love is part and parcel of the human condition; sunggyu/woohyun; PG-13
~8,800 words | au
love is part and parcel of the human condition
Breathing should be highly impossible given the current situation. Submerged a thousand feet below this rippling sky, as if pebbles were skipping across its watery surface, Sunggyu is frightened stiff.
He moves his arm - swish, swish - no bubbles. Maybe, just maybe, all he can do is breathe. He tries to say hi - it comes out clearly, halting, nervous, audible - to amused, dark crescents. Sunggyu swallows and hears his heartbeat for the first time.
They are on a well-worn dirt path, splitting a vast grassy plain into two. All he makes out in the distance is an inkling of a town, and rising behind it, a gargantuan castle in ominous majesty.
Somewhere between ‘I’ve seen this so many times, it’s funny’ and ‘how do I explain this’ suspended in those squinted eyes, Sunggyu realises this is reality.
Both knees snap.
-
It hadn’t been his idea, actually.
Initially, Mauritius is the destination planned. In his left hand, a brochure, splashed with an aerial snapshot of a sapphire ocean, promising summer secrets and coconut trees. In his right hand, a steaming green tea latte. All this, at late morning, in the airport terminal.
Strangely, the terminal had been close to empty; receptionists were speaking softly over the phone, a few travellers with their luggage trailing behind. There’s a quaint sort of music in the background, the kind that waxes sophistication in the atmosphere, and Sunggyu’s just about to pick up his baggage when somebody taps him on the shoulder.
‘Woohyun,’ the boy introduces. There’s a flicker in Sunggyu’s chest - those sharply drawn features delaying his response.
There are times when a stranger approaches, and a gut feeling tells Sunggyu if the person is dangerous or not. Children enjoy this intuition most acutely, right for safe and left for warning. Perhaps it fades with age, like a worn clock, ticks gradually slowing to a stop, but Sunggyu is usually sharp.
Right now, he can’t tell right or left.
Woohyun asks him to follow and Sunggyu doesn’t understand why, but he’s spellbound by the boy - there’s an unbelievable compelling, defying reason, packing it up in a bundle and stuffing it shut closed in the deepest drawer of Sunggyu’s mind.
‘Where are we going?’
‘We’re going to fly.’
Sunggyu eyes the back of Woohyun dubiously, suddenly feeling like he should return to his baggage back at T12. Goosebumps erupt along his neck - it is peculiar how Woohyun glances backwards, smirking, as if sensing his thoughts.
‘Seriously.’
‘Seriously.’ Woohyun repeats, grabbing Sunggyu’s wrist before he can articulate his irritation, pulling both of them along with a suppressed rush.
‘Hey, we can’t -’ Sunggyu’s protest stops midway.
They’ve just walked past a ticket usher completely unnoticed, past the metal detector guarding the bridge connecting terminals to airplanes. The lady continues arranging handouts and gifts on her counter, oblivious to their trespassing and Sunggyu thinks something is really, really wrong.
14:00 blink out at him from the arrival box in red, angry dots. When Sunggyu left his seat, it is only 10:24.
‘There’s no airplane,’ he says.
The boy doesn’t reply; their footsteps clank noisily in the enclosed space. Sunggyu’s steps weigh down with apprehension, Woohyun is not -
‘We don’t need an airplane.’
‘Woohyun -’
They turn round the corner and a gust of wind whips his hair into a frenzy, the morning sun making him squint. The bridge opens out to the airfield, a concrete desert of aluminium monsters flapping their wings, screaming their take-off as they gain momentum.
And he sees Woohyun watching him, entertained.
‘Ready?’
No, what am I supposed to be ready for, Sunggyu thinks, but he never gets his chance to say it because Woohyun grabs his wrist and yanks on his arm so hard both of them topple towards the edge.
Roaring in his ears is blood and wind. Adrenaline surges up his bloodstream, courses through his veins and Sunggyu thinks he’s going to die and it’s his fault for meeting a fucking mental patient and his toes slips past the remaining inches of metal ramp -
His stomach lurches past him and he forgets how to scream for a second because they are floating. There’s an audible ba-dump, ba-dump, in his head - that is his whole universe at this second.
Ba-dump, ba-dump, he is still alive.
Sunggyu watches his shadow shift into grey, collect into itself, smaller and increasingly blur as they rise meters more. He swallows for the first time, he honestly deserves this Mauritius vacation because he’s probably fallen asleep somehow and all the stress is fucking his mind up -
That’s when Woohyun’s hand squeezes his arm in assurance; he is not dreaming.
Woohyun’s careless grin hooks onto his heart, canine sticking out - and just for that moment, it displaces his universe.
Displaces it as they climb higher, past the stratosphere.
-
Here’s the problem: Sunggyu is in an enormous ballroom of sorts, exquisite chandeliers suspending from the vertigo-inducing, ornate ceiling, with his feet sinking a few centimetres into a lush purple carpet. Now, it’s not the excessive display of wealth that’s causing the jittering in his stomach, but rather the fact that he’s in presence of a king and he can’t bow.
‘Bowing’ and ‘royalty’ are synonymous - definitely bad time for both his knees to be busted; there’s an icy numbness slicing right to the bone. He’s sagging completely into Woohyun’s side, arm bent over his shoulders, and Woohyun has this arrogant, self-satisfied smirk Sunggyu wants to punch in.
King Hoya is nothing like what Sunggyu would expect a king to be; barely younger by a few years with a forehead already creased with lines of distraught. Hoya waves off the guards infringing on Sunggyu’s personal space, exhaling tiredly.
‘Did you get the right one this time?’ the king asks. ‘He shouldn’t be able to stand.’
Woohyun brushes off Sunggyu’s arm. His legs fold underneath and Sunggyu flails for a second, letting lose a yelp, before Woohyun grabs his wrists, holding him up.
‘What the -’
‘No swearing in front of the king,’ Woohyun warns, pseudo-serious.
The impending retort gets interrupted by Hoya clearing his throat.
‘Sunggyu…right?’ The king frowns slightly. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’
‘To make it stop raining?’ he can’t stop the sarcasm, filling out his words and making him roll his eyes.
‘Oh, you informed him?’
Sunggyu stops, looking at Woohyun shrugging his shoulders and Hoya staring approvingly.
‘Wait,’ Sunggyu begins, feeling ridiculous.
None of them are laughing.
‘I’m supposed to make it stop raining?’
