feriluce

[feriluce]

Z.E.P.H.Y.R. - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Memories

(3,7k words)

"The moon will return to its rightful place... and rip off the layers of reality."

Jisung sat bolt upright in bed. His best friend on the other end of the phone was babbling nonsense – and it scared him. "Seungmin, what the hell is going on?" He received no response other than muffled sounds. He stood up and paced his dark bedroom. "I'm here, Minnie. It'll be okay. Listen to my voice, take a deep breath..."

Seconds dragged on forever before Seungmin calmed down. He coughed, and cleared his throat. "Jisung?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why are you calling?"

Confused silence on the line. "You called me."

Seungmin snorted. "No, I didn't?"

"Cut the crap." Jisung rubbed his tired eyes. "You called me in a panic, babbling about the moon returning to its place and ripping off the layers of reality."

Another few seconds of silence. "I said what ?" Seungmin asked quietly. "It's usually you who won’t shut up about the moon."

Jisung sat down on the edge of the bed. "Maybe it was one of your visions."

Seungmin sucked in a sharp breath. A sound like he was sliding across a wooden floor with his chair. "Call you right back." And he hung up.

Jisung pulled his phone away from his ear and flopped into bed. Seungmin had always been clairvoyant. He masked minor visions with his tarot cards (humans naturally preferred something they could touch). In everyday life, he chalked it up to 'intuition.' Major visions... those were a whole different ball game. And much rarer.

His phone rang. This time it was a video call from Seungmin. Jisung sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. Seungmin's complexion resembled a sun-bleached sponge, and his usually neat hair was sticking out in all directions. Normally, Jisung wouldn't let such a sight go uncommented, but he felt in his bones that humor would have to wait. At least until Seungmin made the first move.

Seungmin ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't have a single vision all day yesterday. I had to cancel all my appointments because of illness, like a mere mortal." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Do you know what happens when you read tarot cards at three in the morning?" Jisung shook his head. "It releases blockages. If I hadn't recorded it on my video camera..." Seungmin trailed off. His unsteady gaze fell on a spot behind the screen.

"You filmed yourself reading the cards?"

"Of course."

After years of friendship, you'd think you knew someone. Jisung considered it briefly, but dismissed the thought as unimportant. "Do you have any idea what this could mean? Layers of reality. The moon and its rightful place?"

"And here I sit, hoping you could shed some light on the matter. You moon fanatic. Or should I say… lunatic." A mischievous grin.

Jisung's thoughts immediately wandered to the moon he'd seen in Minho's domain. Only a memory, but still so beautiful, so infinitely beautiful... Like Minho's gentle eyes as he was listening to Jisung's violin playing. In the fragrant garden with the many glowing cat bees.

"Wait a minute." Seungmin's voice burst Jisung's daydreaming bubble. "You know something. Spit it out, pronto."

"Or I'll just hang up."

"I dare you."

It was just a joke, but Seungmin's expression was as serious as a heart attack. Sighing, Jisung gave in. "I've made friends with someone up there on Zephyr. Seungmin, the moon really exists. Or rather, did exist."

"Did exist?"

Jisung leaned closer to his phone and lowered his voice. "The moon is gone."

"You mean someone stole it?"

"Possible. I'm trying to figure that out, but... those aliens aren't exactly in a chatty mood."

A deep frown of worry formed on Seungmin's forehead. "Be careful, okay?"

"Aw, are you worried about me?"

"Always." And then Seungmin looked at him with narrow, mischievous eyes. "What's that friend's name again?"

Jisung tried to play dumb, but he had no chance with his best friend. "His name is Minho. Happy?"

"Just Minho?"

"What's with the stupid questions? Do you think aliens walk around without last names?"

A conspiratorial, all-knowing grin blossomed on Seungmin's lips. "Ah, I already know."

Before Jisung could defend himself, Seungmin had ended the video call.

※

Snowflakes swirled around in the study. Jisung darted to the open window to close it. The first snow this winter! Jisung had been so busy these last few weeks that he hadn't even noticed the weather. Therefore, he couldn't exactly enjoy the white splendor – his garden wasn't yet winterized.

As he clattered down the stairs, he mentally went through a list of all the things he had to do. What was the most important thing? Put the chairs and lounger in, otherwise it'll get moldy. He plopped down on the carpet in the hall and slipped into his steel-toed boots. The charcoal grill, oh, and the boat's still in the lake.

Wearing only a thin vest, he tried to brave the rapidly intensifying snowfall and save his patio furniture in time.

The boat remained in the lake.

Sweaty and with an aching back, Jisung peeled himself out of his dirty clothes. He hated the feeling of wet clothes on his skin. Cursing, he stepped under the preheated shower and then allowed the hot water to wash away everything unpleasant. Warmth permeated Jisung's body to every fiber, leaving a tingling sensation in places that were particularly frozen.

Steam condensed on the mirror. Jisung's eyes closed on their own. The sound of water splashing on his head faded into the background. It was suddenly so quiet.

A pearl necklace broke, and Jisung dove under, propelling himself forward with powerful arms. Someone laughed, clear as a bell and joyful. Jisung's fingers touched the edge of the pool, and he surfaced, wiping the water from his eyes. Someone stood in front of him. Violet hair glittered in the glassy light that filtered through large arched windows.

"One day you'll turn into a fish. Come on out, breakfast is waiting." Minho smiled and held out a hand to Jisung.

One powerful drag, and Jisung found himself in his bathroom panting, heart pounding. With shaky hands, he fiddled with the faucets, and the water stopped. The silence that followed left a nervous flutter in his stomach.

Jisung jumped as a loud ringing sound rang through the house. He hurried to dry himself (but tried not to slip, an accident would be embarrassing). By the time he reached his bedroom, fully dressed, the call had already gone to voicemail. He waited a second or two and then called back.

A female voice answered. "Hey, Jisung. Hope I didn’t wake you up?"

"Why do you think I'm still asleep? It's... almost noon."

A small giggle. "Oh, I just thought, you know, because you have a new job now. What with the adjustment period and all."

Jisung put a hand on his hip. "I've been up since seven in the morning, did housework, and only after lunch will I lie down for a few hours so I'm fit for work. My rhythm is top-notch, thank you very much."

When the devil got bored, he created older sisters. And Lisa burst out laughing, cackling. Typical for when she managed to hit one of Jisung’s many nerves.

Jisung rolled his eyes. "You sound like a chicken."

"A chicken older than you." Schadenfreude tinged Lisa's voice, wrapping itself around every word. "Show some respect."

"Seven years. What does life feel like in your thirties? From here on, it's all downhill. One wrong sneeze, and your disc says 'sayonara.'"

"Hey, that was mean," Lisa said, suddenly dead serious.

Jisung put a hand over his mouth. "I mean– I'm sorry."

She laughed, but it sounded much gentler. "My dear Jisung, there's nothing you could insult me with. Some acute cases in the emergency room are much more brutal."

Jisung smiled. He sat down on the bed. "Does that mean I'm soft?"

"Soft doesn't automatically mean weak, Jisung. I'm amazed every time I see how wonderfully you've developed. Despite our parents." A brief pause. "I'm proud of you, little brother."

Jisung swallowed the rising emotions. Sometimes he hated being so sensitive. "Thanks, Lisa. I needed that."

"Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I mean, life itself is stressful, but I'm really fine. I promise."

"If you say so." Cutlery clinked in the background. "Will I see you tomorrow at Jeremy's birthday party?"

"You bet. I'll eat so much cake until I'm sick."

Lisa groaned in annoyance. "No more cake-eating contests. Last time, Jeremy puked all night and I had to work the early shift the next day."

Jisung stifled a fit of laughter. "Oops, sorry."

"You can shove your sorry– ugh, never mind. If you bring Seungmin, I'll forgive you. Maybe."

"Seungmin's still on a business trip. He won't be back until next week."

"I thought this weekend?"

"Originally, yes, but there was a change of plans." Jisung's gaze wandered out the window and settled on the floating rock. "Is it okay if I bring someone else? A... colleague, so to speak."

"A colleague?" Even through the phone, Jisung could see the curious twinkle in Lisa's eyes. It was even reflected in the tone of her voice. "If he's good with kids, then he is very welcome.”

At Lisa's house, it suddenly got very loud. Jisung heard his nephew stomping through the house, shouting how happy he was about the snow. Lisa yelled after him, apparently forgetting about the phone call. Jisung laughed and hung up.

※

Jisung trudged through knee-deep snow. Normally, he could reach the quarry in ten minutes, but because of the current weather, it took him twice as long. The headlamp on his head swayed with every step. Note to self: equip the quarry path with lights.

Out of breath, Jisung stumbled into the clearing. And he stopped dead. The elevator lights cast their pure white light onto the jagged stone wall behind and the snow-free area in front. Jisung blinked and did a double take. Behind him lay a landscape that could seriously rival Greenland; in front of him lay a green meadow that would surely have glistened with dewy sunlight.

The hairs on his arms stood on end as he walked across the grass, but it wasn't from the temperature. He didn't let it show when he reached the elevator.

"Good evening, Your High– Sir," greeted the security guard. He immediately stepped aside and let Jisung enter.

The elevator sped towards an overcast sky. No twinkling stars. Jisung took off his winter jacket, he was far too warm.

The glass door opened with a gentle hiss, and as Jisung stepped out, he regretted putting on thermal leggings. Zephyr was a sauna.

"I wish you success today!" said the security guard.

"Thank you." Jisung didn't turn around. The sweat on his forehead bothered him immensely.

"I wish I could be there and listen. Your way of using the bow is truly exceptional. I envy your talent for making the violin sing."

Jisung paused in his movement to wipe his face and turned to the security guard. He was tall, lean, and impeccable. A mop of black hair, styled as if tousled by the wind. Narrow eyes on a defined face.

"Thank you, um..."

"Park Seonghwa." With a smile, he bowed. "But please call me Seonghwa."

The sound of the name echoed in Jisung's mind– which felt strange. He felt a little flutter in his stomach, as if he desperately needed to remember something. "Seonghwa," he repeated. "A beautiful name."

Seonghwa's smile widened. "Thank you."

"I hope you get the chance to be there. I would be very happy." Jisung adjusted his winter jacket, which was hanging over his arm. Before leaving, he wished Seonghwa a peaceful night.

The path from the elevator to the main square, and the main square itself, were teeming with people. Strange patterns and opulent jewelry caught Jisung's eye as he made his way through the crowds. It was still too early for box office sales, but Jisung didn't want to worry about that right now.

He entered Minho's workshop, and the world outside fell silent. He looked around, Minho wasn't there. "Minho?" he called as he marched through the shop. "Minho, are you there?" He stopped in front of the curtain that led into Minho's private quarters. He listened. Tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic.

Strange.

Jisung entered the small anteroom. He took off his shoes and placed them neatly on the shelf next to the dresser. He also put his jacket and violin case there.

To the left of the hallway was the kitchen. Minho wasn't in the kitchen. He went back again. At the foot of the stairs, Jisung placed a hand on the railing. "Minho, are you upstairs?" No one answered. "I’m coming up, okay?" The stairs were covered with a soft carpet and muffled his footsteps.

Refracted, watery light danced on the walls, immersing the upstairs in a cool atmosphere. Like a swimming pool. The source seemed to be coming from one of the rooms. Jisung stopped in front of the door; it was open, but obscuring something behind it.

Jisung pushed the door open with one finger and saw Minho sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was surrounded by a silvery-blue shimmer. In his hand, he held something that looked like... a pearl necklace, but several pearls were missing.

"Minho?"

Minho looked up, startled. He swung his hand, and the door slammed shut. Jisung staggered backward, hitting his back against the wall. The light reflections disappeared.

Then the door swung open, and Minho stepped out. His face reflected guilt and worry. "I'm so sorry, Jisung. I wasn't expecting you, and then I was startled. Are you hurt?" Jisung shook his head, and Minho stepped closer. After a brief hesitation, he gently placed his hands on the violinist's shoulders. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

Jisung's breath caught. He remembered the dream he'd spontaneously experienced while showering. But was that really a dream? The Minho standing before him and the one in his dream could be the same person. They both felt so real .

Minho's warm touch on his shoulders. His gentle eyes, which concealed a certain sorrow.

"Nothing's wrong with me, I promise. But what about you?" Jisung wiped a tear from Minho's cheek with his thumb. "You look sad."

Minho's eyes fluttered and he leaned briefly into Jisung's hand. For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to get rid of something; a burden that had been weighing him down for far too long. But then a wall closed in behind his eyes, and he took a step back. "Ghosts from the past, nothing more."

Jisung didn't believe him, but he didn't want to press him either. Then he remembered he was here for a reason and took out his phone; he was supposed to be at Zephyr in a few minutes. "I wanted to ask you something."

Minho definitely seemed relieved by Jisung's change of subject. "Let's go downstairs, shall we?"

Jisung followed the clockmaker, and halfway down the stairs, he gathered his courage. Why did he suddenly feel so shy? "So, I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow?"

They reached the small anteroom on the ground floor. "What's tomorrow?"

"It's my nephew's birthday, and you're cordially invited."

Minho faltered slightly as he pushed aside the curtain to the shop. "I'm... invited?"

Jisung found Minho's surprise endearing. "I probably won't be able to leave until midnight, but afterward we can go to my place together. I have a few things to do. Birthdays are always so stressful, but with you here, I can plan much better. What do you say?"

Jisung's heart was pounding, but it didn't matter.

Minho blinked four times. He was still standing there with the curtain in his hand. A slow nod. "I could close the workshop for a day."

"So you're coming?"

"Yes, I'll gladly accept the invitation."

Jisung did a little jump of joy. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his winter jacket and violin case, and followed Minho into the shop. They agreed that Jisung would stop by Minho's door after work. There wasn't time for more, as Jisung was already running late and didn't want to keep his colleagues waiting; sales had multiplied since yesterday, and Jisung's interview with the reporter had certainly contributed significantly.

※

Jisung was on fire. A fire burned through his veins, shaking the music hall. Men and women alike fell to their knees. Red roses and golden stars buried the violinist. It was stifling, but Jisung floated along on the high, only coming back down when the clock struck one.

As Gaowan proposed a toast, and everyone who heard him clapped out of pure politeness, Jisung disappeared into the bathroom.

He peeled off his sweaty outfit; a gold-sequined tunic and wide-legged, ochre-colored trousers, accentuated by an ornate black metal belt. (Jeongin certainly had a knack for that certain something.) He set the clothes down on a small cabinet and slipped into his own clothes.

It squeaked as Jisung turned on the faucet. Rust and limescale had left visible traces. The water was clear, and he let it flow into his vibrating hands (sensory stimulation helped him let go of the adrenaline rush and get into a relaxed state). He lathered up the unscented soap, and the refreshing coolness gave his reddened skin the relief it needed.

As he pulled his hands away, a mossy, damp scent filled his nostrils. Small glowing dots floated in the air, but the mirror didn't reflect them. The sound of gushing water, as if someone was taking a shower – but Jisung knew he was alone.

Jisung turned around, his eyes widening as he saw a waterfall in the middle of that small bathroom, right in front of him. Rushing water, jagged, moss-covered rocks. The dampness left a delicate film on Jisung's bare arms.

Why do I feel like I've been here before?

A figure walked past Jisung. He only saw it from behind. Elegant clothes in silver and dark blue, a silver crown on its head. Short hair.

A second figure appeared out of nowhere. Elegant clothing in warm tones. Violet hair. That was Minho. He said something, but his words sounded unintelligible to Jisung. Minho got down on one knee and said something to the other person. A watery smile, Minho seemed overjoyed with the response.

The bathroom door swung open, dispelling the strange activity. "There you are!" Hyunjin noticed Jisung's Swirling emotions. "Everything okay?" he asked, stepping next to the violinist.

"I... am not sure."

Hyunjin followed Jisung's gaze, but found only empty shower stalls. The receptionist shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He lowered his voice. "What did you see?"

I'm not sure. It was on the tip of his tongue, but it wasn't the truth. He knew what he'd seen, but was unsure of its meaning. He met Hyunjin's gaze.

"A waterfall. And Minho."

Jisung's words echoed off the tiled walls. A breathy laugh escaped Hyunjin's lungs. Relief etched his features in an unexpectedly beautiful softness.

"Am I going crazy?" Jisung wondered.

Hyunjin gave a short, amused laugh and placed a hand on the violinist's shoulder. "Oh, my dear earthling, you're fine."

"Then what's the deal with the waterfall and Minho?"

Hyunjin's laughter died down. He let an agonizingly long moment pass, simply staring at Jisung with fond eyes. "It's best if you take this to Minho himself. He's already waiting for you, by the way."

With a wink, Hyunjin left the bathroom.

※

Minho was squatting on the steps outside his workshop. A small backpack lay at his feet. When he saw Jisung approaching, he walked over to him with a smile.

"Ready?" Jisung asked, a slight thrill of excitement bouncing around in his stomach. Minho nodded and took a step forward when Jisung stopped him by the shoulder. "Where's your jacket?"

Minho gave him a questioning look. Then he opened his jacket, presumably to show that he was already wearing one. The material looked sturdy, but not particularly warm. Like a leather jacket without an inner lining. It suited him well. Minho looked good in it...

"I mean, where we're going, there's meters of snow and it's bloody cold."

"Bloody cold? You humans have strange expressions." Jisung gave him a flat stare. Minho raised his hands in a placating gesture, a chuckle catching in his throat. "Fine, I'll go and get something warmer."

Jisung watched the clockmaker disappear into his workshop.

Occasionally, a few people strolled across the main square, surreptitiously glancing in Jisung's direction. Did that bother him? Not really. There were worse things, like mosquitoes during tropical summer nights. Or Gaowan crossing the main square like he owned it.

Jisung groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes. "Great."

The conductor stopped just in front of Jisung. "What are you standing here for? The party's inside."

"I'm on my way home."

Gaowan looked Jisung up and down. Arrogant and uncomfortable. "Don't you have to move to do this?"

Jisung took a deep breath. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh, and for whom?"

As if on cue, the door to Minho's workshop opened. He locked it, and Jisung heard him stop when he noticed Gaowan. With a polite "Good night," he said goodbye to his boss and walked over to Minho.

Minho was a little pale around the nose and looked as if he wanted to go back. Jisung gave him an encouraging smile.

The two of them couldn't get more than two steps forward because Gaowan blocked their way. "Jisung, I assumed my words were clear and concise. What are you doing... with that here?"

Something much stronger than hatred came alive in Jisung. "His name is Minho. And what I do in my free time is none of your business." A threatening step forward. "If you don't let us pass right now , I'll leave Zephyr and never come back."

Gaowan shrank into himself. He gulped and stepped aside. Yeah, he better. Jisung wasn't in the mood for joking. He took Minho by the hand and walked straight to the elevator, where Seonghwa was already waiting for them.

Only when they stepped onto earthly soil could Jisung breathe a sigh of relief. He led Minho to the beginning of the quarry path. He looked at him with a smile. "Welcome to Earth."

[feriluce]

Z.E.P.H.Y.R. - Chapter 5

When Jisung's yearning heart is mentioned, please listen to this: Sherlock Medley by Taryn Harbridge. https://youtu.be/l6B-8V4LyaU?si=5orOvQqXn8wvATet

Chapter 5 - The Key

(3,6k words)

Golden tunes drifted between heavy tablecloths and half-empty wine glasses. Jisung lifted his bow from the strings. He squinted past the spotlight. "Could you turn the spotlight a little to the side?" The technician swung the light. "Thank you." Jisung put his bow back on and continued playing before having been so rudely interrupted. He finished the piece.

Felix's enthusiastic clapping far outweighed the ensemble's applause, and it brought a smile to Jisung's face. Jisung performed the last piece of the performance solo, and his colleagues had settled in the front row. The final rehearsal before the grand opening was over. The musicians chatted quietly as they packed their things and filed out of the concert hall one by one.

Jisung wiped his instrument with a cloth and placed it in the violin case as Gaowan rose from his seat and walked up the stairs to the stage. The wine seemed to be working. He swayed slightly. "Jisung," he said, sounding surprisingly sober. "We need to talk about your plus one."

The clasps of the violin case clicked shut. "What about that?"

"Lee Minho?" Gaowan emphasized the last syllable of the name as if he were gagging. Subtle, but unmistakable to Jisung's trained ears.

Jisung turned around and looked at the conductor with crossed arms, his eyes skeptical. "Yeah, what about him?"

"You put him on the list."

"Exactly."

"Why?"

"I don't understand what the problem is."

Silence. At Gaowan's cold, contemptuous gaze, Jisung's body shuddered unpleasantly; a kind of inner chill that permeated every fiber of his being. The music hall seemed to have shrunk.

The conductor suddenly had a clipboard in his hand. He clicked his pen and vigorously crossed something out without taking his eyes off Jisung.

"That clockmaker won't be coming," he decided.

Jisung blinked, puzzled. "For what reason? I don't think you have the right-"

Gaowan stepped closer. It was only a small step – a half step, at most – but to Jisung, it seemed like a threat. Don't show any fear. This was a cheap intimidation tactic, and he wasn't falling for it – he didn't want to fall for it. Jisung shifted his weight onto his heels, pressing the soles of his shoes firmly into the polished stage floor.

"Things are different here, Jisung, and the sooner you learn to accept that, the better."

Gaowan turned and strode off. As the music hall’s door closed, Jisung pushed out a breath. What on earth was that? For a few seconds, he couldn't move.

His violin was already in its case, the music hall was empty, and there was no sound from the other musicians. They were probably already huddled together in the bar, enjoying an after-work beer. Were they waiting for Jisung? Were they saving a seat for him? Did they know their conductor's behavior? They had to; after all, they had been a well-rehearsed team long before Jisung joined them.

Suddenly, a wave of frustration overcame Jisung, and anger gripped his throat. Anger at Gaowan, who was treating him like an idiot. Anger at himself for allowing himself to feel like a child again – frozen with fear, small, and helpless.

With glowing eyes, he grabbed his violin case and marched out to the music hall. The heavy tablecloths fluttered angrily as he passed them like a storm.

In the darkened dining area, Jisung collided with something hard. A sharp criticism was on the tip of his tongue, but then he saw that hard something was Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin!" Startled, Jisung clutched the violin case and bowed apologetically. "Are you hurt? I wasn't watching where I was going."

The receptionist rubbed his shoulder. "Nothing's broken. I wasn't any better. But... whoa." Hyunjin's gaze lingered on Jisung's face. "You look like you're about to set something on fire."

Hyunjin looked at him worriedly. His light brown eyes shimmered gently, calming Jisung's prickly inner turmoil. He took a deep breath. "Oh, it's just because..." Jisung placed the violin case on a table. "I listed Minho as my plus one, and Gaowan removed him from the list. Just like that. It got really weird." A shake of the head. "Is Minho a felon, or why–"

Hyunjin leaped, grabbed Jisung by the upper arm, snatched the violin case, and pulled them both behind him. Jisung almost tripped over his own feet. Did I say something wrong?

Only when Jisung arrived at the front desk did Hyunjin let go of him. He carefully put the instrument down, and then turned to the clock; a multi-layered construction on a small shelf. Hyunjin was so tall, he didn't need any tools to reach it. Two small golden spheres sat on an elliptical track, and Hyunjin pulled one sphere along it.

Jisung swayed. Was that an earthquake? An earthquake in his head? It only took that long for the golden sphere to arrive behind the other sphere. It was quiet, too quiet. As if someone had stopped time. What a strange thought.

"Alright, we don't have much time," Hyunjin said in a subdued voice. Jisung quickly glanced at the clock; the sphere Hyunjin had moved was jumping across the track every second. "Minho informed me that you know about the missing moon. In short, this has something to do with him."

The ticking grew louder. Jisung's heart beat faster with each word. "He knows who did it?"

Hyunjin bit his lower lip. A quick glance at the clock – In a few seconds, the golden sphere would reach its destination. A shake of his head. And then Hyunjin stood very close to Jisung's ear. "We're stuck here, and Minho has been trying to correct the mistake for years. Our hope is fading. The eyes are awake, but the key is asleep–"

With a jolt, time began to move again. The background noises of the luxury restaurant continued as if nothing had happened. There was a deep, frost-laced sadness in Hyunjin's gaze. But a blink was enough, and he had put his professional mask back on.

The glass doors swung open, and an elderly couple cheerfully headed inside. They wore expensive-looking clothes, the man even wore a top hat, while a pearl necklace shimmered around the woman's neck.

"Thank you for the little introduction, Jisung," Hyunjin said, handing the musician his violin case. "If I understand correctly, 'piano' means soft, and 'pianissimo'... um..." His left eyelid twitched.

"'Even softer,' or 'very soft,'" Jisung explained.

"Ah, right. Well then, I wish you a restful night and much success at the opening tomorrow." Hyunjin bowed goodbye as the elderly couple reached the reception desk.

With a queasy feeling, Jisung stepped out into the main square. He fiddled with his collar, but it was only for show. The activity kept his tingling hands busy as he tossed and turned a thousand thoughts at once. Hyunjin had asked him to be quiet.

Jisung's neck prickled. He resisted the urge to turn around.

The main square stretched before him, empty and pristine. Soulless. Colorful lanterns dangled from the branches, but it was windless. The light from the surrounding buildings cast long shadows, making the night seem darker.

※

When Minho invited Jisung over so he could talk about the moon undisturbed, Jisung had to drink something. A few words in the alien language followed. Thinking back now, he could still feel the soft carpet beneath him.

Jisung lay in bed, ready to consciously and intentionally induce a lucid dream for the first time. He closed his eyes. Inhale. I want to visit Minho in my dreams. Let go, exhale. He repeated it. For a moment, he thought it hadn't worked, but then he felt the tickle of soft grass. He opened his eyes. He stood barefoot on the star-studded meadow. The wind blew. Jisung could feel the wind on his face.

This isn't a dream. It feels more real than reality. It feels like... coming home. How silly. Jisung laughed quietly as he walked across the meadow. But if this is a dream, then I never want to wake up again.

Minho was squatting on the lakeshore. He was skipping stones across the water. Smiling, Jisung picked up a flat stone and tried it himself. The stone sank instantly. Maybe it was his position? He squatted like Minho, but even the second time, success was slow.

"Well, can’t say I didn’t try," Jisung said, sitting down with his legs stretched out.

Minho laughed softly. And Jisung's heart leapt. "You found your way here all by yourself. I'm impressed."

Jisung sideeyed at the watchmaker. "It wasn't difficult. I've been here before."

"After I put you through a ritual to make it easier for you."

Jisung shook his head, that wasn't what he meant. "I mean, after I returned that screwdriver to you. In my dream, I was standing on that meadow. Galaxies above me. You were there and said something..."

Silence. "I said something? And what was that?"

"Something about 'reality,' I didn't understand the rest."

Minho breathed a shaky sigh, and Jisung looked at him. His eyes swam with emotions, vibrant orange and yellow. Was that relief? Or surprise?

He stood up. "Jisung, please stand up, I want to show you something." Minho beamed. His smiling mouth twitched as if he was trying with all his might to contain his joy.

"Oh? A surprise?"

"Something like that. Please, come with me." Minho, who evidently had no patience, pulled the violinist to his feet with a flourish.

Jisung held on to Minho's shoulders to avoid colliding with him. His breath caught in his throat. This close, he noticed for the first time the gentle glow surrounding Minho. He saw it, he felt it. The pleasant warmth spreading through his body.

Why do I want to lean on you? Why does it feel so... familiar?

They flew over the meadow, the wind rushing in Jisung's ears, and when he glanced back after a while, the lake was just a dot on the horizon.

They landed in a clearing. A massive tree with red leaves crowded into Jisung's peripheral vision. The sky was dotted with swirling galaxies, but that didn't explain why it was so bright behind Jisung. Was he being illuminated by a spotlight?

Minho's eyes glistened moistly. He was still holding Jisung's hands. "I've waited so long for this. Ready?"

Jisung felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. "Don't make it so tense."

"Turn around," Minho whispered, slowly letting go of Jisung's hands.

Step by step. First, he saw a colossal tree, its branches touching the ground under the weight of red leaves. But that certainly wasn't what Minho wanted him to see.

It was the gigantic, silvery disk hanging in the sky. Deep craters adorned its surface like a polka-dot pattern. Jisung gaped. This must have been how prophets felt when divine messengers appeared to them – stunned by awe.

"Is that... is that..." Jisung stuttered, unable to stop himself. "Is that the moon?"

"Mhm." Minho's voice came from somewhere.

Jisung's eyes unexpectedly brimmed with tears. The sudden pressure in his heart eased as the first tear fell. Why am I crying? The last time I cried like this was when I had to say goodbye to my cat. Or when my nephew was born.

Jisung fell to his knees. Sobbing, he let his feelings flow, even though he didn't understand why they were there in the first place.

For years, Jisung had been searching for something others dismissed as a figment of his imagination. Not even Seungmin, whose gaze reached far beyond earthly limitations, believed him.

"Is this real? Is this really happening?" Jisung's voice sounded husky, a little hoarse. "Is this the real moon?"

"This is my memory of the moon. Just before it... disappeared."

"Hyunjin thinks you know why."

Minho's expression took on a sadness. "There was an incident back then. And I was there when it happened."

A fire flared up inside Jisung. The emotional outburst from earlier was forgotten. "What incident? Who did this?"

A faint smile. "One truth at a time, Jisung."

In an instant, Jisung was on his feet. He dried his face with his shirt. "Okay, fine. But at least tell me why the others are treating you like a leper. Because I listed you as my plus one for the opening, and Gaowan coldly crossed you off the list." A deep breath. "When I complained to Hyunjin about it, he told me you aliens are trapped here. Shouldn't you stick together? Why are you the odd one out?"

Minho seemed incredibly sad. For several moments, he stared silently at the moon, his eyes gliding from crater to crater; sometimes his gaze lingered on one spot longer, as if replaying a memory. And then he turned to Jisung.

