Ignis Aurum Probat

“Why do I have to go to such a stupid radio show?” Kibum asks, nose scrunched up and eyebrows knitted together.

His manager for the day purses his lips– and it’s right there, the same gesture of impatience he does whenever Kibum is concerned; as if he was the grown up dealing with the whims of a child.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Kibum,” the man says, tone patronizing and all too accusing.

Kibum’s eyebrows knit even tighter. The manager is right.

“It’s still a stupid radio show. What does a novelist have to do with someone like me? How would a talk go between people who are so different?” Kibum spats while his hands are busy stuffing his cellphone, earphones, and other gadgets into his bag. It’s a lost battle. “What are we supposed to have in common?”

The manager rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Kibum is lying. He knew about this show since a while ago. The first thing he did after knowing about the upcoming activity was to buy the best selling novel written by the costar of the radio show. He hadn’t finished it in one go. Instead of rushing, he had savored each line, had stayed up for a good time thinking about the meaning of many sentences, situations, dreams patched together in the minds of the characters of the book. Kibum is intrigued. 

The ride to the radio show is one filled with impatience and eagerness. Kibum has questions, wishes he had the time to talk to the novelist in private and get the answers he’s looking for. Feline-like eyes have green contacts hiding the natural hazel color of his eyes. His attire is just as fashionable as always, every piece of the fabric meshing well with a casual aura. But his attention is elsewhere. He doesn’t take much time to greet the fans outside and while he’s polite to the staff, clear eyes look for someone who stands out, the bearer of wisdom, the one who, in Kibum’s imagination, must be just someone else entirely.

When his eyes continue to search between all the non-familiar faces, they finally land on a man already inside the cabin he’s supposed to go in now. It’s him, the realization hits him.

“Ah, I’m so glad you had the time to arrive early today, Kibummie,” Haneul, the host for the night, says behind him. Her small hand gives him a few pats on the back with the enough force to send him a few steps forwards. “Let me introduce you with our other guest for the show, come on in.”

Haneul has a large cup of hazelnut coffee ready in her hand. The smell is rich and comforting. It also has some effect on Kibum’s excitement, it sobers him up, grounds him to the present. With some horror, he realizes he’s acting like a child indeed.

“Jonghyun-ssi, allow me to introduce you to Kim Kibum. Kibum, he’s the famous best seller author Kim Jonghyun.” Haneul says as she leaves her coffee mug on the table while taking a seat.

Kibum looks directly at the novelist for a few long seconds. “Nice to meet you,” he murmurs as well, the polite words followed by a tilt of his head in acknowledgment. Then he takes a seat as well beside the novelist. Haneul is before them both, delicate fingers taking the headphones in hand to put them over her head.

“Don’t worry over anything, okay? Pretend we are in a coffee at some relaxing park and let yourselves be free. I will throw some topics and questions in the table, mostly things the audience will be interested about. I will start with Kibum first and then I will pass to you, Jonghyun-ssi, afterwards we can just keep talking, If you have any doubts, we will have enough breaks to talk them over.”

Haneul explains more things in the remaining minutes, but Kibum doesn’t pay much attention to her. She says something about him singing, but it also doesn’t register his ears. He is busy trying to figure out the best way to give rest to his curiosity without seeming too eager.

“Okay everyone, ten seconds before we go live,” the producer’s voice resounds in the cabin.

Kibum takes his headphones and slowly puts them on his head. The music of the intro plays and Haneul begins the show. Kibum is aware he introduces himself at some point and then he remains quiet.

“Okay so Kibum-ssi, you recently released a new single, ‘Josephine’,” Haneul begins. “A member of the audience asked us to please convince you to sing a bit of the song in here, would you do us the honor?”

There is only blood around them. Kibum has a seraph blade out, its sharpness bright and glowing. His arrival has been met with silence, the kind of silence that provokes goosebumps and the heaviness of something not going right.

Then Kibum sees Raven. She is bathed in a dark fluid and there are pieces of so many things scattered around her, even human limbs. Kibum’s stomach drops to his knees. He has to swallow a tight knot down his throat. As a small reflex, his hand tightens as well around his sword as he takes a look around.

“Raven?” he calls her, his voice neutral and just audible enough to be heard by her. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Raven speaks, but the words she says don’t make sense to him. Hazel eyes avoid to come into contact with the human limbs scattered around. Raven is not a killer who brings dead to people out of pleasure, he tells himself. It’s then that he sheathes his blade again before running the remaining steps between them. His hands close around Raven’s slender arms as he searches desperately for her eyes.

“You are not a monster, never say that. I will never believe for one second you are a monster, you hear me?”

Kibum chuckles at Jonghyun’s comment. A dashed eyebrow raises with feigned disdain as he puts the newspaper down onto his lap to properly look at his friend.

“Now, now, why are you getting all nasty at me calling my imagination mortal?” he asks, lips pursing. “It’s not my fault you have been unable to prove to me that you can make the moon be made of cheese. It wasn’t me who had the idea in the first place mind you,” Kibum singsongs, eyes going back to the newspaper he’s about to read again.