-
After three cups of coffee, a blanket, and an ice pack, Sunggyu positively glares at Woohyun, the latter flipping through a newspaper absentmindedly, legs propped up on Sunggyu’s seat. They are on the edge of a collapsing cliff; obviously Woohyun hadn’t thought of weathering and erosion when he decided to build a cottage above it. If he strains his neck from his seat, Sunggyu can see an endless forest stretching out below the window - the cottage may be a stupid idea, but it’s pretty.
Clearing his throat once - Woohyun ignores. Twice - a response of crinkling paper. Irritation sparks inside Sunggyu. He stares until Woohyun notices, setting the paper down.
‘Your knees need time to adjust. Humans without magic in their blood get side-effects sometimes.’
‘How do I get home?’
Hesitating, Woohyun’s eyes dart around uncertainly. He starts tapping his thigh with a finger.
‘He’s late.’
‘Who’s late? And you haven’t answered my question.’
Something about the way Woohyun rubs his palms on his jeans, wets his lips and fidgets, causes Sunggyu to feel nervous.
‘More tea?’
Sunggyu’s murderous instincts come alive and he stands up, forgetting his temporary disability - falling back on his chair. He’s seething, glowering, angry at his knees and at the whole situation. Woohyun visibly relaxes, resting his legs on Sunggyu’s thighs as if to keep him down (he will kill the boy once he recovers), flashing a winning smile.
‘Ready?’
No, Sunggyu thinks, but he’s never really had a say from the start, so instead, he settles for narrowing his eyes at Woohyun.
-
Billowing clouds perpetually hang over the castle, as if attached on strings in a puppet theatre, casting a permanent shadow over it. Green algae spread along cracks in the fortress’ walls and the moat is a dying, lifeless brown. The purple flag is limp and damp and the drawbridge a rotting black.
Ever since a decade ago, sunlight has stopped reaching the castle’s concrete, blocked by an impermeable cloud. During the lunar month, only rarely, can the moon be seen peeping out behind the cloud, red and eerie.
The king of that era had lost something important to him and he can’t remember what. Grief tore a chasm in his heart, opened it so wide, it went out of control. Sadness began manifesting in him, possessing his body and vaporising him into the cloud that now hangs over the castle.
‘It’s destroying our kingdom,’ Woohyun says quietly. ‘The castle pumps blood through our land and it’s dying.’
Late afternoon, pink light stains the living room. There’s a peaceful quiet in the house, birds chirping down below echoing through the curtains.
‘What can I do?’ Sunggyu’s chest flips when Woohyun looks at him.
‘There’s a weatherman. He controls the weather. He can move the cloud elsewhere. The problem is that only non-magical creatures can enter his workshop, ‘cause his machines are hypersensitive to magic,’ there’s this glimmer of a plead in Woohyun’s eyes. ‘That’s why we need you.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘You can’t.’
‘Why?’
‘The cloud blocks exit of non-magical objects from this world. It’s kind of like a one-way entrance right now.’
Sunggyu stares.
His mouth starts a few times, failing at coherent speech before he stops. Woohyun doesn’t need to be any more amused than he already is. Inhaling deeply, he continues. ‘It’s my fault, okay, for following you. So how do we find this weatherman?’
Woohyun smiles sheepishly and Sunggyu’s heart drops like a rock.
‘Let me guess: you don’t know.’
Woohyun beams.
‘I knew I picked the right person this time!’
-
It’s evening when Sunggyu meets Myungsoo.
Woohyun had mentioned an all-knowing tree - it’s well, all knowing, so it’s worth a visit. Sunggyu has no idea how to speak tree-nese, but after flying and having his name known by the King, he decides that the tree probably knows Korean anyway.
Packing a few rolls of gauze and phials filled with vile liquid, Woohyun chucks him a gun. It’s six o’clock when they begin their quest into the forest.
Thirty minutes pass. They don’t think much about the trees, or the fact that many are ripped right from the roots and strewn around.
Until a humongous hoof obliterates the pines ahead.
‘Life-threatening’ is a complete understatement in describing the monstrous hog, pawing the ground with its beady eyes fixated on them. Sunggyu hears Woohyun curse. The hog lets loose a deafening roar and Sunggyu is paralyzed.
‘Your gun!’
His limbs won’t move.
‘I can’t!’ Sunggyu’s hands are getting clammy. The muscles in the hog’s back tense. ‘What the fuck is that thing?!’
Another roar - this time a hind leg topples a few trees behind. It’s going to charge. Sunggyu is terrified.
Woohyun squats with both palms on the ground, eyebrows knitted, lips drawn tight.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Sunggyu yells, desperate.
There’s a thunderous crash as the hog barrels towards them, tusks cruel and impaling. His throat constricts. Sunggyu tries to move, muscles burning, but it’s no use - completely bound by invisible threads.
The galloping is tumultuous in Sunggyu’s ears - he sees a sheen of sweat on Woohyun’s face. Something flaps past him, breeze prickling cool on heated skin.
A black blur, glinting of silver - blood spurts from the hog’s eyes. It squeals in pain, thrashing wildly.
‘Get away now!’ Woohyun shouts.
Black blurs of back flips, the figure lands on his knees, sliding backwards next to Sunggyu. The ground explodes upwards, mud and debris all but dark blotches against the bright sky. Bubbling soil rips towards the blinded monster, expanding beneath it before an almighty crack - the ground sinks in one swift movement.
Only a tusk remained unburied.
Still trembling, Sunggyu glances to the side, wanting to identify the figure.
It’s a kid. With bloodied daggers in each hand.
‘First time hearing a Hellion’s cry?’ the boy asks, straightening up.
‘What’s a -’
‘Yeah,’ Woohyun answers for him. Sunggyu narrows his eyes. ‘You’re late.’
‘Always getting into trouble aren’t you, hyung?’
There’s a quiet confidence about this kid, an inkling of a smirk hanging on thin lips. They both look at Sunggyu, then at each other, before simultaneously sitting down. Sunggyu is completely ignored as Woohyun wipes his face with a sleeve, the boy cleaning his weapons on the grass.
‘Uh, guys?’
‘There’s no cure for Hellion paralysis,’ Woohyun seems as entertained as if watching a toddler trying to master walking. ‘We have to wait till you snap out of it.’
Instead of asking about his condition, because Woohyun’s just going to rub his ignorance in again, Sunggyu asks about the kid.