"Have you ever noticed how tall 'we aliens' are? With us, power and status are also reflected in our height." Minho stepped closer and caught Jisung's gaze. They were both the same height. "The moon is gone, and with it, half of my power."

※

The house was packed. Jisung's nerves were on edge. Anticipation and nervousness played ping-pong in his stomach. The excited murmur of the audience died down as the heavy curtain was drawn aside. Applause.

Gaowan bowed to the audience. He spoke a few words. Then he turned to the ensemble. The applause died down. All the musicians were ready. Gaowan raised his baton and got off to a brilliant start.

It was all so simple. And Jisung realized how much he had missed making music with other like-minded people. It was more than that. He was pursuing his passion and sharing it with others was indescribable.

Thunderous applause rippled through the rows of seats.

After the intermission, Jisung took center stage. A medley from The Phantom of the Opera prompted several audience members to stand up and throw roses onto the stage. Was there also a declaration of love?

The music hall was dead silent as Jisung performed his solo. But when the last note faded, red roses and golden stars were raining down. The audience loved him.

Jisung's head was spinning. Drunk with the positive feedback, he swayed backstage. A firm slap from Felix landed on his shoulder.

"That was phenomenal ," Felix praised, pressing a glass of champagne into the violinist's hand. "To us!"

Jisung raised his glass. "To us!" He drank it down in one gulp. After another round, the alcohol was going to his head, and his cheeks felt far too warm.

The musicians were gathered at the table with snacks and drinks, joking and chatting, some about everyday things, others about the performance. The percussionist combed his long hair and tied it loosely.

Gaowan burst through the door. His absence hadn't been noticed at all. "Jisung!" he shouted, and all conversation fell silent. “They want an interview with you.”

“Who is they ?”

“Some newspaper-earthling. At the main entrance in three minutes.” He was almost out the door when he turned around. “And take your violin with you!”

Jisung rolled his eyes and took a sip from his water bottle. “Maybe he's turning me into an alcoholic after all,” he muttered to himself. And then he froze, realizing he'd spoken his thoughts out loud. He looked at Felix with wide eyes, but Felix just laughed.

“Don't worry too much about it, he's like that. As long as you do your work well, he'll leave you alone.” A short pause. “But he won't try much with you anyway.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Felix smiled warmly and brightly. “You're our star.”

"Earth's great hope," the percussionist chimed in loudly. "Gaowan was about to give up on his music dream, then you showed up."

Felix rested his chin in his hand and stared at Jisung with gentle (and tipsy) eyes. "As if fate had intended for you to come to us."

Jisung then had to lean back. And as if stung, he jumped up from his chair – he had to be by the main entrance! He would think about Felix's words later.

The newspaper-lady was a lanky woman in her mid-forties with curly hair and hipster glasses. Jisung had forgotten her name, but he was never good with names. She asked interesting questions, and Jisung answered them all in detail. At the end, the musician posed with his violin for a couple photos.

"Thank you for the interview," said the reporter, putting away her things.

Jisung bowed his head. "It was a pleasure. My colleagues are backstage if you'd like to interview them as well."

"I'd love to. But Conductor Gaowan only gave me permission for you."

Jisung paused. "Oh. I'd be happy to ask again, it’s no problem."

The woman smiled. "Thank you, that's very kind. But it's not necessary. I just wanted to watch the concert, the interview was rather spontaneous. I don’t even have my good camera with me."

"But a pen and notepad," Jisung remarked casually.

"Force of habit." She laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of her neck. She said her goodbyes and marched towards the elevator that would bring her back down to earth.

Zephyr was teeming with visitors. Jisung stood a little way off in the shadows. He didn't want to be approached. Everything was shining, and everyone looked so dressed up. Like some cover of 'Beautiful Living.'

Jisung glanced through the high windows – his colleagues could continue partying without him. He didn't care if he was seen as he crossed the main square and stopped in front of Minho's workshop.

It was dark inside. Rust had eaten halfway through the advertising sign. He knocked, but no one opened the door.

Why do I even want to be with him? I don't even know him that well.

Across the main square, Zephyr towered with its sparkling, flashing, flawless facade. So beautiful. So perfect.

The wood of the window frames of Minho's workshop was brittle, and the blue paint was peeling. So imperfect. So... real. Jisung didn't want to be anywhere else.

He knocked again. The door remained closed. And he hung his head. Suddenly, a glowing dot danced before his eyes. Startled, he stepped away from the door. "What the–" It flew away a bit and then landed right in front of Jisung's face again. It bounced back and forth. "Do you want me to follow you?" The ball of light bounced up and down, like a nod.

Jisung followed the floating light around the workshop. A very narrow path led through closely spaced buildings. At the end of the path, the light shot steeply upwards, and Jisung had to climb.

Stairs and ladders led Jisung all the way to the top. Out of breath, he arrived at the roof, where the light was already waiting for him. "I hope this was worth it," Jisung grumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

The light flew to the center of the flat roof and revealed an oasis of dense bushes, tall hedges, and colorful flowers in all possible and impossible shapes. Countless tiny dots of light whirred through the air. Jisung entered the garden. There was a fluffy blanket on the ground. A white blanket, like the one in Minho's living room.

"Jisung?" Jisung flinched. Minho stepped out of the shadow of a large plant. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, a light led me here?" At Minho's questioning look, he pointed to a floating dot of light that was closest to him. "I would never have found my way here on my own."

Minho seemed to relax. He snatched a light from mid air. "Look closely." He slowly opened his fist.

Jisung stepped closer. The brightness of the light dimmed, revealing– a bee? Jisung took a closer look. The creature looked like a tiny cat, no bigger than half a thumb, with the pattern and wings of a bee. Weird, but somehow cute.

"Do they produce honey?" Jisung wondered with an amused laugh.

Minho's smile was absolutely adorable. "No honey, but they're beautiful to look at." He released the bee cat into the wild. "How was the opening? You radiate energy."

For some reason, Jisung's cheeks warmed. And it definitely wasn't from the alcohol. "We had a full house. My ears are still ringing a little."

"I'm happy for you. Genuinely. Maybe more culture will bring more life to this desolate place."

The mood shifted– no, it didn't shift. Minho spoke a truth that Jisung had only guessed at until now. How long had the clockmaker and the other aliens been here? Years? Decades? Maybe longer? He must be terribly homesick.

Minho lay down on the fluffy blanket, folded his arms under his head, and looked up at the starry sky.

"I've thought of something," said Jisung. "If you can't come to the concert, then the concert will come to you."

"There isn't enough room here for an entire orchestra."

"What a shame," joked Jisung. "Then you'll just have to make do with me." He unpacked his violin. "I'm going to play something for you now. And no arguments."

Since Jisung first stepped onto this floating rock, strange things had been happening. Some answers only raised more questions. But in that moment, one thing was clear to him: He wanted to bring Minho joy. And with his violin, he revealed a piece of his yearning heart.

※

A shrill ringing pierced Jisung's consciousness. Disoriented, he tossed and turned in bed, his legs tangled in the sheets, trying to catch his breath. And then it was quiet. But only for a few seconds. The ringing started again; it was his phone and Seungmin's ringtone.

Jisung peeled himself out of the sheets, grabbed his phone, and slumped back into the pillows. "If your next words aren't 'I'm at your door, open,' then mercy on you–"

A gasp. "The moon will return to its rightful place." There was a whooshing sound. Seungmin gasped. "...and rip off the layers of reality."

[feriluce]

Z.E.P.H.Y.R. - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - The Eyes

(2,7k words)

Jisung stepped back. "Am I in trouble now?"

Minho shook his head. "The moon is—" With a deep breath, he stopped himself and ran a hand over his face. "I said too much."

Jisung took a step towards Minho and grabbed his wrist. "Tell me what you know," he urged, trying to catch Minho's eye. The impulse to beg the clockmaker burned under his fingernails. But pulling himself together took more than he'd liked.

Minho's gaze flickered to the door, as if double-checking he'd locked it. Uncertainty was etched on his face. His mouth opened and closed.

"Please, Minho." Whispered words and a tightening grip on Minho's wrist. "I know there's no moon, I just want to know why." For far too long, he'd been alone with his belief that someone had stolen the moon. Friends thought he was eccentric, family thought he was crazy. And now finally he was shaking the doorknob of truth.

The expression on Minho's face lost its tension; he seemed desperate to get something off his chest, but was too unsure (or too scared?) to let his thoughts flow.

Jisung let go of Minho. "I'm sorry." He increased the distance between them and jumped violently as someone pounded madly on the door, rattling the handle.

Minho hurried to unlock it, and when he managed to do so, he was roughly pushed back by a cursing guy.

"Ah, there you are!" the guy shouted, promptly marching towards Jisung. What was his name again? Jisung recognized him from the audition, but couldn't for the life of him remember his name. "I'm being bombarded with questions out here, and you're hiding in this hole." He cast a disgusted glance around the room. "Come on, Jisung. The longer you stay here, the harder the stench of the lower classes will come out."

The brute grabbed Jisung by the upper arm and dragged him out of the workshop. His gaze fell on Minho, who was leaning against the wall, holding his ear. His face was contorted in pain.

Halfway there, Jisung wriggled out of the vice-like grip. He stopped, snorted indignantly, and glared at the guy. "I would very much appreciate not being treated like an object," he hissed, still relatively calm.

He took off the left sleeve of his vest, revealing a sleeveless top underneath. Finger prints were visible all along his upper arm. The guy's grip was so strong that bruises had formed. If Jisung's gaze could kill, the man would have been reduced to a pile of ash.

The man paled. He meekly stammered an apology and rushed Jisung to the in-house infirmary, where his arm was treated with ointment, and his skin quickly looked brand new.

Jisung's anger simmered all day. Despite thebrute's countless apologies, Jisung reported the incident to Hyunjin anyway. When the receptionist heard about it (and when Minho's name was mentioned), Jisung was sure he noticed a flash of anger in his light brown eyes.

※

There were only two days left until the opening. Jisung and the ensemble were practicing tirelessly. That guy from the audition (the one with the bruising grip) turned out to be Zephyr's conductor and went by the strange name Gaowan. It was a relief that he took his role in the ensemble seriously.

Jisung sat backstage, scribbling a few final changes to the opening score, while Felix's bass-heavy voice vibrated through the room. It was well past the end of his shift; the two musicians were the last ones there.

Felix finished singing, and the sudden silence left a tingling sensation on Jisung's arms.

"Call it a night, Jisung, it's almost midnight." Felix yawned. "Your back will thank you."

"What about what?" Jisung asked without looking up. His pencil was tracing a tempo change, barely hearing what his colleague said.

Felix laughed softly. "The way your back looks, it could be mistaken for the crescent moon."

The tip of Jisung's pencil dug into the paper. His heart was pounding. His gaze darted to Felix. "What?"

Felix shook his head and waved his hand. "Ah, nothing." He put on his jacket. "Good night, Earthling. And don't forget to turn off the light."

The door slammed shut, and Jisung was filled with stressful confusion. Did Felix just mention the moon? And then act like nothing happened? What the—? Jisung stood up so suddenly that his chair tipped backwards. With shaky hands, he gathered the papers (which he neatly placed on the desk), grabbed his jacket, and dashed out the door.

Puffing, Jisung arrived in front of Minho's workshop. Since the incident after the mini-concert, he hadn't seen him again. It was pitch black inside. He took a step back, wiped his face nervously. Damn.

No one was here, and the rust on a billboard seemed to have grown larger. The silence of the night pressed down Jisung's neck. No one was here, but a thousand eyes saw him. Knew he was here. They knew he knew something.

Jisung gasped. He jumped forward and knocked and hammered on Minho's door.

He didn't notice the light come on. The door swung open, and Jisung followed it into the store. He stumbled. And blinked. Minho stood before him, his hair disheveled and his expression grim, making Jisung shiver inside.

"Minho, thanks for opening the door," Jisung said breathlessly. "Sorry to bother you, I—"

The watchmaker pushed the door shut. He glanced quickly out the shaded window, then crossed his arms and stared at Jisung. Minho's eyes demanded an explanation as to why the hell he was awake at this hour.

Jisung ignored the nervousness still prickling at the back of his neck. He needed to get something off his chest.

"I want to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes for me?" He waited anxiously for an answer, for any kind of reaction. Minho just stood there, glaring at him with fiery eyes. His gaze was impatient, but his body language... seemed indecisive. He had his arms crossed and was scratching his upper arm with his fingernails. "Are you okay?" Jisung asked cautiously.

A few moments passed. Minho's eyes flickered over Jisung, his shoulders noticeably less tense. Minho nodded, but remained silent.

Jisung repeated his question. And Minho answered again with a nod. Could it be that he still held a grudge against him for what had happened a few days ago? "What Gaowan said the other day, I just want you to know that I don't think that way."

Several silent moments passed again. Jisung was starting to feel like he was being made fun of. At least his heart rate had calmed down.

Minho took a deep breath and quickly glanced around the workshop. And then, with a gesture, he motioned for Jisung to follow him. They walked to the back and entered a sort of anteroom. There were no clocks ticking here, only the creaking of aged, worn wood. Minho went to a dresser and opened a drawer, taking out a small device and holding it in his hand. He stood next to Jisung again.

Minho looked at Jisung with gentle, yet fearful eyes. The device was shaped like a star and shimmered as Minho turned it on. He put it to his ear — it was a hearing aid.

"Excuse the long silence." A small, strained smile. He crossed his arms again.

A light bulb went on in Jisung's head. But how could Minho answer his questions? Did he have any residual hearing? Oh, that was beside the point. He remembered Minho's pained face.

"He hurt you," Jisung whispered. "Gaowan caused you pain, and I was there and did nothing. If anyone should apologize, it's me." He wasn't really the sentimental type, so it surprised him quite a bit when he felt his eyes moisten.

"It's okay, Jisung, I'm used to it."

Jisung's gaze shot up. "What?"

Minho shrugged. "I'm insulted, ridiculed, ignored at best. Getting up close to the door was a nice change."

"What?" Jisung repeated, more sharply this time. The tears in his eyes evaporated.

"If those snobs weren't so attached to their precious watches"—Minho gave a short, humorless laugh—"they would have cast me out long ago. Thrown me in a high arc down to your planet. Without a parachute— or whatever you Earthlings call it."

Jisung stared at Minho, eyes wide and mouth half-open. He wasn't sure what made his head spin more: that Minho was being treated like trash or that he was chatting about it so casually, as if they were discussing the weather over a cup of tea.

Minho caught Jisung's stupidly confused look. And laughed. "This is my life, I don't know anything else. Believe me, Jisung, it's okay."

Jisung couldn't seem to get any further. He believed the watchmaker— for now. "Fine, let's leave it at that." He took a brave step closer. "I believe you, but in return you tell me everything you know about the moon. Deal?"

※

Jisung stood on the glittering meadow again. Dull green blades of grass swayed gently in the breeze, seeming to beckon him. His body felt light, as if he only needed to jump from a standing position to fly through the universe. I know this is a dream. But why does it feel so... real? Blue-violet galaxies swirled above him, nebulae stretching like towers across the firmament. He liked it here.

A pulsating star caught Jisung's attention. Like a magnet, the star attracted hundreds, thousands of smaller stars to its center. As its mass increased, the star quickly grew brighter and then became so large that Jisung had to crane his neck.

And then the star opened its eye. A massive eyelid slid upwards, revealing a deep-black pupil. Startled, Jisung fell backward. The star's eye fixed its piercing gaze on the human below. Jisung tried to skid away, but invisible forces chained him to the ground.

Gasping for air, Jisung writhed beneath the eye. An impulse that hurt Jisung's ears was released, and suddenly there were countless smaller eyes arranged around the large eye, blinking in every direction.

A scream caught in Jisung's throat. Everything was too loud and spinning far too fast. The eye moved dangerously close, Jisung was able to make out the outline of his figure in its infinite darkness.

Someone took Jisung's hand and yanked. His body flew. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop soon, and then he rolled down somewhere.

His back slammed hard on the ground, and the impact knocked the air out of his lungs.

"Breathe easy." A gentle voice. A grounding pressure on his chest. Jisung let himself be guided. "Inhale, exhale. You're doing good."

Jisung's eyes fluttered open. Blurred outlines became clearer. "Minho? Why are you—?" Jisung looked around. "Where am I?"

"You're in my domain."

"What's a domain? Am I dead?"

Minho chuckled. "You're still very much alive. Your heart is beating quite fast."

"Yeah, because you're almost crushing me."

Minho pulled his hand away from Jisung's chest. "Sorry."

Jisung sat up. Below him was the glittering, star-studded meadow. He ran his hand through the grass; it was so soft and wrapped around his fingers. Water lapped over the sandy shore, and beyond it stretched a turquoise-green lake. The galaxies above were reflected on its surface, and gentle ripples made the lake seem more than alive.

"Where did you say I was?" Jisung asked, still fascinated by the scene before him.

"In my domain. My home, so to speak. Even if only a fraction of it..."

Minho was an alien. He had certainly seen many corners of the universe. Jisung tore his gaze from the lake and looked at Minho, who was crouching next to him; something was different about him, but Jisung couldn't put his finger on it. "Where are you from? Have you traveled far? Do you have a spaceship?"

Minho snorted in amusement and shook his head. "No spaceship, we travel differently. Explaining that to you, however, would be beyond your comprehension." Jisung glared at him. "But I can show you where I'm from. If you want."

Jisung nodded eagerly and stood up, managing it as easily as if he hadn't rolled down a hill. And hadn't been nearly eaten by a monster eye. When Jisung remembered, he gasped. "Minho!" he called, grabbing the alien's shoulder. "What was that thing?! That giant eye?"

"An anomaly." Minho, for some reason, avoided looking directly at Jisung. But the finality in his voice warned Jisung against asking any more questions. Was it too dangerous?

Jisung followed Minho's finger as he pointed to a constellation. "Do you see the three stars next to each other?"

"I only see two."

"The one on the left is white, the one next to it is red." A short pause. "The star on the right was gold. Before my people came to your planet, you called this constellation 'Orion.'"

"What does your people have to do with our constellations?"

"So you know 'Orion'?"

Jisung remembered the small illustration in his book; three large stars in the center formed the Belt, three smaller, vertical ones formed the Sword. It was one of his favorite constellations. No comparison to what he saw now. It was breathtakingly beautiful. "Just from my book."

"Exactly."

Minho moved into Jisung's field of vision. He looked serious. "Nothing is further from my mind than keeping you in the dark, Jisung. You're very close to the truth, but we have to be careful."

Jisung lowered his voice. "Because someone is watching us?"

Minho moved a little closer. "Exposing the truth can often have fatal consequences. Do you realize that?"

Why was Jisung's heart pounding in his throat? Why was he lost in the depths of Minho's dark eyes, shimmering with the light of distant galaxies? Why did he want to take his hand? Come on, Jisung, now is not the time for this.

Jisung forced himself to concentrate. Minho. Truth. "Every action has consequences. What I decide today, I might feel tomorrow, or even in a year. I don't want to go around in circles anymore. Give me the truth."

"No matter what it takes?"

"No matter what."

"So be it. But I also need something from you."

"If you need my trust, I'll earn it." Determination flashed from Jisung's eyes, and Minho smiled contentedly.

A comfortable silence spread. Jisung took one last, long look at this magnificent landscape.

"It's okay, Jisung. You can wake up again," Minho said.

Jisung felt awake. "How do I do that?"

"The way you got here."

Now Jisung was completely baffled. "And how did I get here?"

Minho blinked, then started laughing. He said something in his alien language, and in a swirl of galactic colors, his handsome face dissolved.

Jisung took a deep breath. He felt his body, the normal weight that was so familiar to him returning. He lay on a soft surface, quiet around him. Slowly, he stretched, his joints cracked, and then he opened his eyes.

"You're awake. Good."

Jisung flinched. Next to him was Minho— he was lying next to Jisung on a soft carpet. He remembered; the clockmaker had promised to tell Jisung everything about the moon.

"Your planet used to have a moon. Why is that? Better if I show you."

Something was bubbling inside Jisung, but before he could even open his mouth, Minho placed a finger on Jisung's lips. "I ask for discretion. Socially, you're far superior to me, and any contact with me could damage your reputation." A brief pause. Minho's finger slipped inadvertently, and his gaze changed every so subtly. "See me in your dreams. Only there are we free."

It was as if Minho had raised an invisible wall. He didn't say another word as he accompanied Jisung to the elevator and said goodbye before the security guard saw him.

Jisung mentally made a note to invite Minho to the opening ceremony at the next opportunity. Since Seungmin had extended his stay abroad, his seat became available.

I'm going to ​​invite Minho. Screw society.

* Unexpected pause in the updates. Sorry about that. My life is a bit stressful right now. * The conductor's name, Gaowan (睾丸 Gāowán), is Chinese and means testicle. LOL. * Anyone have any theories yet? I'm so sure it's obvious what this is about.

[feriluce]

Z.E.P.H.Y.R. - Chapter 3

The following songs actively supported this chapter: 1. Vivaldi vs. Vertigo - David Garrett 2. Moondance - Nightwish 3. Alle Tage ist kein Sonntag - David Garrett, Till Lindemann

also, purple Minho.

Chapter 3 - No one knows about it

(3k words)

During the day, the atmosphere on the floating island was quite different. The warm air was filled with fresh scents and cheerful shouts, ringing in Jisung's ears as he passed a two-story fountain. Children were splashing in the sparkling water. A loud voice echoed across the main square; someone seemed to be arguing with a merchant. The sun was high in the cloudless blue sky. Hard to believe that down on Earth, winter was quickly approaching.

Dazzling light shone from Zephyr's white facade. Jisung wondered how long it would be before this sight became normal for him. Magnificent. There was no better word to describe this massive building. Jisung closed his mouth, hoping no one had seen him staring, and entered his new workplace.

"Ah, there he is!" Hyunjin exclaimed, delighted, from his seat behind the reception desk. Smiling broadly, he skipped over to Jisung and greeted him with a firm slap on the shoulder. "How was your journey? I can only imagine how nervous and excited you must be. I can't wait for you to see the music room, but first, you have to see the tailor!"

Jisung's eyes widened and he wanted to ask for more details, but Hyunjin grabbed his hand and pulled the violinist briskly behind him (the tall guy looked lanky, but damn, what a firm grip). "Tailor?" Jisung asked, a little breathless, trying to keep up.

"Don't worry, his fashion sense is impeccable . You're going to look so good, better than you do now." Hyunjin gasped softly. "No offense."

"None taken."

A spiral staircase behind the reception desk led them upstairs and along a narrow corridor. The red carpet muffled their quick steps. Jisung considered getting a map. He tried to memorize individual objects along the way, but Hyunjin forced him to go at a pace that left him no time to recognize anything.

They stopped in front of a green door. A name was written on a glittering gold star, but Jisung couldn't make it out in time. Hyunjin turned the doorknob, and the door swung open. A heavy, sweet scent filled Jisung's nostrils. It smelled good.

As he entered the room, Jisung tried to take in everything at once. There was so much to see. Warm colors and unusual patterns. Stacks of comfortable cushions in every corner. The windows were framed with strings of pearl and delicate curtains. To the left was a bright pink sofa, next to it was a round, dark wooden coffee table and a bowl of fruit.

Next, Jisung immediately noticed a strange construction to his right. Golden globes, spheres, and gears that were rotating and moving. Similar to the clock at the reception desk. Jisung wondered if they served a purpose or were just decoration.

"Jeongin!" Hyunjin barked. "Get off your lazy ass!"

A voice and a rumble came from another room. Annoyed muttering. A door, which Jisung only now noticed, opened, and a tall man stepped out of the dim room behind it. Rays of sunlight streamed through the windows and landed on his bare, tanned torso. Jisung's eyes widened, and suddenly he found his shoes very intriguing.

"What are you yelling about?" Jeongin grumbled. "Oh, uh, hang on..."

When Jisung felt confident enough, he risked a look and was relieved to see that the tailor had changed into a lime green jacket.

"You still look disgusting, Jeongin." A dry statement from Hyunjin. "Well, I brought you someone." He pushed Jisung ahead of him.

Jisung smiled politely. "Hello," he greeted with a small bow.

The tailor's black hair glistened. He had eyes of a fox and a sharply defined but handsome face. He smiled.

"Have fun, you two," Hyunjin said, already walking out the door. "When you're done, Jisung, come see me later."

Jeongin reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of narrow glasses; the round lenses complemented his defined features beautifully. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his arms loosely crossed, and his eyes wandered over Jisung's figure. "Tea?"

"Um, yes, please."

Two cups of tea were quickly prepared, and while Jisung sipped his tea, Jeongin took precise measurements. With a pen between his lips, the eccentric tailor bustled around him, adjusting his arms, legs, and back as he needed, carefully noting everything in a small book.

Jisung wondered why he had to share his clothing size a few days ago when he was being measured anyway. Must be some weird alien thing, I guess.

"You have interesting measurements, Jisung, I must say," Jeongin commented. He was chewing his pen, the tape measure hanging like a snake around his shoulders. Then he closed his notebook and looked up. "And I know exactly what I'm going to do with you."

Jisung choked on his tea. He coughed. "That sounds ominous."

Jeongin laughed amusedly. He disappeared briefly into an adjoining room and returned with a clothes cart on which several items of clothing were hanging. The wheels squeaked and creaked under the weight of the countless garment bags. Each one had small, inscribed labels, but Jisung couldn't decipher the writing. Must be their alien language.

Jisung downed the last sip of tea, the taste of vanilla gently settling on his tongue and lingering there for a while. He patiently watched the tailor sip his own tea and then open the first garment bag.

"These are a few test outfits," Jeongin explained, taking out the entire contents. "I put them together yesterday, but now that I have your exact measurements, I'm not so sure they'll fit. Try them on."

Behind a screen, Jisung tried on all the outfits handed to him. Some were too long, others emphasized the wrong places, and then there was one top that felt so good against his skin, he didn't want to take it off. It was a white silk V-neck shirt, cream-colored ties accentuating his waist.

As he stepped out from behind the screen, Jeongin's face lit up and there was a twinkle in his eyes. He dug a wide belt out of a drawer and placed it around Jisung's waist.

The tailor seemed inspired. He had Jisung try on a few more outfits; by this point, he was two-thirds through the cart.

Jeongin sat down on a padded stool and crossed one leg. "I don't mean to sound creepy, but you have a well-proportioned body."

Jisung's face suddenly felt very warm. He coughed awkwardly. "No one's ever said that to me before. But I'll take it as a compliment, thank you."

※

The white double doors stood wide open, revealing the room beyond. Jisung stopped dead. The walls were painted a deep, rich blue, bathing the room in a calm yet majestic atmosphere. Gold accents ran throughout the decor.

In the center of the room was a spacious stage, adorned with an opulent gold curtain. The heavy, lustrous fabric of the curtain fell in gentle waves to the floor. What would Jisung find behind it? He could hardly wait to step onto the stage.

Arranged around the stage were several round tables covered with elegant deep blue satin tablecloths. Golden candles on golden candlesticks seemed to be just waiting to fulfill their purpose.

Jisung was immediately captivated by the massive chandelier sparkling from the ceiling. The finest crystal refracted the light in dazzling reflections, giving the entire room a magnificent aura.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Hyunjin whispered close to Jisung's ear.

"Pretty doesn't even begin to describe it. You set all this up in a week?"

Hyunjin grinned proudly. "Come on, the ensemble is waiting for you."

The backstage area was filled with the hubbub of voices. Instruments were waiting lined up against the wall – some in special holders, others on stands – while its owners sat around a long table, discussing. Files were stacked in a corner, with several sheets of paper and pens in front of each person. For a moment, Jisung thought he'd accidentally stumbled into an HR meeting.

Hyunjin put two fingers to his mouth and let out a short, sharp whistle that immediately caught everyone's attention. He grinned contentedly. "If it's all right and sparkly, I'd like to say something."

A young-looking man with blue hair sat at the very front. He reached into a bowl and stuffed a handful of nuts into his mouth. "Stop talking so pompously and spit it out." His gaze fell on Jisung. "Wait, are you Han Jisung?"

Jisung nodded. "Happy to be here."

As if the seat of his chair had turned to liquid fire, the man shot upright. He chewed and hastily swallowed the nuts in his mouth. "By my nonexistent beard, Han Jisung himself." With long strides and a sunny smile, he marched toward Jisung.

He gave the violinist a firm handshake. Jisung had never been greeted so enthusiastically (except for his nephew, but that didn't count).

"I'm Felix, lead singer and pianist. I've heard so much about you."

Jisung's heart leaped. "Only good things, I hope."

He heard Hyunjin laugh softly before he said goodbye. Felix wrapped his arm around Jisung's shoulders and pulled him into the empty seat next to him. A warm welcome from the other musicians followed, their friendly words ensuring that the last traces of Jisung's nervousness finally dissipated.

He listened attentively to the group as they all discussed ways to get the crowd excited about the opening. Doubts arose when it got out that the new posters had been defaced.

Jisung remembered seeing such a poster. Someone had scribbled a mustache on one musician's face. He pretended to scratch his nose, but tried to hide a grin.

The percussionist, a burly man with shoulder-length hair, read from a list. Apparently, only two-thirds of the invitations sent out had been accepted.

An oppressive silence fell over the group. Jisung raised a hand. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead, Earthling," the percussionist grumbled. His bright eyes studied the violinist openly and attentively.

"Well, persuasion only works if people are addressed correctly. And music reaches most people on an emotional level." He craned his neck to get a quick look at the many instruments. With a small grin, he continued. "Give people unbridled joy, give them deep blue melancholy and exuberant cheerfulness. Let them dream and float away."

"You're making it way too exciting," Felix laughed. "If you don't tell me what you're planning right away, I'll burst into flames."

"What do you think about a mini-concert? A taster, so to speak. The main square seems ideal."

