Does the world continue to move long after one person's has stopped?
The zeros on his watch remain frozen.
He traces his lips with the tips of his thin fingers. The sensation he felt still lingers as a ghost brushes his skin and shocking him with small jolts of nervous electricity.
It happened. It really happened.
Leon kissed him.
He does not know how to react. All the advice in the world cannot tell him what to properly think. The fire in his belly is replaced with a nauseous cloud of confusion and embarrassment. He wants to die. Curling himself up in his room and locking himself away seems like the best solution. No one will miss him because no one will have remembered him to begin with. Lukas and Mathias can move on. Leon definitely will.
Leon, that little shit.
Of all people…
Of all the fucking people in the world with all the other assholes out there, it had to be him. His numbers had to stop with his.
Emil feels like ripping his tongue out. He wants to kill someone, douse the uneasy sickness in his heart and numb the pain. He wants to forget.
This never happened. The tantrum he threw, the words they exchanged, the kiss they shared—
"Fuck you!"
His lungs explode. The volume of his voice cuts into his throat and hurts him. His lungs are already weak from crying once, and yet, they continue to supply him with the air necessary to do it again. His heart hammering and his stomach wrenching into knots, he buries his face into his hands and screams.
The tea is delicious. It always is. Its bitterness soothes him and calms his nerves. Once, he was told it opens up different passages in his body: the mind, the heart, and the appetite. Most, he thinks, were empty before coming here. His stomach, once dormant and satisfied, now growls to be filled.
The other passages open more slowly. His heart continues to beat at a steady rhythm much like the way it started out when he first sat down for this meeting. The room is so quiet that he can hear his own blood pulsing through his eardrums, thump-thump thump-thump.
His mind is the last to open. It takes coaxing and reason to make it work the way he should. All of his life, he blocked it from the rest of the world to keep himself safe. Only he and he, alone, knew its inner workings. The one person who comes close to prying inside is sitting across from him with folded hands and a stern face. He is knocking at his mind's door.
"Leon," Cheng says, "what you did was wrong."
"I know." He chooses these words because the objective truth is always the best to accept. All the same, he chose to act in the wrong.
"Why did you do those things to Emil?" his cousin asks.
Why? Why does everyone want to know "why" all of the time? Why not "how?" He can explain the details of his plight in a more amusing fashion than explaining why he did those things. It is more interesting to someone who prefers learning through hands-on experiences, but Leon digresses.
"Because it was interesting."
Cheng lets out a heavy sigh. It is rare for him to express feelings of stress. He is usually looking for something appropriate to say when consulted. Dealing with Leon is treading on entirely different waters, however. He needs to watch himself on careful tiptoes barely making any ripples. Still, there are times when he knows he has to stir the surface.
"Just because you thought it was interesting doesn't mean it was interesting for Emil."
"I know."
"How do you feel about what you did?"
Leon shrugs. He, himself, does not exactly know why he did what he did. As for how he feels about it, he cannot put it into exact words.
"Not bad."
Cheng blinks his honey-gold eyes. "But you're not feeling good about it, either," he immediately notices.
"Yeah," he confirms with a short nod.
Now comes the process of asking about things other than just Leon. Cheng wonders how his cousin will interpret the events and consequences of his rash actions.
"How did Emil react after you kissed him?" The word sounds foreign on his tongue. It is not a word he often hears, let alone uses for any purpose. Leon, as he knows, is not a first-timer, but knowing that Emil is his soul mate is bound to generate a different kind of reaction as opposed to the actresses he made exchanges with.
"He didn't like it, that much I know," Leon tells him. "He didn't say anything to me, and then, he just…" His mind fades towards the time when his lips left his soul mate's. There was something about doing it that makes him look fondly back. It was not the first time he kissed a guy, and he is sure it will not be the last. Still, there is something far more significant about kissing his soul mate than all the rest. Emil belongs to him. He is his to toy with and dote on however he chooses. Whatever becomes of their relationship, they are destined to stay together. It is just how things are with the watches. He does not even have to love Emil for that to happen.
"…He just left. Locked himself up in one of the rooms and wouldn't come out. That's when I called you, and here we are now."
Cheng presses his thin lips together and nods. He always goes out of his way to ensure that his cousin is taken care of, even if it means cancelling a business negotiation with some partners in Brysogwig.
"Leon, I want you to apologize to Emil." He does not turn it into a question. Leon fully understands the situation, and he does not need to be asked otherwise.