He’s just about to cave and speak up– approach Kibum, introduce himself, flirt– but the singer approaches him first. A kitty grin and dark eyes are the first things that catch the witch’s attention, and he hums lightly, pretending to mull over the offer as his almond eyes linger on the other’s face, searching quietly over the features. “I was kind of hoping you ask since I made eye contact with you earlier tonight– Heh. What took you so long?”

There is so much in this boy that resembles the young man he knew once that it makes Kibum hold his breath. It is the shape of the eyes, the lovely curves of his cheeks, the rosy look of his lips… but it’s not him. Kibum takes in the lazy grin that welcomes his presence, the way the stranger seems to be so confident. None of this was a sight he was used to look at whenever he met the past flame of his life. These are all things he knows at the back of his head, that very same place sober enough to keep him aware of what he’s doing, why he’s doing it.

But Kibum dares not listen to caution. He wants far too many impossible things like to bring the past back and erase the mistakes that made today happen. He wants that the look the smaller man is sending his way is the exact same resemblance of the look in other familiar eyes before. He wants to live a life that has long passed.

“I had to assess the situation first,” he says, the tilt of his smile becoming more pronounced.

Dark eyes glimmer with interest. The faintest shine of obsession lingers in the corners of his lips, in the way he looks at this young man without actually seeing him. “Had to decide whether it was better to keep admiring you or just go for it and see if it was worth to shatter the illusion of apparent attraction,” he adds, a light chuckle bubbling up from his chest.

Something happened a few months ago. Kibum remembers having seen someone unexpected then, had thought at the beginning it was all a bad dream. Right now, it feels like he’s starring the beginning of another fateful and inevitable nightmare.

The person standing a few meters from him looks exactly like the lost boy he used to know. Has the same heart-shaped face, the same endearing ears, the same delightful slender frame… but it’s the eyes what makes them different. Kibum notices this the more the haze of unforgivable excitement leaves his mind. They are not the same person, no. But they could almost be the same person.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, realizing then his steps have taken him two meters closer to the man moving around as if he was also looking for something.

Kibum takes a deep breath, turns his gaze elsewhere, and lets the air go. It’s a party, the music resounding in every inch of the “shaggy chic“ club with people dancing here and there. They are supposed to be celebrating the final of this year’s tour across Asia; it’s supposed to be the after party meant to help him relax and enjoy himself in an environment that doesn’t allow him to get too loose. He can’t be a controlled person when a reminder of his obsession is close enough to touch.

The singer is using blue eye contacts this night. A deep shade meant to turn his eyes dark. These same eyes wander again in a clear search for someone. He spots the good looking man almost right away. A restless lust and something else he dares not mention stir inside him. He can’t ignore this, can’t ignore the way desire becomes more and more irrational until it sends flutters of excitement to his chest, can’t ignore the agitation in his heart, can’t ignore the way desire makes his fingers twitch. It’s raw, passionate, and wistful.

Kim has his face buried between his arms. There’s a unicorn frappuccino untouched before him. The blond hair is in disarray of fingers running through it far too many times. His white shirt, impeccable to the inexperienced eye, is rumpled and not properly arranged on the wide back. Kim Asheton looks like the mess he doesn’t allow himself to be on a normal daily basis.

“They are not hormones,” he tells Maaria.

He knows her since a while ago from a modeling gig. She is beautiful, the kind of masterpiece he likes to surround himself with, interesting, mysterious with a brimming enthusiasm that never ceases to perplex him.

“I know I am a guy and we guys usually think a lot, seriously a lot, about sex, but this isn’t that,” he sighs, leaving the comfort of his arms to look properly at her. Usually clear skin has some red spots here and there, the kind of thing that always happens to him whenever he’s stressed. “I’m restless and it’s not because I haven’t had sex in a while. I’m not that bad of a guy.”

He flashes her a quick smile. Eyes flicking downwards for a second.

“I’m sorry, I asked you out to hang with you and have a good time. Instead I’ve been here all mopey,” he snorts, head shaking slightly. “So you have seen how my relationship with anxiety is going. What about your personal life?” he wiggles his eyebrows at her, taking the odd beverage in hand. “Have you met anyone that can exceed me as a man? Anyone worthier than I am?”

Kibum’s hazel eyes linger on the stars shining above them. It’s just them on the rooftop, a picnic blanket underneath them to keep their clothes intact. Sooyoung looks pretty with the moonlight bathing her delicate features, angles becoming more defined, her eyes bright as if stars danced in them. The question takes Kibum aback.

He tilts his head her way, eyebrows furrowing. Then he turns hazel hues back to the sky.

“At this point of my life?” He snorts then, the sound and smile self-deprecating. “I would be lucky if you remembered me.”

Things have gotten hard, he thinks for a moment, the stress from the week coming back as weight piling up on his shoulders. He shakes his head slightly and turns to look back at Sooyoung.