※

Jisung tugged at his hair, frustrated that Seungmin had postponed his return for another week. It was a brief phone call. When his best friend told him this, he sounded stressed. Stressed and clearly elated. As if he'd landed the deal of a lifetime.

The noodles on the stove boiled over with Jisung's frustration. Foamy water evaporated with a hiss on the hot stovetop, leaving white streaks on the pot. He quickly pulled the pot off the stove and turned it off. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice his nightly meal almost burning. He scooped out some of the pasta water and mixed it into the homemade tomato sauce. Fortunately, the scent of fresh vegetables and spices did a great job of masking the unintended roast aroma.

Jisung greedily devoured his spaghetti. Eating at 3 a.m. had a forbidden quality to it. Jisung loved moments like these. No one could stop him in his secrecy – an indirect middle finger to his parents.

His thoughts kept wandering to the ensemble on Zephyr. Both the restaurant and the floating island itself were called Zephyr; a fact he'd learned from Felix. Jisung wanted to tell Seungmin all about his first day working there, but he apparently didn't have time. Why did that bother him so much? His gaze flickered to his phone, and for a moment he considered calling his older sister. No, as a nurse, she had enough on her plate.

With a sigh, he turned back to his noodle dish. It tasted really good, excellent even. Maybe he just missed the warmth of togetherness. At twenty-three, he was definitely too young to be alone forever.

Jisung quickly did the dishes. The kitchen window was open to get rid of the smell. From there, he had a good view of Zephyr, hovering dimly above the quarry deeper in the forest. From his house by the pond, Jisung only had to climb the slope, and after a few minutes' walk, he reached the elevator platform.

One reason why he had bought this house so cheaply back then. Nobody wanted alien neighbors.

※

The main square was a lively place, surrounded by shady trees and architecturally questionable buildings. Late in the afternoon, the sun shone brightly in the sky, bathing the square in a pale yellow light. The musicians had gathered in the middle of the square to prepare their mini-concert. The rehearsals went flawlessly. There was only one run-through; as professional musicians, nothing less was to be expected.

Guitars, a keyboard, a violin, and a drum kit. Instead of a stage, they had marked out a small area with a carpet. Is there electricity? A question Jisung immediately asked himself when he saw all the electronic instruments. He didn't see any cables, but there was a mixing console on a table where the technician was adjusting the volume and sound.

Felix fiddled with a microphone stand. The sunlight lent intensity to his blue hair, and only now did Jisung notice the many freckles on the singer's face. Jisung tapped him on the shoulder. "Felix?"

Felix looked up with a smile. "What's up?"

"How does the technology work here? On Earth, it's easy to trip over cables, but here..."

Felix laughed softly. "My dear Earthling, even I don't understand it. I just know that it works. Leave it to the technician."

"Okay, cool." Jisung gave him a thumbs-up.

The atmosphere was relaxed, as passersby curiously stopped and watched the proceedings. Some people sat on the benches or on the ground to get a better view. The musicians tuned their instruments and tried out some melodies while the technology ran in the background.

The sun cast shadows across the square, and the sounds of the main square – the clatter of dishes in a nearby café, the rustling of leaves – mingled with the first notes of the music.

Jisung picked up the bow and began the piece with a rhythmic ostinato. Melodic arpeggios and rapid staccatos formed a dynamic contrast to piano and forte . Tension ripped through the crowd like an electric shock, capturing the aliens' hearts.

Jisung exchanged fiery glances with the guitarist. The percussionist was in a state of flux that made his hair swirl. Felix's backing vocals encouraged the audience to sing along.

The crowd went wild. Cheers and applause. Jisung's heart was ablaze, his whole body vibrated, and adrenaline rushed in his ears. There was no better time to be alive.

The introduction of the next piece featured legato piano chords. All eyes were on Felix. The melodic harmony was accompanied by a dynamic that prepared the listeners for what was to come.

Jisung felt the music flooding through him. He wasn't thinking, his mind was in a pleasant flow, filling him with pure joy. The admiring glances of passersby were just the icing on the cake.

Two more instrumental pieces followed, and the finale was a song Felix had composed himself. The lyrics were also expertly written by him. Even though Jisung didn't understand the language, he felt melancholy tugging at his heart. He sat on a barstool so as not to tower over the singer while accompanying him.

Jisung felt the stares, the undiminished attention of the audience, but that wasn't what made his neck tingle. He felt like he was being purposefully observed. He pushed the thought aside and refocused on his playing.

At the end of the mini-concert, when the thunderous applause had died down, the percussionist announced the upcoming opening at Zephyr. A few people were trying to talk to the musicians when Jisung looked over their heads and his eyes landed on someone staring at him very intensely.

Minho stood in front of his workshop with his arms crossed. When he noticed the violinist, he quickly opened the door and disappeared behind it.

Jisung informed Felix that he was stepping aside for a while, stowed his instrument, and marched towards the workshop. It was bright inside, the door open. Minho was sitting at his workbench. He seemed to be tinkering with a clock.

"Hello," Jisung greeted cautiously. "Hope I'm not inconvenient." The constant ticking seemed much quieter this time, almost more pleasant.

The craftsman looked up and removed the loupe from his eye. He seemed... nervous. Jisung stepped forward bravely; there was something on his heart that hadn't left him since that day.

"Our last meeting ended abruptly, I wanted to make sure you're okay. I hope I didn't use the wrong tone and unknowingly offend you." He took another step forward. "If that's the case, then I apologize."

Several breathless moments passed. The clockmaker looked at him intently, but with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He hesitated. "No," he finally said, his voice quiet. "You didn't say anything wrong. I appreciate your apology, but it's unnecessary." He smiled briefly.

On the workbench lay a round gold amulet. Symbols were carved around the outer edge, which narrowed towards the center to form a star. At the center of the star sat a flawless white crystal; the light refracted off its many facets, casting a rainbow across the worn surface of the workbench.

"Wow," Jisung breathed. He now stood very close to Minho to get a better look at the piece of jewelry. He pointed at the magnificent gemstone with a finger. "Is that the moon?"

Suddenly, something changed; Jisung felt it deep in his gut.

"How do you know about the moon?"

He met Minho's gaze, both serious and surprised. "I, uh, I read about it in a book," Jisung stammered.

Minho jumped up from his swivel chair, locked the door, and pulled down the blinds. Then he stood threateningly close to the violinist. "Nobody knows about the moon. How does a human get such information?"

[feriluce]

Z.E.P.H.Y.R. - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Dreams

(1.560 words)

"You look like you're about to pass out."

Jisung sat at his desk and looked back at his laptop, from which Seungmin's face was staring back at him. "It's an old device, of course I look a little different," he evaded, sitting up a little straighter to appear more confident. But who was he fooling? Even over a video call, his best friend always saw through his nonsense.

"Right." Seungmin leaned back and crossed his arms. "And your fingernails nibbled themselves off."

Caught. A finger was stuck between Jisung's front teeth. He pulled his hand away. The skin around the nails was bitten off. Thankfully, no blood. He rolled his eyes when he saw Seungmin's triumphant smirk. "Why did you call me, Seungmin? I'm busy."

A shrug. "Haven't talked in a while. Thought I'd get in touch."

Jisung smiled, noticing the warmth spreading within him. Far too often, he got caught up in his own thoughts, and Seungmin was the only one who could pull him out.

The conversation with Seungmin flowed naturally. Jisung talked in detail about his experiences on the floating island, to which Seungmin eagerly nodded, along leading to a promise to take him there one day – If he actually got a permanent position. Jisung didn't necessarily need the job. He absolutely wouldn't mind doing his own thing for a while. But ever since he returned from up there, a strange, powerful force had been pulling his thoughts skyward.

Only two days had passed since the audition. They said they'd get in touch. Jisung was confident in his abilities (his nephew would have some bizarre, but surprisingly appropriate, term for that). And yet, a little doubt crept into his bones.

He looked at his phone. The screen was black. It lay there, motionless and silent. And yet it distracted him. Even during his daily violin practice, he'd lost concentration too often, but not because he didn't like waiting. Flashes of purple and silver color kept appearing in his mind.

"They'll hire you," Seungmin said with conviction. "I know it. You want to know why? I'm so glad you asked. Because, my weird friend, it's written in the cards."

Jisung glanced at him. "In the cards? What about my talent? My innate ability to express myself musically?"

"Yeah, not sure about that." Seungmin's stoic face cracked, and he began to laugh like the maniac he was. "Jisung, you're beyond talented. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but you saved the regional orchestra from bankruptcy."

Jisung snorted slightly. "And yet it still went bankrupt."

"Because they were greedy. Who needs golden batons and a koi pond? In an office, no less."

Quiet laughter from both sides. Seungmin always found a way to cheer Jisung up.

A checking glance at his phone. "When are you coming back?" Jisung asked.

"Oh, do you miss me already?" Seungmin's face twisted into a mocking pout.

"Of course I miss your stupid face." Vulnerability wrapped in a lighthearted joke, typical Jisung. He suppressed a pitiful whine. He truly missed his best friend. They had never been apart for so long – a whole month already. Although his absence ached his heart, he was happy for Seungmin.

Seungmin could throw and read tarot cards like no other. People would line up and wait for hours just so he could tell them their energy was blocked or they needed to talk to their fathers (either personally or spiritually). Seungmin, however, wasn't a liar; he was simply exceptionally gifted. His readings were always spot-on, and that's why he was invited abroad to perform 'magic tricks,' as Seungmin jokingly called them, on live television. Talk shows were clamoring for him, and even various journals and magazines were vying for his picture.

Seungmin reached for something off-screen, a faint rustling of pages. "I have a few more shows and one... one private reading. But I should be home by the end of next week."

"Still way too long."

"You'll live."

After chatting for a while, Jisung's gaze wandered to the night sky. Twinkling stars, wispy clouds. At this time of year, the moon rose in the west and would move through the constellation Turtle until midnight. From his study, he would have had the perfect view.

Seungmin's sleepy voice sounded. "Are you watching the moon again?"

"You know me too well."

"Unfortunately." Seungmin shook his head, but his smile remained gentle. "How do you even miss something you never had?"

※

Jisung loved the moon. A luminous disk that moved across the sky, waxing and waning over the course of about 29 days. It significantly shaped life on Earth. In some languages, the moon had a feminine article, in others a masculine one. Jisung was somewhat confused by this concept, after all, his language worked differently. Bygone cultures have given Earth's satellite various names – each more majestic than the last.

Which name would Jisung choose? He closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild. In his mind, he could clearly picture the moon's round shape, countless small craters from meteorite impacts, the soft light of a silver strand of hair amidst purple–

Jisung's eyes flew open. Sharp feline eyes were staring at him. The image lingered in the space between his thoughts and the ceiling. Then it dissolved.

Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Pale moonlight filtered through the cracks in the blinds. What? Jisung blinked and rubbed his eyes again. No light was coming in from outside, it was just his imagination. His bedroom was dark, the outlines of the furniture shrouded in silence. If he listened closely, Jisung could hear the faint hum of the freezer in the pantry; it was an ancient device, and he needed to replace it soon, or tons of meat would go to waste, and he couldn't afford that.

Jisung's racing heart gradually calmed. But unease still lingered. Seungmin was only a phone call away, but should he really bother his friend with this? A week had passed since the audition, and ever since, strange dreams filled his nights. Only this time, he wasn't sleeping; instead, he was imagining scenarios, thinking about the moon, which helped him fall asleep faster. Thinking back on it, Jisung felt weird. It was as if his thoughts had taken on a life of their own.

A picturesque moon, he could see it clearly in his mind's eye, suddenly transformed into a face. Why did this face look so similar to... what was that clockmaker's name again? Minho?

※

The rising winter sun bathed Jisung's bedroom in a pale blue light. He loved waking up like this. Lying in his warm, cozy bed, enjoying doing nothing until hunger drove him from his nest. This is how most of his days began. But not today.

Jisung stared at his hand, turned it over, spreading his fingers. His heart was still pounding against his ribs, having been ripped out of a dream by a sudden jolt. He was instantly awake. In the dream, he touched something; it felt like a shock from an electric fence, only fifty thousand times more powerful. His fingertips sparkled, he was so sure he'd seen it, but now it was gone. He was probably just imagining it.

When he sat up, he immediately regretted it. His vision blurred, and he fell back onto the mattress. He took a deep breath and tried again. As he went through his morning routine, he tried to remember the dream, sifting through layers of sensations interwoven with colors. Slowly, an image became clearer.

Jisung stood in a star-studded meadow. The grass swayed gently in the breeze. The only light came from the galaxies swirling above his head. His body felt weightless, floating, yet his feet never left the ground. Time and space rushed loudly past him. A person stood at the end of the meadow with their back to Jisung. The person turned around. A sweet smile.

He said something, but it was drowned out by the noise around him.

Jisung felt deep inside that he was meant to be here. But why?

The person took Jisung's hand. He said something that sounded like, "...reality... -sion..." Jisung's vision flashed, a jolt, and–

Jisung blinked and shook his head to clear the dizziness. He opened his bedroom window, and with a sudden icy gust of air, something soft hit him in the face. A letter. With his address on it. He quickly read the text, then once more.

And a third time. It clicked. I got the job.

Jisung had landed the job on the floating rock. He would be playing violin for some super-rich aliens. He himself would become filthy rich.

His eyes caught on the last sentence. They wanted to know his clothing size.

And how am I supposed to respond to that? Smoke signals? Tie the letter to a bird, throw it, and hope for the best?

Upon closer inspection, he saw that something was attached to it, a small piece of paper- enough space for a reply. He grabbed a pen from the bedside table drawer and quickly scribbled his clothing size on it.

And now?

He was skeptical as he returned to the still-open window. But when the wind literally ripped the paper from his hand, he almost laughed. The wind carried it higher and higher until it disappeared.

[feriluce]

Z.E.P.H.Y.R. - Chapter 1

Hi everyone, welcome to another Minsung fanfiction. This is going to be an interesting one; full of aethestic vibes, mystery, music, and fantasy.

Summary: "Illusion's veil, so thin yet deep. Reality waits, while dreams we keep."

Aliens really exist, and they live among us! Han Jisung, a gifted violin virtuoso, is living what most only dream of: He is the first human ever to be allowed to set foot on Zephyr, the floating island, and earn his living there. Voices are raised when he befriends the local clockmaker.

But what happens when a truth is being unearthed that should have remained hidden?

Chapter 1 - A Spark

(Words: 3,2k)

Jisung stared up at the sky, open-mouthed. As if a painter had shaken out their brush, the stars sparkled like white splashes of paint from the pitch-black firmament. Like diamonds, just an arm's length away.

The narrow elevator carried Jisung higher and higher. Crammed between an abnormally tall security guard and glass walls so clean they appeared invisible. The stars seemed to get closer with every meter. Reach out and pluck a star from the sky. Jisung's fingers twitched.

A soft hiss brought Jisung back to the present.

The elevator door slid open, and a delicate floral scent filled the space. Jisung stepped out. A landscape of glittering marble and lush greenery lay before him. Golden banners were draped around white pillars that reached high into the midnight sky, strings of fairy-lights ran crisscross along the way, casting their soft light down. Bushes huddled tightly between the pillars, their tiny leaves swaying gently, even though there was no wind, not even a breeze (and the air still felt cool and light).

"Good luck."

Jisung flinched. He was so busy staring and admiring that he'd completely forgotten about the security guard. The oddly tall man stood in front of the elevator with his hands folded.

Jisung lowered his head. "Thank you, sir," he said politely before setting off.

Step by step, inhale, exhale. Jisung's nerves fluttered, excitement swirled through his veins, and his heart rate increased. But that was to be expected. He'd never been to this floating island before. And until two weeks ago, he never would have thought he'd ever set foot there.

Two weeks ago, a job offer flew through his window. It wouldn't have been the first time the neighborhood kids had played a prank on him. Each year, they became more creative with what they threw through the window. A piece of paper was still amusing. But with the first wriggling fish the fun was over. Jisung had crumpled that piece of paper and almost thrown it away- had it not resisted three times (Jisung was standing in front of the trash can, and the damn paper just wouldn't go in).

And now Jisung was here. Several hundred meters above the earth's surface. On a floating rock. His footsteps echoed softly off the marble and stone as he continued along the path; his right hand tightly gripped the handle of his violin case, in his left hand he held a thin folder (inside was the flyer with the job opening). It was strangely quiet, the late hour seemed to intensify the silence. Somehow, Jisung had expected more.

Just as the flyer indicated, the path led to the main square, an open, spacious area. Jisung stopped dead. He stared up at a huge building with pristine white walls and crystal-clear windows that reflected the light in shimmering waves. People chatted near the entrance, sipped sparkling drinks from tall glasses, laughed, and wore expensive-looking clothes.

A large, illuminated sign proclaimed the restaurant's name in delicately curved lines: ZEPHYR.

Jisung swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. This was the luxury restaurant he was applying to. He mentally thanked himself for choosing his fanciest outfit – a black vest over a white shirt, subtle ruffles on the sleeves, black slacks, ironed to perfection. He took a confident step forward, then another, and soon he was marching right past these aperitif-sipping people. Their conversations died down. They stared at him.

The doors swung open like open arms, and the restaurant's interior welcomed him with a comforting warmth on his face. This place was incomparable . Golden light fell from sconces, warm and gentle on the eyes. Dark furniture and doorframes accentuated the deep red carpeting along the entrance hall. Paintings and tasteful decorations adorned the creamy white walls. A faint scent of cherries mingled with the hum of muted chatter, carrying the vibrations of distant music through the air.

"Good evening, sir!"

Hearing a gentle voice, Jisung pulled his gaze from a strange sculpture. Behind the reception desk sat an elegantly dressed man, his handsome face framed by long, perfectly styled black hair, and thin, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. A slight frown appeared on his forehead when Jisung still hadn't said a word.

"May I help you?"

Jisung pulled himself together. "I'm Han Jisung, and I'm here to apply for the violinist position."

The receptionist's face lit up. A sweet smile. With a sweeping motion, he rolled closer to his desk. Jisung silently admired the man's elegance. He tried to discreetly glance at the name-tag, a small silver plate, but then the receptionist rose from his swivel chair and met Jisung's gaze.

"I'll escort you to the music hall, but first..." He walked around the reception desk and stood in front of Jisung, his hands waiting. "May I have your coat, please?"

Jisung very carefully placed his violin case on the desk and quickly unbuttoned his warm winter coat. He turned around, the coat slipping from his shoulders.

Adjusting his shirt and hair, the first nervous sparks beginning to flutter through his stomach. The receptionist led him through a spacious, dimly lit area; every seat was taken, people chatting over dishes that looked a little odd. Stepping out of the dining area into a much quieter hallway, they stopped in front of white double doors. Warm light streamed through the frosted glass windows, but there was no sound, no movement.

"And here we are," the receptionist said with a small smile. "Han Jisung, I wish you success and good luck."

Jisung thanked him and interrupted the receptionist's intention to knock with his question, "May I ask your name?"

His hand lingered in the air for a few moments. "Pardon?"

"What's your name?" Jisung repeated, feeling a little shy.

Why did the other man look so... surprised? Confused? A slight frown as he studied Jisung's face, then a small wave of an unknown emotion passed over his light brown eyes.

"My name is Hyunjin."

Jisung smiled and let a second pass while he memorized the name. Then Hyunjin knocked on the door and Jisung followed him into the new room.

When it came to music, Jisung never just entered a room – he appeared . He made his presence known. When it came to showing his passion, words like 'insecurity' or 'fear' immediately disappeared from his vocabulary. He had barely taken two steps when he felt eyes on him.

Before he could locate that gaze, however, he noticed the 'unfinished' state of the music hall. Round tables, covered with white cloths, arranged in a semicircle around a stage. That was all there was to it.

In front of the stage, two people sat at a table, seemingly engrossed in conversation. Whose eyes did I feel then?

Hyunjin cleared his throat, catching the attention of the two people, a man and a woman. "Han Jisung has arrived." He gave Jisung an encouraging smile and stepped aside.

The man and woman hurriedly stood up and walked over, shaking Jisung's hand, and, as expected, introducing themselves with their full names and titles. The man and woman towered over Jisung. Hopefully, all the constant looking up wasn't straining his neck.

Why is everyone on that floating rock so damn tall?

"One more thing before we begin," the woman said. She looked over Jisung's head, and he turned to follow her gaze.

At the far end of the room, he saw a massive hall clock. It was so large that Jisung could easily make out the intricate design of the dark wooden case. Nothing but emptiness stared back at him. Where the clock face, its weights, and the pendulum should be – nothing. The clock was hollow inside. And only then did Jisung notice another person. Bent over a table, someone was working on what looked like the clockworks.

The woman called out, "Minho!" The repairman slowly raised his head and stared at her. The woman waved her arm in an exuberant gesture (Jisung controlled himself so as not to give her a judgmental look). "Done for today!"

The repairman straightened. "If I stop now, the clock won't be finished in time."

"What? Speak up."

Jisung wondered why this woman was acting so rudely. The man repairing the clock spoke at a normal volume, clear and easy to understand. His 's' sounded a bit flat, but that wasn't the point.

"I'll handle this," Hyunjin interjected, striding towards the repairman. They spoke briefly and quietly, then Minho picked up a bag from the floor and followed Hyunjin out of the music hall.

The silence that followed was awkward. But nothing new. Over the course of his career, he had dealt with many people; every corner of the music industry was cutthroat, and financial stability only for the elite. Still, Jisung felt sorry for the craftsman who was just doing his job.

"Forgive me," the man apologized. He didn't even look at Jisung as he waved his hand, gesturing for him to take a seat. "As you can see, this place is still under construction. But once it's finished, it'll be the place everyone's talking about." The man's gaze swept around the room, then turning somewhat distant, as if he could already see the music hall bustling with life.

The woman smiled thinly, then turned to Jisung. "My colleague is saying that ZEPHYR is going to be the hotspot for both culinary and musical delights. It's where extravagance meets..." Jisung didn't catch the word she used, probably some dialect. She handed him a piece of paper. "This is our musicians' schedule. As you can see, everything takes place at night."

Jisung read the information on the paper. The working hours were Thursday to Sunday and started late in the evening. Everything looked thoroughly planned out.

The woman continued talking while Jisung was still reading. "We're aware that working at night isn't the easiest job. That's why we like to accommodate our musicians, thus the backstage area is a very nice place to rest."

Jisung looked up and smiled politely. "That's very considerate. I personally love working at night, in fact, I can adapt quickly to changes in time and location."

The man leaned forward. "Sounds perfect. Tell us a little about yourself."

Jisung listed the most important milestones of his young life, such as his education, professional experiences, why he loved music, and where he had last worked – in the regional orchestra.

"It was an honor working under Conductor Ko," Jisung finished his rehearsed monologue.

"I can safely say you're a perfect fit for our team, Mr. Han," the woman praised. "If you look at the bottom of the advertisement now, you'll find our salary offer."

The sheet of paper suddenly felt unusually heavy in Jisung's hand. He suppressed a gasp and mentally took a step back. The stated salary was five times what he earned back in his orchestra days. Jisung quickly composed himself and then slowly lifted his gaze.

"Is it too low?" the woman asked, her voice a little shaky.

"Of course, we're more than willing to adjust your daily fee in addition to your monthly salary," the man added. "Just name your price."

Jisung let a long moment pass, his gaze unwavering. "Add another 20 percent, and we have a deal." Relief beamed across their faces and permeated their words as they readily agreed to Jisung's terms.

His violin was still in its case. His fingers itched with the desire to finally play his beloved instrument. Jisung wasn't at a loss for words, but he much preferred letting music speak for him rather than words.

The woman, who had apparently read his mind, expressed her desire to hear Jisung play.

"That's my favorite part of auditions– actual playing." The man took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his seat.

If they were going to overpay him, he was definitely going to give them a little show. Jisung's body felt light, and a goofy smile danced on his lips as the case clicked open. In the same motion he took out his violin, he placed a thin sponge on his shoulder, allowing the instrument to rest comfortably. Then he picked up his bow.

Everything around him fell silent. Now it was just Jisung and his violin. He launched into a fast-paced piece: Bach's Partita No. 1 in B minor.

The bow glided across the strings, creating sounds and emotions in a way only Jisung could. His fingers danced across the fretboard, hitting each note with precision and intent.

Jisung's body vibrated. A glance at his audience. Jisung immediately moved on to Devil's Trill – a beautiful sonata in G minor. But when the tempo slowed a bit, Jisung moved effortlessly into the next piece. A few more followed. A medley. He went from Allegro to Andante, emphasizing the best parts of each piece.

Jisung had reached the moment he loved most.

He knew his listeners were captivated. He simply took it a step further.

Jisung played his own composition. It didn't have a title yet. He only knew the key and the tempo in which he had composed it. A melody from his yearning heart. Notes mingled in the air, painting a mesmerizing picture.

The draped tables transformed into gray shadows and disappeared. The audience was gone. Jisung was no longer on that giant floating rock. He floated alone through space, playing his heart out on strings made of metal and fiber.

Only through music could Jisung express himself. He had something to say. He wanted to take up space. He wanted to be heard .

The last note faded away. Jisung lowered his bow, his eyes still closed. He returned to his body, to his mind, to the here and now. When he opened his eyes, the people before him seemed to be caught in a trance – glassy eyes, blissfully smiling mouths.

"That... that was breathtaking," the woman breathed, and her colleague began to clap.

"Thank you very much." Jisung bowed and put his violin back. After a few polite phrases and a promise to stay in touch , the audition ended.

Jisung entered the hallway, the door to the music hall closing behind him. He had to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath, sensing into himself.

So far, dealing with these other people hadn't been too bad. They spoke the same language, albeit with an accent that dragged out some syllables. They wore fancy clothes, beautiful colors, but the patterns were a bit confusing. And they looked human.

Jisung's mood noticeably lifted. Smiling, his eyes opened on their own. As he took a step forward, he felt something hit the toe of his shoe. He heard something clatter across the hardwood floor. Under a small side table with a vase and a single flower in it, he found a thin, oblong object. It was cool to the touch as he picked it up. Silver handle, black shaft. It looked like a screwdriver for tiny screws. Jisung slipped it into his pocket and walked through the (now dark and empty) dining area back to the reception desk.

Hyunjin lounged in his swivel chair, tossing candies into the air, which he caught in his mouth. Jisung almost laughed. Behind Hyunjin, a clock hung on the wall. Delicate gears moved on golden tracks. In the center, a dark blue sphere slowly rotated. Everything was in motion. It was fascinating. A real eye-catcher. Jisung wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

The longer he looked, the more he understood. On the outer spheres, two hands marked the time – the audition lasted almost an hour, which was pretty normal. But Jisung hadn't seen anyone else. This was odd. He dropped the thought and approached the reception desk.

"Hyunjin?" The receptionist flinched and almost fell backward. "Sorry. May I have my coat, please?"

Hyunjin was immediately on his feet, grabbing the coat and helping Jisung put it on. "I hope the audition went smoothly after the, um, incident. I apologize for that." Hyunjin stepped back behind the safety of his workstation and watched the violinist with cautious eyes.

It took a while for Jisung to understand what he meant – the clockmaker. "Oh, yes, about that. First of all, you have nothing to apologize for, Hyunjin. Second, I want to make sure he's okay before I go home, and I hope he can fix the clock in time. Please tell him." The last words left his mouth somewhat quietly.

Hyunjin's brain rebooted. He blinked. "His workshop is just around the corner," he said slowly, but he sounded more surprised than wary. "I'll tell him. I promise."

Jisung pricked up his ears. "His workshop is nearby?"

"Yes, um, Minho's Minute Makery. On the other side of the main square, to be exact. Hard to miss."

Jisung said his goodbyes and wished Hyunjin (whom he was beginning to like) a peaceful night.

The main square was an oval area made of cobblestone. Benches and green trees formed small oases. Lamps dangled from the branches and overgrown archways really put this place into spotlight. Jisung gripped the handle of his violin case. The place seemed deserted, but theft could happen at any time. He was just being careful.

Jisung almost scoffed at this ridiculous immaculateness. But he breathed a little easier when he spotted rust beneath peeling paint. Minho's workshop. The light was still on inside. The violinist pushed down the doorknob, and the door swung open; he didn't have to exert much force. The workshop was loud, filled with nothing but ticktickticktickticktickticktick. It was everywhere.

Jisung stepped further inside. The walls were lined with clocks. Shelves and display cases everywhere. Jisung couldn't help but look and marvel at all the quirky stuff. Gold and silver, blue and purple, numbers, patterns. Stars. Planets. This looked like an astrologer's lair, not a clockmaker's workshop.

Jisung felt a presence behind him. Oh right, he was here for a reason. When he turned around, his brain skipped a beat. Standing before him – breathe, Jisung – was a man. He was beautiful. Dark purple hair, a single silver strand falling down the side of his handsome face. Sharp, feline eyes.

"Can I help?"

Jisung blinked away the fog in his brain. "I'm Jisung... hi."

The craftsman simply raised an eyebrow.

Jisung cleared his throat, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out this thin screwdriver. He held the tool out to Minho. "Is this yours?" he asked, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice and hand.

Minho looked at the screwdriver for only a second, then walked over to a workbench where a toolbox stood open. He checked its contents.

Jisung stood there, his arm outstretched, rooted to the spot. Not at all uncomfortable. The handyman's face softened as he seemed to realize that this screwdriver was indeed his.

Minho smiled. "Thanks, Jisung."

Jisung returned the smile. "No problem."

The craftsman reached out to take the tool from Jisung. The violinist recoiled as he felt an electric shock. It didn't hurt. But his heart still pounded in his chest.

"I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" Minho asked, genuinely worried.

Jisung rubbed his hand. "No, I think I'm fine. What about you?" The craftsman stared at his hand. When his eyes met Jisung's, an unreadable emotion crossed his face. "Are you okay?"

A second passed.

"I'd like to close my workshop now. Please leave."

