A bottle of stardust (SVT)

Pocket watch

Wonchan

Time, in Chan's opinion, should not be meddled with.

Which is why he did not enjoy the fact that he could teleport through time.

It was a simple object, a pocket watch that dangled off an old chain, gold, scratched, ornate face and hands, but the time still ticked healthily. Chan did not enjoy being teleported in time. No, he did not. But no matter how hard he tried to escape the watch, it always stubbornly found its way back into his pocket. So he lived with it, he adapted with it. Every now and then, he would be yanked back into a time loop, where he would have a goal, to help someone in need or find something lost. Yep, sounds kinda silly, right?

So when he felt the colours around him start to spin, like it always does when he was about to teleport on a hot summer afternoon, he sighed, put down his sandwich and closed his eyes. Cool evening wind blew against his cheek, which made him open his eyes. He was situated on an empty street, a trickle of workers hurrying home and party goers stumbling around filling the place. Street lights flickered on and off, stray flyers whisking through the air as the breeze cheekily carried them higher and higher.

Then Chan looked up. A young man stood on the edge of a building, ten stories up, hands wrapped loosely around the rusty railing behind him as he surveyed the street below him. "That must be him," Chan decided, and hurried through the winding staircase of the building to get to the man. The rooftop was barren and dusty, save for a backpack dropped carelessly on the ground, probably belonging to the man. Approaching the man like one would when near a sleeping beast, Chan guessed it would be safe to stay a metre away.

"I don't suppose you're here for the view," The man started off, without even looking back.

Chan shrugged, "I guess you are not here for the view either."
"No," The man agreed softly, feather soft, nearly snatched away by the wind.

"You're the first person to notice me, " The man commented, "The others would have only taken notice once I was a bloody smear on the ground."

"And you plan to do so? Become a bloody smear, I mean."

The man turned to look at Chan, "You're being awfully calm."

"I've talked numerous people off a ledge."

"Well," The man said, "You won't be talking me off." His tone was joking, but with undertones of sadness.

"I'm Chan," Chan offered.

"Wonwoo," He said lightly.

"Why are you here?"

The boy looked up to the sky. "Have you heard of the myth of Pandora's box?" He asked gravely, watching the night sky blink at him with a thousand eyes. Chan nodded. "Then you know what she let loose," Wonwoo whispered. "All the misfortunes and bad things came out," Chan said carefully,"And all that was left was hope." Sniffing, Wonwoo then asked, "Then what happened, if we open that box again, and hope isn't there?" That left Chan slightly baffled, but Wonwoo stayed silent for a while. "Thank you for listening, but I'm afraid I have checked the box," He muttered. He leaned down, closed his eyes, and was gone. Chan lunged forward, his arm dangling over as if he could have caught him. And there he was, on the pavement, eyes wide open and skull bloody and cracked; the bloody smear he wanted to be.

Chan let loose a sigh as the colours began to swirl around him, the pocket watch burning painfully in his hands.

Cool evening wind blew against his cheek, which made him open his eyes. He made his way up to the roof, less hastily, and saw Wonwoo.

"I don't suppose you're here for the view."