life and death warred
and the world quaked at their rage
the vessels were broken
the balance was shattered
and life and death
poured over the earth
uncontainable, toxic
beautiful
and as earth burned
they fought nevertheless

they were to be punished

──

All night, Jisung's mind is firing on all cylinders. The dreams have been getting louder. More constant. More vivid. The dark figure, the words spinning around him like a frigid gust of wind. He wakes up panting and disoriented.

And it's almost noon. Shit. Minho's party.

He gets ready at warp speed, gives Nini a kiss on the cheek and runs out the door. Once again he finds himself outside the Lees' mansion. This time the gate guard doesn't give him any trouble, just waves him through silently. He walks on the brown grass beside the driveway, letting the Audis and Porsches pass by. I guess I'm fashionably late, he thinks.

He steps onto the porch and knocks on the door. His fingers are crossed in his pocket, willing somebody, anybody other than Minho's father to answer. Jisung can tell his presence is going to make some kind of statement. If there has to be drama, he'd rather have Minho by his side.

Thankfully a maid comes to the door. He tells her that Minho invited him, and she calls up to his room on the intercom. A second later she says, "Mr. Lee would like to see you in his bedroom." (How does that statement not raise even a little intrigue on her face?) Jisung thanks her, walks through the foyer and climbs the stairs. He feels like a VIP, invited upstairs while the rest of the guests are shepherded out back.

He walks to the last room and just as he's about to knock, the door swings open. "Hey! I'm glad you're here, come in."

He stops short. Minho is dressed up properly, a navy suit and matching tie, brown hair brushed back out of his face. He's so fucking handsome — it feels like a shot of adrenaline.

"You look really good," Jisung says when he realizes he's staring.

"Jesus, are you kidding? So do you. Come on, I found something for you."

Minho closes the door behind him. The bedroom is big and sparse, black-out curtains stamping out the light. His queen bed is made, duvet tucked in nicely. There are no decorations on the walls or trinkets on the desk.

"Oh," Jisung murmurs. "Very... minimalist."

"First thing I did when I turned 18 — bought a storage unit and moved everything I cared about out of the house. I was tired of my mother going through my shit, trying to find, I dunno, drugs I guess."

"So everything you own is just in a storage unit somewhere?"

"Mm, and now my drugs are safe. Come here, I found something you'll want to see." Minho sits on his bed and holds out something small. Jisung sits next to him and takes it. It's a photo. "I thought I burned all my old school pictures, but somehow my mother had one just sitting around. Maybe she was planning to use it as blackmail."

Jisung holds it under the lamplight, squinting down at the wallet-sized photo. Minho is much younger, with an angular bowl-cut covering most of his face. His eyes are guarded, exhausted. A little bit lifeless.

"That's the kid who spent all his free time talking to the birds at the beach — or as most knew him, 'that loser, who's his father?'"

"Poor closeted you," Jisung smiles. "You don't look like yourself. Your eyes are kind of dead."

"That's just resting bitch face. It never really went away."

"Let me see."

Minho turns, shows his eyes. Jisung pushes his hair back, though it's not in the way.

"I dunno. It's different."

Minho moves his arm around Jisung's waist, leaning in a bit closer.

"Take a closer look?" he says.

Jisung's heart thuds against his chest. They're so close. He's been waiting to be this close. Their noses are almost touching.

Minho isn't breathing. Jisung isn't breathing.

There's a flare of light, a pop and shatter and suddenly the room is dark. A rush of wind blows in through the curtains, the sound of a baby crying coming with it.

"What just happened?" Jisung says.

"Sorry, the window does that sometimes." Minho gets up and lifts the lampshade. "Shit. The bulb exploded."

Jisung rubs the back of his neck. "Bad timing for a power surge."

Their eyes meet. They start to smile.

"Hello?" One of Minho's sisters pushes the door open and peeks into the room. Her eyes narrow as she sees he's not alone. "The garden party is starting. Mother wants to know where you are... oh, you. You're the singer."

Jisung raises his hand. "Hi."

She looks at Minho. "What's he doing here?"

"He's my date, Sooyun."

"You're kidding? You have to be kidding. This is a big deal."

Jisung swallows, looking down. This is familiar. Still gross. So many comments and dirty looks under his belt, but it still feels like a gut full of something spoiled.

Minho's arms are folded tight. "A bigger deal than the year you brought that hippie from college and he pissed against the side of the house?"

"Yes. Exactly. People are bigoted, Minho."

"'People' can go fuck themselves."