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 15-Epilogue - Fate| Minsung

*Now would be a good time to listen to 'I Cried For You' by Katie Melua.

Minho's diary: 

Jisung, love,

... four hours.

I've been staring at a blank page for four hours because I don't know what to say or how to begin. There are too many thoughts in my head. Each one of them revolves around you and only you. I wish you were here to help me untangle this mess in my head.

I wish we had more time to explore each other. 

When we first met, I thought you were such an idiot, not knowing you'd become the very reason I felt joy of being alive.

I wish I was a poet like Li Bai so I could use fancy words to tell you how much I love you and what you mean to me. This will be the last chapter I will dedicate to you, although I could write countless books about you forever.

Writing down everything you ever told me, felt like meeting and falling in love with you all over again. Whenever I think of you, you are so close, 

and yet... so far, beyond my grasp. 

All that's left of you are the memories I keep so close to my heart, that one photo of you in the waiting hut, and the holographic cat card in my hand- it shimmers like a rainbow, somehow it reminds me of your beautiful laugh.

I wish I could hold you in my arms instead... 

Those past couple weeks have been long, quiet, lonely.

|| You linger like a ghost in every corner of my world, your silhouette etched in the spaces between my thoughts. Even in the quietest moments, your shadow drifts across my mind like a half- remembered dream I can't shake. 

There's an emptiness where your laughter used to live, a hollow space in the rhythm of my days. Every breath feels a little heavier, as if the air is thick with your absence, and I'm left searching for you in places you no longer exist. ||

I'm sorry I couldn't unpick the seams of fate.

We will meet again in our next life. 

I love you.

Eternally yours,  Minho.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Jisung died in Minho's arms the day before Christmas. Since then, the world has been drifting by in lost momentum, stripped of all color, gray on gray. People close to Minho noticed the change. The way he walked, his shoulders slumped, his downcast eyes no longer sparkled. Wrinkles and gray hair made this young man look twice his age.

Three months later, the beginning of spring. Jisung was not there. The couple had made plans back then to celebrate this day and go all out with decorating. A picnic in the garden. But Jisung was not there. Jisung was nowhere to be found.

On that first day of spring, Minho was helping Chae-Won in her garden. The day before, she had returned from a business trip to Japan (although she was retired, she couldn't refuse certain offers). She also offered Minho a permanent place to stay, the two got along well, yet Jisung's death hung over their heads like a hazy veil. Chae-Won sat on a stool, cutting pink orchids, looking worried and sad at Minho, whom she had mentally adopted as her grandson.

Work kept Minho busy. For a while, it distracted him from the emptiness in his heart and the constant ache in his soul. The rain had softened the ground, making it easier to pull weeds out of the lawn. When he was halfway done, sweat was dripping down his temples. Today, everything seemed to take twice as much energy.

Minho went back inside and through the living room to the kitchen to get a cool drink from the fridge. There he also spotted the souvenir Chae-Won had brought him from her trip, lying on the middle shelf (Minho briefly wondered why it had to be kept cool). A black, rectangular package, neatly wrapped with a green ribbon, and a small card tucked underneath.

"My dear Minho, when I was visiting Tokyo, I came across this little shop a little off the beaten tourist track and thought of you. Please enjoy this little gift."

Minho pulled on the ribbon and opened the lid, but when the lid fell to the floor and revealed the contents, his heart shattered like glass. A selection of Japan's finest sushi stared back at him. Minho hadn't eaten sushi since he and Jisung - back in camp -

A wave of sticky, black grief washed over him and clawed at his heart. The memories came back with such force that his head spun. His throat tightened and a dull pressure rose somewhere in his stomach. He stumbled and tried to shake the dizziness from his head, to no avail.

Minho's vision tilted and he fell into darkness.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Minho's soul transcended,  and in the afterlife  he was reunited  with 

his one true love  Jisung. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

缘分 

Yuánfèn. Fate. Destiny. 

It is believed that people who have yuánfèn are destined to meet and form deep connections, regardless of time or distance. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

THE END

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒⭒⭒ ☾ ⭒⭒⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒

Notes:

* || || Credit goes to srv.stf on Instagram for providing some of the most beautiful lines I have ever read. * It sounds like a cliché, but sometimes, people die from a broken heart. Medicine calls it stress cardiomyopathy- or broken heart syndrome, if the stressor was emotional. It’s what happened to my father. * Song that inspired the title: Horizons - Puscifer * Thanks to everyone who read my little story <3 * Whose POV was this? I'm so glad you asked. It looks like it's Jisung's but it actually is Minho's since each chapter is an entry in his diary. Which explains the occasional shift of POV in the middle of narrative text. * Jisung's illness has been hinted at since the first chapter, the first line. 👀

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 14-The Days | Minsung

Flashes of lightning. Crackling yellow. Static. 

Everything was spinning. Waves of nausea crashed into Jisung. 

Heavy. 

I can't move. 

Noise. Voices were calling out from every direction. 

Cold air was pushed down his lungs. At first there was nothing, then everything at once. Jisung's vision snapped into focus. There's Minho, why is he over me? 

"Just breathe, I'm here," Minho whispered with tears in his eyes as he touched Jisung's face.

I'm cold, what's going on, please take my hand, it's so heavy, I can't reach... can't reach, can't- see... Minho! 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Dripping, slowly dripping. Drops of Jisung's consciousness trickled down a narrow well. Echoing along stone walls. Collecting at the bottom into a puddle. 

A beeping sound brought Jisung out of the quiet nothingness, his eyes fluttered open and everything was blurred, sending a wave of dizziness through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked until his vision began clearing up. 

White sheets, a white wall in front of him- Jisung was in a hospital room. The lighting was dim, falling into the room through not fully closed blinds. 

How did I get here? 

His body was heavy as he tried to sit up, and only now did he notice the mask on his face. And the several tubes and cables attached to him. 

What happened? 

The beeping picked up pace and suddenly the room was flooded in blinding white light. He blinked, and realized it was only the lamp above his head. Minho's face came into view. 

"You're awake," he whispered relieved, taking Jisung's hand and brushing the hair from his face. Jisung opened his mouth to talk but his throat was dry and hurt as if he'd been screaming. Nothing but a puff of air left his lungs. "It's alright, love, I'm here, you don't have to say anything." Minho sniffled, his eyes were swimming with too many emotions. 

Jisung was still confused and nothing made sense, but at least he was alive and Minho was right here. 

He brought a hand up to gently run his fingers over Minho's cheek. Dark circles loomed beneath his eyes. "What happened?" Jisung asked quietly, his voice was weak. 

"What do you remember?" 

Jisung's throat itched with the impulse telling Minho to get fucked for answering a question with a counter question. But there was a dull sensation somewhere in the back of his mind, warning him to, for once, not act on his impulses. And so he took a deep breath and searched through his muddled brain, trying to recall the last memories. "I... I was getting ready for the concert. You were with me. We somehow got out of the camp, and then..." He shrugged one shoulder, indicating that this was all he knew. 

Minho sat down on a chair next to the bed, taking Jisung's hands into his- they were cold. "On the way to meet your friend at the station, you collapsed." Minho's voice quivered, forcing tears down and words out. "He called the ambulance, they said you had a seizure-" A wet sigh shuddered out of his chest. Minho was visibly struggling to keep talking, the air grew thick and heavy with dreadful anticipation. 

One moment Jisung was walking perfectly fine, then the next he woke up in this bed. Having no recollection of what happened since then, however long that was, was now Jisung's number one of his most terrifying experiences.   

"Where am I?" Jisung asked. 

"Back in Seoul," Minho answered. 

"How long have I been here?" 

A light lit up from below the bed, a phone casting a blueish glow on Minho's face. He sniffled. And hesitated. "Three days." 

Jisung flinched on the inside. He did not like the state he was in, he did not like how his body felt, how confused he was.

"You were in a coma," Minho added, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Why?" Jisung asked. A simple question, only one word, yet the hardest to answer. Minho knew the answer, Jisung knew that he knew. He could tell by how his eyes widened ever so slightly, how he gulped and glanced away. 

"They ran some tests. They put you in that giant tube that takes pictures of your brain, and they found something. I don't remember the word, way too many letters." Minho's grip on Jisung's hand grew stronger. "Th- there's a tumor in your brain." 

The world fell into an abrupt silence, drained of all colors, time ceased to exist. A freezing cold wave washed over Jisung, pulling him down and drowning him. 

In movies and TV shows, most of the time the characters broke down, either falling to their knees hysterically crying, or yelling at the doctor to run another test. 

Jisung did neither. He was just lying there, feeling nothing at all. There was a black hole in his stomach and it had devoured any and all emotion. 

Minho noticed the silent tear running down Jisung's cheek, he was quick to wipe it away with his thumb. 

The door swung open and a nurse and a doctor entered, making Minho leave the room to give Jisung some privacy as he was being examined. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Minho's diary:

Jisung just woke up. I'm happy to have him back.

The doctors say the tumor in his brain stem is...incurable. 

I'm scared.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Felix was here. He radiated a hopeful calm, illuminating the room in a soft golden shimmer. He sat down in the only chair available, taking over from Minho to keep Jisung company. Felix's eyes trailed after Minho leaving the room. 

"He's been here the whole time, you know," Felix said when they were among themselves. 

Jisung stretched, which caused his elbow to crack. "Huh?" 

"Minho. While you were sound asleep, he never left your side. Even got into an argument with the nursing staff." 

Jisung could feel his cheeks grow warm. "I wasn't sleeping, I was in a coma" he muttered. 

Felix chuckled lightly, turning to his best friend. "You must mean a lot to him." 

"You would do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

"During the day I wouldn't leave your side, my friend, but at night I go home."

Glancing out the window, Jisung couldn't hold back the smile that was tugging on the corner of his lips. "If one good thing came out of that lousy camp, it was meeting Minho." 

A couple days have passed in which Jisung received his first treatment to destroy the tumor in his brain. It was scary, to say the least, but afterwards he felt great. It was the subsequent treatment to rebuild damaged cells that made him vomit his guts out. 

Later that day, his grandmother came to pick him up and bring him back home. She had everything arranged, from medical devices to a live-in nurse. Typical Chae-Won. 

Jisung felt the trickling sensation of gratitude coursing through his chest. How nice to be surrounded by people who cared about him; his grandmother, his best friend Felix, and Minho, his- 

"Can we be boyfriends?" 

Minho looked up from where he was cuddled up beside Jisung. He was a bit shocked, to be honest, he didn't expect such a question. "Boyfriends?" 

"Yeah. I mean, we kissed, we did things," he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at Minho, "and I'm in love with you, so it's only natural to take things to the next level." 

Minho blinked rapidly. His heart grew wings and fluttered away. "Okay, yeah, let's be boyfriends." 

Jisung felt like kicking his feet. Moving a bit up in bed, he wrapped his arms around Minho's neck and leaned in. Kissing Minho still gave him butterflies. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

The camp's supervisor, Pyong Sumi, has been arrested and charged with the murder of Choi Yu-Seung, the camp's social worker. She faced life imprisonment.

As investigations progressed, divers found her body on the bottom of a lake, near an inn that was run by an old married couple. The couple was clueless in all of this, hard of hearing or simply struggling with the country's language, but at least their food was unparalleled. 

Tang Iseul, colleague and accomplice to Pyong Sumi, a wanted criminal, was still on the run. 

The young people, who had to attend this camp for their offenses, were free to return home and would not face any legal consequences.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

"Minho, dear, do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you in private." 

"Of course, Chae-Won, what's the matter?" 

"I feel so guilty and I can't keep it to myself anymore. While Jisung was attending the camp, I met up with his father. Do you know about their relationship." 

"Only that it's non-existent." 

"That sums it up. He left Jisung when he was very young and I took him under my wing. Long story short, I invited his father to sort out things regarding my testament. It was planned, it aligned perfectly with the camp." 

"So you knew he wasn't able to keep up his end of the deal?" 

"Of course, Minho dear, I'm a business woman. But if I had known- if only I had known he-" 

"You couldn't have possibly known, Chae-Won. Don't beat yourself up about it." 

"Thank you. Truth is, Jisung's father sees no need in rekindling his relationship with his son. That's why I'm so grateful that he has you by his side, you're meant for each other." 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

A month has passed, Minho, along with his three cats, now practically lived with Jisung in his grandmother's mansion. 

The treatments were affecting Jisung, his mental health suffered just as much as his physical health. His hair was falling out. 

The second treatment was always the worst. As much as it pained Minho to see his boyfriend like that, he continued to show up with a smile on his face and a shoulder to lean on. 

Day after day.

Night after night.

Week after week.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

The whole house smelled of delicious food. Glasses clinked and lively laughter filled the high rooms. Chuseok. If you asked Jisung, this was his favorite time of the year, right after Christmas. 

"I think I might explode," Jisung whined, unbottoning his jeans and rubbing both hands over his full belly. 

Minho laughed. "No one forced you to eat a whole bowl of songpyeon!" 

Songpyeon - half-moon shaped rice cake, stuffed with sweetened sesame seed filling.

Jisung whined even louder as he stood up from the table. Minho supported him as they walked up the stairs to his bedroom, changing into more comfier clothes, and placing a soft pillow between Jisung's thin legs as he helped him into bed. The live-in nurse had taught Minho how he could assist Jisung more effectively, simple things such as putting on his socks when he was too weak. 

Minho was about to move away from the bed when Jisung grasped his sleeve. "Stay with me, please," Jisung requested. 

"Of course, love."

Minho quickly changed into comfortable clothes. In bed, he threw a big fuzzy blanket over them both, Jisung giggled happily as he snuggled into Minho's warmth. 

Jisung kissed Minho's cheek. "Can you read something to me?" 

Minho, the ever blushing mess, returned the kiss. "Sure, what would you like?" 

In recent days it has become a habit for Minho to read to Jisung, it didn't matter what, he just found it easier falling asleep to the soft tunes of Minho's voice.

Jisung hummed. "How about... the poem you wrote in sixth grade." 

"Why that?" Minho groaned. 

Innocent eyes and a shoulder shrug. 

"Fine." 

Minho never denied Jisung a request. Grabbing his journal, he opened the first page where he found his very first entry, a poem about blue bananas. 

Jisung listened attentively. Then, he turned to look up at Minho, their eyes met. "I love you, Minho, I love you so much." 

"And I love you, Jisung." 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

The days became shorter and windier. Leaves changed from green to yellow to orange to brown. Everything was changing. For the longest time, it looked like Jisung would recover, the treatments were still exhausting, but he was awake more often, walking around the house with Minho, chatting away with the house staff. 

On a particularly sunny afternoon they enjoyed tea and cookies in the garden. Birds were chirping a merry tune, a pair of dancing butterflies fluttered by. The light shimmered in golden hues, reflecting beautifully on Jisung's skin. Moon, the youngest of Minho's cats, rubbed against Jisung's legs, then hopped up into his lap, curling into a fluffy, purring ball.

The seams of fate seemed to loosen, only to have Jisung crash the next day. Bedridden, too weak to even hold a paper cup. Minho took a break from going to university, he couldn't even bear the thought of leaving Jisung all alone. 

One night, Jisung jerked awake. Confused, distressed, still half asleep, he didn't hear Minho trying to soothe him. Minutes passed before Jisung was able to calm down. 

"I'm sorry," Jisung whispered, his voice was thin. 

"It's alright, love." 

Minho held Jisung close to his heart. If he could, he would imbed him there, just to know he was safe.

"I had a nightmare, I... I was trapped in this black hole- I thought you were gone." 

Minho's heart squeezed when Jisung started crying. "I'm not going anywhere, I'll always be here with you." 

Suppressing his own tears, Minho pulled his one true love closer, reciting Jisung's favorite poem. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡ 

Minho's diary:

Winter came, and Jisung left.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 13-The Seams of Fate | Minsung

*Brace yourselves...

Jisung blinked. Words blurred together, slipping in and out of focus, up to the point where none made sense anymore. Rubbing his eyes, Jisung sat up. 

"Something wrong, love?" Minho's voice sounded muffled, like through several layers of clothing. 

Jisung's phone slipped from weak fingers when he brought his other hand to his face. "My eyes feel weird." 

Bed sheets rustled, the mattress dipped, Minho was shifting around. "Can I see?" 

Jisung couldn't stop rubbing his eyes; it was like back then a few years ago when he wore colored contacts to match his Halloween costume, maybe they were the wrong size or an allergic reaction, but either way his eyes felt not right back then and they did not now. The only difference was, that there was a dull pressure somewhere in the back, it was strange, even more so that he didn't feel any pain. Just very uncomfortable. 

Warm hands wrapped around his wrists and slowly pulled them down. Jisung's vision was so blurred, he could only recognize Minho by the shadowy outlines of his body in front of him. Squeezing his eyes shut and taking some deep breaths, he allowed himself to relax. 

 When he opened his eyes again, he met Minho's worried gaze. "Are you in pain?" A very soft, almost anxious question, Jisung's heart pinched. 

Jisung shook his head. "I'm okay, I probably need more sleep," he tried soothing Minho, and convince himself that he was fine and not starting to freak out on the inside.

Minho didn't seem to buy it, his face held a tension that was new to Jisung. "Your eyes are a bit red. Could be from the rubbing though." He hummed pensively, eyes flicking over Jisung's face, not noticing how his hands were nervously fidgeting. 

"It's probably just another clusterfuck migraine waiting to burst, you know how it is with me," a loose laugh, "I already feel much better."

Minho glanced at the bedside table where the pills were. 

"Can you give me one, please?" Jisung's request drew his cabinmate's eyes back to him.

"Of course." The smile clearly came out forced, he was trying to hide the growing worry.

Minho got to his feet and prepared the medication along with a bottle of water. Jisung downed the pill with half of the bottle's content in one go. He even opened his mouth and playfully wiggled his tongue to either side, which thankfully made Minho laugh a bit.

They cuddled back into bed and Jisung quickly fell asleep, being questioned by the police earlier took quite a lot out of him. Any and all activities have been canceled for today, so the pair stayed in their cabin, talking about anything that came to their mind, playing games on the (stolen) console, and sharing sweet physical affections. 

Minho closed his eyes, making an effort to consciously enjoy the sound of Jisung's even breathing, the warmth his back provided on his chest, and the subtle honey scent.

Minho appreciated the bond he was able to form with Jisung. He's never been that close with anyone, not even with his best friend, Chan, and they knew each other since elementary school. Maybe this was one of those events where people's paths crossed because the universe decided so. He vaguely remembered an article about such concept from another culture, something like... fate?

As his mind started wandering off, Minho suddenly jolted wide awake. There was loud hammering against the door. Jisung, caught in the drowsiness of the medication's side effect, threw his arms out and almost punched Minho in the face.

"Shh, it's alright," Minho whispered soothingly, holding Jisung in his arms, "it'll go away, I'm here."

Whispered words and a gentle hand caressing Jisung's hair. Soon enough, the knocking stopped. After a few minutes, Jisung's body slowly relaxed once again and his breathing evened out. It was an easy thing to say how peaceful Jisung looked while lying there, how his cute hamster cheeks were all puffed up, and how this sweet mouth was slightly parted- those soft lips that could spew the wildest things, those lips that Minho found hard to resist. For some reason, something deep down in Minho wanted to take a closer look, to look beyond this cute, peaceful appearance. Minho huffed through his nose, knowing his mother would immediately see through Jisung and call him an actor, or something like that. Jisung put up walls, that much was clear, and Minho was curious to look behind.

Minho pulled Jisung closer as a sudden cold wave rippled down his back. With a pounding heart, his eyes flew open once again, quickly noticing movement by the window. Someone was trying to peak inside, Minho almost let out a shout when he recognized the person- it was their supervisor, that woman from the train. If he read her ID badge correctly, her name must have been Pyong Sumi.

The hairs on Minho's arms stood up. There was something crazy about Sumi's gaze, something that made the alarm bells in his head ring out when her eyes fell on Jisung cuddled up in his arms. When their eyes met, Minho glowered at her, and that was all he could do in this situation. 

After what felt like an eternity, the supervisor finally disappeared. Minho let out a heavy sigh of relief, pulling Jisung even closer to his chest, into his heart. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Felix Tonight's the night Await our arrival at 4 sharp

Frowning at his best friends cryptic message, Jisung stopped on his way to the bathroom. It took him way too long to remember that in just a few hours he was about to witness the event of a lifetime: HoChi's concert.

HoChi - Homeless Children. Jisung's absolute favorite K-Pop-Band, they were back in town and Jisung was still trapped in this camp, wearing wrinkled clothes, unshowered, unprepared. His movements were rushed and a bit clumsy as he showered and did all the things that made him more 'presentable human' and less 'smelly troll'.

The cabin door swung open and Minho stepped inside, heading directly for the desk where he put down tubs full of food.

Jisung sniffed the air when Minho opened the largest tub. "That smells divine," he praised, mouth already watering, "is this tteokbokki?"

Minho glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. "You guessed right, now sit down and dig in."

"Don't mind if I do."

Jisung snickered in delight as he took the chopsticks Minho was handing him. Minho opened the window to let out steam and smell, then he finally joined Jisung in this delicious feast.

They say that every villain, every hero had a weakness. Jisung's weakness was definitely food, offer him a carrot and he'd approach you like a shy squirrel. That is as far as the hero thing was concerned. As a villain, his weakness would be spicy food. Food - his curse and his blessing.

Laughing on the inside at his own jokes, Jisung shoved a generous portion of the flavored rice cakes into his mouth. He let his eyes wander and eventually land on Minho, smiling fondly at the recent memories of being taken such good care of. What weakness would Minho have? Pets or animals in general was out of the question, since he was a butler to three cats. He was immune to extreme flavors such as spicy and sour. Maybe it was something unexpected like screaming children or…

Jisung's mind fell silent when he locked eyes with Minho, not realizing he was staring this whole time. He blushed furiously.

"Do I have something between my teeth?" Minho wondered, shoveling rice directly from the tub into his mouth.

"N-no, no." Great, now he was stuttering. Breathe, be normal.

Minho smirked, something he did way too often. "Then why are you looking at me so intensely?" 

"I just like you so much."

Minho blushed, smiling ever so fondly with sparkling eyes. "I like you too, Jisung."

The joy Jisung felt was overpowering, he felt both the need to burst into tears and scream. He leaned back, a thought was forming in his head. "Minho?"

Minho kept eating, not bothering to look up. "Yeah?"

"A friend of mine is going to get me out of here. We're going to a concert. Wanna join?"

Now Minho looked up. "How? The gates are locked. And the police is still everywhere."

Jisung glanced to the side, biting his lip. "I'll figure it out. You have two options, you can either come with me, or..." he looked around, "or you tell me what you're writing in your diary. So, what do you say?"

Minho's eyes narrowed. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Maybe." Jisung smirked and goddamn did it feel good.

Minho remained silent for a long minute, shifting around thoughts of which scenario would be less stressful or embarrassing. "Just so you know, it's a journal, not a diary," he finally said, "and it helps me sort through my thoughts." 

"What kind of thoughts?" 

Curiosity was spelled J-I-S-U-N-G. Minho should have known. 

"Come on, Minho, give me something, anything," Jisung whined with pleading eyes, "I'm bored out of my mind, and you clearly don't want to leave. What's your first entry? No wait," Jisung quickly added, the curious sparkle in his eyes intensifying, "what's your last entry?" 

Minho glanced away, swallowing a nervous giggle that was already bubbling in his chest. His last entry? Definitely not about Jisung. 

Stacking the empty tubs and closing the window, Minho stalled time. When he saw the overly smug grin curving Jisung's lips, he groaned, and relented. "Tell you what, if you find a way that gets us out of here undetected, then I'll come with you."

Jisung's eyes lit up. "Promise?"

"Promise.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Jisung leaned over the sink, the tip of his nose almost touching the mirror. Holding his hand steady, he drew a perfect smokey eye, not too much to be 'slutty', but also not too little that it disappeared under his eyelids. One last check, he wore a pair of black, straight cut jeans with decorative chains dangling from the side, a tank top under a long-sleeved fishnet top, and his hair was styled with extra strong hairspray. One spritz of his favorite cologne. Perfect.

He quickly put everything back into his cosmetic bag, the constant ding ding ding from his phone could only mean that Felix was on his way and hyping him up. 

"You're really going, huh?" 

Jisung looked up, meeting Minho's gaze through the mirror. "Damn right I am." His heart suddenly fluttered, the way Minho was staring at him was... something. Turning around, he stepped closer to Minho and opened his mouth to offer doing his makeup too, but... Minho's eyes had Jisung in a stranglehold.

Minho brought up a hand to gently caress Jisung's cheek. "You look pretty," he whispered. 

If his heart wasn't fluttering before, it definitely was now. No one has ever called him pretty, not in such a genuine and loving way. Seconds ticked by where the pair just stared at each other, the air felt warmer, the gravitational pull of fate drawing them even closer. 

A loud interval of ding ding ding startled them both out of their trance, bursting the bubble. Blushing and smiling like idiots, they quickly got ready to leave the cabin, heading towards the main area, where they stopped to see more police cars arriving. One car blocked the gate, preventing it from closing, and Jisung saw his chance.

Taking Minho by the hand, Jisung held his head high as he sauntered towards the gate, looking all confident and not suspicious at all. They were just two young people taking a walk, maybe hide somewhere to spy on the police doing police stuff.

Jisung grinned broadly in anticipation, he looked back over his shoulder, and his face fell when someone shoved Minho aside and grabbed Jisung by the collar. 

"Finally! There you finally are!" Pyong Su-something yelled at him, drops of saliva landed on his face. Jisung couldn't feel his feet, as if they were frozen, numb. "I won't let you talk! You ruined everything! Everything!" 

At the sudden commotion, all the police officers focused their attention on the woman screaming at a teenager. One of them asked her a couple questions but received no answer. Even Minho tried to pry her hands open, unsuccessfully. 

The crazed screaming finally got into Jisung's brain, his muscles jolted alive and he wiggled in the woman's grip. 

The atmosphere shifted when an officer approached her, and she suddenly pulled out a large knife. Guns were drawn, raised, aimed. 

The woman let go of Jisung who dropped to the ground, immediately scurrying over to Minho. 

"Are you hurt?" Minho asked anxiously, pulling the other into his arms. 

"I'm okay, just a bit shaken." Jisung looked around, quickly assessing the situation. All the cops seemed to have their eyes on that crazy woman- and the gate was still wide open. "Let's get out of here." He winked at Minho, took him by the hand and dragged him along, speed-walking out of the camp. 

Jisung and Minho actually left the camp. They maintained a rather brisk tempo until they were so far down the path through the forest, that they noticed the cooler air, and when they came to a stop, they looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

"I didn't- I didn't think you'd really go through with it," Minho stuttered through fits of laughter. 

"And I almost thought you'd nope out." 

"Hey, I made a promise, and usually I tend to keep my promises." 

Jisung raised a playful brow. "Usually?" 

"What can I say, I'm only human." Minho smirked then turned around, facing the other direction. The laughter had subsided, a quiet tingle still remained. "Your friend, is he coming up here?" No answer. Minho turned around to find Jisung rubbing his eyes. "Jisung?" 

Jisung quickly stopped rubbing his eyes, even though they felt strange again. "He'll meet us at the station, come on, I don't wanna be late." 

Linking their hands again, they followed the path at a reasonable walking speed, the temperature increased once they stepped out of the forest, the chirping of crickets in this area was incredibly loud. 

Jisung stood on his tiptoes, and smiled when he spotted Felix's wheat-blond hair in the distance. He suddenly became aware of how his heart was pounding against his rib cage, of droplets of sweat dripping down his back, and why was it getting darker in the middle of the day? 

"Minho?" Jisung breathed weakly. "I don't feel so good..." 

Minho turned around just in time to catch Jisung before he could hit the ground. 

Darkness. 

Emptiness. 

Cold. 

Alone. 

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Excerpt from Minho's diary, much later that day: 

If fate existed, if it truly existed, then it must be more than an intangible concept, more than a bunch of phrases and sayings. If fate was to exist as a physical entity, I imagine it to manifest as a blanket, its threads entwined with hopes and dreams, and no way to escape. Inseparably connected to each other. 

Fate had made us meet, had made me fall in love with you. 

Fate gifted me love and happiness, only to rip it out of my hands. The seams of fate sewn over dreams - I'm going to unpick every single one. 

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 12-11,5 | Minsung

* This is a scrapped chapter from the previous version, that I like too much to discard entirely. The POV shifts and gives extra knowledge that the main characters don't have. * Enjoy anyways ^^

Back outside, Rambo-cop eyed his partner with an incredulous look. "You see, this is exactly why no one likes you. I couldn't care less about you being an ass to me in private, but this is work, for heaven's sake! Those are teenagers, show some empathy."

Notepad-cop scoffed, finding his partner's speech less-than-rousing. "If that boy can't handle any feedback, why should I-"

"Shut up! One more comment about anything unrelated to our investigation, and I'll have you written up. Consider this as your only warning." He snatched the notepad from the other's hand, flipping through the pages. "We have to be careful, keep our eyes peeled. Now let's try to get something out of the camp's staff."

After ten years of being in active duty, Rambo-cop had developed a sixth sense when it came to gathering information. This boy, Han Jisung, knew something. He had that certain micro-expression of a brainwave when something that had been buried deep suddenly resurfaced. Han Jisung knew something, but he himself didn't know that he knew.

At least not yet.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Hands were clenched into fists. Knuckles, sharp as razors, dug into her hips; a desperate attempt to suppress the scream that was bubbling in her throat.

They know, they know, they know.

Uncontrolled thoughts were bouncing off the walls of her brain, threatening to break the bone, squeeze through the cracks, and whiz outside with the sole purpose of giving away where she was hiding.

Sumi was pacing around her small bedroom, her feet leaving imprints in the carpeted floor. Her fingernails dug deep into the skin, they drew blood, leaving crescent shaped wounds behind.

