Shards of Broken Love
Prequel to Lost and Found.
Characters: Changmin, Chansung.
Rated: PG-13
SHARDS OF BROKEN LOVE
It's over now and there will be no sun really shining for the lens of Changmin's eyes anymore, no colors and no light, everything too dark like under-exposition or a blur or both maybe.
He looks down at his feet, at the crimson stains that look so dull and so utterly foreign to him. What is flesh and what is blood? How should he know, when the only liquid to ever flow through his veins is sap, clear as water, thick and sweet like syrup. Nothing like the red and stinky puddles already turning brownish on the floor.
Changmin picks up each tiny fragment of porcelain and washes them carefully, wipes them clean.
Earlier he's picked the best planks, the ones that won't drown or warp; hammer and nails clumsy in his hands, he's done the best he could and even if it's not a perfect rectangle, it fits and the lid won't break.
Each piece makes the puzzle complete and she is still beautiful as she lies amongst the bright-colored silks she liked so much. Her face is stripped with cracks and emptiness and yet she remains the fairest.
The second and last picture he'll take, similar and different from the other. Contrast, almost in black and white. Sharp and painful on his retina, faded around the edges with tears.
Changmin tears gimlets and cogwheels and buttons from his ribcage, ignores the pain searing through him. The lens falls down and breaks in two. He picks half of it and puts it between her joined hands as a token of he doesn't know what. Stores the remaining fragment next to the two pictures in his empty chest.
Silver nails to seal her forever and wool gloves to carry her to the bank. He's thrown a lit match over his shoulder when he left the house.
She floats lazily away like she's got all the time of the world. And admittedly, she has.
Changmin is done.
He walks back to the workshop without a single glance to the candy house burning behind the trees, wraps a cloth over his nose to block the scents of burnt caramel. The place is a mess and even though he'll probably leave in the morning, he needs something to occupy his hands. Dusty books piled up in a corner, tools scattered all around and a strong smell of bee-wax emanating from a huge ebony wardrobe. He opens it and freezes.
There's a tiny shivering bundle with wide liquid eyes, the weight of a collar on its neck, chain clicking when it tries to scoot away.
“Hello,” Changmin says. His voice is rough to his own ears. “What's your name?”
The small thing doesn't answer and instead closes its eyes and whimpers in terror.
“Don't worry,” Changmin tries. “I won't harm you.”
There's something a little bit off, a little bit surreal, to the entire situation. Like earlier he hasn't screamed until his voice broke and like his meant-to-be isn't drifting away, along with the current. A quick glance around the room and the key is fighting the lock to the collar. (“Chansung” reads the tag; “Chansung”, says Changmin and the little thing maybe shivers a bit less.)
He scoops him (is it a him? Probably is.) up in his arms and sits back on a chair, hold him at arms' length. He's surprisingly warm, and light, and shifts in his grip, gives halfhearted kicks and blinks at him with wide eyes - still doesn't utter a word, though. When Changmin pulls him back to his chest, Chansung curls up with his paws wrapped around himself, heaves a sigh and closes his eyes. Something invisible must melt at that point in Changmin's chest because suddenly he hurts less and he strokes a hand through the short black fur behind Chansung's ear.
A teddy bear cub, he learns later after a night of old leather-bound volumes. It's a teddy bear cub with shiny eyes, wobbly on his feet, and a wet nose. His name is Chansung and he follows Changmin everywhere.