"I will." His ability to cooperate with Cheng gets things done at a convenient pace for the both of them. The conversation should stop there, but Cheng knows his cousin enough that he did not come here just to be scolded. "Cheng, there's something I wanted to ask you."
"Yes, Leon?"
"Even though you've never had a watch, is it alright for you to love someone?"
"Of course it is, Leon. The watches do not represent anything other than your ideal match. That does not mean you will always find the right one. You are just more fortunate than most of us."
"But what about Ice? What if I never love him?"
Cheng takes a sip from his cup. All the while, he thinks of how to respond to his dear cousin's question. "You don't know that, Leon. The love you experience might be different, just like the way I love you, Yao, and the rest of our family."
Leon's lip twitches. He is fond of knowing Cheng loves him as his own family. If no one else, then he is happy knowing at least one person accepts him for who he is in this world.
"But no matter what happens, we're stuck together, right?"
"That's up to you, Leon. And Emil."
The teenager twists a lock of his dark hair with his finger. He takes Cheng's words into consideration before taking his teacup and downing the piping hot contents in a single gulp. He means to leave until his cousin stops him a final time midway through the hall.
"One more thing, Leon," he says. To acknowledge him, Leon cranes his head back and sees that Cheng's cup is nearly empty. He waits in silence for him to speak. "What do you plan on doing with Emil?"
"Simple," he answers, "I want to make him mine."
He understands. The thought of anything belonging to Leon in such a way can only mean one thing.
"I see," he finally reacts and finishes his tea, too.
"Thanks for the tea, Cheng," Leon says and takes his leave.
"Anytime, Leon," Cheng smiles. "Anytime."
There is a flaw in the system, a breach in the line of organization, something that jumps off the beaten path and throws the rest into chaos. There is someone who should not be here standing in the top floor, demanding answers.
Leon Wang, Emil Steilsson, and Lukas Bondevik.
Those specific names float around in Kiku's head as he juggles appointments and interviews, cancelling some and rescheduling others on gliding fingertips and hasty phone calls. This will not do at all. Being the Wang family agent is hard enough as it is.
"When will he be back?" the dead-eyed blonde asks him with a voice equally as lifeless. Upon seeing him for the first time, Kiku thought he was looking at a warped reflection of himself, but this man is taller and radiating with a cold elegance. His character deviates far from his own. That is a good thing, Kiku thinks. He does not want to be associated with this kind of individual.
"Yao will be finished with his appointment at five," Kiku tells him. "Until then, please take a seat and—"
"You know why people hate you little shits in Volt?" the man's icy voice cuts him off with a biting sting.
The agent, not one willing to make a scene, apologizes and folds his hands. He chooses to give this person a bit of attention so the steam he blows of will not affect Yao as much. He owes his boss at least this. "You big shots with your money and time can't be bothered to think about anything or anyone but you and your own interests," the blonde snaps. "Even now, you're thinking of something other than what I plan on doing with your boss, aren't you?"
Kiku does not want to tell a lie, but if he says "yes," then it will confirm this man's suspicions. "No, Mr. Bondevik, I've been listening to every word you've been saying, and as much as I would be willing to assist you, I have other matters at hand that I need to atte—"
"See? This is what I mean." With his rigid posture and unnerving eyes, it appears as though he is mocking the agent. Kiku has dealt with people like him before, though not exactly someone of "common" standards. What is this man even doing here, anyway? As for Emil Steilsson, Kiku already confirmed that he and this man are related by their mother, but he does not know why this involves Leon, too.
What has that boy gotten himself into this time, he wonders? All the while, his fingers fidget over his knuckles as the unwanted visitor paces impatiently around the room.
"Mr. Bondevik, I apologize for any inconveniences we may have caused you, but can you at least tell me what this is abut so I may relay the situation to my boss in a clearer manner?"
"You don't need to know," he snorts. "It doesn't involve you."
Kiku remains rigid in form but flexible in vantage points. "I am the Wangs' family agent. Anything that goes through anyone in this family comes through me. I believe I have a right to know if this threatens the Wangs' security in any shape, form, or manner."
The young man then stops and takes a glance in his direction. Through his flowing blonde bangs, Kiku thinks he can see the reflection of death staring hard into his lifeless eyes. The connection between the two of them remains unmoving for what feels like the longest time until the faint chime of an elevator rings. Relieved, Kiku backs down and blinks, moving his eyes past the shoulder of Lukas and towards the hallway. Help must have finally arrived.