‘I’m a friend,’ the kid smiles - only slightly, an odd balance between warm and distant. ‘Myungsoo.’
-
A week into the forest and grass is threatening to swallow Sunggyu’s feet. The vegetation has turned wild, the air, putrid. Vines and lianas hold the sky up and every trunk is lined with delicate flowers, twinkling and beckoning in dark places.
‘Don’t touch that,’ Myungsoo had shoved him once. It jerks Sunggyu out of a trance. His mind clears, like a fog lifting - along with the enticing red of a flower’s petals; leaving it nothing more than a shrivelled brown thing, like a grotesque face laughing. ‘It’s poisonous.’
They almost get eaten twice: first by a flying panda - which Myungsoo decapitates, then by a giant spider - which Woohyun buries alive.
Two days of moodiness pass before Woohyun decides to ask him what’s wrong.
‘It’s just,’ he snaps a twig with his feet , jumping backwards when it croaks. ‘What the heck -’
Woohyun laughs and Sunggyu glares.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘What is it?’ the campfire throws shadows over his features, flickering. ‘C’mon, hey.’
‘Myungsoo’s waiting.’
Sunggyu avoids his eyes, leaving Woohyun lost in the dark, a little far away from dinner.
The following afternoon, when they break for food, Woohyun grabs him by the wrist and pulls him towards the edge of camp. Large hands stick into Sunggyu’s pockets, groping, and his outraged protests are shushed by Woohyun. He thinks Woohyun has absolutely zero dignity, completely no sense of shame - before his thoughts are cut off with his gun being fished out.
In that hour, Woohyun corrects his grip.
Calloused palms graze Sunggyu’s arm as he adjusts the angle of his aim. Within a space as compromised as this, it’s not his fault Woohyun’s eyelashes are long. It’s not his fault those eyes are a swimming black (Sunggyu can’t swim -). He notices lips slightly apart, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and when Woohyun’s eyelids lift, bright starlight looking straight at him, he’s convinced earth has strayed from its orbit.
At one point, they are so close - Woohyun flushed against his back - their breaths mingle like body heat, stifling in the afternoon confusion. He smells fresh linen as Woohyun straightens his elbow, lifts his arm higher, and the humidity must’ve been bothering Sunggyu because he thinks Woohyun’s touch lingers.
The gun has only one bullet, which rematerializes in the cartridge once it stops moving. This means one shot but infinite chances; there is room for error - but time for a fatal mistake.
Neither of them mentions the frustration of useless dependency weighing Sunggyu down the last two days. Both of them knew - Woohyun knew, and this is his way of helping.
‘Sure, leave all the cooking to me,’ Myungsoo gripes on Sunggyu’s ninth try at aiming for a distant flower, some twenty feet away from them. ‘I’m not cleaning up.’
‘Be thankful we’re actually letting you cook,’ Woohyun says without looking at the boy, checking Sunggyu’s grip. ‘I still remember the eggs you made me when I was sick.’
‘I was five.’
‘No, it was last month.’
They bicker until a charred scent wafts towards them, causing the pair to stop and scramble for the cooking pot, yelling in laughter. Something warm bubbles inside him as he watches Woohyun lift the pot with Myungsoo, cloth in hand and blowing futilely at the already burnt food.
There’s no way to stop the smile tugging at his lips -
- no way to stop this gold, stashed deep within the treasury of his chest, from glowing incandescent bright (so bright, it must’ve blinded even monsters).
-
Nobody would’ve suspected the all-knowing tree to also be a nest for carnivorous jelly.
Unfortunately, the tree does not speak Korean. It speaks Japanese. And it only takes them so long to figure out Konichiwa isn’t Korean or English before blue slime gobs begin peeking out of the colossal branches, eyes big and hungry.
‘Shit, run -’ Woohyun manages to get out, and suddenly jelly blob upon jelly blob start making their way down the trunk, foaming at the mouth.
‘They can’t actually eat us right?’ Sunggyu asks, his voice a little too high for his liking.
‘Do they look like desert to you?’ Woohyun snaps.
One falls directly on Sunggyu’s head.
Wet coldness jolts him, and his scream sends all the rest into frenzy. A blue tidal wave rushes them, bouncing in ravenous lust. Squishy goo is moving like peristalsis on his head and a muffled ‘your gun, idiot!’ causes him to stick the said weapon into a random spot above his head - he fires.
The monster slips off and splats lifeless on the ground. Sunggyu takes only a second to shiver, because a clump of monsters attempt to jump him next gets sliced into cubes midair, with Myungsoo’s daggers drawn.
‘Thanks,’ Sunggyu shoves half his arm into a jelly creeping up on Myungsoo, firing from inside it. It melts into water.
‘Thanks.’
Myungsoo offers him a smile as they retreat behind Woohyun, already kneeling on the ground. A jelly picks up speed, leaping right at the boy. Sunggyu stabs his arm into the jelly again, firing it from inside the gob.
‘T-That’s not how you use a gun,’ Woohyun gapes, scandalized. ‘That gun costs -’
‘Shut up. It works,’ Sunggyu kills another three gobs, sleeve drenched. ‘Are you collapsing the ground or not?’
A fissure splits horizontally across with a crack. It remains a thin slit. More jellies are swamping them, and…clocks.
‘Are those fucking clocks?’
‘Yeah,’ Myungsoo pants, beads of sweat on his face as his arms swipe at speeds invisible to the naked eye, dicing the jellies. ‘They have impeccable timing.’
‘Ha,’ Sunggyu says, noncommittally. ‘What is taking you so long?!’
‘The ground won’t open!’ Woohyun forces out between gritted teeth. ‘I think the tree’s roots are holding it together!’
‘What are we supposed to do now?!’
‘Guys, grab on!’
Sunggyu glances at Myungsoo - he’s floating, arm outstretched. He doesn’t even bother thinking of the implications, immediately grasping Myungsoo’s hand and seizing a fistful of Woohyun’s shirt.
‘Go!’
And up they float, above desperately jumping translucent jellies, piling on each other in an endless sea of turquoise and clock gears, grass drowning underneath.
When they are back on their feet, Sunggyu and Woohyun both stare at Myungsoo. There is a tattered, green balloon floating beside him, dirty at the sides and slightly deflated. A sad smiley face is painted on its front, watching them quietly.
‘We escaped with a -’ Sunggyu begins, before closing his eyes calmly. ‘You know what, never mind.’
