the world had first greeted him with a shroud of snow amidst an unforgiving winter. all notion of romance had been drowned beneath sheets of ice, and he had cried to an audience of one. it’s only fitting, then, that kyungsoo finds comfort in the sweltering fire of summer, in the unfettered sunlight that brands new constellations into his skin. deprived of the privilege of warmth at birth, he treasures this handful of months and collects the heat like jewels, hoping they will keep him company come winter.
one of the clubs on campus had been handing out ice pops and flyers, something about taking a break by appreciating art in the comfort of an air-conditioned auditorium. hours later, he’s only now chewing on sugar-covered ice—though most of it has melted by now. it sticks to the roof of his mouth and stains his tongue bright red. the plastic crinkles quietly as he tries in earnest to suck out the last drops of artificial cherry. all it takes is one wrong turn to shake the drowsiness that had been sinking slowly into his bones.
“call the police,” he tells the fallen stranger, helping him sit upright and doing a quick glance for further injury. aside from the nasty gash to his jaw, where a bruise will surely bloom, nothing else seems to warrant serious concern. not wanting to waste any more time, kyungsoo gently pats the stranger’s shoulder and reassures him, “i’ll be back.”
without further preamble, he darts down the street in the direction the stranger had originally been heading. he’d seen enough of the thief in those few precious seconds to pin a body to tail, and—true to his words—it’s no more than a handful of minutes later when he returns to the stranger with a bag in one hand and a jacket in the other.
“i wasn’t sure which belonged to you, so i grabbed whatever i could.” sheepishly, kyungsoo smiles and holds the items out to the stranger, gesturing to check the pockets of the jacket as well. albeit far from out of breath, he feels something twinge in the space between his lungs with every breath. (oddly enough, it is not unlike a tug to his ear from a disappointed mother.) skipping over ordinarily important details, kyungsoo glances over the stranger again to make sure he hasn’t hurt anything else. scratches and bruises heal easily, but broken bones and twisted joints are less forgiving.
“he’s over on the bike rack between that ice cream place and the makeup store—the one that’s all pink and stuff, Ari-something, i think. just a couple blocks down that way.”
Justice, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, this promise he can’t keep despite his efforts. His grandmother -- or the loving old lady who he has been allowed him to call grandmother -- isn’t going to see her money again. Duncan has slacked off, let the hot summer afternoon cloud his goals. And he’s ashamed -- ashamed and angry.
A hand is stretched out towards him. He doesn’t feel like he deserves the help, but curious he looks up. Under the glaring sun that burns his eyes he sees the other first only as a shadow and then, once he holds his hand up to shield the sunlight, the shadow becomes a person. The boy looks all sorts of odd, and something in Duncan cannot assent to this oddness, with a posture that concedes an almost innocent carelessness.
“What’s the use of calling the pol--”, he says once he is on his feet again. But before he can finish his question, the other has disappeared already. Duncan looks around hastily, and only finds the dust the other leaves behind while running away. He is puzzled by all of this. Especially by his own instinct to trust and wait. And now, he is back to the start, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for the perpetrator to return. For a moment, the thought doesn’t leave him that the boy must be an accomplice to the crime.
He is on his way back to the shop then thinking it is better to break the news as soon as possible. Duncan is chastised by guilt. It is seldom that he feels so humbled by the world around him, a world he doesn’t quite fit in, the super-human that he is. And he rarely wants to. The solitude he can feel amongst the hard-working, poor people of this neighborhood is enough for him usually, but today, the thought of having let down those who have helped him the most just plagues him too much for his own taste.
Before he can dwell even further in his self-pity, he feels a hand tug at his elbow and he is forced to turn his head again. The other speaks and smiles in a manner so unaware of the seriousness of anything, it unsettles Duncan just for a brief moment. “That’s not my jacket”, he says then shakes his head. His swift hands rip open the bag and inside he can see the stack of old money bills tied together. He counts more than what was stolen and conducts they weren’t the only victims.
“You stole it back!” His mouth stretches into a big smile and his blue eyes disappear. How odd, he thinks again. That thought won’t leave him soon. Nonetheless, he gives the boy a strong pat on the back. “Did you beat that fucker up? How did you get it back so quickly.” And soon, they are on their way back together.
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