Narcissus
Title: Narcissus
Rating: PG
Summary: He chased her to the end of time, but in every life, she slipped through his grasp like liquid moonlight.
In his second life, he is a prisoner and she is a slave.
He sees her in the crowd as he stands on the dusty floor of the coliseum. The hilt of his sword nearly slips from his sweaty palms as the doors close with an ominous thud behind him. His heart pumps madly, as if trying to compensate for millions of lost beats in these last moments.
Only she watches the gladiators with pity. Her face is grim as she hands goblets of wine to the red-cloaked generals, their ruddy faces contorted into drunken smiles. For some reason, he finds comfort in her solemn features and hopes that perhaps, his death would be mourned.
Across the arena, the bars are raised and the lion slowly pads out, lethal grace in every line of his body. Its roar is drowned out by the bloodthirsty screams of the spectators. He backs away, sandals dragging across the ground, until he hits the stone walls.
Raising his shield in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself, he looks up at her one last time as the beast leaps upon him.
***
In his third life, he is a soldier and she is a medic.
Heart full of delusions of victory, he crosses the ocean and spends over a year in the trenches. Day after day, he is woken by choking nightmares and the sound of ceasless gunfire. He loses count of the dead; the faces of his comrades are a blur and he remembers them as just another weight he once lifted. Amidst the mud and grime, there is no hope for salvation. The only hope is for a swift end.
They are bombed in the dead of night, enemy planes whirring in the ink-black skies above. Despite the waves of pain and the blood that soaks his dirt-stained uniform, he is still mesmerized by the silvery moon that peeks from behind the clouds, breathtakingly beautiful despite its inability to emit light of its own.
She, too, slips in between the grey, fever-induced shadows that plague him. Her eyes are gentle as she wraps his limbs in bandages and her fingertips are soothingly cool upon his burning face. He can hear her soft murmurs echo through his delirium and he clings to her words as tides of agony sweep through him.
At dawn, he releases his final breath and dies with her hand in his.
***
In his fourth life, he is a merchant and she is a dancer.
They meet at one of his father's business functions and he is mesmerized by the flowing silk of her kimono. The bright colors blur as she dances, crimsons flowing into golds and oranges until she is engulfed in brilliant flames. There is something familiar about her downcast eyes and he cannot help but lean forward as she pours his tea with practiced grace. Her full, red lips beckon and she smiles softly before returning to her seat beside her patron.
The fact that she was taken by another man-and a yakuza leader at that-could not stop him from pursuing her. That evening, he finds her beneath the cherry trees, her painted face as pale as the moon. They kiss with all the fervour of a thousand fires, fueled by the summer breeze and the warmth of their clasped hands.
For the next few months, they meet secretly and desperately stretch seconds into hours, minutes into days. But the brief moments feel stolen, hardly enough to satisfy the connection they both craved. Despite the caution, despite the self-restraint they exercise whenever they meet in public, their affair is discovered.
A fortnight later, he perishes with a crimson slit across his throat.
***
In his last life, he is a brother and she is a sister.
Born as Lee Taemin and Lee Taeyeon, they emerge from their mother's womb, one right after the other. From that first moment in the hospital room, they are inseparable. Growing up, they roam the lands of their imagination together and converse in a language of subtle glances that only they can understand.
It takes him nearly two decades to realize that their his affections for her went beyond the bounds set by society. It is more than love; it is an inherent need that leaves him gasping for breath whenever she is beyond reach. He might have continued playing the part of a doting brother if not for that night when their hands brushed in the darkness. He sees his longing mirrored in her moonlit eyes and as they fall apart and become one in each other's arms, all his past lives flash through his mind.
They are one and the same, he realizes. A single soul trapped in separate bodies, one half constantly seeking the other. Decades, centuries, millennia have passed but in every life, Death has wrenched them apart. He knows his end is nearing and can think of only one way to halt the cycle of misery.
So on the evening of their birthday, he takes her to the rooftop of their apartment. Gusts of powerful wind tears at their clothes but they stand firm, arms linked as they take slow steps towards the edge. Hanging in the cloudless sky is the full moon, a silver orb that glows almost as brightly as the sun.
He slips his hand in hers and they exchange a final smile before leaping into the night.
***
In his first life, he was a beautiful boy with golden hair and she was just as beautiful.
He was loved by mortals, nymphs, and even the echo in the mountaintops yet he cared not for their affections. Not one could hold his interest and he grew to scorn them and the desperate need in their eyes.
So the gods cursed him for his vanity and watched pitilessly as he stared, mesmerized, into the depths of the pool. The creature within smiled when he smiled, wept when he wept and looked back at him with lovesick eyes. Yet when he reached out, his fingertips would scatter the lovely image and his hands would grasp nothing but water.
Their beauty soon faded as he wasted away at the edge of the lake. Their eyes grew dull and they stared silently at each other, too broken to utter words of love.
In his first life, he was a narcissus and she was his reflection.
