God's Menu (The Devil's Remix)

The House on the Cliff

Music falls in sharp slivers of ice against the night, keening down over the cliffs from the manor. The bow soars over the violin, swooping; fingers dance across the neck until they blur. The boy sways slightly, eyes closed; if not for the slight clenching of his jaw it would look effortless. A single bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. He trembles.

"You missed the middle note."

His fingers stutter once at the interruption; smoothly he regains his stride. "Hello, Felix." He does not look at Felix. He can see his reflection in the glass of the window wall, superimposed over the black sky like a god, pale face striking; slim, muscled body reflected to be almost edgeless, seeming to flow.

Felix stops behind him. "There, you just missed it again. Your fingers are much too clumsy to pull off that bit right there. You must slow down, Hyunjin. Let me help." His fingers reach at Hyunjin's neck, climbing for the violin.

Hyunjin shudders, jerks away; still playing. A jarring note pierces through the air, abrupt as a dropped glass at the family dinner. They both wince and Felix reaches for him once more.

"Stop!" He keeps playing, tries to ignore the other. He fails. "You know I don't let you touch me, Felix. And I don't want your advice, unhelpful as it no doubt will be. And you have no permission to be in my room. Please leave. " He is facing away from Felix, towards the windows. He does not want to see him, does not want to hear him.

Felix's reflection leans back and regards him. His cold goddess face seems amused, dark eyebrows raised, full, lovely mouth stretching in an almost-grin. Like a shark , he thinks.

He shudders.

"But you need my advice, Hyunjin. I can help you. I am ten times better than you are and you know it. I am better even than Mother is, and you are not a fraction as good as she."

He watches them both in the glass, dark-eyed, dark-haired, pale as ghosts; angular, knife-sharp faces, almost perfectly alike. How beautiful we are. "Please leave," he says.

Felix slips the violin from his hand and he dares not resist. "How exquisite she is," he sighs, and something is bright and shining in his eyes. Hyunjin does not think Felix is capable of love. The closest he has seen him get to it is a kind of admiring desire; and that is what glints in his eyes now as he gazes down at the violin. He is hungry. "She should have been mine. In your hands she is useless. I would have made her sing ."

A fog has risen off the sea; now in the glass their reflections waver, one becoming the other till he can no longer tell them apart. He swallows. "But Father gave it to me," he says. "Not you. How you must hate that." He watches as his brother lays it reverently in its case behind him. Or is it Hyunjin putting it away? Who is who? Which is which? He sways.

Felix's hand comes to rest on his silk-clad shoulder, light as snow. He hates it when his twin touches him, Felix knows it, but Hyunjin is frozen, unable to move.

When Felix speaks he can feel his breath fall lightly on his neck, cold and dry. "They're beautiful, aren't they? The cliffs. They have their own kind of music."

"Lyrical," Hyunjin whispers. "Poetic, deadly."

"I wonder how it would feel to die upon the rocks. Say if you fall from the tallest tower window."

"I don't know," he breathes.

"Do you think they would die on impact, or do you suppose they'd live long enough to feel the spin?"

He licks his lips. "I hope," he starts, and then pauses. "I hope-they live."

"As do I," says Felix.

Together they watch the surf, two young vipers side by side. Their fingers curl around each other. Neither looks at the other. It would end the spell that is keeping them here, side by side, fangs tucked away, claws not out.

"Chan is coming home tomorrow."

And there it is. A crack in the spell, and it is vroken.

Hyunjin freezes first. His face falls into studied indifference. "How do you know?"

"Mother told me."

"Ah." He hears what is unspoken behind his words: he has an ally. Mother has gotten stronger over the years, while Father has drunk his way to sloth. Mother has told Felix information. Father leaves empty bottles for Hyunjin to clean up. But Chan...

Chan had sung for him when he was a child. No one knows where Chan's allegiance lies.

Chan is a wild card.

"I thought he had a movie he was filming. I thought he would miss it again." We haven't seen him in seven years.

"He will be there, whether his employers want him to leave or not." Felix's face is blank as he speaks, as carefully blank as his own. Is he happy? Is he sad? He cannot tell.

"He is the man with a thousand faces. He sets his own terms."

"When will he come?"

"Tomorrow, I am told. May I kiss you good night?"

"No."

He steps away from him. He says, "I think you will find Chan has changed, Hyunjin."

He leaves.

Hyunjin watches him go in the glass. He turns around, picks up his violin.

He starts to play.