lead to different sections of the school via portraits and paintings. These tunnels can be accessed through their respective latches that I have hidden around this room. There are traps in some latches such as this one,” Han Geng turned the handle, stepping backwards just in time to avoid having a fish net fall upon him, “Again, for safety purposes.”
“You are so paranoid,” Heechul joked.
“When one is living alone,” he deadpanned, “One must take necessary precautions to first and foremost protect oneself.”
“I see. What else is there?”
“That’s it, really,” Han Geng said, continuing on with the tour. “Eight tunnels, my headquarters, and this.” He reached for another latch and twisted it open. “Let me present my personal bedroom. I situated it under the Biology lab because I guessed that it would less rowdy than the English classroom.”
Heechul tentatively walked through the door and his eyes flickered over the dark area with open curiosity. It was tidy to say the least, not at all cluttered despite the small space. There was a rickety writing desk at one corner, a shelf filled with books at another, and a large rectangular wooden box pushed to one side. “You say that this is your personal bedroom. Where is your bed?”
The Chinese boy pointed at the box.
The other, accustomed to the standard bed with sheets and blankets and pillows, was horrified to say the least. He walked towards the crate and opened the lid to find a nest of blankets, pillows, clothes, and torn cloth. “How can you sleep in such a cramped space? It’s almost like a coffin!”
“I actually find it quite comfortable,” Han Geng riposted. “It makes me feel very secure with the world around me. It is like a suit of armor I wear during the night: whenever I go to sleep, I feel as if nobody could ever hurt me. There are walls all around, protecting me from any harm.”
Heechul stared at the mysterious boy. “You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid!” Han Geng retorted angrily. “It’s an instinct. Every living being wants to feel protected and secure, not only me! You don’t often see an animal sleeping in the middle of a wide field, where danger could be imminent; instead, if it has any sense, it seeks shelter, a place to hide from the rest of the world, a place where it could let its guard down for at least a moment. We all need our security blankets!”
The redhead stayed silent for a moment, scrutinizing the wooden box that all of a sudden seemed so much more prominent in Han Geng’s bare room. “Then what are you afraid of, Han Geng?”
“You have used up your five questions for today. I’ll show you out.”
```
The days passed. Heechul became more interested in this mysterious Chinese boy hidden in darkness. Han Geng became increasingly amiable and at times even playful. Siwon, on the other, was continually being disappointed with Heechul’s lack of attention, and thus decided to keep his distance until his best friend was ready. Heechul’s report card, with Han Geng’s help, improved drastically (much to the delight of his parents). Heechul, previously voted Coolest and Most Popular Student, ceased to be the talk of the school and decreased in the ranks.
And every day, even weekdays, Han Geng found Heechul punctually waiting for him in his main headquarters.
“How do you do, your highness?” Han Geng joked the moment his customer stepped into the room.
“Very well,” Heechul replied in the same joking fashion. “As beautiful as always.”
The Chinese boy snorted. “You came even earlier today. The lunch bell only rang several minutes ago.”
Heechul grinned. It came to the point where he could finally maneuver through the tunnels without using the lanterns, knowing exactly where the turns and occasional cracks were. He knew the way like the back of his hand, and what initially was fifteen minutes from the Teacher’s Lounge to the main headquarters eventually decreased to three.
“I find it funny how you can be so punctual with our meetings while you are always at least five minutes late for your core classes.”
“And I find it funny how you know about my class habits,” the redhead giggled. “Do you spy on me?”
There was a choking sound. “Of course not!”
The elder of the two rolled his eyes and felt his heart flutter just a tad. “You know, the school is renovating the electrical system in the gym. There were too many complaints that the overhead projector shut down too often.”
“Perfect,” the sixteen-year-old muttered. “More noise. I absolutely abhor walking across the tunnel that passes under the gymnasium. During physical education class, the walls around me vibrate with all the running that the students do in there. It gives me migraines.”
Heechul chuckled. “Ah, but even if it gives you migraines, you still live here. I myself am starting to grow an attachment to this place. Aside from the darkness, it has a certain sense of warmth to it that you cannot help but feel right at home.”
“I prefer darkness,” Han Geng mumbled. “You are less exposed when nobody can see you.”
“Nobody can see you, that is true, but you must take into account that you cannot see them either. In fact, what makes you so sure that they are unable to see you in this kind of darkness?”
“I am certain of it!” Han Geng spluttered. “Unless one has ultraviolet visual senses, there would be almost no way for somebody to navigate comfortably in a pitch black environment. Besides, I have an advantage-I know this place better than anybody in the world. I built it with my own hands, I fashioned it to my liking, I know every crack and crevice! I am safe here! Safe from any harmful exposure to the outside world because they are unable to see me! You are unable to see me!”