The room was filled with hazy white wisps of cigarette smoke, lazily drifting from side to side, catching glittering lint in the early sunlight. They swirled apart when Pyong Sumi stumbled towards her desk, taking a deep drag from the half-burned cigarette, her hands were shaking, unable to keep them still. Her lungs spasmed.

Lately, she hasn't been feeling like herself. How such a small, insignificant, mistake could derail her life- one moment she was fine, and the next she wasn't. You're a disappointment, the voice inside her head scolded. Like shock frosted daggers that scraped against her eardrums, then pierced the tender tissue, sending high-pitched screeches through her skull – and Sumi slumped to the floor. She pulled her knees tightly to her chest, and sobbed like a nine-year-old girl.

Useless! Fat! Shame for the family! You can't live on 'dreams'!

Sumi pressed her hands over her ears, desperately trying to block out the noise. The noise, the endless noise. The piercing cold tone of her mother's voice, the very last thing she heard before she hopped onto the train. Only the sound and the throbbing ache in her ears that came with it.

The train headed for Chuncheon. Towards her dream job. Teaching and guiding young people, who were on the brink of descending into the criminal underworld. Guiding them from darkness to light.

Sumi's life hasn't been a rose petal covered path, it's been tiring, frustrating, and so lonely. But acting the part of a trustworthy and stable adult – surely Sumi had it in her. Sumi was empathetic. Sumi was self-reflective. Sumi wanted to do better.

Her mother, however, would like to disagree.

Sumi was never good enough. Never tall enough, never pretty enough, never quick enough, never thin enough, never smart enough. Never enough of and for anything. One wrong decision after three bad choices, and one day she'd kill someone with her clumsiness.

"I'm sorry," Sumi whimpered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

An apology – to herself, to her mother, to the victim of her clumsiness. An apology – left hanging in the room, in the void, heard by none.

A woman in her mid 40s, still so desperately wanting her mother's approval. Pathetic.

A long vibration pulled her out of the emotional flashback. Her eyes were foggy with tears as she tried to reach for her phone. Shaky hands rubbed over raw eyes, it took a few moments before she recognized the words staring back at her from the display.

Tang Iseul I'm sorry, I had to do it [read]

Pyong Sumi What do you mean? [delivered]

Sumi blinked in confusion. She tapped the green button, calling Iseul. It rang two, three times, then the line cut off. She tried again and her eyebrows creased with even more confusion when an automated voice announced that this number no longer existed.

Tang Iseul, Sumis colleague. This was supposed to be their first year at the camp; both came from an office job at Seoul's government, and after a decade, they craved a change of scenery. During the work training, they hit it off instantly and platonically. They got close.

But apparently not close enough, because obviously Iseul had decided to turn tail and run. She should be grateful for the help he had provided so far. Pitying yourself won't get you anywhere! And for once, her mother was right. She was working for the government, for crying out loud. If she had learned one single thing during her time there, it was the fact that traces can be covered – one just had to know how.

With a newfound will, Sumi slipped into her shoes and left the staff's residence. Striding out far, her ID-card flicked from side to side with every wide step she took, as she marched across the courtyard. But then a voice bellowed her name.

"Pyong Sumi?"

Sumi flinched. From the gate that separated the cabins, two police officers approached her. Breathe, act normal.

"Sorry to bother you so early," the tall and muscular police man dipped his head apologetically, "would you mind answering a question or two?"

"Why?" Her voice came out raspy and heavy, the tiredness from her face had fallen into her vocal cords. Whatever those cops were about to ask, Sumi could handle it. She knew their tactics. Aside from that, who said it was about Yu-

"We have been informed that your colleague, Choi Yu-Seung, is missing."

Her lungs spasmed again, an invisible hand clutched her throat and squeezed out all air. Breathe! Wait for his question. After a few blinking moments, the question followed.

"When have you last seen her?"

Sumi knew exactly when that was. Now she needed to be careful. Technically, she had last seen her this past Saturday – with a slashed throat, wrapped up in tarpaulin, now on the muddy floor of some lake.

"I... It must've been Thursday, yes, we were celebrating her birthday." She nodded, lips tightly pressed together.

The cop turned slightly and pointed towards the building Sumi had come out from. "Is this the staff's residency?"

"Yes."

"Does Choi Yu-Seung have a room there?"

"Yes."

"Where have you been celebrating?"

"The common area on the ground floor. We had cake, a drink-," shit, alcohol was not allowed, it simply slid out of her mouth, "it got late, then everyone went to bed, and that's all I know."

The second cop, scribbling into his notepad, took out his phone. He swiped a thumb over the display, answering a call, and turned away. Sumi's eyes flicked between him and his colleague, the one questioning poor Sumi.

"Who else was present?"

"Just me and Tang Iseul, my coworker. We invited others but no one showed up."

The first cop gave her a polite smile. Did he feel pity? "Thank you, that's all."

Sumi held back a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought the cop had seen through her, but it was just her nerves, just her nerves. When she started walking again, her knees felt like jelly – but not the good kind, like when you're infatuated.

The walk towards the main building, past the front desk, along a hallway, down the stairs, and into the surveillance room at the far back- it felt like hours.

Hours of trying to appear confident in her stride, of resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder, of greeting her colleagues in her usual bright and bubbly way. Why is keeping a secret so exhausting?

Rows of monitors lined the upper edge of the desk. Those were old monitors, but they still worked and got the job done. The laptops were still running on Windows XP. Sumi hit the spacebar and the screensaver disappeared, revealing the interface of the cameras. Footage was stored for one week, chronologically sorted in files.

The incident happened on Thursday, today was Tuesday. Sumi rolled out her shoulders. She had always prided herself in one personality trait: Persistence. Where others had given up, Sumi merely started. She would sit there on this worn-out, nasty rolling chair, with eyes fixated on the flickering screen, her index finger flying over the mouse-wheel. She would sit there, even if it took forever. She would scan hours of video footage. Until she found it. She let the recording roll.

// Thursday, July XX, 6:43pm. // Camera 2.1 // Staff residence, front entrance

Sumi watched herself exiting the building, following right after Iseul. They were arguing, Iseul snapped a branch through the air like a whip- seeing it now from this perspective gave Sumi a weird feeling. Even without audio, his agitated voice still echoed clearly in her mind. The two went back inside. Sumi's eyes trailed off to the side, they were burning and watering from the strain.

After watching it a second time, she froze. Back there, hidden in dense shrubs, a figure crawled out. Sumi zoomed in. It was a boy, slim and lanky, tanned skin. The boy brushed off his pants, he looked around, and when his face turned towards the camera at just the right angle, Sumi gasped. She knew very well who that boy was.

Han Jisung.

Never would she forget the name of this brat. He knows, he knows!

Choi Yu-Seung died around 6:24pm on a hot and humid July evening from anaphylaxis (peanuts) and an accidentally dropped knife to her throat.

Pyong Sumi was clumsy, and her dearly hated mother was absolutely right when she said her daughter's clumsiness would kill someone one day.

Sumi took a deep breath, certain of what she must do next, as she emerged from the basement like a demon ready to strike.

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 11-The Stolen Heart | Minsung

What if it's all a lie? 

What if nothing was real? Maybe Jisung has passed away in his sleep and by some miracle ascended to heaven. Or it was a dream, soon reality would force its way back into his consciousness and give him a hefty slap in the face to remind him what it felt like to live. Like it always did. 

What if Jisung's feelings for Minho were nothing more but a psychopathological side-effect of his abandonment issues? Looking back at how his previous relationships used to be, how they ended, there was a certain pattern; chasing every high, ignoring his own needs but feverishly meeting those of the other's just so he could have a sense of belonging. 

But in the end...  Good things didn't last long enough.  They never did. 

He wasn't lying when he told Minho how he felt. Happy. He meant it, deep down Jisung knew he said it with sincerity. Was it purely physical? Jisung was physically attracted to Minho, there's no use denying that. 

Strong hands that grabbed him by the waist, gentle fingers caressing and gliding over skin. Soft moans. Desperate and needy. Deep kisses. Half lidded eyes. Hushed moans. Passionate and hot and electrifying. Recalling all those lustful moments had Jisung feeling dizzy.

He looked down on himself, lifting the blanket to reveal a growing erection. He sighed and rolled to the side, having now perfect view on Minho's shirtless back. A smile tugged on his lips.

Then there were those moments when Jisung's brain came to a screeching halt. A look into Minho's eyes and he was gone. A tickling sensation in his belly, increasing heartbeat, trembling hands, dry mouth. Suddenly at a loss for words every time Minho's attention was undoubtedly and solely on Jisung. Minho spoke softly, as if Jisung was the most delicate flower to ever exist.

Minho was there when Jisung suffered through a migraine attack, barely getting any sleep himself. He cooked for me. Who does that?

Amidst all the soft, sweet affection, there was Minho's relentless teasing; randomly poking Jisung's side, grabbing his butt and slapping it, sarcastic remarks, calling him 'hamster cheeks'. Jisung loved Minho's teasing but he would never admit it. Nope. Never. That was totally out of the question.

All this – was it actually real? Did Jisung really exist at the same time as Minho? Did they really meet? There must be a catch! Jisung pinched the skin on his upper arm. A curse word almost made its way out of his throat. Rubbing the now reddened spot, Jisung skidded closer to Minho's back, the warmth radiating from him was enough for Jisung to wrap an arm around his middle. He could fall asleep like that, there was only one problem: Jisung was horny.

Jisung's lips found Minho's shoulder, pressing a wet kiss on soft skin. His first desire was to spread red excited kisses all over the other's back, waking him up in the process, only to get his sexual needs satisfied. However, after the second kiss, Jisung halted, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.

This was not a dream. This was reality, and Jisung had the freedom of choice. Now he could either choose to continue his usual spiel of lust and self-abandonment; or he could turn the other way and tread on a path less traveled by, which would ultimately lead him to something new.

Uncharted land. New and scary.

Fantasies of him and Minho together. Jisung would show him his room, letting him look through all the magazines of his favorite K-Pop-Group, if he was into it. If not, it'd be alright, they'd find something to enjoy together. Like playing games on the console. 

What music does Minho like? What's his favorite color? Does he have an opinion to pineapple on pizza?

They have seen each other naked, Jisung could point out every mole on Minho's georgeous body, but if put in the situation, Jisung wouldn't be able to answer any of those basic questions. 

More such questions flooded Jisung's mind, washing over him like a Tsunami, and leaving him a bit dizzy as he continued to gently peck Minho's back – and the back only. But this time, after every kiss he left on the skin, he made a promise. A promise to himself, to the world, to Minho.

Can we please keep seeing each other? I promise to be less of a nuisance to you. If you want to talk for two hours about your cats, I'll sit and listen and not get bored. You're the best thing in my life. I feel less lonely when I'm with you. You make me so happy. Minho. Lee Minho. I think I'm in love with you, love with you~

As the smooches traveled southward, Minho's eyes fluttered open. He was a bit confused because he couldn't comprehend why his back felt so funny, before he finally realized that it was Jisung. He heard the smacking of wet lips on his skin, leaving a tingling sensation. Minho smiled, enjoying the affection very much. When Jisung's hand traveled to the front and gently squeezed Minho's chest, he gasped in surprise. Minho took Jisung's hand and turned around. When he caught Jisung's shocked expression, he smirked. Why are you so cute, Sungie~ 

Minho cupped Jisung's round face and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Feeling the boy shiver and softly sigh under his touch sent Minho's heart rate into the three-digits. Gently, he pulled him closer to his bare chest, wrapping his arms around Jisung and holding onto him as if his life depended on it.

It was still early in the morning, the sun had not yet risen, occasionally birds were warming up their melodic voices. Jisung and Minho stayed like that for a while; cuddling, entangled in each other's arms, enjoying the warmth and safety of one another.

Jisung had drifted off into a superficial slumber, strange colors and objects were mixing together as the dream went on, but immediately dissolved when his eyes shot open. Did he hear something? Why was his heart beating so fast? His hand stretched out, only to find the space beside him empty and cold. With a frown on his face and ignoring the light headache, he sat up and looked around. Relief washed over him when he found Minho sitting by the desk, scribbling away in his notebook. Minho looked highly focused; even from the side, the scowl on his face warned Jisung not to disturb him.

With a sigh, Minho leaned back in his chair, scratching his head with the tip of his pen. He quietly closed his notebook and, still scowling, he met Jisung's gaze. The thing is, once Minho locked eyes with Jisung, all tension fell from his face, softening his features, and a happy smile pulled his perfect lips upwards. 

Jisung's heart skipped a beat.

So did Minho's when the smile was returned equally.

"What were you writing?" Jisung blurted out without thinking, voice croaky and a semitone lower.

Minho raised an eyebrow. "Really? What happened to good morning, how did you sleep?" Minho shook his head, got up from the chair and stuffed the notebook in his backpack. Then he stood to look down on Jisung with a playful smirk. "No manners." Before Jisung knew what was happening to him, Minho had him tackled, sending them both onto the bed.

"Dude, get off of me," Jisung demanded.

"Nope."

"Please?"

Minho chuckled. It was a kind of chuckle that made Jisung gulp, a kind of chuckle that Jisung better not ignored. Something was about to come – a punishment.

And in this case, the punishment came in the form of relentless tickling. Minho flipped Jisung around like a pancake, locking him into place in no time. Minho had the time of his life, laughing over Jisung's pleas for mercy as he poked his fingers into Jisung's sides.

Minho stopped when Jisung gasped for breath. "Are you alright down there?"

Heavy breathing and a nod. "Yeah, but- but you better make up for that." Jisung wiped some strands of hair out of his heated face. "Or else."

Minho chuckled. "What do you want me to do?"

Jisung mumbled something but Minho didn't hear him well, so he leaned forward, now basically lying flat on Jisung's back. "I didn't catch that, love, could you please repeat that?"

Love, he sounds so old when he says that, but goddamn I like it.

Jisung felt Minho's hot breath tickling his ear, a shiver rippled down his back. When Minho shifted a bit to lean on his forearms, Jisung's eyes widened in shock when he felt something poke his butt. Was Minho aware of the pressure he put on his cabinmate beneath him?

Jisung's head started spinning yet again. There was an absolutely gorgeous man above him, who seemed to be just as crazy as Jisung.

"Hm? Nothing?"

When Minho spoke, his voice vibrated through Jisung's body, and because of that, he was snapped back into the moment and aware that he still owed Minho an answer. "Well, I like food."

"I can buy you dinner, or your favorite bubble tea."

"That sounds nice," Jisung's voice came bit strained.

"Thursday we can go out. Last time I've seen a small store, they sell ramen and bubble tea," Minho whispered, lips hovering over Jisung's neck, "we should go there, what do you say?"

Jisung's eyes fluttered, somehow loving the physical restraint Minho put on him, and the slow, torturous grind of his hips. "I'd love that..."

"You'd love that?"

"Yes..."

Jisung's shirt lifted and cool fingers trailed over warm skin, giving his waist a squeeze, and Minho's lips latched onto Jisung's neck, sucking and gently biting the skin. Jisung buried his face in his pillow, otherwise a weird noise would have escaped his throat, and he didn't want to deal with that right now.

He just woke up, merely minutes ago there was not a single worry or thought in his head, neither was the idea of being pushed into the mattress with Minho on top- but who was he to complain? This stranger-turned-lover had Jisung utterly wrapped around his finger.

Gleaming spots were dancing along the edges, breathing became uneven, condensing on the window, and racing hearts syncing in with one aother.

A sudden shrill sound shattered their heated bubble, Minho jumped a mile away from Jisung. Confused and his brain a mush, Jisung turned over on his back. Minho was leaning on the desk with one hand, panting because he was out of breath, his hair was a mess, and by the look on his flushed face, Jisung could tell his cabinmate was just as ruined as he himself.

Jisung reached for his phone on the bedside table and turned it off. Stupid alarm.

"Fuck," Jisung mumbled under his breath.

"That was your alarm clock?" Minho questioned, disappointed.

Jisung groaned and started pacing the room. He needed to cool down because he kept glancing towards Minho and he couldn't trust himself not to pounce him.

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The morning air was crisp because it had rained overnight. Jisung shivered, Minho noticed and wrapped an arm around him, Jisung smiled and leaned into the warm touch. On the way to the main building, they ran into Changbin and Hyunjin; the latter leading the way while the former held onto Hyunjin's hand. Their smiling faces dropped once they spotted Jisung and Minho, immediately jumping apart and letting go of each other's hand. While Jisung didn't notice shit, he was too engrossed in feeling safe and warm, Minho did notice but chose to not give it much thought.

Before they entered the main building, Minho pulled Jisung closer one last time and rubbed his arms to warm him up. The canteen was the usual sensory hell, loud and smelly. It all was bearable once Jisung took the first bite of his Gyeran Bap; cooked rice, fried eggs, topped with spring onion, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Heaven.

Minho skipped the sesame oil and replaced it with hot sauce, which earned him Jisung's classic side eye. Between bites they tried to have a light conversation, which turned out to be quite difficult as the noise level seemed to increase by the minute. Minho had to repeat his words several times.

"I'm sorry, Minho, when there are too many sources of noise, I'm having a really hard time focusing," Jisung apologized, hiding his face behind a hand but looked up when he felt a soft touch.

"It's okay, love, let's eat up, then we'll leave."

Jisung melted at Minho's reassuring smile.

The promise of a nice day disappeared when the camp's gates rolled open and two police cars stopped in the middle of the courtyard. Four police officers, two from each car, got out. They exchanged a few words, then two of them went straight towards Jisung and Minho watching from the entrance, where Minho stood frozen in fear.

Jisung stepped aside so the police officers could enter the main building, his eyes were fixed on their backs as they headed towards the reception, then stopped to talk with the person behind it. Jisung felt his heart pounding in his throat, mouth dry, thoughts racing; despite knowing he did nothing wrong, a certain part of him felt like he'd been caught smoking pot. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed people gathering by the entrance. Hushed whispers, both curious and anxious.

"What happened? Why's the police here?"

"Who snitched on us?"

"I told you not to bring alcohol."

"Did someone die?"

Jisung rolled his eyes. A tap on his shoulder caused him to flinch and turn around, it was Changbin.

"Pretty sure they found out about your little affair," the buff guy mumbled, letting a heavy arm drop on Jisung's shoulder.

"Being gay is not a crime," Jisung hissed back, shrugging off the arm.

Changbin seemed to be caught off guard, he laughed nervously, and cleared his throat. "Well, we're in South Korea, you still gotta be careful."

Jisung narrowed his eyes at him. "The fuck's your problem, dude?" Only now did Jisung notice that he was alone. "Where's Minho?"

Changbin merely shrugged. Jisung craned his neck, looking over the crowd in search for a tuft of soft black hair. Any other time, Jisung would have waited until he knew what was going on here. There was a certain aspect of him that relished when shit went down, but only as long as he was neither the cause nor center of attention. 

Minho had simply disappeared, left without a word, and Jisung didn't think twice when he hurried back to their cabin. He found Minho kneeling on the floor next to their bed. Why's he packing?

"Minho, what are you doing?"

Startled, Minho flinched. "Nothing," he said quickly, too quickly. His hands were trembling as he rolled up the cables for the console.

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," Jisung sat down next to Minho, "but rather you're panicking." Gently, he placed a hand on Minho's lower back. "What's wrong?"

Minho took a breath or two. He took the console and held it in front of him. "This- I didn't purchase it," he pointed to the game cases, scattered on the floor, "none of it. Now they're coming for me!"

Jisung bit his tongue, trying hard to suppress a laugh. In the past, his usual self absolutely would have burst out laughing; mocking, pointing his finger. But Jisung was adamant in making it a point to keep his promise, besides, seeing the panicked look on Minho's face triggered the strong need to work things through with him.

Jisung smiled warmly. "Yeah, I figured."

"You- what?"

"Don't look at me like that," he chuckled, "at the campfire, remember? We were drinking, sharing stories, and I clearly remember when you said that you were caught stealing electronics from some fancy store."

Minho blinked, connecting the pieces in his mind. "I... I don't steal. I'm investigating people's property," he murmured, glancing away.

Jisung drew small circles on Minho's back, slowly closing the distance between them. "I don't mind that you're a thief, because you already stole my heart and I'm totally fine with that."

While Jisung had a broad grin plastered on his face, Minho's body tensed. Not in an anxious, panic-ridden way, but rather he couldn't process Jisung's words properly. From his perspective, they came out of nowhere, hitting him head-on. He was expecting a stern lecture, or typical phrases that people used when they didn't know what else to say. Like, 'that's what you get for breaking the law'. So, his brain was ready to receive criticism, and when those didn't come, a wire short-circuited in his brain. 

I don't mind that you're a thief because you already stole my heart and I'm totally fine with that.

Simple words, though a bit cheesy, but in Minho's mind they would play on loop for the rest of his life.

Once he was able to regain some self-control, he cupped Jisung's face; thumbs softly rubbing over his cute cheeks, looking into his round eyes, hands traveling over the boy's shoulders and down his arms. Minho's heart raced, his mouth was dry.

"Jisung, I lo-"

Jisung caressed Minho's cheek, just like he did when they had shared their first kiss a week ago. Minho's eyes sparkled, a sight to continue getting lost in. Their lips touched and started moving into a slow and sweet kiss. Whatever Minho wanted to say, it could wait. Right now, words were neither needed nor able to describe what both of them felt.

BANG BANG BANG

Jisung and Minho jumped apart. Frozen in shock, they stared at the door.

BANG BANG BANG

"Police, open the door!"

Minho began hyperventilating once more, wheezing, his chest heaved up and down. He wanted to shove the console and the game cases into his backpack, jump out the window and run away, or at least lock himself in the bathroom. He wanted to do all that, and yet he sat there on the carpeted floor, unable to move. Jisung's voice seemed to come from far away.

"Minho!"

A hand on his chin forced Minho to look at Jisung. "Baby, I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen. Whatever they want, I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Take a deep breath, yeah? Breathe for me."

And breathe he did. With Jisung's help, he was able to calm down far enough so he could get up and sit on the bed. As Jisung approached the door, he, too, took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what might happen. He had seen enough crime and action movies to know that he could get jumped by the police once the door cracked open.

Bracing himself for the impact, Jisung pushed down the handle. The door swung open with a creak. Jisung gulped at the sight of a tall and insanely ripped police man; the hem of his sleeves clung tightly over his upper arms, cutting into the skin. He looked like Rambo, minus that murderous gaze. One wrong movement, one inhale too deep, and the buttons that held his shirt in place, would explode – and definitely hit Jisung in the eye.

"Han Jisung?" the man in the tight uniform inquired.

Jisung nodded weakly.

"We would like to ask you some questions, is that okay for you?"

"I didn't do anything!" Jisung blurted out, totally missing what was said to him.

Well done, idiot. Now you seem even more suspicious. Way to go!

The police officer gave him a sympathetic smile, even took a step back when he noticed Jisung's trembling figure.

"You're not in trouble, I can promise that. We only have a few questions, that's all. Alright?"

He walked across the small porch and down the stairs, where he stopped and obviously waited for Jisung to follow him. Jisung gulped, his mouth was awfully dry, and pulled the cabin door shut. On wobbly knees he joined the police officer down at the stairs, fingers tightly clasping the wooden handrail.

The second police officer, way shorter than the other, he almost disappeared behind his colleague, fished out a pen and a little notepad, ready to write down everything that Jisung was about to say.

"Do you know Choi Yu-Seung?" the Rambo imitation of a police officer asked.

"Uh, she- she's my social worker."

"When was the last time you've seen her?"

Unconsciously, Jisung started biting his fingernail. Most of his recent memories were pretty steamy, unraveling them from others cost him a lot of brainpower. "Last week, I think... We had an appointment, but she never showed up, uh, I last saw her the previous day."

"Do you remember which day that was?"

It took everything in him not to burst into tears. His tough attitude could only get him so far. Was this how true criminals felt? How falsely accused victims felt? Or maybe it was simply the effect the police had on people.

Focus, Jisung! Think! What happened? The whole office reeked of smoke. Before that? I was angry because their credit system is hella fucked up!

"Thursday," Jisung stated confidently. He was absolutely sure that he had a conversation with Choi Yu-Seung on a Thursday, because he remembered being confused about the short vacation happening on a Thursday, in the middle of the week.

Jisung, listen, what happened before that? The fuck you mean?

The police man with the little notepad interrupted Jisung's inner monologue with a cough; crunchy and mucous, like that of a smoker since he was thirteen years old. "You sure it was Thursday?" he sneered, pointing loosely towards Jisung's neck, "Looks like you were quite... busy."

Rambo-cop turned around sharply. Jisung's hands flew up and covered his hickey-stained neck; the lip-shaped marks were yellow around the edges and still a bit red in the center, but only visible if you really looked for it. Tears of suppressed anger and shame pricked in the corners of his eyes.

"Can I leave?" Jisung gritted out, scowling at the two cops.

"Yes, of course, thank you for your time."

Jisung immediately turned around and went back inside his cabin. He slammed the door shut with extra petulant force.

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 10-The Happy Moments | Minsung

Chilly gusts of wind tugged on his bare arms. Gravel crunched beneath his shoes as Minho hurried along the path. The gate separating the cabins from the main area fell into the lock with a metallic clang. An early morning silence hang over the area, two blackbirds were gathering near the cars, picking the ground, cawing and flapping their wings when Minho rushed past.

The sliding door of the main building opened automatically. At this time Minho was he only one at the reception desk. He approached with a smile, which the receptionist returned once she looked up.

"Good morning," Minho greeted quietly, coming to a stop at the front desk, "I hope I didn't come at an inconvenient time."

"Not at all, is there something you need?"

Minho shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Now that he really was about to execute his plan, he felt a bit nervous. "In the red folder it says that today, Monday, is our day off. We can use the camp's premises at our own discretion." He paused to take a breath. Every time he was overly nervous, his words gained speed and he would forget to breathe. He always disliked this about himself. "I was hoping that I could use the kitchen, please."

The receptionist leaned forward, eyeing Minho over the rim of her glasses. "What do you need the kitchen for?"

"Uh, you see," at first, he was thinking about telling some white lie, like he simply missed cooking like he did back home- because no one needed to know that he cared about Jisung. But since this simply wasn't part of his personality, he told the truth, "yesterday my cabinmate suffered a migraine attack, he had a rough night and I..." Minho trailed off, too aware of his beating heart.

"You want to cheer him up," the receptionist concluded. "Your roommate is Han Jisung, right? Poor guy, way too young for having-," she coughed awkwardly, "I'll let the kitchen staff know about your plan, one moment please." The phone call was short, she relayed everything Minho had said to the person on the other end of the line. It sounded like there were no objections. "Well, they want to talk to you in person, so you better hurry and meet the chef."

"Really? That's great, thank you so much. Uh, were do I go?"

"Go outside and around the building, you'll meet him there."

Minho voiced his gratitude once more, bowed, and hopped outside. He couldn't believe how easy that was. In the back of the building, he spotted a middle-aged man in white workwear. He was leaning against a metal door, leisurely smoking a cigarette.

"Good morning," Minho greeted happily, "are you the chef?"

"I am. Let me finish my cigarette."

"Of course."

Minho stood a bit to the side, excitedly rocking on his shoe soles. When the chef was done smoking, he gestured for Minho to follow him inside. They went down a metal staircase, one level underground. A hallway led them to a garage-type door which rolled up after the chef punched a big green buzzer. It rattled open and revealed a vast industrial kitchen. Everything, except for the tiled walls, was chrome. Steam clouds billowed out of giant pots and evaporated at the ceiling. Sharp sizzling of food being sauteed. Orders were yelled over the heads of dozens of people. It was so loud and smelly. The chef took a pump of disinfectant, Minho doing the same.

"What d'you wanna cook?" the chef asked loudly over the noise.

"I was thinking of Haejangguk and Mandu."

Haejangguk is a type of soup that is eaten to cure a hangover. 

Mandu are stuffed dumplings.

The chef looked at Minho with a surprised look on his face. "Haejangguk?"

Defensively, Minho raised his hands. "We didn't drink anything, I'm just trying to cheer up my cabinmate. That's all, I swear."

The chef burst out laughing, slapping his knee. "Ah, you young people!"

Wiping his eyes, although there were no tears, he led Minho to an empty area with a stove top. Stacked cutting boards, knives stuck on a metal strip attached to the wall. After the stove followed a spacious working space, and a sink. It all looked as if it had never been used before. Super clean. The chef also showed him where to find all the ingredients, most were in cold storage.

"When d'you wanna start?"

"Now, please."

"The place is all yours, knock yourself out." Chuckling and with a shook of his head, the chef left.

Before Minho started, he shot Jisung a text that he was busy but would be back soon, so please don't leave the cabin. Taking an apron from the hook, he quickly gathered all the needed ingredients. He knew every step of the recipes by heart. Making fresh Mandu from scratch was something he only did for special people.

And to Minho, Jisung has become very special.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Minho has outdone himself. He easily made enough soup and dumplings for five people. Strong bone broth, originally deep yellow in color, changed into an orange-brown once the soybean paste came into the mix. Cabbage, radish, spring onions, soybean sprouts- thinly sliced to make eating easier, than having to deal with huge chunks. The dumplings were stuffed with minced meat and assorted vegetables. They were perfect. Minho didn't need to worry about the taste regarding spices and herbs, of course he left out the hot ones. Jisung is such a wimp, he thought amused.

He packed everything in containers, sealing them tightly shut. Being the kind and good person he was, he cleaned his space to an immaculate degree. He bowed goodbye to the kitchen staff and left the building, feeling relieved he no longer had to endure their intrusive questions.

As he hurried back to his cabin, he took out his phone and stopped. No new message. Frowning, he opened the chat. It seemed that Jisung had read his text but didn't bother answering. Minho sighed. Why did this bother him so much?