‘It’s a monster,’ Woohyun says, voice uncertain.
‘So it is,’ Myungsoo smiles gently at the balloon. It turns sideways, as if regarding the kid. It floats up and down quicker this time; Sunggyu thinks its expressing happiness. ‘His name is Sungyeol.’
‘You named him.’
In a blink, the balloon metamorphoses into a tall, skinny, nearly ghostly pale boy. He takes a moment before grinning so wide it looks disconcerting.
‘Hi guys. That’s my real name. Let’s be friends.’
Sungyeol looks at Myungsoo. They share a fond smile.
Sunggyu stares at Woohyun, who also grins with this sentimentality, as if witnessing a marriage.
‘Yeah, let’s.’
-
‘There are a lot of them tonight.’
In the background, logs crackle gently, the campfire glinting off their knuckles. Silence is heavy at night, broken only by the quiet rustling of leaves and the smell of wildflowers. Myungsoo and Sungyeol are both asleep when Sunggyu slips into his sleeping bag, finding Woohyun’s eyes wide open, staring towards the heavens.
Looking up, he sees lights (orange, pink, blue, white) twinkling on a canvas of black galaxy; a spilled bottle of stardust and magic, stretching across the painting in clusters and trails, a reminder of celestial beings and childhood myths.
‘Yeah.’
The campfire crackles for a little.
‘How’s the gun?’ Woohyun asks, really meaning how are you instead.
‘Mmm,’ Sunggyu shifts closer, pausing when Woohyun snorts. ‘What?’
‘It’s funny watching you wriggle like that.’
Rolling his eyes, Sunggyu moves in and rests his head on Woohyun’s shoulder.
‘Getting comfortable aren’t we?’
‘I need a pillow.’
‘…You’re full of ‘shouldn’t be’s, you know that?’
‘Really.’
‘You shouldn’t be using your gun that way.’
Sunggyu gets up on his elbows and narrows his eyes at Woohyun. The latter has a gaze uncharacteristically sombre, unsmiling lines and hard eyes, fixed on him.
‘Are you seriously bothered by that?’
‘You shouldn’t even be here.’
‘That’s your fault, isn’t it?’
Nobody speaks. Sunggyu doesn’t look away; partially because he meant what he had said, and partially because something is hanging between them.
‘Stop…doing whatever it is that you’re doing.’
‘Yeah, I totally get that,’ sparks races through his body. Sunggyu starts wriggling with as much dignity as he can away from Woohyun, half his body lost in the sleeping bag, until his elbow is caught by a hand.
‘Five minutes,’ Woohyun’s voice is a whisper, slightly above the fire, and Sunggyu meets with glassy eyes when he turns around. ‘Just five minutes.’
He doesn’t get to ask what this is about, because Woohyun hugs him then, arms tight around his frame, holding firm. Sunggyu might be imagining things, but he thinks his sleeve is cold, damp, where Woohyun’s head is buried. The night air is chilly, Woohyun’s arms becoming gradually tighter, more desperate, around Sunggyu, as if holding on harder with each passing minute.
As if in five minutes, Sunggyu might disappear.
They stop talking the next morning.
-
To the forest’s east, green grass dries into coarse sand, becoming an endless desert stretching out towards the horizon. Low in the sky, the blazing sun throws a long shadow in their path, its harsh brightness making Sunggyu squint.
‘What is that?’ Sunggyu points to the source of the shadow, a mile away.
‘It’s the prison,’ Sungyeol answers, raising his voice above the howl of a gale, sand embedding into their skin. ‘That’s where the old people are kept. They might know something about the weatherman.’
Besides the burning sand cutting their legs, Sunggyu figures the journey could’ve been worse. Sungyeol had promptly transformed into an enormous umbrella, sad smiley face painted on the underside, shielding them from sunburn sandstorms.
Dilapidated with crumbling rock walls, the prison is a lonely, abandoned site. Exchanging dubious looks (ignoring Woohyun), Sunggyu follows the entrance steps leading downwards, into a corridor lit by torches.
‘Can you turn into a torch, Sungyeol?’ Myungsoo asks.
‘I can become a glowstick,’ the boy offers meekly.
‘That works. We need all the light we can get.’
‘Why?’ Sunggyu accidentally kicks a rock.
Soft clacking noises echo from beyond; they’ve reached the cells, lost in complete darkness. It is so quiet they hear nothing but their own breathing.
‘It’s not just the lack of torches,’ a green glow spills over the floor as Myungsoo holds Sungyeol-the-glowstick up. ‘It’s the prisoners.’
They walk.
Sunggyu’s fists clench in reflex. The drumming of his heartbeat is loud. Metal bars glow green on his left; Sunggyu turns.
A lone figure sat on the floor, unkempt hair obscuring her entire face. The once-white gown is now a dirty yellow, torn at the edges. Sunggyu glances at Woohyun, who has his jaws set, eyes unfeeling as if he’d seen this before.
‘Excuse me,’ Sunggyu begins, and he falters.
Crimson red blood seeps through the bottom of the prisoner’s dress. The puddle of blood spreads outward fatally fast and Sunggyu’s heart is beating, beating beating -
A scream, a grotesque face with holes for eyes is in Sunggyu’s face, hands with missing fingers and bleeding nails grasping the prison bars -
Sunggyu stumbles backwards, caught by firm arms, panting and shivering.
‘F-fuck.’
‘Be careful who you talk to,’ Woohyun’s voice is level, cold. He sets Sunggyu on his feet and lets go. There’s a frigidity in those movements that sets Sunggyu on edge, blood pounding in his ears, from both fear and infuriation.
Sunggyu swallows, continuing onwards. The lady is in the corner now, knees drawn to her face.
In the next cell, a bald man is chained up, bruises blooming across his torso. He squints at them as the green light falls on him.
With bloodshot eyes, he struggles against the binds, frothing at the mouth and animalistic, guttural noises escaping him.
‘Those injures are self-inflicted,’ Myungsoo informs. ‘Best we move on.’
Upon reaching the last cell, Sunggyu is beyond frightened. He is trembling, with clammy hands and breaking out in cold sweat. Violent images have been burned into his mind, horrific memories of blood, scissors and crying - at one point, Sunggyu just stops to breathe, get a grip get a grip he would tell himself.