Rating: PG
Summary: He chased her to the end of time, but in every life, she slipped through his grasp like liquid moonlight.
In his second life, he is a prisoner and she is a slave.
He sees her in the crowd as he stands on the dusty floor of the coliseum. The hilt of his sword nearly slips from his sweaty palms as the doors close with an ominous thud behind him. His heart pumps madly, as if trying to compensate for millions of lost beats in these last moments.
Only she watches the gladiators with pity. Her face is grim as she hands goblets of wine to the red-cloaked generals, their ruddy faces contorted into drunken smiles. For some reason, he finds comfort in her solemn features and hopes that perhaps, his death would be mourned.
Across the arena, the bars are raised and the lion slowly pads out, lethal grace in every line of his body. Its roar is drowned out by the bloodthirsty screams of the spectators. He backs away, sandals dragging across the ground, until he hits the stone walls.
Raising his shield in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself, he looks up at her one last time as the beast leaps upon him.
***
In his third life, he is a soldier and she is a medic.
Heart full of delusions of victory, he crosses the ocean and spends over a year in the trenches. Day after day, he is woken by choking nightmares and the sound of ceasless gunfire. He loses count of the dead; the faces of his comrades are a blur and he remembers them as just another weight he once lifted. Amidst the mud and grime, there is no hope for salvation. The only hope is for a swift end.
They are bombed in the dead of night, enemy planes whirring in the ink-black skies above. Despite the waves of pain and the blood that soaks his dirt-stained uniform, he is still mesmerized by the silvery moon that peeks from behind the clouds, breathtakingly beautiful despite its inability to emit light of its own.
She, too, slips in between the grey, fever-induced shadows that plague him. Her eyes are gentle as she wraps his limbs in bandages and her fingertips are soothingly cool upon his burning face. He can hear her soft murmurs echo through his delirium and he clings to her words as tides of agony sweep through him.
At dawn, he releases his final breath and dies with her hand in his.
***
In his fourth life, he is a merchant and she is a dancer.
They meet at one of his father's business functions and he is mesmerized by the flowing silk of her kimono. The bright colors blur as she dances, crimsons flowing into golds and oranges until she is engulfed in brilliant flames. There is something familiar about her downcast eyes and he cannot help but lean forward as she pours his tea with practiced grace. Her full, red lips beckon and she smiles softly before returning to her seat beside her patron.
The fact that she was taken by another man-and a yakuza leader at that-could not stop him from pursuing her. That evening, he finds her beneath the cherry trees, her painted face as pale as the moon. They kiss with all the fervour of a thousand fires, fueled by the summer breeze and the warmth of their clasped hands.
For the next few months, they meet secretly and desperately stretch seconds into hours, minutes into days. But the brief moments feel stolen, hardly enough to satisfy the connection they both craved. Despite the caution, despite the self-restraint they exercise whenever they meet in public, their affair is discovered.
A fortnight later, he perishes with a crimson slit across his throat.
***
In his last life, he is a brother and she is a sister.
Born as Lee Taemin and Lee Taeyeon, they emerge from their mother's womb, one right after the other. From that first moment in the hospital room, they are inseparable. Growing up, they roam the lands of their imagination together and converse in a language of subtle glances that only they can understand.
It takes him nearly two decades to realize that their his affections for her went beyond the bounds set by society. It is more than love; it is an inherent need that leaves him gasping for breath whenever she is beyond reach. He might have continued playing the part of a doting brother if not for that night when their hands brushed in the darkness. He sees his longing mirrored in her moonlit eyes and as they fall apart and become one in each other's arms, all his past lives flash through his mind.
They are one and the same, he realizes. A single soul trapped in separate bodies, one half constantly seeking the other. Decades, centuries, millennia have passed but in every life, Death has wrenched them apart. He knows his end is nearing and can think of only one way to halt the cycle of misery.
So on the evening of their birthday, he takes her to the rooftop of their apartment. Gusts of powerful wind tears at their clothes but they stand firm, arms linked as they take slow steps towards the edge. Hanging in the cloudless sky is the full moon, a silver orb that glows almost as brightly as the sun.
He slips his hand in hers and they exchange a final smile before leaping into the night.
***
In his first life, he was a beautiful boy with golden hair and she was just as beautiful.
He was loved by mortals, nymphs, and even the echo in the mountaintops yet he cared not for their affections. Not one could hold his interest and he grew to scorn them and the desperate need in their eyes.
So the gods cursed him for his vanity and watched pitilessly as he stared, mesmerized, into the depths of the pool. The creature within smiled when he smiled, wept when he wept and looked back at him with lovesick eyes. Yet when he reached out, his fingertips would scatter the lovely image and his hands would grasp nothing but water.
Their beauty soon faded as he wasted away at the edge of the lake. Their eyes grew dull and they stared silently at each other, too broken to utter words of love.
In his first life, he was a narcissus and she was his reflection.