Autumns in New York City were sharp, cool, slightly acidic; the musty nostalgia of crushed leaves choked by exhaust, the remembrance of better days past and the unknown yet to come, tasting of warm chamomile tea and feeling of the comfort wrapped around one who knows what it is to be uncomfortable. Fall was quick light, flashy, the trees blossoming into color and withering in the crisp air all at once, the first mist of breath in the air, thin, delicate hands in fingerless gloves clutching a steaming mug. The cooling air amplified sound, the rude, blatant horns of cars, the giggles of a young couple as stole into an uninhabited alleyway, the gentle patter of water droplets upon the pavement, washing the city clean, or perhaps dirtying it even further. Kyungsoo sat in the midst of it all, soaking in the lifeblood of the city.
Whenever he would finish a song, his voice trailing down into a mere wisp, he would tilt his head back and watch his breath streaming steadily from his mouth, writhing and dispersing of its own accord, his chin pointed and proud, his widened eyes vaguely focused on something half-tangible, his bow-shaped lips parted in pure ecstasy. A light breeze rearranged the strands of hair upon his forehead, caressing his slight frame, cutting cleanly through the armor of his reverie. Despite himself he shivered slightly; his chin dropped and his body curved as he drew his knees up to his chest. A shadow was thrown across his countenance, and a heavy winter coat was arranged across his shoulders by a pair of long, elegant hands. He raised his chin again, his eyebrows pulled into heavy black bars, his lips pursed.
"Maybe you should have spent some of that money on decent clothes." The voice was rich, bitter, a melted bar of dark chocolate flowing lazily into Kyungsoo's ears. There the stranger stood again, in perfectly symmetrical crookedness. One side of his mouth leaned up into a smile, softening his face as his eyes crinkled to match. He seemed much less out of place now, his jagged profile reflecting the sharpness of the season, his fragility beautiful, but reminiscent of death.
Kyungsoo's eyebrows jumped into an expression of obvious concern. "Well, you didn't specify, so I just thought I should buy something important..."
The stranger leaned forward, the intensity of his eyes threatening to burn a hole straight through Kyungsoo and the dingy brick wall against which he leaned. "So what did you buy?"
Kyungsoo turned to the canvas bag propped up next to him and fumbled around a bit, eyebrows furrowed, until he gingerly withdrew a tiny iPod Nano and presented it on his open palm to the stranger. The stranger's eyes narrowed.
"And how much did that cost?"
"150 dollars," Kyungsoo's voice was breathy, with a slight squeak, and the expanse of his cheeks was rapidly gaining color.
"So what did you spend the rest of the money on?" The stranger's face hardened, his tanned skin stretched over stark bone structure, no longer seeming fragile, but stiff with an unspoken threat.
"The music?" Kyungsoo breathed, voice barely audible, the hand still extended with the iPod beginning to quiver.
The stranger swept forward, snatching the device from his palm, fingernails scraping skin. He scrolled through Kyungsoo's inventory, eyebrows inching up, lips parting slowly. He thrust the tiny screen toward Kyungsoo, a strand of dark hair falling from its stern perch upon his head. "How many songs are on here?"
"They each cost a dollar, so...350?"
The stranger huffe, his narrow chest rising and falling rapidly. "I suppose this is why my mother told me to never give money to strangers on a whim."
Kyungsoo inhaled deeply, his lungs pressing against his ribcage, his eyelids fluttering. "Well, sir, even if you regret it, your gift was precious to me, so I used it on the most precious thing I could think of."
The stranger's face softened, falling back into its familiarly angular curves and hollows, but his voice remained harsh, his mouth twisting as he delivered his words.
"Don't call me sir. My name is Jongin."