Sure enough, Lien has returned from her trip. She is without Kasem, but Kiku suspects she decided to take matters into her own hands so her partner can finally relax. These past few days of shooting the movie have been stressful for everyone in the studio.
"Lien," he calls to her as she approaches Lukas from behind, "can you please escort this man down to the lounge and wait with him until Yao gets back?"
The secretary studies this new person with a slight interest, as it is rare that anyone outside of her family comes to the top floor. However, her visual exchange barely lasts when Lukas snaps at Kiku for his lack of conduct. As if he is one to talk.
"I'm staying right here," he hisses. "Do you hear me? What I'm going to tell your boss may ruin your little star's image and bring down the rest of your pathetic careers."
Lien remains quiet, true to her character, but Kiku narrows his eyes and stares at this man again. "Look, Mr. Bondevik, I've been very patient with you. I don't know how you managed to get past security, but you have to understand that we are all very busy people. It's very rude of you to go out of your way like this to come here, and from what I can gather, what you just said is considered a threat; we can have you put in custody for that."
"Try me," he spits, and that is all the agent needs to hear.
"Lien."
Barely as soon as he calls the secretary's name, she whips right behind Lukas' neck and delivers a swift, silent strike to a spot in between his collarbone and his shoulder. The once threatening man immediately falls flat onto the carpet in a slump, collapsing like a compressed accordion. The agent can now breathe a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness," he sighs. "Thank you, Lien. I'm sorry for making you do that. Would you take him to the lounge like I asked? I don't think Yao is going to like it if he wakes up and starts making a racket in here."
"Sure," she shortly nods and lifts the out-cold young man over her shoulder. While petite in frame, Lien possesses a brimming amount of strength that gains respect even from Leon. With little effort, she manages to carry Lukas' body to the elevator and successfully into the lounge where she lays him on a sofa. Since today is a day off, she can afford to watch over Lukas until Kiku gives her further instructions. And just like that, everything returns to normal. Security does not need to be called, no unnecessary contacts need to be made or researched on, and the floor remains silent for the rest of the afternoon until Yao returns.
The market district feels particularly quiet today. Perhaps, like the rest of the family, everything is moving at its own pace to its own clock. Cheng, too, is moving at his own pace to his own accord, though he often finds himself confusing his schedule with his family's. Today, he thinks, he may not be moving along to his own pace at all, but to Leon's.
Here in the Wire district, most of the streets are stacked with shopping malls high and low, from towering strips of clothing stores and department stores with furniture and groceries to basements and underground subway routes zipping through the buildings and concrete to every network location.
Cheng, however, is not here for shopping today. On this fine day, under his simple guise of a curious family member, he is here to pay a visit to someone of considerable importance. Atop a hill in the back of the district where the edge of the city lies, there is a little workshop where an intelligible man spends his days in seclusion: the watchmaker.
Everyone who is someone receives a watch on his or her date of birth. Like a granted birth certificate, it comes in a little velvet drawstring bag just big enough for a traditional watch to fit snuggly inside. Nowadays, everything is digital, but to those lucky enough to have their soul mate predetermined, that one piece of traditional mechanical contraptions becomes the core item of their existence. Cheng recalls Leon always having his watch at hand even during his travels and movie shoots. Long before he was even going to meet his soul mate, he kept it somewhere in his pocket. Even now, when the numbers have stopped, he keeps it safely attached as if it has become a part of him. It is for this very precious object that Cheng has come all the way out to Holo's edge. Thanks to Leon's earlier meeting, he has the rest of the afternoon to pay the watchmaker a visit. They can all use a little time off now and then.
The watchmaker's workshop is a quaint, cozy little place hidden beyond overgrowing trees and bushels of flowers. Flowering shrubs grow untamed and without bioengineering; Cheng can tell because of the occasional wilting despite the gardener's great care. Scattered dead leaves and petals crunch beneath his shoes against the cobblestone steps that lead up to the main cottage. The further he walks up, the less he becomes aware of the concrete and blinking lights. Somewhere, he thinks he can hear a songbird sing, but the probability of it being real is close to zero. There are few natural-born animals left in the wild.