The cabin door creaked open. Shoes landed carelessly on the rack. First thing Minho noticed was the light scent of soap that hung in humid air. The bathroom door was ajar and dark inside but had been used the time Minho was gone. When he looked to his bed, a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. Jisung had fallen asleep with his phone in hand, the other hand was squished between the pillow and his cheek. Quietly, Minho placed the homemade (campmade?) dishes on the desk and sat down next to the sleeping boy.

A careful finger pushed the hair from Jisung's face. The touch caused him to stir, the phone slipped from his hand and threatened to hit the floor – but Minho's reflexes were catlike, he caught the phone midair and gently placed it on the bedside table.

There was something about Jisung that made Minho feel soft inside. The same way when he's playing with his cats and laughing at their hilarious theatrics. But maybe this was something deeper than that.

Minho lay next to Jisung. His first instinct was to kiss him awake, but then he had a better idea. He started poking his cheek, first gently then more assertively. Poking the cheek turned to pulling on the eye lids, turned to flicking the ear.

Jisung's face scrunched up in displeasure, cracking an eye open. When he realized the face in front of him, he opened both eyes but still looked rather confused.

Minho smiled. "Good morning."

Jisung stretched like cats do and subsequently pulled Minho into a bone crushing embrace. Minho loved it. Every time Jisung touched him – be it unconsciously, affectionately, or seductively – it sent electric shivers through his body. The first time it happened was when Jisung wiped away the yellow paint from his face, or at least that was when he consciously noticed it. Maybe Minho was more touch-starved than he thought.

"Where were you?" Jisung mumbled into the other's neck.

"Did you miss me?"

"Yeah…"

Minho couldn't stop smiling as Jisung buried his face deeper. Pulling him closer, he planted a little kiss on his head. His hair was still a bit damp from the shower, it smelled good. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to ever let Jisung go.

"I was preparing something, a surprise, if you will."

Jisung looked up. "What surprise?"

"Get up and see for yourself."

Jisung started whining and wiggling, but Minho wouldn't have it. He effortlessly hoisted the little hamsterboy up and dragged him over to the chair, sitting him down. It might have happened a bit too fast for Jisung's sleepy brain.

"I hope you're hungry." Minho placed a bowl, a spoon, and chopsticks in front of Jisung, opening the containers filled to the brim with Haejangguk and Mandu. Fragrant steam escaped in a puff of air.

"Whoa, that smells delicious. Where'd you get that?"

"I cooked it myself."

When Jisung looked at Minho with big round eyes, he suddenly felt a bit shy.

"You made that? Here?"

"Yeah?"

Jisung looked so perplexed, it was hilarious. "That's why you smell like kitchen."

Minho pulled up his shirt and sniffed. Indeed, the unmistakable stench of kitchen. "Please start eating, I need a shower."

"I'll wait for you!"

Jisung's eyes sparkled. Minho got soft and smiled, taking Jisung's cheek into his hand. "It's okay, love, enjoy it while it's hot."

When Jisung leaned into Minho touch, he wanted to kiss him so bad. The tingling in his belly almost made him lose his mind.

Jisung had waited. He sat through the loud and angry rumbling of his stomach. For a second his mind lost focus from the mouth-watering aroma of perfectly balanced ingredients when Minho exited the bathroom butt naked. He looked away but then the tantalizing urge to dig right into the food returned with a vengeance. For that, Minho called him an idiot.

With full, happy bellies, they were resting on Minho's bed. In fact, at one point during the night they had pushed both their beds together. It was the only logical thing to do, after all they really enjoyed each other's company. The leftovers were safely stored in the containers, it was still a lot though.

Lying here side by side, not talking, but holding each other's hand, it was so nice. Minho rolled his head to side and looked Jisung. His side profile was fascinating. The small bump on his nose, and in combination with round cheeks, it gave him a unique look. Jisung was pretty, beautiful in his own way.

Jisung seemed to have sensed Minho's staring, he turned to his side and smiled while playing with Minho's hair. Soft touches. Carefully twirling strands of black hair between fingers. Minho was absolutely mesmerized.

"Minho."

"Huh, what?"

Jisung chuckled. "I was asking if you wanna go for a walk."

"Yeah, sure, we can go if you want."

It was already past midday. The sky was overcast with heavy, gray clouds, hiding the sun, temperatures dropping quite low. Sporadically some participants left their cabins for a quick smoke, but then quickly returned back inside. Stopping by the fenced gate, Jisung turned to look at Minho, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I wanna show you something."

Taking Minho by the hand, he led him to his hiding spot that he had discovered a couple days ago. The piles of wood were still there, the shrubs and bushes seemed to have grown thicker. Jisung crouched down and shoved some branches to the side, just so the two of them would have enough space without getting hurt. Carefully, he helped Minho sit down next to him. They skidded around for a bit until they were comfortable.

Minho leaned back on his hands, looking up and around. "Pretty nice spot you got there, how did you find it?"

Jisung shrugged. "Pure coincidence."

"Ah."

Jisung sat too far away for Minho's liking. He grabbed and positioned Jisung in a way so that one leg was over Minho's lap, and the other behind his back. Jisung visibly blushed at being manhandled.

"You sitting comfy?" Minho asked and Jisung nodded.

In a matter of seconds, their lips found each other. Minho held Jisung by the waist, while Jisung's hands found support on Minho's shoulders. Timid pecks soon turned into slightly more needy French kisses. Minho loved it, oh how he loved it when their tongues brushed against each other, when Jisung sucked on it, chasing vibrating waves down his spine. Jisung was greedy. Minho liked that. Whatever Jisung gave him, he took it all with both hands.

They both sighed and smiled into the kisses. No lie, Minho was turned on. He squeezed Jisung's waist, which caused him to squeak a little. Minho chuckled as he laid a hand on Jisung's neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Even though they were both burning up with desire, they didn't feel the need to act on it. The making out was just too good, feeling and savoring each other so intimately, so tenderly.

When the kisses turned from passionate to languid and eventually stopped, Minho opened his eyes when he felt a warm touch on his cheek. Jisung was looking at him with a flushed face, sparkling eyes, and a blissful smile he had never seen before. Then Jisung said something unexpected, but with that he put exactly into words what Minho was feeling.

"I'm happy when I'm with you."

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 9-The Hike | Minsung

*smut.

The colors were no longer bright and glaring, but soft and comforting. Muted. The early morning breeze carried freshness. Birds were chirping cheerfully. Everything felt easier. Everything felt lighter. Better. Like that one glass of cold water at 3am. Like waking up before the alarm. Like stretching one's limbs and making them crack just right. Breathing has never come more natural.

The sun was just below the horizon, at the crack of dawn, about to rise and bid a new day welcome. 

Thick stone walls, artistically enhanced with graffiti, surrounding a small wooden bench that was facing the open side of the waiting hut. The first rays of sunlight stretched over the sky like floodlights announcing the new day. A spectacle of orange, yellow, and pale blue. Jisung would have loved that view, but he had his eyes closed because he was resting his head on Minho's shoulder. He had quite the night; after switching between playing games on the console and making out with Minho that turned into something more physical, Jisung was exhausted. Poor boy barely had any strength left. Not that he had a lot in the first place.

Minho on the other hand was able to deal with the tiredness much better, always has. In his mind, he could still feel Jisung's wet kisses traveling down his chest. He suppressed a shiver. When the sun rays pierced through pink clouds, and the light hit Jisung's sleeping face just right, Minho took out his phone and quickly snapped a picture. So damn cute, I can't.

The speakers on the platform came alive with a crack. A distorted voice announced the arrival of a train.

"About damn time!" Changbin growled and walked out of the waiting hut.

Hyunjin remained seated. He gave Minho a tired look. "How can someone be so loud at five in the morning?"

"I should consider myself lucky with this one," he nodded down towards Jisung on his shoulder, "he's hotheaded, but surprisingly pleasant." He chuckled to himself, knowing very well what they did last night.

"Lucky you, mine's a pest."

When the acoustic train signal resounded, Minho gently shook Jisung awake. Jisung rubbed his tired eyes, allowing Minho to link arms with him as they walked out on the platform, waiting for the train to open its doors. If Minho hadn't looked into the red folder, they absolutely would have forgotten about the weekend's activity: Hiking. Staying overnight at an inn. More hiking. For credits. For freedom.

Everyone found a seat in the compartment. Luckily, Changbin got on first and secured a four-seater for himself, Hyunjin, Minho, and Jisung. The supervisor (Pyong Su-something) yelled over them to get a seat and behave properly, which was totally unnecessary, they were all tired as fuck, no one even said peep. But Jisung flinched at the noise, and Minho noticed, and shot the woman an angry glare.

After the supervisor called roll, a pleasant silence filled the compartment. Jisung fell back asleep on Minho's shoulder. Minho found Jisung's hand, leaned into his side, and closed his eyes.

Hyunjin noticed their affectionate closeness. Something he took note of since the campfire. The way they were staring at each other was quite obvious. Now Hyunjin knew. He glanced at Changbin sitting beside him; his arms were crossed over his broad chest, ear buds in, eyes closed. Sighing, Hyunjin fished out his phone and played a game the whole ride, trying to distract himself from thoughts that would only make him sad.

After an endless half an hour they arrived at their stop. It looked like an industrial district; high chimneys puffed out billowing clouds of smoke, truck after truck roared down the busy street, a smell of burnt grease hung in the air. The supervisor walked ahead of the group of ten young people, she seemed to be in a hurry.

It took them another ten minutes walking along a narrow sidewalk. The sidewalk turned steep, high trees on either side. Jisung started wheezing, Minho hooked himself under his arms, and dragged him along so they didn't fall back.

"Can't you just carry me?" Jisung whined.

"Sure."

Without hesitation, Minho got on one knee in front of Jisung, offering him a piggyback ride.

"Are you serious?"

"Yep, now hop on."

Jisung took a step forward but the moment his hands came in contact with Minho's rain jacket, Minho got to his feet, turned around and lightly shoved Jisung. "Did you really think I'd let you do that?" Minho burst out laughing, the look on Jisung's face was just too funny- a mix of hurt and surprise.

"You're mean," Jisung pouted, shoulder-bumping Minho a bit rougher than intended.

"Gah, c’mere you cute little hamsterboy."

Minho pulled Jisung into a side hug and ruffled his hair. Unnoticed by anyone else, he quickly pecked Jisung's cheek. If someone had told him a month ago that he would become shy by something as little as a peck, Jisung would have flipped them off. But look at him, blushing red like an overripe tomato.

The group arrived at a parking lot. There were a few buildings; a 24/7 grocery store, a DIY store, and something that looked like a shed. The door of a pick-up truck opened, and a man jumped out, approaching the group. Jisung recognized him, it was that dude who left his social worker's office.

"Everyone, listen up!" the supervisor shouted. "We'll start our tour in ten minutes. You may buy some supplies, but do not run away."

Jisung won't be told twice. He turned on his heels and headed straight to the store's beverage aisle. He grabbed a big bottle of still mineral water, and a small bottle, just in case he had to take a pill dealing with his clusterfuck migraine. Better safe than sorry.

Two aisles up, Minho seriously considered buying flavored lube. There was a very small shelf with adult toys, contraceptives, and... other stuff. Last night they had engaged in a mutual hand job. It was nice, hearing Jisung moan and whimper did a lot with Minho. He wanted to do it again.

Jisung and Minho were the first ones to arrive back at the parking lot. There was some commotion, a dog was barking and growling at the truck. The owner visibly struggled pulling on the leash.

"Get that fucking beast away!" the supervisor screeched at the dog's owner, a frail looking girl.

"I'm trying, okay?! Namu, come on, let's go!" Her voice quivered, tiny hands tugging on the leash to no avail.

The woman tried to take a swing, ready to slap the girl, but her colleague held her by the wrist, pulling her away.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he shouted angrily. "You can't just slap someone, never mind a kid! Do you wanna risk your job? My job? Huh?! I'm going to move the car, and you better pull yourself together. Godfuckingdamn."

Minho and Jisung shared a confused look, watching from a safe distance. Gosh, what's gotten up her ass? Those were Jisung's thoughts, mind you. If he was alone he definitely would have verbalized those thoughts, maybe even caused a scene because, you know, this was Han Jisung – the eternal menace. But with Minho by his side, restraining himself somehow came easier.

They were standing there, watching, munching on some chips. Sour cream and onion. Jisung wanted plain salt, Minho wanted spicy chili. They bickered for a while, and ultimately decided for sour cream and onion.

Jisung shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and handed the bag to Minho, as they were walking past the girl with the barking dog. The rustling of the bag seemed to distract the dog and it immediately ceased freaking out. Its expression softened when it noticed Jisung. With a wagging tail and tongue out, the dog waltzed over.

"Well, hello there, who are you?" Jisung cooed in a baby voice, Minho was shocked.

"His name is Namu."

"Namu? Ohmygodthisissuchacutename. Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? Yes, you are the bestest boy."

Jisung petted the dog's head, rubbed his big floppy ears, and let his face get licked. Minho cringed internally. He wasn't any different with his own cats, though.

Minho guessed the girl to be around his age, but from her visual appearance alone she could also be way younger. She had bleach blonde hair and a red streak to the side.

"I'm so sorry, usually he's very easy-going and soft. He only reacts like that when my dad's gutting the deer he hunted. Poor Namu can't stand blood."

"That was quite the reaction," Minho said, "I was a bit worried he would break loose. Do you know why he got so worked up?"

The girl shrugged. "I got him last year as a rescue. Who knows what he's been through."

Jisung got up from the ground. He had a look of utter bliss on his saliva-glistening face. The girl said goodbye and hurriedly walked away with a now obedient dog in tow.

Now that the group was complete, they started hiking up north. supervisor at the front, truck-man at the back. If Jisung had it his way, he rather would have stayed back at the camp. He'd even prefer the art instructor's endless rambling about prehistoric cave painting. Or taking out every trash bin. Anything was better than trudging through the woods, with the sun burning down on his scalp and nowhere to sit down.

The mental images of last night still popped up. Massaging Minho's back, decorating him with kisses everywhere. His skin was so soft. The memory of Minho's firm grip on his dick sent shivers down his spine. He exhaled and tried to keep his cool, getting a boner in public would be unwise.

The way their hands found each other, as if this was their only purpose: Holding each other. They fell a bit behind, letting Hyunjin and Changbin walk in front of them. Minho's thumb drew circles on Jisung's hand. Jisung slightly squeezed his hand in return.

"Hey, hey, you two! No hand holding. Where the hell do you think you are?"

Minho and Jisung turned around. The truck-man was right behind, disapproval evident on his face, that scowl even made him look 10 years older. Reluctantly, they let go of each other.

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The scenery never changed. Trees, rocks, sometimes flowers. It was always the same and they were already walking for two hours. Jisung was bored out of his mind, and his feet hurt. Every time he tried to lift the mood, that truck-man reprimanded him.

What a loser.

No one was allowed to talk freely. Like they were on a death march. Because once anyone even so much as laughed a bit louder, they got yelled at. Whatever the staff's deal was, Jisung – and by extension, the whole group – hated being here.

The supervisor stopped and turned around. "Twenty minutes break, rest and eat some. Stay close or you'll get in trouble."

A groan went through the group, some walked a bit farther off while most dropped down on the ground where they were standing.

"She says that every time, like we're fucking kids," Hyunjin mumbled as he walked past Jisung and Minho. Changbin followed him.

Minho sat down on the big root of a tree, protruding out of the ground like a loop. From his backpack he unwrapped a sandwich and started eating. Jisung sat down on the lower part where could easily lean against the tree trunk. He took a sip of water, then nibbled on his yogurt-glazed rice waffles. Jisung's eating habits were a bit odd. Most people would not start with something sweet.

Most times when people ate, they looked funny, at best- ugly, at worst. Minho was neither. He looked majestic. He opened his mouth wide enough to fit half of his sandwich inside. There must be something wrong with Jisung; simping over someone eating.

"What are you looking at?" Minho was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Oopsie.

"Just wanted to offer you some Gimbap." Jisung held out a piece; it was stuffed with rice, cheese, crab meat, and sesame seeds.

"You bought that at the store?"

"Yeah."

Minho grimaced.

"It tastes good. Come on, it's with crab meat."

"I like crab meat." Reluctantly, Minho accepted Jisung's generous offer. He looked at it so doubtfully, gave it a sniff, then sighed. "If I die, don't attend my funeral."

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Minho peeled an orange and shared it with Jisung, who grimaced at the slight acidity. Minho cackled, he himself seemed to be immune to this. First spice and now sour? What was this man?

When it was time to return to their group, they made sure to leave no mess in the forest.

"You got a little..." Minho pointed to Jisung's cheek.

Jisung wiped it off. "Better?"

"Still there."

Jisung pressed his fingers in his cheek and rubbed a bit harder. "Now?"

Minho smirked. He cupped Jisung's face, his thumbs gently gliding over the chubby cheek. Of course there was nothing there, he just needed an excuse to kiss Jisung. When he gently pressed his lips on Jisung's, he sighed, the faint taste of the orange still lingering. Jisung placed his hands on Minho's shoulders, losing himself in the soft kiss. Minho's hands slipped down on Jisung's plump butt, pulling him closer, their crotches barely touching. He gave the butt a good squeeze, and Jisung gasped and blushed furiously.

"You like that?" Minho chuckled lowly.

Jisung nodded eagerly. "But you should stop, or else…"

Minho, being the tease he was, squeezed the butt cheeks again. A not so quiet groan escaped Jisung's throat. His knees trembled and felt a bit weak, his eyes turned glossy. Yep, now he had a hard-on.

Damn you, Minho, you'll pay for that.

"What the fuck?" 

Startled, the boys turned to see the truck-man standing there. 

"Why is it always you two? Whatever, get back now, we're moving on."

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Sweaty and exhausted, the group arrived at their destination. The inn sat at the foot of a sloped meadow where cows were mooing and leisurely grazing, the bells around their necks jingled with every move. The forest surrounding the area seemed even denser than back at the camp.

Changbin took a deep breath. "Ah, pure country air. Ain't that great?"

"Didn't know you were into sniffing shit," Hyunjin commented casually as he walked by to sit down on one of the two benches in front of the inn.

A very fat man in a denim overall, wearing nothing underneath, stepped out of the house. He carried another bench under one arm like it weighed nothing. He slammed it down on the ground. Wiping his sweaty face, he turned towards the two supervisors.

"Ah, welcome, I'm Heinz," he roared, the accent heavy in his pronunciation, and extended a hand, the supervisors awkwardly bowed, and the fat man named Heinz seemed to realize his faux pas- the clash of two different cultures. "The food will be ready soon, just have a seat, and enjoy the view." He turned around and disappeared back inside.

"I hope the food tastes better than he smells," Jisung mumbled under his breath.

"Jisung!" Minho slapped Jisung's arm, totally baffled by how casually those words came out of his mouth.

"Sorry, hehe."

The food did, indeed, taste absolutely fabulous. Jisung forgot the name of this monstrosity of breaded meat. It was soft and tender on the inside, and crispy on the outside. The creamy potato salad was another highlight. It made up for the endless hiking.

A short, gray haired woman showed them their sleeping arrangements. Opposite the inn there was a smaller building. On the ground floor there were bathrooms, toilets, even a washing machine and tumble dryer. It smelled really weird of forgotten damp towels and laundry detergent. The first floor was closed off, for whatever reason. A steep and narrow ladder led them up towards the attic, and that's where they were supposed to spend the night, on mattresses in an open triangle-shaped space. Large beams ran across the ceiling, hidden cobwebs in every corner. Lovely.

Everyone was quick to choose a mattress; of course no one wanted to sleep surrounded by others, but with ten of them, that was impossible. Jisung and Minho were lucky, they each found a mattress in the far back, with a pillar that separated them a little from the rest. After dropping off their backpacks, most of them went outside again, only Hyunjin and Changbin stayed behind.

Minho took Jisung by the hand as he led him down the hill towards the lake. This part of the countryside felt even more rural than the camp. Insects made an incredible noise, as if they were angry. They sat down at the edge of a short dock, bare feet dipping into the cool water.

Minho leaned back on his hands. "It's nice here," he said, closing his eyes.

Jisung hummed. He splashed his feet a little while his right hand massaged Minho's thigh, he wore short pants, so Jisung had easy access to bare skin. He didn't mean anything by that, he simply wanted to be close, to express his affection with physical touch.

"Minho?" Minho hummed, letting Jisung know that he was listening. "I, uh, I got you something."

Minho opened his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Jisung reached into his pocket and pulled out a little card. "I know you have cats, and back at the store I saw this and it made me think of you."

Minho took the card. It was a holographic image of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. Tilting it made it jump up and down. The colors shimmered like a metallic rainbow. Minho looked at it and said nothing.

"I know it's silly, sorry…"

Minho's head snapped to Jisung. Emotions were swirling in his eyes which Jisung found difficult to identify. "What- no, don't say that. That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, love."

Love. A different type of warmth spread in Jisung's chest. With his thumb he wiped away a stray tear on Minho's cheek. Their eyes locked and Jisung's heart skipped a beat. Minho leaned in and they fell into a very tender kiss. It was short but oh so sweet. This moment was perfect. If only it could last forever.

"Tell me about your cats. Do they have names?"

Minho fished out his phone and opened the gallery. The first picture he showed Jisung was that of a black and white cat. "This is Alfi, I found him in a trash can, sometimes I call him trashcat." The cat on the next picture looked just the same. "This is Arlo, I got him from a friend."

"Wait, how can you tell the difference?"

"Easy. See Alfi's white nose? Arlo's nose is black." He swapped between the photos, Jisung nodded in understanding. The last picture showed a cat with snow-white fur and mismatched eyes. "This is Moon, got him from a shelter. He's still very young and playful. An adorable nuisance, just like you."

Jisung chuckled, lightly slapping Minho's arm.

"Do you have any pets?" Minho asked.

"Nope, never had. My grandmother wouldn't allow it. But if I had the chance, I'd probably get a dog."

"Yeah, you definitely are a dog-person."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jisung pouted and knitted his brows in feigned hurt. Minho laughed. His laugh was as fresh and carefree as the morning breeze, it was infectious.

They were all over each other again, kissing, hands wandering. Jisung cupped Minho's face before he pulled away a bit to catch his breath. Minho's face was flushed pink, his breathing was heavy. Jisung connected his lips once again with Minho's, and then he trailed soft kisses along his jaw, down his neck where he started sucking the skin between his teeth, gently biting it and licking over the spot right after. Minho shivered. Jisung was incredibly proud of himself for being able to cause such a reaction. A single finger brushed over Minho's crotch.

Minho got hold of Jisung's wrist. "Jisung," he whispered shakily, eyes half closed, "we're not alone."

Jisung glanced around, on the other side of the lake he spotted people pushing a small boat into the water. "Well, you didn't give a fuck back in the forest, your ass grabbing got me a fucking boner."

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A strange thing occurred. Or at least that's what Changbin and Hyunjin said. While everyone was roaming around the area, these two happened to see the supervisors walking away. This by itself was not strange, but their arguing very much so. Hyunjin and Changbin didn't give it much thought, but they became suspicious when the supervisors returned with the man's pick-up truck - after six hours. 

"Something's fishy, I can tell," Changbin mused gloomily.

He kept a safe distance to the electric fence. Cows were lazily chewing the green grass. One mooed while observing the group of four humans.

"Dude, you're watching too many crimes shows, it's messing with your head," Hyunjin groaned.

Jisung wanted to tell them about the barking dog from the parking lot, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to talk.

"Maybe they engaged in a special activity," Minho quipped.

Changbin shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so, the way they were fighting-"

"You never had angry sex?" Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows.

"Wha- no! Ew!"

Hyunjin started wrestling Changbin. It was very playful, although Hyunjin didn't stand a chance. The sun disappeared below the horizon and the wind picked up. During the day it was hot as hell. Now with the beginning nightfall, the air was cooling down rapidly. Jisung shivered.

"Let's go back inside," Minho said quietly and wrapped an arm around Jisung.

As they approached the inn, they suddenly heard a shriek, some curse words following right after. Hyunjin was hopping around, Changbin laughed his ass off while simultaneously rubbing Hyunjin's hand. Someone just got electrocuted.

For dinner they had whole-wheat bread and cold cuts of diverse meats and sausages. There were grapes and cheese on a toothpick. Some of those who were 19 years of age, or older, had a glass of freshly drawn beer.

Minho would have preferred a shot of soju, but they had none, and thus he remained sober. Jisung didn't feel like drinking, he felt good with the way he was right now. For once, the supervisors let them be young adults and kept their mouths shut.

The clock ticked the minutes away. Yes, minutes, not hours. The group had a long day that started at 4am. At around 10:30pm everyone was exhausted, those with beer in their system even more so. Soon the triangle shaped attic was filled with snores and occasional farts.

Back in the corner, Jisung and Minho had their mattresses pushed together. Now they were cuddling, Jisung being the big spoon. Minho was topless, and the softness of his scented skin got to Jisung's head. His heart started beating faster as he teasingly caressed Minho's bare arm, squeezing his biceps. Minho trembled ever so slightly when Jisung kissed his neck, just like he did hours ago at the dock. Sneaky fingers traced the outlines of Minho's non-existing abs, went lower until fingernails scratched over coarse hair.

Minho grabbed Jisung's wrist and turned around. "You're insatiable," he whispered in slight disbelieve.

Jisung didn't know what to say at first, so he tried to play it off with a smirk and a shrug. There was barely any light, just enough to see the outlines of Minho's body. "I'm sorry but I just think you're so irresistible," he finally answered, lightly chuckling. "You can't get mad at me for wanting to be close to you."

Minho gulped, but Jisung wasn't able to see this. "You think I'm irresistible?"

Jisung grinned, inching a bit closer to the man next to him. "Yeah, you're strong and beautiful and," Jisung craned his neck to whisper into Minho's ear, "so sexy…"

Minho squirmed very slightly, and a strangled noise came from his throat. With a drawn out exhale, he wrapped his arms around Jisung, and Jisung instinctively wrapped his leg around Minho's waist. Their bodies slotted together like two halves of an amulet.

Jisung's lips were swollen and sore from all the kissing, but what else could he do? Humans expressed their affection through kisses, among other things. His heart was playing drums in his chest, he knew Minho felt the same way, and the temperature in the attic seemed to increase by the second.

Minho tried changing his position a bit and accidentally rolled his hips, making his and Jisung's crotch press together. Through the thin fabric of their pajama pants they could feel each other even more. Jisung let out a surprised groan. His hand flew to his mouth. He listened into the silence. Tense moments went by. It was silent, no one seemed to have heard him.

"Apologies," Minho whispered, but his voice was wobbly from a suppressed chuckle.

The pair shifted into comfier positions, still holding each other but a bit less cramped. Before Jisung drifted off into a deep sleep, he realized that he had never felt this good sharing a bed with anyone else than he did with Minho.

"Good night, Minho."

"Good night, Jisung."

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Jisung woke up to an empty mattress beside him. The attic was quiet, only light snores and breathing could be heard. Everyone was still asleep. No wonder, yesterday they were drinking and no one in their right mind would want to get up early. If Jisung listened closely, he could hear the distant sound of cowbells.

Grabbing his backpack, Jisung quietly headed for the door. When he walked past Hyunjin, he stopped dead in his tracks. Walking backwards, he looked closer. Hyunjin was clinging onto Changbin's muscular arm, both sharing a single blanket. Pretending as if he hadn't seen anything, Jisung left the attic.

He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, when he opened the cap of the concealer, ready to apply the layers, he paused. It probably was no longer a secret that he and Minho had something going on. So, why bother?

The door behind him swung open, and out of clouds of steam stepped the man of his dreams: Lee Minho. Damp hair, a towel over his shoulders, dressed in fresh clothes. He looked immaculate, but something about his posture didn't sit right with Jisung. "Are you alright, Minho?"

Minho used the towel to rub his hair dry. "Yeah, all's good, why do you ask?"

Jisung shrugged. "I don't know," he slowly closed the short distance between him and Minho, "you seem a little... tense." A smile, sweet as honey. Eyes, glinting with... something. "What were you doing in that shower?"

"Uh, taking a shower?"

Jisung stopped an arm's length in front of Minho and took his hand. "Must have been a really good shower, your fingertips are all shriveled up."

Minho blushed, fiercely. He opened his mouth but instead of coherent words, all he did was stutter random syllables. Jisung stood so close to Minho, he could hear his breath hitch in his throat, and smell the fresh fragrance of his shower gel.

Jisung quickly glanced down, then back up to lock eyes with Minho. "You smell good," he said quietly, "but you're still tense, am I right?"

Minho gulped. "I tried to find some relief, but…"

"... but luck wasn't on your side, hm?" Jisung's lips brushed over Minho's like a ghost. "Maybe I can help with that."

Jisung maneuvered Minho back into the white-tiled room with the shower stalls, his back hitting the door.

Minho wrestled the impulse to ask Jisung what he meant with help with that, but he was caught in a trance and could only fall deeper as Jisung looked at him with those dark, round eyes.

"Let me take good care of you," he whispered, wet lips tickling Minho's ear.

Minho's hands automatically found rest on Jisung's waist when he clasped his fingers behind Minho's neck and kissed him. He kissed him softly at first, then as more tongue was added to the game, the minty taste of toothpaste was quickly replaced by something more heated. Jisung's hands slid down to rest on Minho's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through the shirt.

Jisung could feel himself getting lost in the sensations. They were just kissing, making out, but he wouldn't mind doing this forever. What was it that drew him so powerfully towards Minho?

Nibbling on Minho's bottom lip, Jisung's hands moved further down until his fingers hooked into belt loops. Jisung kissed the corner of Minho's mouth- when their eyes met for a second, Jisung smiled a little crookedly. A tug on the belt loops, Minho gulped.

Jisung unbuckled Minho's belt while decorating his neck in a trail of wet kisses. A soft jingle and pants met the floor. He reached down and palmed Minho's clothed length.