“That is untrue,” Heechul whispered.
“Impossible!” replied a fear-etched voice.
Heechul bit his lip. “I may not be able to see you well in a visual sense, but I can feel your presence. I know that you are only a few steps away from me.” He took three strides forward. “I know that you are trembling.” He placed his arms atop quivering shoulders. “I know that you are crying.” He rubbed his thumb across Han Geng’s lower eyelid. “I know that you are lonely.” He pressed his lips against his friend’s cheek. “And I know that I love you.”
Heechul tilted his head and kissed the younger boy on his cold lips.
Nothing changed between the lovers ever since their first kiss. Heechul continued visiting his beloved the minute the lunch bell rang, and in turn Han Geng was always there waiting for him to arrive. But, as with all passionate romances, their first kiss led to their second kiss, which led to their third and fourth. It opened windows for them, and eventually they were not two souls, but one.
```
It was in mid-February when Heechul found main headquarters ankle-deep in water. “Han Geng? Han Geng, where are you? Han Geng!?”
Unlike all the other times, there was no response.
Panicked, Heechul ran around the circular room and desperately felt for the correct latch through which Han Geng had taken him before. The door leading to the underground bedroom opened with a splash.
“Oh god, Heechul!”
Immediately pursuing the sound, Heechul waded through the waters and wrapped his arms around his lover’s thin form. “What’s happening?”
Han Geng’s voice was strangled. “The renovation crew unknowingly unplugged the wire that was connected to the vertical water pump. The pump was what was keeping the school’s water source from leaking.”
“So all the excess water is leaking here!” Heechul shrieked. “Oh my god, Han Geng, this place is going to flood! We must evacuate! Where is the nearest exit?”
“I’m afraid all of the exits are already submerged. I have already attempted to construe several drainage systems, but they do not get rid of the water fast enough-underneath the school is solid rock! There is no way out except through the Teacher’s Lounge. Now go! Quickly!”
“I am not leaving without you!”
“Heechul, I am completely serious,” Han Geng roared hoarsely. “You must leave while you still can. If the water level is too high by the time the water stops rising, you may not be able to make it through the tunnel fast enough to take your next breath!”
“Well, I am also completely serious when I say that I am not leaving without you!” Heechul roared back. “You must come back with me!”
“I can’t!”
“Why in the world not?!”
His question was answered when Heechul felt his lover fall against him, unable to stand. Heechul’s hand accidentally brushed across the interior flesh of Han Geng’s thigh, and he tensed when he felt only a viscous wetness. Bringing his hand up to his nose, he smelled a mixture of metal and salt which he recognized only as fresh blood.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “You’re hurt.”
Han Geng was crying. The water was already up to his knees. “Fractured leg. The water set off a trap latch. Now please, the tunnel is not positioned high enough and the flood is rising too quickly. I won’t be able to crawl through the passage fast enough before the water catches up. On top of that, I’m losing too much blood.”
The redhead did not listen. He took off his shirt and tied it around his beloved’s leg. Positioning the younger boy on his shoulders, he trudged towards their only exit and felt for the latch, twisting it open without a moment’s hesitation. His heart froze when he realized that the water had already filled up the lower half of the tunnel leading towards the Teacher’s Lounge and that it was still rising at a remarkable pace. Heechul realized that if he did not leave right then and there, he was going to die.
“Go on, Heechul,” Han Geng ordered gently. “Please.”
“What about you?”
“I will die knowing that you still live.”
“On the contrary, I will live knowing that you have died. How is that fair?”
To his surprise, Han Geng started laughing. “You have already asked five questions, your highness.”
Something in Heechul’s brain twitched, and to his greater surprise, he found himself laughing along, hot tears spilling from his eyes. He buried his face into the crook of Han Geng’s neck, sobbing while smiling. The tunnel was completely underwater by then, but he cared not. “But I am still as beautiful as always,” he jested weakly.
“That is unarguable,” Han Geng breathed into his ear. The Chinese boy twisted himself around and a click was heard. The room was brightened by a series of light bulbs moving in elegant circles overhead. “Your beauty even surpasses that of my greatest invention.”
Heechul looked up and for the second time since they met he saw those beautiful dark orbs that he fell in love with, and smiled.
```
“Both were dead by the time the lights flickered shut,” Donghae stated sadly. “Heechul from lack of air intake, Han Geng from lack of blood.”
“Were their bodies ever recovered?” Kibum asked, trying not to sound too interested in the story.
Donghae shrugged. “Some say they were, some say they weren’t. The most popular theory is that they died embracing each other, and that two weeks after the tragedy the renovation crew found their lifeless bodies stuck together so compactly that they had no choice but to bury them in the same coffin. But I think that this account is only popular because of the romance it beholds.”
“I see.”