She squeezes the bridge of her nose. "Christ. Just be smart. Please. And get to the garden, Mother's being annoying." She walks away.

Minho's arms are still crossed over his chest. "I'm sorry, Jisung."

"I dunno. She made some good points."

"You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to."

"I... never said that. I'm kind of used to making people uncomfortable."

Minho reaches out to take Jisung's hand. "Then let's go make people uncomfortable."

Jisung gets up and tucks himself into Minho's side, an arm around his waist. Minho follows his lead, holding him close.

That's how they make their entrance to the garden party. Arms around each other, both uneasy and charging forward anyway. Like riding into battle without a shield.

And then nothing happens. No one seems to particularly care that they're there at all. Maybe Jisung is just distracted by the garden; despite the dead grass and gloomy weather, the roses are in bloom, every colour from red to orange to pink. They skirt the pathways in white stone beds and climb the wrought iron fences.

"These flowers are beautiful," Jisung says.

"They were imported from Ecuador for the occasion."

Jisung screws his face up. "No offence, but that's insane."

"You're right. Champagne?"

Jisung gasps, hopping up on his toes. He's never had champagne before.

They pick up a couple skinny glasses and sequester themselves away from the other guests. Jisung asks to link their arms while they drink like he's seen in the movies.

"Has anyone looked at us?" he asks.

"A couple glances, not as many as I was expecting. I'm kind of — no, I'm very surprised. Mother hasn't even passive-aggressively interrogated me yet... wait, shit, brace yourself — the Jungs are coming."

A second later a dapper couple are greeting Minho, telling him to thank his father for the invite. Jisung nods along as if his presence here makes perfect sense.

"The roses look superb," Mr. Jung says. "Simply unreal, it's like my eyes are lying to me!"

"Thank you, my mother will be happy to hear that."

"I'm very sorry," Mrs. Jung says, turning to Jisung. "I didn't catch your name."

"Han Jisung, nice to meet you."

"Mr. Han, I haven't heard of you. Who do you represent?"

"I'm here as Minho's date, actually."

Mr. and Mrs. Jung freeze, eyes wide. They turn away and retreat into whispers.

Minho and Jisung glance at each other and back at the couple.

Mrs. Jung faces Minho, taking his hands in hers. "It's very interesting you turned out to be a homosexual. My son — just turned 16, sweet boy — is that way as well, but he won't admit it. Could you perhaps talk to him, let him know that it's okay to be different from the other boys?"

That throws them both for a loop. Jisung presses his lips together so he won't panic-laugh.

"Uh," Minho says. "I could try, though I'm not sure what I'd say."

"Don't worry about that, dear, just tell him it's not that hard to be a gay these days."

"O...kay."

The couple shake their hands and move on to the next schmooze. Jisung and Minho look at each other, both at a loss.

"I can't tell if that went well or not," Minho says.

"Better than usual, though the singular 'a gay' made my kneecaps bounce. Hey." Jisung nudges his arm. "Thanks. This is... weirdly nice."

"Yeah, I mean..." He hesitates, looking down into his champagne. "I knew, if I wanted to keep seeing you, I couldn't—"

"Oh thank God!" Suddenly Minho's sister Haewon is shoving her wailing baby into Jisung's arms. "I'm so glad you're here, she refuses to calm down."

Minho takes Jisung's glass, freeing up his other hand. "Haewon, he's not here to babysit."

"C'mon, he's magic with Hara. You don't mind, Jisung, do you?"

"Er, it's alright." He bounces the baby in his arms. As soon as she catches a glimpse of his face, she goes quiet mid-sob and stares up at him with big black eyes.

"See? She wouldn't have stopped for hours without him." Haewon takes Minho's champagne and downs it in a gulp. "Really, Jisung, thanks a million. I didn't think there was going to be music, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here with Minho," he says, simply.

"Oh." Her pink lips pop open. "Oh? Oh. Oh!"

"Please stop," Minho says.

"Shut up. I'm just surprised you suddenly have good taste in men." She ruffles Minho's hair. Jisung sees a glimpse of a normal sister and brother in their affectionate bickering and curses.

She takes her daughter from Jisung's arms. The baby grasps at his sleeves, still peering up at him.

"We'll leave you two alone," Haewon says. "Cheers!"

She strides away, towing her husband along with her. Jisung hadn't noticed he was there. He's staring down at a pager with a blank expression on his face.

"Thank you for putting up with her," Minho says. "She's very... a lot."

"And her husband?"

"He's very... there."

The two giggle.