STEP

EPILOGUE

The slightly tousled boy sits on the ground, ungroomed and leaning his head against the wall, giving in to the temptations of laughter. Not far above from his head sits a small and narrow telescope, which, on the other side, depicts sceneries, a photographer would otherwise not let loose: towering walls, the beautiful skies and the clouds. Yet, the lenses do not seem to be focusing onto those. Instead, it focuses on dirt, weeds and a dense array of nails.

Beside the stone walls, as birds in the sky show their respect with the occasional chirp, stands a boy with his unwavering efforts, switching and constantly experimenting between the different footholds and intervals between the nails. The sun shines on the teen's forehead along the breeze gently sweeping across his face as he indulgently reflects on the beauty of nature and life. A drop of sweat slides its way down his forehead and he grips the nail in his hand. He steps back, and looks at the porous rock wall with exhaustion. The young man seated on the floor retracts his head against the wall with laughter, a hint of hoarseness tingling in his voice, who knew?

Time unknowingly passes by, and yet no one bothers anyway. The weariness kicks in and he brings his laughter to a halt, his surroundings dwindling into peace and tranquility.

"Idiot," he shuts his eyes, "Why are you still hammering these nails."

Smiling tenderly, an unknown drop of liquid slides pass his face and the keys in his hand follows the drop of liquid as it falls gently to the ground.

He looks as the dim lit cliff, the memories of those belonging to the person named Luhan flashes past, and even though they are no longer important, they may be pose as sort of a pastime when he's bored.....

Take for example a certain lonely morning, out from his coat pocket comes a crumpled piece of paper, drafted and rewritten, and that unopened letter beneath the music box; the details, clearly known, even if he never opens it.

Take for example a certain fun filled night, on the table lies a few words, almost written by a possessed man, half drunk and still downing more. The person beside shakes his head in discontent and downing alcohol, crosses out of the two duplicated "L"s, marking a Y on the side.

Take for example, a certain night under the moonlight, the pebbles disperse by the wind, depicting a little deer painted on the ground, the clumsy lines revealing marks made by someone with no drawing talents, and the only thing he understands; is the smile of the deer.

Take for example, this dimension, that apart from himself, no one knew...........

The very last rainy night, in the little wooden house, he rests on the other's thighs, retrieving the pillow from the cold hands of his. Turning gently, he kisses the back of the other man's hand.
From above comes a shocking expression directed at him, he however, does not reveal any
sign of panic, it doesn't matter, you on the other side will never know, because there are only the two of us

"I'm drunk, ignore me." He chuckles, brushing his eyebrows softly across the other's back of hand.

The person looks at him - the words in his eyes, he can't read.
Pausing at that instant, he lowers his head and brushes the other's face, "I'm drunk."

Before he presses his lips against the man in front of him, he says, "you shouldn't be giving me the opportunity to start, I'll be unable to stop."

Does getting inked hurt? In those last few moments, he wants to ask.
He forgets, however, that the tattoo will only ever belong to him on the other side, and that they
probably won't get to meet anymore.

Are you regretting? In that cold and damn place, he turns to look at the door.
I haven't regretted, I've accomplished things I would never have had courage to in this lifetime.

Kris' point of view:
Lately, I've started to enjoy talking to myself, however, whenever someone comes close, I would return to my normal self. This is good, it means I am still a normal person after all, living my normal life as usual, just like how you had hoped for.

Lately, I've started noticing the tiny details around me, things such as the police watching me wonder, such as the pigeon who is looking at me now, frozen to the spot, such as the stranger who smiled at me just now across the corner......... I actually smiled back.
Because I know, they could all be you.

Lately, Yixing has been busy, too often stealthily going to the mountains, bringing along his hammer and nails adorably. You've shared with me the existence of that door, I know he's been struggling with something, but I'll take protect of our victory and results well, be rest assured about that.

In my opinion, this can hardly be classified as a comic, although we have in fact worked hard for it. The audience have purchased their tickets and entered the venue, the clown has his makeup on, yet he cries. You know it, at times, things don't go the way we want, and there is no choice.

My dear, do you regret this? If you can ever hear my words.

I don't regret, following my heart, I've lived with you once. Those chaotic and fuzzy memories will be enough to accompany me for quite some time.

A life unspoken doesn't represent inexistence?

They have always existed, even if we can't recognise each other from all that damage done. They still exist on this beautiful planet, perhaps having enroute to 2 different teenager's bodies, perhaps having enroute into 2 comic characters, perhaps, they've become comic books.

How much importance are we of? Being remembered, being forgotten, being exchanged in the memories of two unacquainted people, it is our luck, it is our fate.

We have in fact completed more than 10 thousand steps in the memory of strangers.

So don't be upset, I think, that the one particular day will arrive.

And as we step, we help strangers comprehend, removing that mask, and living a day just for yourself.