Minho sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing the other man's waist a bit more. Jisung hummed with satisfaction at this response, but stopped with the kissing and fumbling.

Jisung grinned. "Tell me to stop."

"Keep going."

Minho's voice was rough, which motivated Jisung even more to please him, going lower and lower.

Moans of intense pleasure filled the small space, mingling with remnants of steam.

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 8-The Lost Race | Minsung

The whole way up, beginning from the entrance and up to the second floor, the stench of stale smoke hung thick in the air, triggering the memory of when Jisung had first set foot on the train. Thinking back on it a little more, everything that happened since then seemed so unreal. Back home he could go days, even weeks, without anything happening. Now his life felt like a movie, and he was the protagonist. Scene after scene, building up to something that Jisung could not escape. 

Contrary to last time, Jisung was now – believe it or not – five minutes early. Light fell from the windows, illuminating the sterile looking space. As he walked down the hallway, the smell of flavored smoke grew stronger. Jisung stood in front of the white door and raised his hand, ready to knock, when he heard voices from inside the office. He pressed an ear against the door. Two voices, clearly arguing, but unintelligible.

Loud, approaching footsteps. Out of reflex, Jisung leapt backwards, and the door swung open forcefully. Jisung stood there, glued to the spot, watching as a man left the office. When he spotted Jisung, he looked him up and down. For a second too long, his eyes lingered on Jisung's neck and a look of disgust twisted his face – which made Jisung so uncomfortable, he wished he could vanish into thin air. With a shake of his head and a scoff, the man walked away.

The stench of menthol cigarettes that was blowing out from the office scratched in Jisung's lungs and burned in his eyes, it was suffocating. As if someone was smoking in there all night long without ever opening the window. It was awful. Tears welled up in Jisung's eyes, he grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted it all the way over his nose. He tried not to cough as he knocked on the door.

A woman sat at the desk, face buried in her hands, looking up when she heard knocking. The scowl on her face eased up a bit when she recognized Jisung. "Oh, you're already here, let me just…"

She never finished the sentence but at least she opened the window. A sudden gust of wind stirred up loose sheets of paper, twirling around like startled pigeons. Jisung let go of his shirt. Now the air smelled a lot fresher. Breathing freely was such a privilege.

"Thank you for seeing me." Jisung tried lifting the heavy atmosphere by demonstrating humility, hoping it worked.

The supervisor in front of him was none other than the train-woman. She seemed uncomfortable in her tight suit, the waistband of her pants cut into her belly, there were dark circles under her armpits. If only Jisung could remember her name.

"My colleague, Choi Yu-Seung, will be unavailable for the time being. She asked me to communicate some information to you." The chair squeaked under her weight as she sat back down. Her hands trembled sightly when she started hammering on the keyboard. "Right... Regarding your grandmother... There's a note saying that 'yes, his attendance is backed up by law, but considering that after three weeks, twenty-five percent less debt is ridiculous, better make it fifty percent. Don't tell him that-'"

Jisung immediately perked up. "Don't tell me what?"

"Uh, that's just an internal message."

Annoyance began to bubble in his chest. "Do I look stupid to you?" Jisung rounded the desk and stood beside her, catching a glimpse of the screen, but the supervisor hit two keys and the screen went black.

"Reach over and I'll have you detained," she warned.

"I am entitled to know information about myself. Who or what gives you the right to deny me that?"

"This."

She reached into her button-up shirt and pulled out a lanyard. Her ID-card dangled from a snap hook and right in front of Jisung's face. A finger tapped on the government's golden bird. Her name was displayed in bold letters. Pyong Su-. Jisung  didn't catch the rest before she withdrew her ID again.

"Now leave before I lose my temper. And get some concealer, I don't get paid enough for having to deal with your shenanigans."

The hell she yapping about?

Opposite Jisung, there was a file cabinet, and on one of its doors there was a narrow mirror but wide enough for Jisung to catch his reflection and - oh my fucking god - countless bruises in red and deep purple covered half of his throat.

Damn you, Minho!

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Camouflage. Matte. Wake Up. Flawless. Anti-Age. Serum. Cream. Stick.

Jisung's head started spinning as he tried to decipher what those terms meant. In moments like these he wished he had a big sister. An annoying sibling who would forcefully teach him all the basic stuff girls had to deal with. But instead of doing some research himself, he preferred relying on being gay. Simple.

With a sigh, he took two items and held them out as if he was comparing them. They had the same shade, but the one in his left hand seemed a little lighter, maybe? Looking at himself in the little mirror, he held the items alternately to his neck. None of them seemed to fit his skin tone.

"Need a little help?"

Jisung turned around to see a rather young-looking woman. She was dressed like all the staff in a formal suit. Only difference, she wore a white sleeveless coat, pens and other items peeked out from the pockets.

"Yeah, I don't really know which one…"

Her eyes flitted to his neck. "I see. If you want to cover up spots, I recommend the camouflage." She quickly found the right product and handed it to Jisung. "It should go well with your skin tone. You can try it out."

Jisung had never done this before. He unscrewed the cap, eyeing the brush that was attached to it. This couldn't get any more awkward.

"Use the brush to apply it on your skin," with a finger she demonstrated the motion on her own neck, "let it sit for a couple seconds, then gently dab it out in a circular way, until the edges are soft and invisible. You might want to go for several layers."

Jisung did as instructed. Turned out, it was really easy. After the third layer, he couldn't tell anymore what was under all that make-up. With a happy smile, he hopped to the counter, where the saleswoman was already waiting.

She scanned the bar code on the concealer. "That'll be thirty-thousand Won."

Jisung's eyes widened. "That's a lot of money for this little bottle."

"Well, if this was a supermarket, then it'd be a bit cheaper, but since we're not, and because of financial reasons, we have to sell for a higher price."

Jisung groaned on the inside when he handed her the appropriate amount of cash. Maybe he should have just endured it like a man. Hickeys on full display. But no, Jisung had his share of homophobia, he didn't need more of that, and since all the participants here were male, there was no way of using a girl as a scapegoat. Leaving the camp's small store, the smell of cooked food wafted over the courtyard, making his mouth water instantly.

Back in his cabin, he found Minho sitting by the desk. He seemed to be engrossed in writing something. Jisung used the chance to sneak up on him. Slowly, his arms wrapped around Minho's middle, catching a hint of Minho's perfume- fresh and manly. Jisung planted a soft kiss on his cabinmate's neck.

"What are you writing?" he asked, sitting down on the chair next to Minho.

"That's private." Minho didn't bother covering his journal though. "How was your appointment?"

"That's private." Jisung smirked, secretly enjoying teasing Minho. That was the only perk of being younger; acting like a little shit and getting away with it. Something about the way Minho's eyes latched onto him made Jisung drop the attitude though. "It was... okay, I guess."

"Is something bothering you?" Now Minho closed his journal.

Jisung's tough facade cracked. "I was told that me being here is legitimate. Just so you know, no one told me anything about this whole camp thing beforehand."

"Yeah, I figured. They really tossed you into cold water."

Jisung hummed. "It was my grandmother. Usually she's pedantic about details, I don't know why she..." Jisung's voice trailed off, the feeling of betrayal stabbing his heart.

"Did you call her?"

Jisung crossed his arms. "Oh, no no. I won't do that."

"Why not?" Minho smiled, slightly amused by Jisung's pout.

"I... I might say something dumb."

"I'd call her, if I were you. You know, communication is key, don't allow feelings to bottle up until they spill over. It never ends well."

"You sound like Felix," Jisung muttered under his breath.

"What?"

Jisung waved off, leaning back in his chair and manspreading to give himself some sort of confidence before he pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the green dial button. It's just a phone call, nothing to be afraid of. It rang three times before his grandmother answered.

"Grandma, it's me."

"Oh, Jisung, so good to hear you! How are you, are you having fun at the camp?" She sounded so sweet and delicate. Jisung didn't have the heart to be his usual bratty self.

"It's fine, really. The food is marvelous, and you were right, they have a lot of activities."

"Well, I am very glad you're saying that. Did you make friends? I might repeat myself here, but making friends is the most important thing while you're young."

Jisung looked up and met Minho's gaze. "Actually, yeah, I did." They smiled at each other, but Minho looked a bit confused, of course, because he had no context to Jisung's words. He heard her saying something, but it got pushed into the background as he lost himself in Minho's eyes. With a shake of his head, he forced himself back into the conversation with his grandmother. "Are you busy? You sound like you're weightlifting."

Chae-Won chuckled. "I'm working in my garden, flowers won't bloom without human interaction. Speaking of, it is time for a lunch break. Jisung, please continue to stay in the camp, don't do anything reckless, and have fun. Let's talk another time, yes?"

"I will, grandma, you know me. And you take good care of you too. Bye!"

Jisung waited for his grandmother to hang up first, which she did after a few seconds. He had every right to question her decision-making. He had every right to be mad at her, and yet... Maybe this was the moment he should consider therapy.

"You love your grandmother," Minho said into the silence, smiling ever so lovely at Jisung.

Jisung nodded sheepishly. "I do, she basically raised me." He didn't feel like going into detail so he stood up and went over to where the console was. "You still owe me the first round."

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The missed breakfast caused their stomachs to rumble painfully. After playing for only half an hour, they headed to the canteen. They quickly stuffed their bellies with roast beef, potatoes, and gravy. Then they hurried back to continue playing. Now they had all the time in the world. No classes, no trips.

For the next three hours, they played through every game, ending up with 'Crash Team Racing' as the last one. It was like 'Mario Cart' but better. Two players competed against each other on a racing track – there were many tracks to choose from, each with different levels of difficulty. Jisung chose 'Crash Bandicoot' as his avatar, Minho went for 'Tiny Tiger'.

'Oxide Station', a racing track that caused many players to rage quit, siblings started fighting, relationships found a tragic end. Jisung's avatar shot past Minho's, laughing like a maniac, now taking first place. What he forgot was that Minho had planted a TNT-crate on a tricky corner, and Jisung slammed right into it. His part of the split screen turned red. Crash bounced up and down like a rubber ball. Jisung could only stare and watch as Minho finished the race first. Confetti popped.

"I never win," Jisung pouted.

"Aw, come on, you did good." Minho pushed him playfully. "One more round, maybe I'll let you win."

Minho zapped through the available levels. He almost chose 'Coco Park', a track for babies, but that would've been be kinda mean. While Minho's gaze was focused on the screen, Jisung stared at his side profile, and then his eyes wandered down to Minho's neck. His head was empty. All his eyes could do was look him up and down, his brain could only register the seductive beauty of this man. Jisung had no conscious control over his body. He simply leaned in and kissed Minho on the cheek. Minho looked at him, the tip of his ears quickly turned red.

"Have I ever told you," Jisung whispered, inching closer, "how beautiful you are?"

Minho shook his head. "Say it again, please," he whispered.

Jisung gently cupped Minho's face with one hand. "You... are so... beautiful."

Drawn out words, quietly uttered, only for Minho to hear, his heart fluttered. They way Jisung looked at him from eye to eye, his sugary smile, his sparkling eyes. The scent of his honey skin. It was all too much. Minho felt shy and excited and happy and needy- all at once.

"Hyung…"

This simple word ignited Minho's desire, he blinked rapidly. "Can I kiss you?"

Jisung cracked a sweet smile. "You don't have to ask."

One hand landed on Jisung's neck and Minho pulled him into an immediately passionate kiss. His other hand started squeezing Jisung's thigh. Every squeeze earned him a soft moan from Jisung, which turned him on even more. Jisung's hands tightly gripped the fabric of Minho's shirt. Kissing Jisung is the fucking best!

The smacking of their lips must have been the most arousing and erotic sound they have ever heard. Heavy breathing turned into moans as they were making out and feeling each other up.

Jisung was dizzy, his head was clouded and foggy, his body seemed to burn up. Kissing Minho is the fucking best!

When their lips detached, they clung on to each other in an impossibly close embrace, trying to catch their breath. After some time, they pulled apart a bit more, allowing them to look at each other more comfortably.

Minho was the first to speak. "I could've sworn I decorated you with some hickeys."

"I've been stared at! Do you know how embarrassing that was? This is your fault."

Jisung pulled out the concealer from his pocket. Minho took it and eyed it suspiciously, then he tossed it onto the desk, thankfully it didn't roll down, or else Jisung would've been so mad.

"You need some more." Minho pushed Jisung down on the bed. He even tried to wipe the concealer off of his neck.

"Ya, stop that! That shit was expensive!" Jisung's protests turned into giggles and laughter when Minho started tickling him. Tears from laughing so hard trickled down his cheeks. His face was flushed red. 

The sound of Jisung laughing was now Minho's favorite melody.

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 7-The Sushi| Minsung

Warning: *smut.

6:10pm 1 new message

Going back to the bathroom was a bad idea. Jisung was really trying to keep himself busy, as he still felt a little bit of bitterness from being forbidden to go out. So he organized his part of the wardrobe. Not that he had a lot of stuff anyway, he was done in no time. After that, he went to the bathroom, not because he needed to, but because there was this tiny tub of lip balm.

Jisung stood there and looked at it. With sweaty and slightly trembling hands, he unscrewed the lid. The intense fragrance of sweet strawberry hit him like the sudden wall of hot, humid air after leaving a cool room. Minho smelled like strawberry. Does he taste like it too? No, no this is bad, a bad idea, I shouldn't -

Startled by his own thoughts, Jisung put the tub back and hurried to exit the cabin.

There was a fenced gate that separated the main area of the camp from the cabins. Coming from the cabins and to the left there was the staff's residence; a rather high building with trees to the side for privacy. Jisung sat beneath such a tree. There were some bushes and piles of wood, from which he had a perfect view to the entrance but he himself would stay hidden.

Did he just discover the best hiding spot? Hell yeah he did. He pulled out his phone, wanting to play some mindless game, when the entrance door to the staff's residence swung open. Two people rushed outside, they seemed to argue. Jisung couldn't understand them, but the closer they got to him, the more their loud words made sense.

"I do not want to be associated with this!" a tall man yelled, gesticulating wildly. "Do you know how much I have to lose?!"

Jisung cowered deeper into the bushes, and pulled his legs up to his chest. The tall man grabbed a large bough that was lying around and snapped it onto the ground. It sounded like a whip. Jisung flinched.

"It was an accident, I swear!" the woman whined.

Her voice sounded familiar, but Jisung couldn't place it. She was standing right behind the man, completely blocked by him.

"People don't die accidentally!"

"Well, actually…"

"Oh shut up, I need to think."

They both went back inside from where they came, leaving a totally confused and slightly scared Jisung back in the bushes. He shook his head. What just happened? Then he remembered seeing a notification on his phone. It was just Felix, who had sent him a selfie of a very fancy coffee with whipped cream and caramel on top. Jisung giggled, ultimately forgetting about the weird encounter from a couple minutes ago.

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At 6:45pm, Jisung trudged back up the gravel road towards his cabin. He passed some people working around the campfire pit, who were setting everything up for later. Jisung kept walking.

Back at his cabin, he found Minho sitting on the floor next his bed. He had his back turned, so he didn't notice him approaching. Minho was mumbling to himself, fidgeting with something. Minho's hair looked so fluffy, even more so from the back.

"Hey," Jisung said loudly. "Whatcha doing?"

Minho flinched. "The fu- oh it's you."

Jisung sat down next to him. There was a console, controller, and a lot of tangled cables.

"No way!" Jisung exclaimed, grabbing a game casing. "Sly Cooper, I used to play that game when I was a kid."

"I'll let you play a round, once I have those darn cables untangled." Minho struggled, then gave up and tossed them to the side.

"There's a trick to it."

Just as Jisung reached out to grab the cables, Minho shifted on his knees and their faces moved dangerously close. So close that Jisung could feel Minho's breath fanning over him. Time froze as their eyes locked. Minho's eyes flashed down to Jisung's mouth. Lips now mere millimeters apart.

Jisung's hand automatically found Minho's cheek, caressing it gently. This was the moment he's been fantasizing about, it surprisingly came faster than expected. "Can I kiss you?" Jisung whispered, heart drumming.

"Yes," Minho breathed out.

Jisung's mouth felt dry and his heart was drumming in his chest. He was so nervous, but the good kind of nervous that gave him enough courage to lean in and connect his lips with Minho's. It was a simple peck. Soft, sweet, both boys a blushing mess. Once their lips parted, Jisung knew that he wouldn't be satisfied with just a simple peck.

The first few moments after something intimate like that were always a bit awkward. They shared glances, while grinning and blushing even more, before the atmosphere relaxed again.

"I, uh, I got you some sushi, it's on your bedside table."

Jisung craned his neck, looking over, and indeed, on the small table there was a small box. "Oh nice, how much do I owe you?"

Minho shook his head slightly. "My treat."

"After dinner, some of the other guys are having a little get-together. Wanna join?"

"Sure, sounds fun."

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The fire crackled as dry sticks and branches were being tossed into the flames. Sparks flew everywhere. At one point, two night watchmen entered the scene, giving everyone a stern warning. Next time they won't hesitate and shut it all down, the end for any future campfire fun.

A frail looking boy with a rat's face tried to stir up shit by pouring alcohol into the fire pit. Thank goodness Changbin saw it, tackled him, and dragged him away. No one would ever know what he did to that boy between the trees, but when they returned, rat-boy stammered an apology, sat down and remained quiet for the rest of the night.

Minho was sitting on a log next to Jisung. Hyunjin passed them each a can of beer. Between taking sips from the carbonated, cool liquid and laughing at dirty jokes, the sun disappeared and night took over, casting a chilly shadow over them all.

Unconsciously, Jisung's hand had moved, it didn't take long until his pinkie finger brushed over the back of Minho's hand. Minho looked at him, smiling sweetly. In a swift movement he looped his arm around Jisung's middle, fumbling with his shirt. Jisung had to act like nothing was happening as he felt Minho's cool fingers caressing his bare skin.

The alcohol was flowing freely, and now they were at a point, where everything felt easy. Inner barriers and guards down. Jisung only had half a can, he knew his limits well enough, and he never liked the taste of alcohol anyways. He happily noticed that Minho was also still sipping on his first can.

"Listen up, everybody!" Hyunjin rose, he swayed a bit as he drank the last sip from his beer, scrunched up the can and tossed it away. "Why don't we- why don't we tell a little something of ourselves? Like, what's your crime, haha."

"Then you should start with yourself!" Changbin shouted, his voice had gotten obnoxiously louder the more he drank.

"Me? Uh, okay... has anyone of you fuckers ever heard of 'Sexy Hwang Dynamite'?"

"Isn't that the guy who vandalized some public restroom in Seoul?" a boy with big glasses asked.

"Not just any restroom, the one right in front of the parliament. I was making a statement." Hyunjin put his hands on his hips, looking all proud.

"What statement? And why that silly nickname? Like you're some kind of rapper." Changbin laid into him relentlessly, causing others to snicker. "All you did was clogging the toilets and you ran away after it flooded. Sexy Hwang Dynamite? My ass! Coward Hwang Poopy Hands!"

Hyunjin flopped down next to Changbin and put him in a headlock. "I'll give you Coward-Hwang-Poopy-Hands, you colossal, booger eating twat!"

They wrestled with each other. Everyone watched in both amusement and second hand embarrassment. Were they friends even before they met here at the camp? Changbin was obviously stronger than Hyunjin, he quickly freed himself from the headlock and punched Hyunjin's arm. A yelp, and everything was good again.

That's how Jisung learned that Minho was sent here because he stole products from a high-end electronics store. Jisung even shot him a glance, wondering if he had stolen the console and games which were in their cabin. But Minho avoided meeting his questioning gaze.

Jisung got to tell of his debt which, compared to the crimes of others, was rather minor. It still bugged him a bit, but for now the alcohol subdued any too negative emotions. Minho's hand wandered along Jisung's waist. He was enjoying the warm and tingling sensation very much. With his head on Minho's shoulder, he leaned further into the touch. For a moment he thought he had fallen asleep, when he got startled and looked around.

"Wanna go sleep?" Minho asked quietly.

Jisung nodded and yawned. He let Minho help him get up, then they said their goodbyes. As they walked to their cabin, holding each other, Jisung had only one thing on his mind: To kiss Minho again. How should he go about that without coming off as pushy, or creepy? Did Minho even feel the same way?

"I'll let you go first," Minho offered, standing in front of the bathroom. "You look like you could fall asleep any second."

"O-okay, thanks, I'll be quick. And I'm not tired." He yawned and made it a point to finish his night time routine in a new best time. There was still the lip balm tub. No, touching other people's stuff is a big no-no. But he tastes so good…

Jisung sat on his bed, waiting for Minho to come out of the bathroom. Mentally he was prepared to ask him for a goodnight kiss. A totally normal thing to ask one's cabinmate. When Minho did step out of the bathroom, all Jisung could do was stare up at this beautiful man. Mind blank. Great, haha...ha.

"Good night, Jisung," Minho smirked.

"Night, Minho…"

Sad and disappointed in himself, he sank back into the pillow. The lights went out, silence filled the room. He kept looking over to where Minho was, wishing he could be closer. Sighing, he turned around and closed his eyes. 

Then he heard the ruffling of sheets and the sound of bare feet over wooden floor.

Jisung felt the mattress dip, his own blanket lifted. He was too stunned to speak when Minho laid down right next to him, facing each other under the covers. They were so close again. Sweet strawberry scent. Jisung almost passed out when he felt a warm hand on his face.

"Hyung-"

"Shut up…"

This time, Minho took the lead. They connected their lips for a quick peck but when Minho pulled back and immediately reconnected their lips again, it felt different. More passionate. Jisung loved how his body reacted to this.

He allowed Minho to deepen the kiss by placing a hand on his neck, pulling him even closer. After some timid tries, their tongues met and Jisung let out a small moan. Minho smiled into the kiss, his hand wandered down along Jisung's waist.

Jisung now felt relaxed enough to let go of the blanket he was gripping the whole time. He rested his hand on Minho's biceps. Feeling how his hot skin and muscles moved under his touch, Jisung burned up with desire.

It got even worse when Minho decided to intertwine their legs. He squeezed Jisung's waist, the taste of toothpaste and strawberries was long gone, and instead replaced with heated arousal.

"Min- Minho," Jisung whispered between kisses, giggles, and gasps for breath. "Minho, wait."

Minho stopped kissing him but their lips still slightly touched. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it's just... I really like you right now and..." Jisung lost track of what he wanted to say- how to form words.

Minho gently caressed Jisung's cheek. "Am I going too fast?" he asked quietly. "We can slow down if that's what you need."

Jisung's head was spinning. He took a deep breath and started anew. "Hyung, I feel so good and all I need right now is you."

A breathless moment passed, and even though it was mostly dark in their cabin, Jisung could clearly see Minho's grin.

"Good," Minho whispered, "because I need you too."

He leaned in once more and started kissing Jisung until their arousal was back to the level from a minute ago. With one hand, Minho grabbed the collar of Jisung's t-shirt and yanked it over his head. Jisung wanted to do the same, but Minho has been shirtless all along. He didn't hold back and touched all over Minho as they made out, now their bare chests pressing together.

Jisung started to squirm, his mind was going crazy with the other's weight halfway over him, his tongue pushing deeper into Jisung's mouth. Minho rolled his hips down onto Jisung who let out a groan and a swear word. 

Sitting up, he pushed Minho back on the bed. Jisung climbed on top of him, legs intertwined. With confidence, Jisung leaned in once again and k̶i̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ devoured Minho. Moving his lips, savoring each second, gently sucking and nibbling at the other's bottom lip, sending shivers all over his body. He could feel Minho's erection hardening against his leg.

Jisung felt absolutely dazed by the taste of Minho, by how his hands held onto Jisung's waist; by the low moans that escaped his throat as they slowly fell into a rhythm of moving bodies. 

They paused for a moment, looking at each other with half closed and glossy eyes. When Minho's hands slid under Jisung's boxers and grabbed his butt with both hands rather fiercely, he almost fainted.

Jisung propped himself on his hands, focused on grinding his erection down onto Minho. His back arched as his hips moved faster and faster. Needy and desperate.

"I'm close," Jisung breathed shakily.

"Me too," Minho groaned out, "don't stop..." 

This was more than Jisung ever could have imagined. The alcohol in his system probably played some role in this, but as long as he and Minho were consenting, it didn't matter.

Looking at each other, breathing shallow and frantic, Jisung was the first to reach his climax, followed by Minho shortly after. When the electrifying release hit, Minho clang tightly onto Jisung.

Riding out his orgasm, Jisung waited for Minho to ease up the embrace. Then he rolled over on the bed beside him, panting, dizzy, but feeling so good. 

Amidst the silence, realization hit them both at the same time. They looked at each other- and burst out laughing. Gasping for breath, trying to utter words, but failing miserably, which caused them to laugh even more.

"You good?" Jisung finally got out, still shaking with laughter.

Minho wiped tears from his eyes. "Yeah, you too?"

Jisung looked down at himself. "Well, I guess I need a shower."

"Let's go together," Minho suggested excitedly.

"... Together?"

"C'mon!"

Without hesitation, Minho got up and took Jisung by the hand, easily dragging him with him. Jisung had no strength left, he was like wax in Minho's grip.

With a blank mind, and the pressing need to wash himself, Jisung found himself standing in the bathroom. Naked. Why was he feeling a little shy all of a sudden? Maybe because he was staring at Minho's pretty butt.

Minho tested the shower's temperature. He held out his arm, the water trickled over his fingers, until steam filled the small bathroom. Then he turned around and carefully led Jisung into the small shower cabin. Minho had his head thrown a bit backwards as the hot water soaked his hair and ran over his chest, down his body.

It was the first time Jisung saw Minho's body. He had felt his arms and his torso just minutes ago. Now together with the visual, he couldn't help but stare. He should feel awkward, being in this situation. Showering with someone he'd only known for a couple days. But for some reason, Jisung felt content. A bit shy, though, given that there's an unearthly beautiful man in front of him. Minho's body was simply perfect.

Minho moved the shower head towards Jisung, so he could apply shampoo on his scalp. Jisung's eyes followed along the foam that was sliding down Minho's neck and chest. The more the hot water drenched him, the more relaxed he became. Minho turned off the water. Jisung closed his eyes and let out a satisfied hum as Minho applied shampoo on Jisung's head, gently massaging his scalp with his fingers. He didn't even notice how his arms wrapped around Minho's waist.

Minho smiled warmly at the sight. Jisung's eyes were closed, his mouth half open, pink chubby cheeks. The steam somehow made his honey skin glow. He let the water run again, washing off the excess shampoo.

Jisung opened his eyes, smiling but avoiding eye contact at the same time. He took the bottle of liquid soap.

"You gonna wash me?" Minho asked, grinning mischievously.

"No," Jisung retorted dryly.

Minho scoffed and snatched the bottle out of Jisung's hand. He allowed himself a generous amount of soap, and put the bottle back on the rack. He turned around and washed himself, getting the smell of sex off of him. Behind him, he clearly heard Jisung huffing and puffing. Oh, he's so going to keep teasing that little hamster-boy.

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A rumbling that was very similar to thunder hammered against the door, cracking splinters off the wooden frame. The noise became louder. Jisung was forced awake. Before the day even started, he was already over and done with it. He cracked an eye open and saw Minho answering the door. There was loud talking but Jisung couldn't hear shit. When it was quiet again, he groaned and rolled over, trying to fall asleep again. 

He heard Minho calling his name but he didn't bother reacting to it.

"Jisung," Minho repeated, now shaking Jisung by the shoulders.

"What, what is it?" Jisung glowered at him.

"You turn that frown upside down, sad clown," Minho said in a low and threatening tone but when Jisung's expression changed a bit, he laughed with amusement. He crawled under the covers and hugged Jisung like a baby monkey, nuzzling his face in the nape of his neck.

Jisung instantly relaxed. The annoyance of being woken up - gone. He could feel Minho's lips grazing the skin right under his jaw, but Minho pulled back, teasing.

"There was someone at the door, saying you have an appointment at 10:30."

"Where? With whom?"

"Uh... Choi... I forgot the rest. Social Work."

Jisung remembered yesterday's short, anger-filled conversation he had with the woman from social work. She said she had news regarding his grandmother. Finally, he would find out whether he was rightfully here or not.

"What's the time?"

"Don't know," Minho's voice came out muffled.

Jisung reached over to the bedside table. Not an easy task because Minho was kinda in the way.

"We missed breakfast."

"Oh, no~" Minho sang sarcastically.

What Jisung didn't notice was Minho's inner struggle. Jisung's soft neck looked so damn delicious. He fought with every fiber of his body to not cover his honey skin in a thousand hickeys. Han Jisung, what have you done with me?

"I still got the sushi!"

After Jisung had gotten up to get the sushi, he sat cross legged on his bed, Minho beside him.

Minho made a face. "How can you still want to eat that, it's been outside since yesterday evening."

"Hey, don't blame me, I got distracted last night." Jisung side-eyed him, Minho smirked. "But," Jisung opened the package and took a sniff, "it still smells good, now open up."

He took a piece of sushi, dipped it into the wasabi, and held it in front of Minho's mouth. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth a little. Jisung was patient. He waited until Minho's mouth was open wide enough, then he shoved the wasabi coated piece of sushi inside. Jisung smiled in satisfaction, then he took another piece - carefully making sure that no wasabi was on it - and started eating. One by one, they shared each piece with each other. Jisung accidentally got the last one with wasabi on it; he hissed at the spiciness, hands flailing, Minho laughing.

"Ya! Stop laughing!" Jisung slapped the other's arm slightly.

"Make me."

Jisung blinked. Minho's laughter ceased when Jisung pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. Seeing Minho lying under him certainly was a sight to behold Those intense eyes and that sly grin on his pretty face. Jisung bit his lip as he pulled up the hem of Minho's shirt, revealing a soft belly. Then he leaned down, kissing the soft skin next to Minho's navel. He looked up and got lost in Minho's warm brown eyes.