Further up the steps, he feels as though he is stepping into a painting. Like rough pastels melting and blending soft yet vibrant colors together, the cottage comes into view from the parting vines and little ground flowers. A warm rainbow of pinks, reds, purples, and crimson oranges dot the stucco-like walls, and bushels of poppies blooming in overturned barrels offer an inviting and friendly atmosphere. Beyond this point, past the wooden door is the city's one and only watchmaker. Taking a deep breath, Cheng gathers his composure and arrives at the door. He looks down before knocking and sees that the doormat is made of rough, dry grass and knitted together in fanciful colors. A faint smile arrives on his lips when he sees the image of a little white dog with black eyes and a cute button nose. After that, he returns his attention to the matter at hand and gives the metal handle a knock. From the other side, he hears a faint voice of someone talking. With the constant barrage of background noises from the city behind him, Cheng can make out some of the words.
"You can stay right there. I'll get it. Oh, no need. It's fine."
There must be two people inside the cottage at least, Cheng thinks as the door creaks open with what sounds like great effort. He is surprised to see that there are even places with genuine wooden doors still around. It must be one of the privileges of being a watchmaker.
As soon as the light reaches his greeter's face, Cheng sees that this person is rather short. His height is barely taller than that of Mei's, and his round beaming face gives the impression that he is quite young. His hair has a similar fashion and shade of blonde similar to Emil's, though it is more tamed and rounded out at its sides. Similar to his cousin's soul mate, his eyes are a light shade of violet, but his irises hold a softer shade of blue than pure lavender. Cheng estimates that he is around Mei's age, too, and the familiarity offers him some comfort when he presents himself.
"Good afternoon. My name is Cheng Wang. If I'm not mistaken, this is where the watchmaker's workshop is, correct?"
"Yes, it is. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wang." To Cheng's relief, he sounds friendly, but he realizes this person cannot be the watchmaker. As soon as he extends his hand to shake it, he feels that his skin is remarkably soft and delicate like a baby's. He cannot even be an assistant to the watchmaker for that matter. If so, who is he, he wonders?
"Are you here to acquire information about a relative's watch?" the young man asks.
Cheng does not wish to fabricate any information for the sake of getting the truth out. "Yes, I'm here to ask about my cousin's watch. His name is Leon Wang."
At the mention of his cousin's name, the young man's face falls still in thought.
"Would you like to come inside?" he asks after his silent spell fades away. He backs up a bit and gestures into the cozy living space.
"If it's not too much trouble, then yes, please," Cheng politely responds. The man smiles and leads him inside. All the while, Cheng wonders if he should keep his shoes on or not, but after seeing that the floors are made of smooth wood, he decides it is best to keep them on.
"We don't get too many visitors your age," the man says as he leads his guest further into the cottage. "Most of the people who come around are in their teens or forties."
"I'm getting there," Cheng lightly laughs as he looks around. The ceiling is low as he can barely walk without getting the feeling that he might hit his head on the rafters. Through and through, he smells something sweet; it is not one of cooking but one of woody incense like his house. Scattered about are cushions and even some stuffed animals. He wonders if there are any children in this place.
"Oh, you don't look a day above twenty-five," the young man laughs in turn with a bright smile.
"I appreciate it, sir."
He laughs again. "You don't have to call me 'sir,' Mr. Wang. I—Oh, silly me. I haven't even told you my name. I'm Tino. Tino Väinämöinen."
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Väinämöinen," Cheng formally responds. "If I may ask, where is the watchmaker?"
"He's in his workshop. I don't think he'll be able to see you just yet since he's working on an order, but if you're just here to talk about an existing watch, I can help you with that. I'm like his little bookkeeper."
"That will do." He then allows Tino to lead him into a separate area full of books with the same height, width, and thickness. Thinking they must be records, he approaches one and reads the spines. Each one has a date printed on it. There are those dating all the way back to the last years of the Common Era, back when granting people watches was still gearing towards perfection. Interestingly enough, as he scans the books, he sees that even the latest years are constructed with bound paper. Real paper is yet another rare commodity that is almost never put into use, yet here it is stashed in this library of records.
"What year was this Leon Wang born in?" Tino asks as he bends down to look at the latest records.
"Four-hundred seventy five," Cheng tells him and waits for the records to be pulled up. While Tino is doing that, he asks another question. "Are you really fine with using traditional books here? If something were to happen, all of the records would be lost."
Tino chuckles. "The watchmakers just have a fondness for being able to interact with things using their hands. You can't really do that with technology nowadays. That's probably also why the watches are made the way they are. But if you're worried about the records, I do record everything on a separate database. Just not here. He prefers not to have any obstructing technology here."
Another question is building itself up when something bumps against his foot. Startled, he looks down to see a small ball of white fur cuddled against his shoe. When it looks up, it gives a small yip and winks its beady black eyes at him. The dog looks just like the one from the doormat in the front.