“The story itself has many versions, really,” the smiley boy continued. “Even the name Han Geng is controversial. Some people think that the guy was actually fully Korean and that the Chinese aspect was only to give it some exoticism.”
“So this story developed from a rumor,” Kibum observed.
“Not exactly,” Donghae shook his head. “I believe that there is some truth to it. Think about it: what is the name of our principal?”
“Choi Siwon,” the younger boy replied, and it dawned on him. “Oh.”
“Exactly. Kim Heechul and he were closest of friends back in the day. My father knows his sister, and she told him that Mr. Choi never got over his unforeseen death.”
The bell rang, a shrill sound that almost shattered Kibum’s ears, signifying the end of lunch block.
“Time to go!” Donghae chirped happily, cleaning up his lunch tray and efficiently throwing out his garbage. “Come on, I’ll show you to your next class.”
They were walking out of the cafeteria and into the hallways when Kibum suddenly stopped in his tracks. A charming pretty redhead and a dark-eyed boy wearing rags were strolling around the corner, hands locked and eyes only on each other.
“Something the matter?” Donghae tapped his shoulder.
In a blink of an eye, the couple was gone. He smiled softly. “Nothing.”
Donghae chuckled and intertwined Kibum’s fingers with his. “Let’s go.”
Electricity shot up his arm and Kibum could not help but blush.
It was going to be a good day.
Pairing(s): HanChul, slight!KiHae
Genre(s): Romance, high school AU, suspense
Length: 5496 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A haunting love story about a boy who lived in the light and a boy who lurked in the shadows.
Inspiration(s): Let’s just say that I think that the story of the Phantom of the Opera is genius.
```
Everybody knew Kim Heechul. It was like a law in the school. If you did not know about Kim Heechul, you were either seriously antisocial or clinically deaf, and even then there was a good chance that you have at least heard about him. The freshmen would know his story during their first week whether they wanted to or not since the upper years never failed to tell them the perturbing yet chivalrous tale about the Korean man whose name would forever be engraved in the hearts of those who met him.
Such was the case with a certain timid first-year named Kim Kibum, who came shuffling into the cafeteria, practically gluing his textbooks towards his thin chest. While looking for a place to sit, a smiley face waved him over, and he recognized him as a second-year who came from the same middle school, Lee Donghae.
“Donghae,” Kibum greeted formally, bowing slightly. “It’s been a while.”
“Ah, only a year!” he replied optimistically. “You’ve grown quite a bit, though. Last time I saw you, you were only up to my shoulder!”
Kibum smiled shyly. “Protein does that to you.”
Donghae laughed, a bubbly sound that made the younger student’s heart flutter. Kibum had a small crush on the boy back in middle school, and he remembered ogling as Donghae skipped down the halls in his customary cheeriness or sizzling with jealousy when the boy got much too close to his best friend Hyukjae.
“How are you liking the school?”
“It’s very big,” Kibum commented. “I got lost several times this morning.”
“Pfft, you’re a smart boy,” Donghae rolled his eyes amusedly. “You’ll get used to it sooner than others, that’s for sure.”
Kibum blushed at the compliment, immediately averting his eyes.
“So have you heard the story about Kim Heechul yet?”
Curiosity crept its way into Kibum. “Kim Heechul?”
“Guess not,” the older student remarked.
Kibum furrowed his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to tell me now that you sparked my inquisitiveness?”
“Still knowledge-hungry I see,” Donghae teased, winking. “Well, Kim Heechul was a student here some twenty years ago, and this story takes place when he was seventeen, at the beginning of his third year.”
```
“Siwon, you dolt! Are you quite finished?”
The head of a burly man with gentle eyes emerged from underneath the tabletop. “Heechul, can you please be quiet? Fixing the computer requires a lot of concentration, and in order for me to concentrate, you are required to stop yelling into my poor ear.”
The redhead flipped his hair over his shoulder and scoffed. “Whatever. Just fix it soon.”
Rolling his eyes, Siwon sighed and continued with his work with red and blue wires.
Heechul, on the other hand, remained restless, staring up at the cemented ceiling with his sharp hazel eyes as he leaned back on the couch. “This is my first time in the Teachers’ Lounge, you know,” he said, more to himself than his best friend. “I am glad. It is the most beautiful place in all the school. Why are you the only one who has daily access to it?”
“I am their free computer technician,” Siwon muttered. “Pity, really, how they find an amateur student to do the dirty work for no paycheck.”
Heechul laughed, a carbonated sound that sounded surreally natural to the ear. He pushed himself up and started pacing around the room, nodding at the comfort of the fireplace and smiling at the famous Impressionist paintings that were decorating the room. “What painting is this, Siwon?” he asked, motioning towards the painting nearest the ground: an apricot-skinned ballerina dressed in a pale pink tutu and white tights.