"You're too slow," Minho whispered, a spark in his eye.

And suddenly Jisung was flipped over like a pancake – Minho over him. He grabbed both of Jisung's hands with his left hand and held them over his head.

"You took the last sushi," he whispered into Jisung's ear, "this is considered rude in our culture."

Jisung gulped. "Wh-What are you gonna do about that?"

Slowly, Minho traced a finger down along Jisung's neck, stopping at his collarbone. "You'll see."

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 6-The Butterflies | Minsung

Joints cracked as Jisung stretched his arms. He was able to sleep through the night and not wake up once, so he welcomed the feeling of waking up feeling rejuvenated the next morning. The early sun sent her soft rays through the cracks and into the cabin where the blinds weren't fully closed. Jisung stayed in bed for a while, enjoying the comfortable quiet before he got up and opened the window. The air smelled of dew, icy fresh and moist. He inhaled deeply.

Yesterday, after they had arrived back at the camp, they told him that he was allowed to abstain from physically demanding activities. At least until he had examinations done and the diagnosis suggested otherwise. There wasn't much the doctor at the parkour park could have done.

Not wanting to startle his cabinmate, Jisung quietly closed the window. His bag was still on the floor next to his bed, clothes and other items were all a disorganized mess. There was a spacious closet, why not use it? He rummaged through the bag, grabbed fresh underwear, and locked the bathroom door.

With the towel over his shoulders, Jisung exited the bathroom, sending clouds of steam outside. He felt fresh and so good. On the way back to his bed, something caught his eye. On Minho's nightstand there was a framed picture, the glass was reflecting the light and made it blink. On tiptoes, Jisung stepped closer and squinted. Three cats with big round eyes. Adorable. Jisung wondered if those belonged to Minho.

Minho as a cat-butler? Now that would be something. Him all snuggled up, suffocated by furbabies, his beautiful face sticking out, smiling.

Before he knew it, Jisung started grinning like an idiot. If he didn't have ears, he would've smiled all around his face. Suddenly, Minho moved in his bed, startling Jisung who quickly made a beeline to where he intended to go in the first place- the closet.

Shortly after breakfast, Jisung returned to his cabin. Minho had missed it and when Jisung saw him sitting on his bed, he sighed with relief. "Good morning," Jisung sang with a smile.

"Morning," Minho grumbled.

"I brought you something."

Jisung placed something on the desk. Several pancakes wrapped in a napkin, two small portions of jam, a fried egg with mini sausages on a plate, and a glass of orange juice. Don't ask how he managed to smuggle all of that away, this was Jisung we're talking about.

Minho stepped closer. He was squinting, eyes still a bit heavy with sleep. He pointed at himself and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Jisung nodded.

"Why?" Minho asked, but Jisung just shrugged, finding Minho's disbelief quite amusing. "Thank you."

Jisung took a step back, he could have sworn Minho wanted to hug him. Or even just slap him on the shoulder. God, Jisung, pull yourself together.

Jisung flopped down on his bed and played a game on his phone. From the corner of his eyes he secretly observed Minho. How he gulped down every piece of food. How he got ready to take a shower. How he came back, droplets of water rolling down his neck, how the sun rays illuminated his tanned skin…

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8:15am Gymnastics

Jisung felt great, as if he could rip out a tree by its roots – perfectly able to engage in some light exercise. But he was denied to even set foot in the gym. Begrudgingly, he turned around and left. From now until the afternoon, he had nothing to do. Finance class had been canceled. He didn't mind though.

As he trudged along the gravel road, up to where the cabins were, his path was blocked by two figures. Scowling, he looked up and recognized Changbin and the beanstalk-boy. Did Jisung ever learn his name?

"What?" Jisung uttered in a rather snotty tone.

Changbin scoffed. "Your mother never taught you manners?"

That stung, being reminded in such an untimely fashion that he, in fact, did not have a mother. She died when he was a little kid. The image of her being all hooked up to machines still haunted his dreams sometimes.

"Well, neither did yours it seems," Jisung clapped back, "so you better wipe your mouth, there's still some bullshit around your lips."

Beanstalk-boy snorted, looking at Changbin with blatant glee. "Oh, I like him already," he said, now turning to Jisung. "I'm Hwang Hyunjin."

"Han Jisung."

"You seem like a chill dude. We're planning to do a BBQ tonight, wanna join us? Might have a drink or two."

Jisung knew that alcohol, or any type of drug, was forbidden inside the camp. He also knew that from 4pm to 6:45pm they were allowed to go visit the next town over. And most definitely he knew how to keep his mouth shut. No one liked a snitch.

"Sounds like a plan."

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Artistic Expression 1:30pm – 3:30pm

"Painting is a visual art that captures the expression of ideas and emotions."

The instructor, a stocky semi-bald man, stood in front of a desk. With his hands folded over his belly, he looked like a grandpa telling a fairy tale. He seemed friendly. Colorful stains were splattered over his white jeans. His glasses kept sliding down his nose and with his index finger he pushed it back up.

"Dating way back into the Upper Paleolithic, humans all over the earth, of any epoch, regardless of culture, have made use of the art of painting. With the rise of…"

Jisung zoned out, bored by the endless rambling. Next to him sat Minho who kept stealing glances to Jisung. His heart skipped a beat every time he noticed it. Today Minho had his hair combed back which exposed his forehead in a way that made Jisung simply stare. 

Gosh, his side profile…

When the whole class – a total of ten people – started walking around, Jisung and Minho looked around in confusion. Everyone got together in pairs of two, standing behind an easel with a canvas on it.

Shyly, Minho raised his hand. "Excuse me, sir, what is our task again?"

The man looked at Minho over the brim of his glasses. "Ah, I was already wondering when you two gentlemen liked to join us again." He explained the task while walking around his desk to sit down on a swivel chair. "Just take a canvas and paint what you feel. There's no right or wrong." With a sigh, he pulled out a newspaper from the desk's drawer and started reading.

Minho tugged on Jisung's sleeve. "Look, there's still one available," he whispered, pointing to the far back of the room.

There were tubes of acrylic paint and brushes in every size on a small table, each easel had their own equipment, so no one had to share. While Jisung looked through the utensils, Minho went to fill a cup with water.

Now they stood there, their minds as blank as the canvas.

"Have you ever painted before?" Minho wondered.

Jisung scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Of course I have, in elementary school."

Without further ado, Minho grabbed a tube with black color and squeezed an enormous blob on the palette. Then he took a wide brush with sturdy bristles, dabbed it into the water, mixed it with some of the paint, and began covering the whole canvas in a deep, saturated black.

They way Minho held and moved the brush, certainly confident, and yet, Jisung couldn't help but wonder why it had to be black. Why that dark approach? What did it mean in the context of 'paint what you feel'?

Jisung, again, stared at Minho. But Minho seemed to find the label on the tube quite interesting. Timidly, Jisung reached out to grab something from the small table, but at the exact same time, Minho decided to put his tube down, accidentally hitting Jisung in the process. With a hiss, Jisung pulled his hand back.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry," Minho apologized, looking startled. "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?" He took Jisung's hand into his and turned it around to see if there was a wound, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot.

"I-I'm fine, it's... it's okay, really," Jisung stuttered.

His stomach did the thing, his heart was beating faster. This time Jisung didn't freeze, this time he placed his other hand on Minho's and looked up. Their eyes locked. Jisung smiled and Minho smiled back. Time seemed to stop, existence reduced to a bubble with only Jisung and Minho inside.

No further words were spoken as Jisung prepared the white paint, painting over the blackness until it almost disappeared. Minho didn't even wait for it to dry, he simply added all the different colors into it. It was a mess. A pastel-colored mess, smeared across the canvas. They started snickering once they messed up each other's work.

How bold of Jisung to smear a blob of yellow paint on Minho's cheek. How bold of him to laugh. It was moments like these that he would think back on when he began wondering, 'how did it all start?'.

As if they were art connoisseurs, Jisung and Minho beheld their masterpiece of a painting. Chests swollen with pride, a pretentious smirk on their lips.

"The purple really makes this mess pop," Minho said in a posh accent. "Who would've thought you knew how to hold a brush."

"I'm an ace, old man," Jisung protested, wiggling a warning finger.

And suddenly Minho's arm looped around Jisung's back and his hand landed right on Jisung's waist. He blushed at the slight squeeze, his breath hitched in his throat.

The instructor went from pair to pair, asking them to interpret their painting and giving them adequate credits. Jisung tried to listen but Minho's hand and the closeness of his warm body was so... dizzying.

"And what do we have here?"

Jisung flinched at the unexpectedly booming voice of the instructor. The way his eyes scanned the painting, it seemed like he knew what happened inside the artists heart and soul.

"Oh, interesting. Would you like to tell us something about it, Minho?"

Minho cleared his throat. "Well, it actually started with me painting it all black, as in nothing. Black is nothing, if that makes sense. Then we did what we felt like doing."

"So the contrast, with a little black still shining through, would you say that there's still 'nothing' there? Jisung?"

Jisung blinked at the man. "Uh…"

"I see," the instructor paused for a moment, "very interesting work, I must say, well done, full credits."

And with that, the class was dismissed. Jisung decided in this moment that 'arts class' was his favorite.

Walking out the door of the 'secondary building', Jisung noticed a gathering of people in front of the main building's entrance. As he walked over, the chatter grew louder and everyone tried to get the best spot at what looked like an announcement. A sheet of paper behind a glass case.

"102, let's go!"

"105!"

"Aw, man, I missed it by one point!"

Jisung squeezed through the crowd, Minho following right behind.

|| Regarding the short vacation from 4pm to 6:45pm

Participants are required to sign off and upon return sign back in at the front desk!

Required amount of credits: 100 (out of a maximum of 105)

no exceptions!

.

.

.

.

Han Jisung: 85 ||

Jisung's heart dropped. He kinda suspected that he didn't gain a lot of credits but that it was that low felt like a punch in the gut. He didn't even check Minho's, blinded by rage he marched straight into the main building and up to the front desk.

"I need someone to talk!" Jisung demanded loudly.

The secretary looked up from the phone, giving him a grossed out glance. She ended the call, told Jisung to wait a moment, and disappeared through a back door. Just as he was about to slam his fist on the desk, the door opened and out stepped the lady from social work. Choi Yu-Seung.

"Jisung, what's the matter?" she asked calmly.

"Why do I only have 85?" He glared at her, waiting impatiently for an answer but that answer better be a good one. Or else.

"Mh, I suspected you would want to know, so I brought you this." Choi Yu-Seung was so incredibly calm as she handle the situation. Not an ounce of fear or annoyance in her. She picked up a folder and held it out to Jisung. "This is an exact list of how our credits are distributed and earned. Take a look."

Doubtfully, Jisung took the folder and flipped through pages.

On day 1, he had points deducted because he didn't socialize. Ridiculous.

On day 2, points were deducted because he was late for individual counseling. Understandable.

On day 3, points were deducted because he showed unruly behavior, he refused to be paired and insisted on being with someone specific, with participant Lee Minho. Outrageous. Appalling.

On day 4, he didn't receive any points for 'Gymnastics' because he wasn't allowed to attend. What the hell? For 'painting' he received full points and an extra 5. Oh well…

Jisung looked up, disgust and disbelief clearly visible on his face, as if he had seen the greenest and slimiest blob of snot on the sidewalk.

"Do you think this is fair?" he asked, still relatively calm.

"This is how our system works."

"You said we're not prisoners, and yet you treat us like guinea pigs." There was a little spit forming in the corners of his mouth, a sign that he was forcefully suppressing pent-up rage.

"I understand that you're upset. Take this as a learning experience, so you might be able to go on next week's short vacation."

Jisung scoffed as words failed him, totally perplexed by the absurdity of the whole situation. He carelessly let the folder fall down on the desk and turned around, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible.

"Oh, wait!" Choi Yu-Seung called after him. "I have news regarding your grandmother. Let's sit down tomorrow, yes? Oh, and I think you need these- here."

She handed him a small rectangular package, those were the prescribed pills for his clusterfuck migraine – or however it was called. Until now, he had totally forgotten about it. But now that he had it, he was glad. At least he now knew he wouldn't have to suffer through the next attack.

Jisung entered the cabin, shoes somewhere thrown off to the side, feeling a bit weird. The sudden anger had already subsided. Unsure of what to do with himself, he stood in the middle of the room, ruffling his hair.

"They won't let you go, are they?" Minho sat at the desk, an open notebook in front of him, pen in his left hand.

Jisung walked over and sat down on the other chair beside him. "I might as well could've talked to a wall." He exhaled loudly, then his eyes narrowed. "Why are you still here? Someone like you surely scored 105."

Minho blushed. Cute.

"I have but... going when you can't, it doesn't feel right."

"The hell you're talking about? You're going to this stupid city and you're going to have a great time! Don't think about me, I did this to myself." Jisung was genuinely surprised at this sudden display of self-reflection. "And besides, you still got some paint on your face. Can't let you walk around like that."

Without warning, Jisung grabbed Minho by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the bathroom.

Drenched in hot water, Jisung carefully dabbed the wet washcloth over Minho's yellow cheek, while holding his face steady with the other hand. Occasionally, their eyes met and Jisung felt a zapping in his stomach. When the paint was completely washed off, Jisung dried Minho's face with a clean towel.

"There, good as new."

Minho turned to inspect himself in the mirror, moving his head from side to side, then nodded with satisfaction. Now that there was a mirror, Jisung noticed his own staring. A bit embarrassed, he positioned himself so that he wouldn't see his reflection.

Jisung stood very close to Minho. So close that he was aware of something. "Hm, what's that funky smell?"

"Huh?"

"It smells like... sweet fruits? Ew." Jisung made a face.

"Oh, that's my lip balm," Minho said, not giving in to Jisung's jabs.

Jisung leaned forward and sniffed near Minho's face. "You're right," he confirmed and slowly his eyes wandered down onto Minho's mouth. Those perfect red lips, smelling like strawberry. Can we kiss...?

"Wanna try?"

"Yeah... huh?"

Realizing what he just said, Jisung's heart threatened to break out of his chest. There was a sudden heat on his cheeks, it almost stung.

Minho was holding a tiny tub. On the lid there was an even tinier picture of a strawberry. "I don't want your nasty fingers in there," he unscrewed the lid, "so I'm going to apply the balm myself."

Minho dipped his index finger into the bright red substance. Then, with his other hand, he held Jisung by the jaw. Jisung held his breath once Minho's finger touched his bottom lip. He shivered inside, his vision was spinning for a second.

Millions of butterflies fluttered in Jisung's belly. Their wings sent electricity through his body, zapping and buzzing. His knees felt weak and he wished, oh how he wished, that it wasn't Minho's finger smearing around, but his lips.

Minho fell into a trance by how Jisung blinked at him with stars in his eyes, glazed and sparkling.

They slowly pulled apart. Both not really wanting to, but neither knew for sure what just happened between them.

"... I should get ready," Minho breathed.

"... Yeah, you get ready."

His hands trembled noticeably as he screwed the lid shut and placed the tub near the sink. He gave Jisung a very timid and shy smile before he walked over to his bed and slipped into something stylish. Black cargo pants, white shirt, and an oversized flannel.

When Jisung stepped out of the bathroom, Minho was ready to leave. "Do you need something? I can get it for you," Minho offered, tying his shoes.

Jisung scratched his head, looking everywhere but not at Minho. "Uh, nah, I'm good, thanks."

"That was a rhetorical question."

Now Jisung looked up. The tension between them had shifted into something that he hadn't experienced before. Not like this, at least, this was different.

"Uh, if you could get your hands on some sushi, that'd be awesome."

"Any particular preference?"

"Nope, all sushi is good sushi. But wait, let me get my-"

"Alright, see ya!"

And with that, Minho left the cabin.

The door closed shut, leaving Jisung standing there.

"-wallet."

[feriluce]

⟪What's Left Of You⟫ Chapter 5-The Crackling Air | Minsung

Felix Jisungaaahhh~ Good news!! The fellow student I mentioned He's gonna take us to the concert!!

Sungie You have no idea how happy I am right now Thank you, Lix Seriously I love you

Felix Aw, love you too How's camp?

Sungie Hell

They texted back and forth, with Jisung whining about being practically in jail, and the crybaby of a cabinmate he's forced to share space with. At least the food was decent. Felix gushed about how much loved his job at The Clubhouse, he was seriously considering making it permanent. Everyone loved him, but that was to be expected.

Jisung already started dreaming about the day he would finally experience his idols- live and in color. Concerts always had that special atmosphere; the air tingled with electricity, hyping up the audience, colors seemed more vibrant, and the music synced in with everyone's heartbeat.

Lazily, Jisung flipped through the pages of the folder, when he abruptly stopped. "The hell am I doing? I don't read."

He chucked the folder down on the floor and stretched out in his bed. The cabin door burst open, Jisung flinched. He didn't bother looking up, but when he heard strained wheezing and sniffling, he sat up to peek through the bookshelves.

On the other bed sat Minho, face buried in his hands, trying to catch his breath. His shoulders moved in a labored way. Carefully, Jisung stepped closer.

"What's wrong with you?" Jisung asked quietly.

Minho looked up, his eyes were red and wet. "You know where we're going soon?"

"You mean... the parkour?"

The relevant page stated that today the camp was going to go on an excursion to a parkour park, to strengthen teamwork and earn credits. Jisung looked forward to it because he had never been to one.

Minho took a deep breath, his hands were shaking. "I'm afraid of heights. I can't just go climb up a tree without having a panic attack."

"If it's so severe, why don't you tell the staff about it?"

"What do you think I've been trying to accomplish since yesterday?" Minho hissed, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes turned into sharp arrows.

Jisung raised his hands in defense, taking a step back. Minho's shoulders slumped, he ruffled his hair and mumbled a small "sorry".

"Listen, if it helps we can do that parkour-teamwork-crap together." Jisung attempted an encouraging smile but it came out a little funny.

Unbeknownst to Jisung, something happened with Minho: It went quiet in his head.

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Nothing reminded of yesterday's rain anymore. Early in the morning the air felt fresh and moist, but by around 9 o'clock the sun's heat was on full blast, heating up the ground and drying the air.

Jisung hopped on the bus and flopped down on the seat by the window, Minho sat down beside him. Soon the bus was packed and loud chatter filled the confined space. The group that had started a campfire on the first day was particularly noisy. Jisung turned around to look back over his seat. There, in the far back, he found the source: A rather short but very buff dude with curly hair spat aggressive verses, some of them even rhymed, making the boy next to him hold his belly with laughter.

The engine came alive with a rumble, causing the loud duo to cheer. But once the doors fell shut, and the train-woman went to stand at the front to face them, everyone instantly went mute. She took her clipboard and called out the names, receiving quick replies. Then she sat down next to her colleague at the front, and the bus started driving.

It was not lost on Jisung that Minho was very fidgety, his hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, sometimes his leg trembled. Jisung didn't know what to do, he always marveled at how others were easily able to comfort someone.

The trip took an hour. They gathered in front of the entrance to the parkour park. The train-woman decided to split them up in pairs.

"Han Jisung and... Seo Changbin!"

Jisung's stomach pinched. Then he felt Minho standing closer to him, like a scared cat. Cute. What, no-!

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'll go with Minho."

The train-woman's face scrunched up as if she had bitten into a lemon. "Young man, you're not in the position to make decisions."

"This is a non-negotiable," Jisung stated firmly.

The woman glared. "Oh, really? What makes you think so?"

"Uhm, let's see, maybe if you weren't acting like a clogged drain and allowed Minho to stay back as he requested, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

A collective 'ooh' went through the crowd. Jisung's heart was pounding in his chest, already fearing the worst for having zero control over his loose mouth. The woman's colleague, a buff middle-aged man with tattoos all over, raised a finger and whispered something into her ear. She seemed to relax a little. One last glare towards Jisung, then she scribbled something down on her clipboard.

Jisung couldn't give a damn. And Minho couldn't stop smiling.

Tall trees, growing far up into the sky. A dense canopy of green leaves sheltered the area below from the heat. In full gear, Jisung and Minho waited until it was their turn to start climbing up the parkour. Wooden stairs led them to the first platform and up a spiral staircase to the starting point. From there they could choose to either walk over planks with cut out parts, or a narrow bridge with ropes as handrails. Minho trembled pitifully.

"Don't look down, that'll only make it worse," Jisung said reassuringly.

Minho gulped and took a tentative step forward, hands tightly gripping the rope. Obviously he chose the bridge. Jisung stepped right behind him. He tried to do what he promised, to always stay close to Minho.

Halfway through, Minho paused. His breathing turned into wheezes.

"I'm right here," Jisung spoke softly, "one step at a time."

Although they were secured by hooked ropes above their heads, below them was nothing, not even security nets. Minho literally jumped on the platform once he had crossed the bridge. Jisung couldn't help but smile.

"I did it!" Minho cheered.

Jisung high-fived him. "Yeah, man, that's awesome!" 

Jisung almost felt like a babysitter for an adult. He wasn't sure if he would've had fun going with someone else though. It was a weird feeling, like two sides of his consciousness were playing Ping Pong in his mind. Seeing how Minho smiled at him with relief after every track, it did something to Jisung.

By the time they were done and climbed down to meet the others, they were greeted with annoyed looks. The buff dude named Seo Changbin had his gaze fixed on Jisung, flexing his muscles. Next to him stood a tall, slim guy, it was the one who cackled at Changbin's jokes in the bus. Muscle-dude whispered something into beanstalk-boy's ear. Then they both looked at Jisung.

Jisung shook his head at the uncomfortable feeling this situation was giving him. Turning around, he sat down next to Minho who, after returning from high up, had immediately planted himself on the ground. The grass was soft. Patches of dark green speckled with the white/pink of daisies.

"Why are they staring at us?" Jisung wondered, leaning back on his hands.

Minho's breathing was still a bit strained as he followed Jisung's eyes. "Probably because they had to wait for us."

Jisung checked the time on his phone. If they were at the camp, they'd all be having lunch by now. Sighing, he put the phone back and gave Minho a clap on his shoulder.

Minho was so glad to be back on solid ground. His stomach grumbled a little. Whether it was because of nerves or hunger, he couldn't tell. He changed his sitting position a bit, trying to get his breathing under control. His mother would be so proud of him for trying to overcome his acrophobia.

When Jisung sat down next him, Minho's nose caught the whiff of something sweet. Sweet like honey, and it came from Jisung. How can someone sweat and smell so nice?

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Led by the two w̶a̶t̶c̶h̶d̶o̶g̶s̶ supervisors, the group of i̶n̶m̶a̶t̶e̶s̶ ̶ participants marched towards the park's resting area. There were benches that visitors could sit and rest on, some were even using them like a bed.

Inside, the place smelled of different kinds of food. A sizzle came from the open kitchen, chefs were yelling orders, waiters rushed from table to table. So much noise. The place was packed, every seat taken. Except for three tables, reservations have been made, thank god. Everyone sat down, and this time no one bothered Jisung for sitting next to Minho.

Jisung enjoyed every bit of the KBBQ. Free food is free food. He placed a lettuce and perilla leaf on his plate, added some rice on top, followed by strips of grilled meat. He sprinkled some sesame seed over it, then wrapped it all up, dunked it into soy sauce, and shoved the whole package into his mouth. He chewed. An explosion of flavor unfolded in his mouth. His eyes closed as he hummed with pleasure. He repeated this act a few more times, when he heard Minho laughing quietly. With his mouth full, he turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other.

"You look like a hamster," Minho whispered mischievously.

Jisung choked. Minho smirked.

"What?" Jisung gasped after chewing and carefully swallowing the leaf-wrapped meat.

"Your cheeks."

Minho's smile lasted until he was finished with his plate, totally unaware of Jisung's racing heart and blushed cheeks.

After the luscious lunch, the supervisors let them have a thirty minute break, how generous. On the condition to not leave the park, they were otherwise free to roam around. 

Right behind the building there were a couple trees with low-hanging branches, casting their shadow on the ground. Under one such tree, leaned against its trunk, sat Jisung and Minho. They remained silent, enjoying the calm.

Jisung felt a subtle sting somewhere behind his left eye but he hoped it would go away, especially since he ate so well. He knew that he hadn't brought his emergency medication to this trip, in fact he left it at home, in the lower drawer of his desk.

"Thank you, Jisung, for... for being here."

Jisung slightly opened his eyes, kinda side-eying Minho. He shrugged. "It's nothing."

"I mean it. Since we didn't have a good start, you being rude and all, I really appreciate your kindness."

Jisung turned his head to have a better look at Minho. There was a quiet tension in this very moment. "Then," Jisung started, withstanding the other's intense gaze, "I think we should properly introduce ourselves."

Jisung extended his hand first. "Hello, I'm Han Jisung, nineteen years old, nice to meet you."

Minho took the other's hand. "Hello, I'm Lee Minho, twenty-one years old, nice to meet you too."

Minho's hand was soft and warm, slightly sweaty, but firm in his grip. It was just a handshake. A simple handshake. But why, why did Jisung's stomach feel so funny. "Can I call you hyung?"

Minho dipped his head. "Sure."

It seemed as if these two could get along. Maybe even become friends. First impressions weren't always accurate, but once you got to know the other more, there was always the chance of a pleasant surprise. Unless your gut feeling told you to get away from someone, then please, listen to it and act accordingly.

The next, and last, activity was to climb up a climbing wall. To spice things up, they had to compete with each other, and there was a price at the end waiting for the winner. The instructor of the climbing area gave them all a thorough briefing in how to handle a climbing wall. Jisung listened attentively, but sucked in a deep breath when the sting behind his eye started pulsating. After being put in the correct gear, the shoes were a bit tight though, he went over to Minho, who was staring up at the wall with wide eyes.

"Doesn't even look that high," Jisung said, placing his arm on Minho's shoulder, "well, you better hurry, 'cause I wanna win that price." Minho turned to look at him in pure terror; eyes wide, face several shades paler, bottom lip trembling. Jisung couldn't help but laugh. "Just kidding."

And with that, Jisung went ahead, waiting for the starting signal. To his left side he observed m̶u̶s̶c̶l̶e̶-̶d̶u̶d̶e̶ Changbin adjusting the harness in his crotch. Suddenly, Changbin looked up and met Jisung's staring gaze. He felt his cheeks getting warm in embarrassment.

He took a deep breath when he heard the male supervisor yell, and started gripping the holds tightly. Jisung did good. Slowly but steadily he pulled himself forward and upward. When his breathing grew heavier, he paused. Forcing himself to not look down, he pressed his head against the wall. His gripping hands started to tremble, and the stinging pain now fully turned into a raging migraine.

"Ha, looks like I'm winning!"

Jisung forced his eyes open, vision already blurry, but from the shape alone he could clearly tell it was Changbin.

"Damn, you look like shit, bro. Better get down before you pass out."

Jisung's eyes fluttered shut. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He felt sick, physically unwell. Don't puke, don't puke, the food was too good. He inhaled several times before slowly reaching for the next hold higher up on the wall. But he missed, his foot slipped. With his vision blurred and a spinning head, Jisung lost orientation. He swayed away from the wall, the ropes were holding him securely up in the air. When his shoes touched the solid ground underneath, his weak legs folded and he collapsed.

Tears were streaming down his face. Writhing and whining in agony and pain, he pressed his hands on his head. In this state Jisung always had trouble perceiving his surroundings. It was all too much. Somehow he managed to groan out that he had a migraine attack but no medication. Someone offered him water but he pushed it away, the thought of drinking made him even more nauseous.

Next thing he knew was that someone was pressing something on his face. He instinctively took a very deep breath. His eyes were scanning the area in a panicked manner, but came to find an old yet friendly looking face.

"This is 100% medicinal oxygen. Keep on breathing, you'll feel better soon," said the man who pressed the mask on Jisung's face.

Jisung did as instructed. Breathe in, breathe out. Over the next couple minutes, Jisung noticed how that awful pain behind his left eye subsided, becoming less and less penetrating.

The man, probably a doctor, removed the oxygen mask. "Feel better now?"

Jisung nodded, absolutely perplexed about the effect. "Yes, wow, thanks, doctor."

The doctor smiled and went over to a desk to sit down in a chair. Now that Jisung felt better, he looked around. He was in a small room, shelves full with books and maps, it looked quite like an office.

"How long have you been having these headaches?"

"Uh... it started this year, in Spring, I guess? I was eating ice cream and got brain freeze."

"Does the pain feel like a tight headband? Or more pulsating in a certain area?"

"It's always somewhere behind my eyes. Like I got stabbed with a hot knife." He paused. "Sometimes I can't even see properly, everything goes blurry."

The doctor tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds like a cluster headache. I recommend you to arrange some testing. You're free to go now, but before you leave," he opened a drawer and took out a small notepad, "here's a prescription for a fast-acting triptan. Once you feel there's something coming, take one pill with a glass of water." He scribbled something down on the notepad, then ripped a page off and handed it to Jisung.

After a couple well-wishes, Jisung was free to go. He stepped out of the office when-

"Jisung!" A very worried looking Minho came to a stop in front of him. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Minho placed his hands on Jisung's shoulders, squeezing them lightly and gently rubbing down his arms. This gesture sent shivers down Jisung's spine.

"I-I'm fine, no need to worry. I guess we didn't win the price," he chuckled nervously, "sorry about that."

"Oh forget that stupid price, I'm glad you're not hurt."

Jisung's heart skipped a beat. No one has ever shown him this kind of concern. Well, except Felix, but they've known each other for years. Minho, on the other hand, was still a stranger. A stranger that cared about Jisung's well-being, and not about a missed price. What... what was this feeling that started to grow inside of him?

They got lost in each other's eyes. Soft shades of brown. A warm touch. The blooming of a smile in the corner of their lips. It crackled in the air around them and shimmered like fire.