Bathed in green light, fiddling with his thumbs, sat a young boy in the middle of the cell. Sunggyu takes in soft features, a face that has seen too little smiles, and there’s a slowing of his heartbeat. For awhile, the boy simply watches them, curious, actions feminine when he scratches his nose or adjusts his hair.
‘Hi,’ Sunggyu begins, slightly less nervous than before.
‘Hi,’ the boy beams.
‘Do you know about the weatherman?’
‘Weatherman?’
-
Sungjong is harmless. And he knows where the weatherman is.
Once they get him out of his shell, the boy is talking at fifty words per second; critical of the prison’s condition, of the other prisoners, and of his own clothes. Food is not a problem - the boy eats, and listens, when any of them instructs him; boiling and collecting water, sleeping (he possesses an ability to go without sleep), even collecting firewood.
The reason why he had been locked up remains hidden to Sunggyu; the boy can’t even fight. Sungjong almost died that one time a camouflaging serpent snuck up on them and attempted to crush him alive.
Sunggyu is still not talking to Woohyun; he didn’t even bother thanking him after coming out of the prison with Sungjong. When it’s breakfast, they sit with Myungsoo and Sungyeol between them, ignoring the couple’s tensed looks. Sunggyu asks if Sungyeol wants more soup, dumps more mushrooms on Myungsoo’s bowl, forces Sungjong to eat more rice, and saunters off for gun practice before Woohyun is done with his meal.
Once, they encountered flying blankets trying to suffocate them. So Sunggyu had been paranoid throughout the entire ordeal because Woohyun is completely useless against flying things. He’ll never admit to making sure none of them got too close to Woohyun, and especially not after the asshole brushed him off when Sunggyu went over to check.
At night, Sunggyu lays awake for an hour or two, back turned to Woohyun. And it’s almost like they are the only ones left in this world; both still awake, both very much aware, underneath the star-splashed ocean. There’s a painful pulling on his spine, like a string connecting their quieting hearts, and it’s stretched unbearably taut - not quite snapping. Sometimes if Sunggyu listens hard enough, like a dying voice beneath the cicadas and susurration of leaves, he thinks he can hear Woohyun’s thoughts - a deep, rich baritone, faint on the fringes of frequency.
It tilts between slumber and reality, and it’s nearly tangible, like Sunggyu can touch - no, hold it.
-
The nearest train station is five days away.
On the third evening, they stop beside a river to set up camp. It’s Myungsoo and Sunggyu’s turn to refill the water supplies.
Myungsoo is always quiet, the affair is also quiet - so it surprises Sunggyu when it is Myungsoo who initiates a conversation.
‘I want chicken for dinner,’ the boy says, not looking up from his bubbling bottle.
‘I’ll hunt some later then.’
‘Tell hyung about the menu.’
Sunggyu caps the fourth bottle, taking a new one. From his peripheral, he sees Myungsoo facing him. Sunggyu does not look up.
‘Why don’t you do that?’
There’s a quiet belching of water as Myungsoo sticks another empty bottle into the stream. Gentle sounds of water permeate their silence. Sungjong whines in the distance and Woohyun - Sunggyu’s gut lurches - Woohyun laughs.
‘Don’t blame Woohyun hyung,’ Myungsoo begins softly. ‘If he’s bad to you.’
Sunggyu blinks, chest prickling. Finding a rock, he throws it into the stream, watching it get washed away.
‘Hm.’
‘Hyung is not allowed to love,’ Myungsoo throws another rock into the water. ‘He’s an Indifferent.’
‘An Indifferent?’
‘The king’s best guard. Hyung, do you know what monsters are?’
Myungsoo sets his bottle down and meets eyes with Sunggyu. All of a sudden, Sunggyu feels like he knows nothing about this world.
‘People.’
Pause.
‘People that have emotional baggage, who cannot let go of their guilt and shame and regrets. They let these feelings take over them.’
‘Then the previous king..?’
Myungsoo smiles oddly, not quite reaching his eyes, between sadness and being sorry that Sunggyu understands.
‘The prisoners?’
‘Royalty. Some Indifferents,’ a knot forms in Sunggyu’s stomach. ‘We cannot kill them so we lock them up.’
‘So they can’t love because of a royal pact or something?’
Dusk is falling, a rich mauve staining the clouds red purple. Sungjong is trying to climb Sungyeol-the-giant-balloon, with Woohyun already on top.
‘Indifferents watch thousands die. They separate themselves from emotion to survive,’ Blink. ‘Love makes them remember these feelings, all of their guilt. It overwhelms and consumes them.’
They turn into monsters.
Myungsoo caps the last bottle, watching the camp, eyes crinkling in the setting sun. There’s something about the quaint serenity of that moment - it aches Sunggyu’s chest.
Push it away push it away.
‘Woohyun doesn’t like me.’
‘Woohyun lends nobody his gun.’
Sungjong is on top of Sungyeol now, bragging animatedly to Woohyun, who laughs and pins him down in playful wrestling.
That evening, nothing dyes the world but crimson (coloured gorgeous).
-
Glass makes up the entire train station. Crystalline surfaces line the barricades, sliding doors and even railways - sunlight streams right through into the platform, sending rainbow sparkles bounding; and Sunggyu is stunned at its beauty.
‘Just because we have a castle, doesn’t mean we don’t have technology you know,’ Sungjong rolls his eyes, ignoring Sunggyu’s indignant ‘yah! I’m your hyung!’.
Tracks stretch out into an open sea for a mile, ocean spray splattering across the train’s glass walls as it speeds onwards. The experience is surreal, Sunggyu feels like he’s flying again, half amazed, half tense in the uncomfortably hard seat.
Then the railway rises up above the expanse of blue water, leaving behind dolphins and whales, up into the clouds and despite everyone else being completely unfazed, Sunggyu can’t help but gape.
It helps that they are the only passengers; because nobody travels to Mount Gears, where they are heading.
In two hours, Myungsoo is asleep on Sungyeol’s shoulder, heads touching. Sungjong is fidgeting into Sunggyu’s side, having a fitful dream, and at the other end of their line, rested Woohyun.
Arms crossed, expression set Woohyun.
From the opposite glass, Sunggyu catches Woohyun’s reflection in the sunglare. It’s a delicate image, a soft frown on Woohyun’s eyebrows, lips turned downwards just slightly - it’s a hidden side.
Sunggyu sees it like a well-kept secret.