“Something by Claude Monet,” replied a muffled voice. “Everything here is by Monet.”
“Well, it’s absolutely beautiful,” Heechul declared.
Siwon chuckled. “Beautiful it may be, but at the moment I cannot waste time admiring it as I have to report to the principal that the computer requires serious rewiring and a thorough voltage check. Stay put, will you?”
The effeminate student only gave a wave over his shoulder as his friend scurried out of the room, for he was much more interested in the painting, or more specifically, the crack peeking out from behind the painting. Heechul found it odd how there would be a small and hardly perceptible blemish in the otherwise impeccable white wall. It was like a slight crease in a supposedly flat piece of paper-touched by foreign hands.
Heechul was a curious (not to mention capricious) boy who wanted to know about everything, and it was hardly any wonder why this instance would not be any different. Without any trace of hesitation, he removed the painting from its former location and set it on the ground, marveling at the little square door that lay behind it. He reached out his hand and jumped back in surprise when the door opened at the slightest turn of the knob. There was a single string in the middle of the pitch black hole of darkness, and Heechul immediately pulled on it. A light appeared at the end of a long tunnel. Overcome with curiosity and with absolutely no willpower to restrain himself, he impulsively crawled pushed himself into the dark space and started crawling towards his objective, paying no heed to the dirtying of his clothes or the murky things that he may have touched.
It turned out that the light source came from a dusty black lantern with a cracked covering and heavily dented wax. There was another string a meter away from it, and Heechul pulled on it to find that the previously lit lantern was immediately extinguished while a new one on Heechul’s right blossomed. “Perhaps there is some creature living here?” he asked himself. “And if I just follow the lights, I will eventually come face to face with it!” The scavenger hunt idea excited Heechul to a frenzy, and he hurriedly went on down the endless tunnels, pulling on stray strings and following the lit lanterns.
The last lantern that he came to did not have an accompanying string. Instead, there was a square door, an exact copy of the one in which Heechul came from. Heart pounding, he twisted the doorknob, and the lantern was put out, leaving him in complete utter darkness. Panic arose in the lad, and he frantically waved his hand out in front of him, disappointed when he felt no string that would give him enough light. Huffing, he reached out even farther but lost his balance, falling for a short while before landing on his shoulder with a groan.
Pitch black.
Heechul stood up quickly, breathing heavily at his blindness. “Hello?” he called out. “Is anybody there?”
All he was met with was an echo of his voice. For the first time in Heechul’s life, he was all alone. And for the first time in Heechul’s life, he was perfectly absolutely terrified.
“HELP!” he shouted, eyes watering with fright. “Please! Somebody help me!”
He blindly ran in a random direction until he collided with a brick wall, and started pounding on it with his feeble fists, ignoring the bruises he was inflicting on himself. “Please! Help!” he yelled as he made his way around the circular chamber, terrified tears pouring down his face, but after a while he realized that he was trapped, and that he would have to wait until somebody found him. “I’m so scared,” he whispered to himself, crumpling to the ground, sniffling. He closed his eyes and prayed that he was only dreaming-that he was just Alice in Wonderland, ready to open his eyes to tea time.
But he was not dreaming, and despite all his self-condolences, he knew that all too well.
Then, a lantern was lit on the other side, and relief washed over the naive Heechul like a tidal wave. Crying out in happiness, he ran towards the light, wiping his tears on his sleeve. But when he reached the object of hope, he saw not a human being, but a message on the wall freshly written in blood. Instead of being scared, Heechul scoffed and thought that blood-writing was cheesy. “Follow the light,” Heechul read. “Hide the passage. Tell no one.” Once he was done reciting, the lantern beside him was put out, and another one across the room lit up.
The person who was lighting the way was definitely human, Heechul decided. His fear vanished and in its place came annoyance. He pouted and grudgingly walked towards the light. “You know, this is unfair,” he proclaimed to his mysterious guide. “You might be a rapist just trying to corner me even more. How can I trust you?”
Instead of a reply, another lantern lit up.
Heechul sighed and kept walking. “I would like to see who I am placing my trust on. Don’t you think that I have the right to do so? That way, I can have some peace of mind and I can thank you properly. I don’t even know if you are a ghost or a living breathing creature, or whether you are male or female. Hopefully you are a guy. No offense if you are female; I am just terrible at talking to women, you see.”
A low chuckle was heard some ways off, and Heechul’s ears sharpened to the sound.
“Fine, if you are so determined not to show yourself, can you at least make an effort to comfort me? I’m bloody terrified here, for god’s sake! Let me hear your voice so that I know that I am not just following some phantom.”
A moment passed before Heechul saw another light, and he was just about to give up hope when his savior’s soft voice reached his ears: “Fair enough.”
