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ON THE TENTH DAY HE WAS PREPARING FOR HIS DEMISE. Flowers painted his garden in a plethora of colours, white daisies for purity, violets for modesty, roses for love, and lilies to symbolise his soul departing from his mortal form. There, with them, he would lay to rest once the sun hit the horizon, and the phoenix turned to ashes, marking the end of the day and the beginning of the night.
She trailed melancholic eyes over the place, knowing he had accepted his fate. She had yet to. Although she knew there was little to nothing she could do about fate. Once the universe had decided, there was no changing their word. Their words pointed toward his death, it was written among the stars with a language so foreign to him, but not to her.
The stars whispered to her, even during the day when they hid behind the wings of the sun. Abstract stories that rested between their jaws became a part of her consciousness. She held the knowledge of the universe in her mind.
Her voice broke when she called for his name.
'Sunghoon-ah!'
His reply did not leave her surprised. They never did. She knew the ins and outs of him.
'Go away. . .'
Her face fell. She wasn't going to leave, and he knew that.
Taking hold of his stuff, Sunghoon gave her one last glance before heading for the forest, wanting to be alone.
And when she looked at his leaving form, she was afraid her morning star had already fallen.
