Isn’t the thought of being able to live forever thrilling? After all, being able to fully grasp this world’s laws grants you immeasurable strength. Moreover, humanity’s greatest enemy was and will always be death.
‘We are nothing but a speck of dust dancing in the outskirts of a whirlwind.’
As for Junho? He was never interested in this power; he merely wanted to see the world as it is. When he was a mere child, he wished every single day to get away from this life of poverty, death and endless despair. He had been forced to get through situations a normal human being wouldn’t even dream of.
(He was glad for that. This world was slowly, but surely evolving. Gone were the days when people died from unknown diseases. Sure, humanity had a long road ahead. There were still so many things that had to be changed; old, outdated ‘values’ that were in desperate need of rethinking. Nevertheless, it was common sense that taking steady steps towards improvement was always so much better than rushing ahead, mindlessly chasing after progress and prosperity. )
And it had been then, when he was young and thought he owned the world that the worst enemy he has faced so far, came to claim his life. It started with an innocent cold, which didn't worry him. But when the cold wouldn't go away, when fevers and coughing kept him up for many nights in a row, when herbs and his wife’s sweet remedies didn’t help, he knew that something was wrong.
It was not until one beautiful spring morning that his suspicions were confirmed; when he woke up drenched in cold sweat and started coughing up blood. He endured, he held on for as long as he could. It was too soon to leave his children unprotected and make his wife prey to those pretentious officials and their unquenchable thirst for alcohol and, well, sex.
When one chance of staying alive appeared . . .he grabbed it. He made a deal with the ‘devil’. At that point he was too scared, the pain was insufferable and he was too much of a coward to allow mother nature take its’ course.
Quite honestly, if the person who had turned him into this creature of darkness was someone else then yes, he would have instantly regretted it. He has seen the ‘Others’. After years of abandonment by their creator they turned into shadows. Their survival instincts drove them to insanity.
It was. . .terrifying. Not being able to control your own body, mindlessly killing everything and everyone that happened to stand on your path.
But his mentor was one of the greatest 'people' he had ever had the chance to come across. Up to this day he had no idea why that man decided to save him and take care of his family until they were able to do so on their own (even then, he granted Junho the freedom he needed to protect them and be with them as much as the laws allowed him to).
Grateful was a small word to describe his feelings and appreciation for him.
For he allowed Junho to watch his daughter get married to their neighbor’s son, one of her most beloved childhood friends. He was there when she gave birth to a set of identical twins; a boy and a girl. Little rascals is what they were, the glint in their wondrous eyes was the same he had when he was a mere child! He watched his son taking his own son for fishing, telling him tales about a grandfather he never had the chance to meet and a grandmother who used to constantly smile as she sat on the porch of their small, wooden house and watched her husband roll with their children on the grass.
Most importantly . . . He was there when his wife fell ill. She had grown old, her skin was wrinkled, the corners of her beautiful eyes had a constant crease and her once long, dark-brown hair was shorter and turned into a mix of silver and white. In her last moments she saw him. He tenderly held her bony, frail hand and apologized over a million times. In return she left this world with a merry smile playing on her pale lips.
With his wife’s last breath, Junho left everything behind in hopes of forgetting. But memory is a tricky thing.
The memory of pain that is deeply etched into one’s very core never disappears.
Years passed since then. Decades slowly turned into centuries. . .
‘The passing of time is . . .truly a beautiful spectacle.’
Someone tapped the back of Junho’s head, snapping him out of his self induced reverie. Junho let out a quiet groan and tipped his head backwards.
As expected, Chansung was standing there in all his glory, hands on waist and brow arched. ‘’Are you thinking again? Because this room smells of smoke.’’
‘’Yeah, fuck you too Hwang Chansung.’’ Junho frowned lightly in mock offense and turned around just to kick the other’s leg and smirk in triumph at the painful gasp that escaped his lips.
‘’As much as I’d love seeing you two jump at each others throats-‘’ Junho blinked and turned his gaze to the door, where a man seemingly in his early twenties stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and watching them both through dark, filled with amusement eyes. The corners of Junho’s lips twitched lightly upwards creating a faint ghost of smile; Wooyoung was wearing the white, loose button down shirt Junho had brought him the week before as a gift from Italy.
And as expected, it was a perfect fit.
Then those same dark eyes left Chansung and focused on Junho. ‘’-we’ve all had enough with this, Junho.’’ Wooyoung said quietly, but loud enough for Junho to hear the disappointment behind that soft voice.
‘’Go to him. He’s been asking for you continuously these past few days.’’ Added Chansung and. . .that was the finishing blow. Junho lowered his head and stared at the carpeted floor. His heart was crushed underneath the sensation of excruciating shame and his mind screamed at him to leave everything behind and save whatever ounce of dignity he was left with.
‘’Oh, I know that look.’’ Soft fingers grabbed his chin and forced his head up, making him flinch as he was met with Wooyoung’s fierce eyes and Chansung’s arched brow and pursed lips (that brat always had that look when he wanted to tell him ‘You are boring, you can do better than that’).
‘’You either go to him now or I’ll drag your ass there myself and trust me on this, Nichkhun won’t be enough to save you this time. You hear me Lee Junho?’’ The grip he had on Junho’s chin tightened considerably and Junho was pretty sure that if he was still human, it would have cracked under the pressure.
‘’I-I got it.’’ He muttered softly. There were no excuses or running away this time. He had to face his fears. It had to be done.
Junho bit his lower lip and brought his hand up, gripping Wooyoung’s pale wrist and nodding. ‘’But give me some time?’’
The other male narrowed his eyes and finally let go of Junho’s chin. ‘’Five minutes. No more than that.’’ With those last words, he turned around, grabbed Chansung’s arm and stalked out of the dimly lit room leaving Junho in shambles.
‘How can I fix this? I should have- I should have-‘
He groaned pitifully and gripped his hair in utter frustration. For an immortal, supposedly wise creature he was so foolish. So arrogant. So. . .human.