“You talked!” Heechul cried. “How wonderful!”
“I am to comfort you, am I not?”
“And so you are,” the redhead stated triumphantly, edging closer to the sound. “My name is Heechul, by the way. Kim Heechul.”
“You can call me Han Geng,” said the voice.
“Han Geng? That sounds like a foreign name. Well then, Han Geng, may I ask how you found me?” Heechul inquired lightly. He opened his ears to the fullest extent, and deduced that every time he made it to a lantern, Han Geng was on the other side holding on to the string.
The shuffling of feet was heard. “It was not difficult, you shouting and all.”
“I said to comfort me, not to taunt me!”
“My apologies,” Han Geng laughed.
Heechul rolled his eyes. “Are you a student here?”
“Not exactly.”
“Do elaborate.”
Han Geng ignored him. “Beside the next lantern is a latch. Pull it and the door will open.” The last lantern lit up, much dimmer than the other ones.
A plan hatched in Heechul’s mind, and he smirked secretly. He walked towards the last lantern and bent over in feigned speculation. “Han Geng, there is no latch here.”
“Impossible!”
“Do believe me when I say that I see no latch!” he protested most convincingly, slowly but steadily untying the lantern as clandestinely as he could. “Look at it yourself if you distrust me so!”
Quiet footsteps on Heechul’s left made the hairs on the redhead’s neck stand upright, and once he was sure that Han Geng was close enough, he lunged. Keeping a firm grip on his only light source, he pounced upon his guide and sat on his waist to hold him still. It did not take Heechul long to realize that Han Geng was physically stronger, but just when he was going get thrown over he reached for the lantern at his side and held it above the other boy’s face.
Han Geng all but shriveled into the ground, covering his eyes with his arms in a frenzied fit.
The high school student was relentless when it came to appeasing his curiosity. “Hold still and look here, Han Geng. I am not going to hurt you; don’t squirm so!”
Shivering, the boy stilled while Heechul looked him up and down. Clad in a filthy shirt and ripped trousers, Han Geng had messy black hair, sallow skin, pale lips, pronounced collarbones, and toned limbs. Heechul found him sickly handsome.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Open them.”
Unable to move, the nocturnal boy obliged and squinted up at his capturer with his dark incandescent orbs. When their eyes locked, Heechul wanted nothing more than to fall into those bottomless pools of knowledge and never resurface. And whatever Heechul wanted, he got.
Slowly and cautiously, he lifted his weight from the shuddering boy beneath him, still keeping a firm grip on his bony shoulders. “Tell me about yourself.”
Han Geng blinked and moved the lantern so that shadow covered his face. “You must leave. People will be looking for you.”
“Not until you tell me what I wish to know,” Heechul insisted. “I want to know everything about you. Where did you come from? Who are your parents? How old are you?”
Han Geng seemed to realize that arguing with the pretty redhead would be a lost cause. “I come from China. I have no parents. I am sixteen.”
“One year younger than I, then!” the diva exclaimed. “And how do you know of this passageway? You seem to know your way around this place quite well.”
“That is enough questions for today,” he growled. “Now, please leave.”
“What if I want to know more?”
Han Geng’s mind started spinning at a hundred miles per second. “Then come back tomorrow. Four questions a day.”
“Only four? How about six?
“Five,” the black-haired boy compromised.
Heechul stayed silent for a moment before nodding. “Deal. I’ll see you at the large chamber where we met at twelve sharp tomorrow.”
Han Geng agreed and then motioned to the latch. “Now go. When you open the latch, you will see a door. The door is covered by a painting. Look through the holes of the painting to make sure nobody is watching, and then push it away from you. Replace the painting once you are out. Also, do reposition the picture of the ballerina; you left half of the door exposed for the public eye.”
The elder frowned. Heechul loathed being told what to do, especially from somebody younger and thus less experienced than him, but just this once he decided to keep his trap shut and do what the Chinese boy wanted. However, before he put the painting back into its proper place-what a surprise, it was a portrait of Queen Elizabeth the First-Han Geng quickly grabbed his hand: “Please do not label yourself a gossip machine and keep this passageway a secret between you and I.”
“May I ask why you bestow such a request?”
“Safety purposes. After all,” the Chinese boy’s voice turned skeptical, “if you keep this secret, it would most inevitably be that much more exciting, would it not?”
Heechul had neither resolve nor desire to contradict that statement.
```
With much persuasion on Heechul’s part and with much cooperation on Siwon’s, the third-year was back in the teacher’s lounge the next day, peeling off the painting of the ballerina and crawling through the door, making sure that the painting was positioned adequately before making his way through the tunnels lit only by alternating lanterns. In no time, he was in the pitch black room again, heart pounding with excitement.