Woohyun is half a human, slightly incomplete. He is like glass, catching sunrays and refracting it in multi-coloured brilliance.
He is also just as brittle.
-
Apparently, Mount Gears is a floating car dump - which explains why nobody was on their ride. Sunggyu decides to trust Sungjong’s information, despite his misgivings about the rundown state of their surroundings.
Cars, trucks, vans are all piled in mounds of rusting metal and dulled shine. Dirt red and green and blue stick out from the aluminium pipes, and the path leading inwards is littered with wrappers.
The group makes their way in, avoiding loose tires and sharp screws glinting in the sun.
Everything goes well until Sungyeol screams.
Spinning around in confusion, Sunggyu finds the pale boy on the floor, terrified - staring at an empty car. Sungjong backpedals into a mound, shivering - face bloodless. They both don’t seem to hear Sunggyu - he is shouting at them, asking what is wrong.
Myungsoo frozen on the spot, eyes wide, is the last thing Sunggyu remembers before his eyes land on the driver’s seat of a blue Vespa. The world fades away, there are no sounds except his own blood.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-
Pale, purple, dead lips curve at him behind the wheel, a ghastly face smiling at him. It is MyeongJun, a classmate of his in high school.
MyeongJun died before graduation.
Sunggyu does not feel himself shivering because he’s stricken with fear - and something excruciatingly close to guilt. Near midnight, MyeongJun had given Sunggyu a call, paranoid about exams and results, and Sunggyu brushed him off, promising to help after school.
He never gets to help when school ends the day after because MyeongJun doesn’t appear; he is fifteen floors too low to be in his bedroom, with half a body of blood.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Sunggyu chants, voice shaking as MyeongJun tilts his head.
‘For what, hyung?’
Goosebumps erupt through Sunggyu’s arms at the voice, too cold and loud and painfully familiar. His mouth starts a few times, but nothing comes out.
‘For abandoning me, hyung? Not helping me, calling me ‘silly’?’
‘I-I didn’t mean it that way,’ Hang on.
‘When you came over and saw police tape, did you blame yourself?’
Blaring police sirens, alarms, red ambulance lights violent angry -
‘Did you ever think you could’ve saved me? You killed me hyung. You.’
‘MyeongJun doesn’t talk like that,’ Sunggyu begins, voice raising with each word. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m MyeongJun, hyung. Have you forgotten my face -’
‘You are not my MyeongJun,’ courage flares in Sunggyu’s core. Fear dissipates - the figure’s face wavers, flickers, like a faulty lightbulb. ‘He won’t blame me or expect me to feel sorry. He’s one of the best friends I will ever make in this lifetime, along with these other idiots. So who are you?’
There is no semblance of apprehension, no doubt in Sunggyu’s conviction, and everything flicks back on. Waves breaking against the floating shore in the distance, the blinding sunlight, his knees bruised on the ground - it all comes back to Sunggyu and he is panting.
‘Looks like you made it,’ Myungsoo’s voice comes from above, followed by a clap on the back.
All three boys are matted with sweat and dirt. They are all still recovering; Sungjong still shaken from the ordeal, Sungyeol trying to laugh it off, Myungsoo hiding it behind his confidence but Woohyun -
The boy is crouched on the ground, trembling, shaking in terror, and Myungsoo stops him from going over.
‘Hey, asshole!’ Sunggyu shouts from behind Myungsoo’s arms. ‘You’re better than this!’
‘Sungyeol hide Sunggyu hyung,’ Myungsoo immediately tenses, tone sharp. ‘Sungjong stay away.’
Too quick - Woohyun glances up, crying, and the second his gaze lands on Sunggyu it’s as if his pupils expands into the whites of his eyes. In a split second, hands explode from Woohyun’s back - crimson blood arching in the white sun - a legion of black arms grappling.
Myungsoo shoves Sunggyu aside, daggers already lethal in his hands, knees bent to surge forth. A strange cry tears itself from Woohyun’s throat - not even remotely human and Myungsoo curses.
Then Sunggyu understands why Myungsoo had come along in the first place.
Control and safety factor.
A foot presses into the soil and Sunggyu wrenches his wrist from Sungyeol’s grip. ‘Are you seriously going to kill him after - every - us?’
The boy hesitates, actions jammed.
Woohyun crushes two cars nearest to him, hands on his back enlarging and lengthening, slamming - splitting the ground. Dark red blood continues staining the path.
His hands are shaking tremendously, but Sunggyu’s feet move on their own, towards the monster. The gun is cold against his clammy fingers and the grotesque heaving of the beast is loud in his ears.
‘What are you - what can you do?’ Myungsoo shouts.
‘Just let me try!’
The monster shrieks, exploding from its spot and colliding into Sunggyu with such force - wind is knocked out of him; a crack in the back of his head. They crash into a pile of metal, sharp and painful and Sunggyu manages to turn his head to the left before a multitude of black hands punctures beside.
Woohyun’s mouth is foaming blood, eyes a complete black, grip inhumanely strong. Fingers grab his shirt and Sunggyu’s guts flip before he’s thrown through the air, crashing into a car. Windscreen shatters against his back, and he’s coughing blood. Sunggyu’s body is on fire, his joints unbearable and he can barely move.
‘Hyung!’ Sungjong yells.
He gets out ‘stay back!’ before the monster lands above him, hot crimson dripping onto his face. Black elbows pull back - about to crush his skull in -
‘You fucking pushed me to this point.’
A gunshot resounds through the entire car dump.
One shot, infinite chances.
The bullet is flying through the air, gun smoking beside the monster’s ear - it’s confused, halting its attack.
Time for a fatal mistake.
In one hard movement Sunggyu breaks Woohyun’s jaw open with the hilt of his gun - a satisfying crack as loud as the gunshot.
Sunggyu gets up just in time to catch the monster’s wrists in its rebound attack, biceps burning from the effort.
‘You’re not turning into a fucking monster on me. I’m not going to let that happen.’
Black eyes dilate and waver for a second. Something thin like understanding threads thin on the whites of its gaze.
It screams into Sunggyu’s face, blood splattering over his nose.
‘I know you’re afraid and I know that there’s nobody you can tell all of this to.’
The monster falters - Sunggyu’s grip tightens. Black arms tense behind Woohyun but they don’t move.
