When Jihoon had one of his episodes—that's what the doctors euphemistically called them—he dreamed so vividly he could paint a picture if he had any artistic talent.
Sometimes he dreamed of his family, how content they'd been with their simple life. He woke from these dreams with fleeting happiness that dissipated too quickly.
Sometimes he dreamed of his parents, his brother, what a happy family they had been. He woke from these dreams bitter about all the things he'd never known and never would.
This time, he had one of the dreams he hated most, the kind that made him wake up with a desperate longing. He dreamed of Shane. A red thread lit his path. He often dreamed of following a string to find Shane at the end. In the beginning,, it had been a sunny gold, but over time it had deepened to scarlet. he sat under moonlight on a bench. His face turned up. A smile on his lips.
"What are you doing?" Jihoon took a seat beside him.
"Talking to the moon."
"What about?"
"Just saying hello."
"The moon isn't very talkative," Jihoon replied.
"It's not what it says, but how." Shane tilted his head back to look at him. "I was wondering when you'd find me."
"It's easy with this." He held up the thread. It faded into the night, dissolving now that its purpose was served.
"A red thread. Are you my soul mate, Jihoon-ah?"
He grinned at the old myth: A red string ties together two fated souls.
"Do you want my heart?" he asked. "It's pretty battered."
"You already hold mine." Shane offered his lips to Jihoon. He accepted them with a soft kiss, smiling before he leaned back. Something wet, tasting of salt and metal, dripped down his lips onto his tongue. He dabbed at it and his fingers came away red.
His eyes shot to Shane. Blood poured from his nose, making trails down her chin dripping into his lap.
"I can't stay," Shane said, an apology thick in his voice.
"You can't leave," Jihoon said. "I need answers."
"Answers?" Shane looked pale, almost transparent.
"My halmeoni is sick."
"What?" The word sounded harsh as it echoed around him.
"What did your sister do? Please tell me. Please help us." Jihoon reached out.
His hands clutched air.
Shane disappeared. And Jihoon was alone, with nothing but the moon for company.
***
Shane woke a start, his heart beating so fast he felt it in his own fingertips.
It had been another vivid dream. The kind that made him suspect it was more than just memories and longing. The kind that made him think he was really there. But this time something worried him, and he needed to sift through the already fading dream to find it again.
Shane sat up, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles. His body felt stiff like he'd run a marathon. he reached out for water.
The glass on the nightstand was empty.
The apartment was silent as Shane padded down the hall.
Shuffling into the kitchen, he refilled her glass. For the last month, he never felt full. Nothing could quell the gnawing hunger in his belly. And they'd gone through a lot of groceries as Shane ate day and night. But he knew the one thing that would end the hunger was a soul.
Shane gulped down more water, tilting his head back for the last drops when the light turned on.
"Turn it off," he growled.
She watched, annoyed, as he saw a new figure opened the fridge, using it to push Shane aside. He had blonde hair and sea-green eyes and would have looked just like himself if he wasn't blonde
The light from the refrigerator accented the planes of his face. His clear complexion looked perfect even in the harsh glare.
"You're such a grouch in the morning," he said pulling out the orange juice.
"You're such a jerk always." Shane replaced the water. " We're fucking in hell. Why the fuck are you here? When are you going to get out of my apartment, Eamon Kensington?"
"When your sister stops paying me to babysit her little brother. To be honest, I have better work than to be in hell. Your sister's offers are hard to pass up. What kind of fool would say no to an all-expense-paid trip?" Eamon sipped the juice and pulled out a slice of milk bread.
"Ya! That's the last piece!"
"It's the end piece," he said, taking another huge bite. "You hate the end pieces."
"Fine," Shane conceded because he was right.
"Bad dream?" Eamon asked.
Shane didn't answer, which prompted Eamon to poke him all the more.
"Jihoon?"
"How did you know?"
"I'm good at seeing when someone is heartsick," Eamon said with a sly smile.
"Oh, shove it." Shane punched his shoulder.
He rubbed his arm indignantly. " Damn, cousin, you sure are strong. Maybe I should ask for hazard pay."
Shane frowned.
"Where's my sister?"
"Hong Kong. and Faust is with Jihoon."
"When's she coming back?" Shane's Voice rose with surprise.
"She's not. We're supposed to meet her when her little angel is back from the brink of death."
"Do you really think I'm dying?" Shane asked. It was a question he could never bring himself to ask Loralie. But he thought Eamon would give him a straight answer.
"Why don't you just take a soul, cousin?"
So not a straight answer, but an answer nonetheless. He also thought he'd die if he didn't take a soul
"I can't."
"Humans die every day. But we are too beautiful to deny the world of our faces." Eamon shot his cousin brother a mischievous grin.
Shane didn't bother to explain. He knew Eamon couldn't understand. The idea that the true child of Time and Death could value a mortal's life above his won. He was the Child of Life and Fate, he didn't need to take souls. Everything he did was for his own personal gain.
Then he remembered his sister's words. They'd still run away. He was still a coward.
And finally, he remembered Jihoon's words from his dream. My grandma is sick. Please help us.
His grandma was alive? Shane had assumed his grandmother would pass away due to her soul weakening too badly. but it seemed she was stronger than she'd looked. Still, if she was sick, then maybe the lack of energy was affecting her, just slower than Shane had assumed. How could someone come back from having their soul weakened so badly?
Jihoon's plea rang through his mind over and over. Please help us. His desperation had been so thick, it magnified the guilt already clogging inside his chest.
Shane started from his window. The capital city of hell seemed to be just waking up.
"I don't want to go to Hong Kong."
"You want to stay here?"
"I want to go to Seoul."
"You know I can't let you go there."
"If my sister doesn't find a solution, I don't have much time left. Think of it as my dying wish." Shane wouldn't tell Minjae the real reason.
What if there was no way to save Shane, then maybe he could save another. Maybe this was the best choice. he already felt like a restless ghost. And Jihoon was his unfinished business.
"Grim reapers don't get dying wishes."
"This one does. I don't want to be here or in Hong Kong or wherever else she thinks she can find answers. I just want to go home." Shane let his voice lower in a plea, let himself look desperate. What was a pride to a dying prince of hell?
"There's a flaw in your plan," Eamon pointed out. "Your sister would never approve of this."
"That's where you come in," Shane added with a sly grin.
Eamon laughed, shaking his head. "It'll cost you."
"I assumed." Shane lifted a brow, waiting for Eamon to debate his loyalties.
He shoved the rest of the bread in his mouth and dusted off his hands. "Get packing I guess. Good luck cousin."