“Han Geng, I have arrived at your doorstep!” he called out into the blackness. “Do hurry and come on out! You promised that I could ask you five questions, don’t you remember?”
A moment passed before Heechul heard a sigh. “Then let’s begin.”
“What is your story about this passageway?”
“I built it when I was fourteen, and have lived in it for the last two years by myself.”
Heechul stood there in wonder. “How did you survive all that time?”
“I survived mostly through my inventions. For food, I created a movable robotic arm that reaches into the cafeteria oven through its backside so that I could steal whatever gruesome nutrition the ladies have conjured up without them noticing. For cleanliness, I have a shower-like device that connects to the water system of the school, and I devised a drain that distributes through the pipes into the public toilets. For clothes, I wear whatever the students leave in the changing rooms. For recreation, I visit the library or think up other inventions. As for education, sometimes I listen in on lectures. The Physical Sciences course is one of my personal favorites.”
Thankfully it was dark, so Heechul was able to hide the startled expression that would most evidently be on his face. “What about your family? You said that you are an orphan; what happened?”
“My father was a soldier, my mother a nurse. Both died during the war when I was ten, my father from rapid gunfire, my mother from hepatic disease. I had an uncle, but I would have been better off on the streets than with him and his alcoholic ways. There were too many beggars in China, though, so I secretly hopped on a truck and eventually ended up in the middle of Korea. You have one question left.”
Heechul started. “No, I have two more!”
“As I recall, you used two questions when asking about my family.”
“That is unjust of you! You know very well that it should be considered one question!”
“It is not unjust if it is perfectly legitimate,” Han Geng declared smugly. “Just a warning, Heechul: any instructions that come out of my feral mouth should be taken at face value.”
“Fine,” the redhead sighed. “What is your greatest invention?”
A soft laugh resonated around the echoing room. On his left, a click was heard, and suddenly the room was brightened by dozens of light bulbs overhead. A music box played in the background while the bulbs started moving around the ceiling in an elegant circular fashion, like shimmering stars being pushed about by a gentle wind. Heechul looked up in awe and laughed breathily at the almost magical sight.
“Does that answer your question?”
Heechul spun around and saw a slim figure hovering in the shadows. With a smile dominating more than half of his face, Heechul nodded fervently, practically glimmering with admiration.
```
“Can you take me on a tour of your living spaces?” he asked the next day.
“No.”
“Why in the world not?!”
Han Geng exhaled sharply. “There is really not much to see; there are some passages where I did not bother to install a lighting system. You, having lived in clean topnotch environments for so long, would not enjoy such a dark tour.”
“It does not matter!” Heechul cried. “I find everything you do remarkable! The fact that you lived for two years in such a minimalistic location has already blown my mind! Please, Han Geng, just this once! I beg of you!”
Silence prevailed until Han Geng let out a succumbing breath. “I’ll show you one section. Do not lift your hopes too high; my living quarters are not at all extravagant.” A lantern lit up, casting an orange glow on the Chinese teenager’s arm but not strong enough to give away his face. “This way, if you must.”
Grinning triumphantly, Heechul skipped towards the boy and easily fell into step with his brisk gait.
Eloquence spewed from Han Geng’s mouth. “Everything I am showing you now is underneath the school architecture. Think of it as a basement of sorts. There is a grand sum of eight tunnels that all stem from this room-I call it my main headquarters, for your future reference-each of which lead to different sections of the school via portraits and paintings. These tunnels can be accessed through their respective latches that I have hidden around this room. There are traps in some latches such as this one,” Han Geng turned the handle, stepping backwards just in time to avoid having a fish net fall upon him, “Again, for safety purposes.”
“You are so paranoid,” Heechul joked.
“When one is living alone,” he deadpanned, “One must take necessary precautions to first and foremost protect oneself.”
“I see. What else is there?”
“That’s it, really,” Han Geng said, continuing on with the tour. “Eight tunnels, my headquarters, and this.” He reached for another latch and twisted it open. “Let me present my personal bedroom. I situated it under the Biology lab because I guessed that it would less rowdy than the English classroom.”
Heechul tentatively walked through the door and his eyes flickered over the dark area with open curiosity. It was tidy to say the least, not at all cluttered despite the small space. There was a rickety writing desk at one corner, a shelf filled with books at another, and a large rectangular wooden box pushed to one side. “You say that this is your personal bedroom. Where is your bed?”
The Chinese boy pointed at the box.
The other, accustomed to the standard bed with sheets and blankets and pillows, was horrified to say the least. He walked towards the crate and opened the lid to find a nest of blankets, pillows, clothes, and torn cloth. “How can you sleep in such a cramped space? It’s almost like a coffin!”