‘You think nobody accepts the monster inside of you. All these hideous, ugly secrets -’ a gasp of pain escapes him when black hands grab his arm, attempt to snap his wrists. Sunggyu talks even louder - trying to reach the boy inside this creature. ‘But you’re wrong. You’re still our friend. We won’t leave you - we’re not going to leave you.’
The grips soften. Dark pupils retract; Sunggyu can see his eye whites now. Irrational rage builds up inside of him.
‘Do you seriously think so little of me?’ his words are gaining volume. ‘Don’t fucking lie to yourself - I’m important to you like you are to me.’
Human eyes are bloodshot now.
‘So fucking let me in!’ his throat rips, spit flying.
Black hands waver like a mirage, dissolving - vanishes. Woohyun is left in place, eyes red, nose red, mouth curved down in a horrible expression. Sunggyu’s lightheaded from the conflict, he thinks he’s wobbling like the boy. Woohyun’s eyes glisten, well up with tears and he chokes when one escapes.
Suddenly, he’s on his knees, sobbing, crying uncontrollably, incoherent words and trembling, back open bloodied.
Glancing up, Sunggyu sees that Sungjong has tears over his cheeks, Sungyeol just crying into Myungsoo’s back. Myungsoo visibly relaxes, relieved, allowing a nod. There’s a tired smile that works across his face.
They must’ve been scared
‘Idiots.’
A metal ding rings softly - the bullet has returned to a stationary position.
-
Odd is the only way to describe the weather station.
It begins with a small house, and from its attic, steps burst out into a larger building - a furnace of sorts. The furnace grows for five levels, increasing in size, supporting the weight of an enormous clock tower, suspending twenty metres from the ground.
Yes, it is blatantly defying the laws of physics on the centre of gravity, with a huge structure sprawling upwards on tiny steps extending from a window - but Sunggyu’s used to surprises by now.
With no doors on the house, Sungyeol flies them up, turning into a huge hot air balloon. Through the arched windows, they catch glimpses of the furnace - yellow, orange, blue, green fire, among gears and mechanics and rusty chains.
High up outside the clock tower’s veranda, the wind is howling and Sungyeol needs to fight against it to get them over the railing.
‘It’s in a good direction though,’ Sungyeol smiles; it still looks disconcerting. ‘We can get back to the castle in five hours if it keeps up.’
He then proceeds to let Woohyun eat this stalk of flower - which really is a metal screw he transmuted to resemble a plant.
They’ve not spoken since the car dump. Sungjong did his bandages. There is no time to waste (and too many awkward spaces to fill).
Bidding him luck, the four friends stand outside, hair whipping in the wind (Sunggyu remembers with a jolt, that time Woohyun flew him here - realises the end is near and something breaks inside) as he twists the knob and pushes himself in.
Empty photo frames hang from the floor to ceiling in the circular dome, some tilted on their nail, cobwebs hanging from frame to frame. It is unexpectedly quiet inside, with thick volumes of books lying in piles, obstructing Sunggyu’s way around. The ceiling is glass, natural light spilling orange over the cramped room.
Bookshelves are pushed against the walls, levels upon levels of stuffed, exploding bookshelves and Sunggyu sees a man scaling the only rolling ladder around.
‘Hi,’ Sunggyu’s voice echoes through the room, startling the man as he fumbles with his grip. ‘Are you the weatherman?’
‘A-A visitor!’ he exclaims, climbing down as fast as possible. ‘Weatherman? I don’t know.’
The features are wild, eyes slightly boggling and there’s a sincere earnestness that shines out of them. Sunggyu smiles automatically because the man’s grin is contagious.
‘Don’t you control the weather?’
‘I make sure there are clouds, that’s all,’ the guy says, warm and friendly. ‘Do you want anything? Tea? Biscuits?’
‘Before that, I’m Sunggyu,’ he offers a hand.
The man looks at the outstretched hand of friendship - maybe a bit strange, a bit too much after years of solitude - and a smile breaks across his face so childishly innocent it could melt the coldest heart.
‘Dongwoo.’
-
‘So you can’t remove the cloud over the castle?’ they are seated on piles of books, a saucer of raspberry biscuits and steaming cups of tea between them.
‘The castle? There’s a castle?’
Seeing his genuinely being lost - maybe, Sunggyu thinks, he’s been cooped up for too long.
‘Why are you here in the first place?’
Dongwoo frowns, thinking hard.
A minute passes.
‘Who put you here?’ Sunggyu helps.
‘I…can’t remember,’ Dongwoo says, a goofy grin spreading across his face.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘I think…a decade ago,’ the boy takes a bite out of his biscuit, crumbs falling all over.
Ever since a decade ago, sunlight has stopped reaching the castle’s concrete, blocked by an impermeable cloud. The king of that era had lost something important to him and he can’t remember what.
‘Okay, Dongwoo, I need you to rely completely on your instincts, you follow?’ Sunggyu says, on a burst of inspiration. Dongwoo sits up, alert, nodding. ‘Do you think you’re being forgotten?’
‘I…think so,’ the boy answers uncertainly. ‘I think I’m forgetting something too. I think I lost something but I’ve never found it.’
He needs to see King Hoya.
‘If it’s lost it should be around here…’ Dongwoo looks around aimlessly. ‘Funny that I can’t find it.’
‘Can you follow me? I’d like you to meet the king.’
Dongwoo takes a moment to process, before beaming.
-
Stars have come out to play again. Pink and blue diamond dust explodes across the sky, shimmering delicately in their places, watching the earth in passive beauty. The winds didn’t hold, but it gets them far enough. They will reach the castle tomorrow.
Everyone’s warmed up to Dongwoo, gathered around the campfire, talking and laughing. Dongwoo has a distinct hyena laugh, a shrieking sound that made Sungyeol scream at dolphin pitch (which is the only reason why Myungsoo jumped) the first time.
The smell of burnt marshmallows hangs low around them, the night wind cold on their skins, as a low murmuring continues behind Sunggyu.
Sunggyu’s back is turned to the fire. He is slightly away from them, because he’s bandaging Woohyun. Friendly banter fills their silence, Sunggyu’s hands smoothing the cloth over Woohyun’s back, ignoring the way his abs tremble under his fingers when making a round.
And he makes many rounds.
Woohyun’s back has huge scabs that bleed occasionally, raw and unseasoned, and at the gentlest touch, the boy would hiss softly.
‘Sucks to be me,’ Woohyun says suddenly.
‘Yeah,’ an unexplainable irritation grows inside Sunggyu again. Anger management courses might be useful.