“I actually find it quite comfortable,” Han Geng riposted. “It makes me feel very secure with the world around me. It is like a suit of armor I wear during the night: whenever I go to sleep, I feel as if nobody could ever hurt me. There are walls all around, protecting me from any harm.”
Heechul stared at the mysterious boy. “You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid!” Han Geng retorted angrily. “It’s an instinct. Every living being wants to feel protected and secure, not only me! You don’t often see an animal sleeping in the middle of a wide field, where danger could be imminent; instead, if it has any sense, it seeks shelter, a place to hide from the rest of the world, a place where it could let its guard down for at least a moment. We all need our security blankets!”
The redhead stayed silent for a moment, scrutinizing the wooden box that all of a sudden seemed so much more prominent in Han Geng’s bare room. “Then what are you afraid of, Han Geng?”
“You have used up your five questions for today. I’ll show you out.”
```
The days passed. Heechul became more interested in this mysterious Chinese boy hidden in darkness. Han Geng became increasingly amiable and at times even playful. Siwon, on the other, was continually being disappointed with Heechul’s lack of attention, and thus decided to keep his distance until his best friend was ready. Heechul’s report card, with Han Geng’s help, improved drastically (much to the delight of his parents). Heechul, previously voted Coolest and Most Popular Student, ceased to be the talk of the school and decreased in the ranks.
And every day, even weekdays, Han Geng found Heechul punctually waiting for him in his main headquarters.
“How do you do, your highness?” Han Geng joked the moment his customer stepped into the room.
“Very well,” Heechul replied in the same joking fashion. “As beautiful as always.”
The Chinese boy snorted. “You came even earlier today. The lunch bell only rang several minutes ago.”
Heechul grinned. It came to the point where he could finally maneuver through the tunnels without using the lanterns, knowing exactly where the turns and occasional cracks were. He knew the way like the back of his hand, and what initially was fifteen minutes from the Teacher’s Lounge to the main headquarters eventually decreased to three.
“I find it funny how you can be so punctual with our meetings while you are always at least five minutes late for your core classes.”
“And I find it funny how you know about my class habits,” the redhead giggled. “Do you spy on me?”
There was a choking sound. “Of course not!”
The elder of the two rolled his eyes and felt his heart flutter just a tad. “You know, the school is renovating the electrical system in the gym. There were too many complaints that the overhead projector shut down too often.”
“Perfect,” the sixteen-year-old muttered. “More noise. I absolutely abhor walking across the tunnel that passes under the gymnasium. During physical education class, the walls around me vibrate with all the running that the students do in there. It gives me migraines.”
Heechul chuckled. “Ah, but even if it gives you migraines, you still live here. I myself am starting to grow an attachment to this place. Aside from the darkness, it has a certain sense of warmth to it that you cannot help but feel right at home.”
“I prefer darkness,” Han Geng mumbled. “You are less exposed when nobody can see you.”
“Nobody can see you, that is true, but you must take into account that you cannot see them either. In fact, what makes you so sure that they are unable to see you in this kind of darkness?”
“I am certain of it!” Han Geng spluttered. “Unless one has ultraviolet visual senses, there would be almost no way for somebody to navigate comfortably in a pitch black environment. Besides, I have an advantage-I know this place better than anybody in the world. I built it with my own hands, I fashioned it to my liking, I know every crack and crevice! I am safe here! Safe from any harmful exposure to the outside world because they are unable to see me! You are unable to see me!”
“That is untrue,” Heechul whispered.
“Impossible!” replied a fear-etched voice.
Heechul bit his lip. “I may not be able to see you well in a visual sense, but I can feel your presence. I know that you are only a few steps away from me.” He took three strides forward. “I know that you are trembling.” He placed his arms atop quivering shoulders. “I know that you are crying.” He rubbed his thumb across Han Geng’s lower eyelid. “I know that you are lonely.” He pressed his lips against his friend’s cheek. “And I know that I love you.”
Heechul tilted his head and kissed the younger boy on his cold lips.
Nothing changed between the lovers ever since their first kiss. Heechul continued visiting his beloved the minute the lunch bell rang, and in turn Han Geng was always there waiting for him to arrive. But, as with all passionate romances, their first kiss led to their second kiss, which led to their third and fourth. It opened windows for them, and eventually they were not two souls, but one.
```
It was in mid-February when Heechul found main headquarters ankle-deep in water. “Han Geng? Han Geng, where are you? Han Geng!?”
Unlike all the other times, there was no response.
Panicked, Heechul ran around the circular room and desperately felt for the correct latch through which Han Geng had taken him before. The door leading to the underground bedroom opened with a splash.
“Oh god, Heechul!”
Immediately pursuing the sound, Heechul waded through the waters and wrapped his arms around his lover’s thin form. “What’s happening?”
Han Geng’s voice was strangled. “The renovation crew unknowingly unplugged the wire that was connected to the vertical water pump. The pump was what was keeping the school’s water source from leaking.”
“So all the excess water is leaking here!” Heechul shrieked. “Oh my god, Han Geng, this place is going to flood! We must evacuate! Where is the nearest exit?”
“I’m afraid all of the exits are already submerged. I have already attempted to construe several drainage systems, but they do not get rid of the water fast enough-underneath the school is solid rock! There is no way out except through the Teacher’s Lounge. Now go! Quickly!”
“I am not leaving without you!”
“Heechul, I am completely serious,” Han Geng roared hoarsely. “You must leave while you still can. If the water level is too high by the time the water stops rising, you may not be able to make it through the tunnel fast enough to take your next breath!”
“Well, I am also completely serious when I say that I am not leaving without you!” Heechul roared back. “You must come back with me!”
“I can’t!”
“Why in the world not?!”
His question was answered when Heechul felt his lover fall against him, unable to stand. Heechul’s hand accidentally brushed across the interior flesh of Han Geng’s thigh, and he tensed when he felt only a viscous wetness. Bringing his hand up to his nose, he smelled a mixture of metal and salt which he recognized only as fresh blood.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “You’re hurt.”
Han Geng was crying. The water was already up to his knees. “Fractured leg. The water set off a trap latch. Now please, the tunnel is not positioned high enough and the flood is rising too quickly. I won’t be able to crawl through the passage fast enough before the water catches up. On top of that, I’m losing too much blood.”
The redhead did not listen. He took off his shirt and tied it around his beloved’s leg. Positioning the younger boy on his shoulders, he trudged towards their only exit and felt for the latch, twisting it open without a moment’s hesitation. His heart froze when he realized that the water had already filled up the lower half of the tunnel leading towards the Teacher’s Lounge and that it was still rising at a remarkable pace. Heechul realized that if he did not leave right then and there, he was going to die.
“Go on, Heechul,” Han Geng ordered gently. “Please.”
“What about you?”
“I will die knowing that you still live.”
“On the contrary, I will live knowing that you have died. How is that fair?”
To his surprise, Han Geng started laughing. “You have already asked five questions, your highness.”
Something in Heechul’s brain twitched, and to his greater surprise, he found himself laughing along, hot tears spilling from his eyes. He buried his face into the crook of Han Geng’s neck, sobbing while smiling. The tunnel was completely underwater by then, but he cared not. “But I am still as beautiful as always,” he jested weakly.
“That is unarguable,” Han Geng breathed into his ear. The Chinese boy twisted himself around and a click was heard. The room was brightened by a series of light bulbs moving in elegant circles overhead. “Your beauty even surpasses that of my greatest invention.”
Heechul looked up and for the second time since they met he saw those beautiful dark orbs that he fell in love with, and smiled.
```
“Both were dead by the time the lights flickered shut,” Donghae stated sadly. “Heechul from lack of air intake, Han Geng from lack of blood.”
“Were their bodies ever recovered?” Kibum asked, trying not to sound too interested in the story.
Donghae shrugged. “Some say they were, some say they weren’t. The most popular theory is that they died embracing each other, and that two weeks after the tragedy the renovation crew found their lifeless bodies stuck together so compactly that they had no choice but to bury them in the same coffin. But I think that this account is only popular because of the romance it beholds.”
“I see.”
“The story itself has many versions, really,” the smiley boy continued. “Even the name Han Geng is controversial. Some people think that the guy was actually fully Korean and that the Chinese aspect was only to give it some exoticism.”
“So this story developed from a rumor,” Kibum observed.
“Not exactly,” Donghae shook his head. “I believe that there is some truth to it. Think about it: what is the name of our principal?”
“Choi Siwon,” the younger boy replied, and it dawned on him. “Oh.”
“Exactly. Kim Heechul and he were closest of friends back in the day. My father knows his sister, and she told him that Mr. Choi never got over his unforeseen death.”
The bell rang, a shrill sound that almost shattered Kibum’s ears, signifying the end of lunch block.
“Time to go!” Donghae chirped happily, cleaning up his lunch tray and efficiently throwing out his garbage. “Come on, I’ll show you to your next class.”
They were walking out of the cafeteria and into the hallways when Kibum suddenly stopped in his tracks. A charming pretty redhead and a dark-eyed boy wearing rags were strolling around the corner, hands locked and eyes only on each other.
“Something the matter?” Donghae tapped his shoulder.
In a blink of an eye, the couple was gone. He smiled softly. “Nothing.”
Donghae chuckled and intertwined Kibum’s fingers with his. “Let’s go.”
Electricity shot up his arm and Kibum could not help but blush.
It was going to be a good day.