Tension spans between them so stiff and thick it’s unbearable. Sunggyu can hear Woohyun’s thoughts, thinking so hard it’s rattling in his head and reverberating off his skull.
The boy winces and Sunggyu freezes, slowly pulling up the bandage and settling it across the wound slower. He doesn’t bother with an apology.
Sungyeol is yelling and both Sungjong and Dongwoo are laughing. Myungsoo’s voice is a calm baritone underneath the colours.
‘You’re full of ‘shouldn’t be’s too, aren’t you?’ Sunggyu starts quietly.
‘Really.’
‘Like how you shouldn’t be in love with me.’
How you have powers and yet don’t believe in love.
Woohyun is mute.
Sunggyu tugs on the bandage rough and Woohyun inhales sharply.
‘Was that getting back at me?’ the boy asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
Sunggyu doesn’t answer, finishing the last round of cloth.
‘I don’t…I-’
‘Done,’ he pins the loose end up, tucking away the scissors and gauze in their medical kit, not looking when Woohyun turns around.
When Sunggyu tries to get up, a hand encloses around his wrist, stopping him.
‘Hey,’ Woohyun begins and Sunggyu swallows (he’s drowning drowning floating flying in dark starlight). ‘I’ve never met somebody who used a gun like you, somebody so caring and selfless you’d stay up late to watch the young ones fall asleep - even though this isn’t your world to care about.’
‘Yeah well, I’ve never met a bigger coward.’
Hesitation. The boy takes a shallow breath.
‘I’ll have to fix that, don’t I?’
‘Doubt it.’
‘We’re already like this.’
A second passes, and another, and another.
Woohyun’s eyelashes are really, really long and pretty, his nose is close and Sunggyu stomach lurches. He thinks Woohyun’s lost control of his magic when chapped lips brush against his, collapsing the ground underneath them because he feels like gravity’s vanished and he’s suspended in oscillation; falling falling into magic (love).
Lungs burning for air, Woohyun pulls away and Sunggyu is dazed, still suspended and lightheaded. Woohyun’s eyes are bright, hands on Sunggyu’s wrists the only thing grounding him. The walls in his heart have been levelled, flushed broken crumbled right to the ground, and then Woohyun smiles, eyes dark, dark crescents, stealing Sunggyu’s breath and holding it captive like a prisoner.
‘Am I forgiven?’
His tongue feels like lead weights and his words disobey him. Woohyun laughs - loud and ringing in his ears and far too long unheard; warmth spreads through him.
‘Just look at them - about time,’ Sungjong exclaims, exasperated, followed by cheering and hooting from Dongwoo and Sungyeol.
Nobody takes Sunggyu’s glare (half-hearted) seriously, and he is so embarrassed, he finds the closest place to bury his face - Woohyun’s shoulder.
-
If Sunggyu could take one photograph of the king, he would choose the exact moment when Dongwoo is in front of him.
King Hoya has an expression of complete incredulity, eyes stretched so far wide open and mouth in a perfectly formed ‘O’ it takes all of Sunggyu not to blast out laughing. The idea is to get the king to remember this boy, if he had a part to play in the whole history of the cloud.
Things turn out differently.
After the initial shock, the king begins leaking tears - not making a sound, but crying, staring at Dongwoo who is shifting uncomfortably in his spot. Woohyun hits Sunggyu’s arm, eyes widening as if to ask ‘what the fuck is happening’.
Dongwoo looks at Sunggyu with a pained expression, and the poor boy must be thinking that he’s made the king upset.
‘You -’ the words of King Hoya dies, because light pierces through the castle windows then - all twenty six of the courtroom’s arched windows. Glorious, bright sunlight, summer dust floating in its wake and the King gets up so suddenly his robe is in a flurry.
The guards all break from duty, armours clanking over to the windows in amazement and jubilance and Sunggyu grins at Woohyun’s confused yet happy expression. The six of them look out to the sky, the cloud is dissolving, wavering - vanished.
Cheers erupt throughout the castle in deafening volumes, soldiers hugging soldiers, cumbersome armour in the way - but that didn’t matter, tears of joy streaking down their faces. Sungjong is elated, Myungsoo smiling on his own while Dongwoo is completely lost when soldiers come over to hug him, lifting him up and yelling in excitement.
Except, Sungyeol. Sungyeol is standing, staring at his hands, shocked.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sunggyu asks and when Sungyeol looks up, his eyes are brimming with happiness.
‘I can’t transform anymore,’ the boy says, Myungsoo exclaiming ‘what?’. ‘I-I can’t, I’m not a monster anymore!’
The poor boy doesn’t get to say anything else because Myungsoo grabs his face and kisses him senseless.
‘You,’ the King says, close enough for them to hear, but to Dongwoo. ‘You are the previous king’s love. I remember now. Father is always so busy with work he forgot about love - it manifested and left him, that’s you.’
Dongwoo stands stunned, eyes turning red, and Sunggyu smiles. Dongwoo is probably remembering all the memories that he’s lost, and now Hoya’s going to accept love back into his life - Dongwoo, back into his life.
Facing Woohyun, the boy is watching him with this bittersweet look, slightly sad, slightly happy, but completely affectionate.
‘What’s up with that expression?’ Sunggyu jokes.
‘You’re going back, aren’t you?’
A jolt.
Sunggyu had forgotten amidst the celebration.
The world back there is boring, though. Stale, stagnant. There is no magic, no monsters and no Woohyun. He might return to say hi to his parents, to his friends, but -
‘For a bit.’
‘…A bit?’ Woohyun asks uncertainly, and Sunggyu thinks it’s adorable.
‘I think your cottage can handle an extra person.’
Woohyun takes a moment to understand. Large hands grab his shoulder and back of his head and lips press against his painfully hard and fierce and needing - it makes his head swim (drowning). When they break apart, Woohyun is panting lightly, thumb drawing circles on the back of Sunggyu’s neck.
‘Good. Please don’t let me live without you.’
And Sunggyu’s definitely sure Woohyun’s lost control of his magic and disintegrated the entire earth, because he’s floating, floating, floating again (gravity is powerless). Their bodies push closer against each other, flushed, and he grabs fistfuls of Woohyun’s shirt desperately, because that’s the only way he won’t disappear into the stratosphere.
A fissure - the walls of his heart is permanently collapsed; demolished and left wide open, all to love.
end.