"Oh, I see you've found Hanatamago," Tino chuckles and bends down to give the dog a small pat on its forehead. "She's really friendly, so you don't have to worry."
"Not at all," Cheng smiles. "It's a real dog, isn't it?"
Tino beams. "Yes, she is! It was really hard finding one, but we really wanted a real one." He lets out a deep sigh. "Sometimes being a watchmaker has its advantages." He suddenly snaps up and shakes his head. "Oh, where was I? I was supposed to be looking up the records. Silly me."
Cheng holds up a hand. "No need to rush. I have time."
"I appreciate it, Mr. Wang," he lightly smiles and pulls out a book with the characters, "475 T.E.," printed on the spine. "Let's see…W, W, W…Here we are. Leon Wang. Paired with Emil Steilsson at nineteen years of age. Both of them, in fact. And…Oh. He should have already found his soul mate, correct?"
"Yes, he did. But that's something I've been confused with. Forgive my directness, but is it natural for the watches to pair two men together?"
Tino blinks his violet orbs and pauses. In the corner of Cheng's eyes, he sees him fiddling with something in his pocket like an absentminded action to spend the time away. "The watches just choose whomever they think will match the other the most. Some for different reasons than others, but no matter what becomes of it all, the match-up is always the best."
Cheng pauses. "So it's happened before," he concludes.
"I would think so," Tino brings up. "I'm one of them."
Before Cheng can react, a door at the other end of the cottage opens, and a heavy set of footsteps treads across the thick wooden floors.
"Tino? Where are my spare screws?" Cheng hears that the voice belongs to the other person he heard from the outside. The man comes into the library and exposes himself as a tall and intimidating looking individual. While appearing to be only in his early twenties, his face is sculpted in a thick, broad cut across his cheekbones and jawlines. Paired against his scruffy blonde hair is a set of icy blue eyes hiding behind rectangular glasses. His expression appears as hardened as his physique, having broad shoulders, stiff muscles, and worn fingers. This man, Cheng believes, is the watchmaker.
"He's the visitor?" the watchmaker asks in a few grunts and broken syllables. His voice is a deep baritone as Cheng expects, and his aura is even deeper. However, beyond his towering build (which actually is not much compared to how tall Cheng, himself is), he can detect a tender spirit that comes with being a builder.
"Yes, Berwald, he is," Tino nods. "Mr. Wang, this is Berwald Oxenstierna, Holo's official watchmaker. Berwald, this is Cheng Wang. He's here to ask about a relative's watch."
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Oxenstierna," Cheng says and gives the man a firm handshake. By that gesture, alone, he can feel the roughness of his hands from all the watches he must have made.
"Hmm," the stern-faced watchmaker grunts and awkwardly exits the room without further inquiring Tino about the spare screws he initially came inside for. Moments later, the two of them can hear a door closing, and the room fills with silence once again.
Tino somberly moves his head back and forth with a befuddled expression. "You'll have to excuse him. Berwald's not used to strangers. He's quite shy, actually."
"Is he now?" Cheng softly smiles. "I can only imagine." He pauses to recollect his thoughts. "So you said you're soul mate is also a man?"
The young bookkeeper of sorts gives a light shrug. "You just met him."
Cheng continues to smile. "Somehow I figured that. But even so, I suspect this is rare."
"It's not a problem, is it, Mr. Wang?"
"It wouldn't be if it wasn't for my cousin."
"Leon Wang…" Tino suddenly says. "I've heard of that name somewhere. Is he famous?"
"Quite," Cheng replies.
"Is that why you're worried? I can assure you that celebrities throughout history have found their ideal soul mates in the most unexpected of places before."
"That's not it. It doesn't have to do with the people or the fact that Leon and Emil are both men. What I came here to ask about is whether or not the watches match people together based on the ideal relationship…or if it has anything remotely to do with how they love each other."
Tino blinks. "Well, I'd assume if the matches are the best that they are bound to love each other in some way. You're having doubts about that?"
"Yes," he admits. "I worry about the fate of my cousin's relationship as well as his designated soul mate. You see, my cousin has never exactly been one to emotionally attach himself to another person. I know him that much. He's extremely possessive and materialistic. On the other hand, Emil is a very sensitive and modest individual. If given the opportunity, he is destined for great things, but that's where I draw the line. I wonder if perhaps those two aren't meant to be together."
"Ah. Well…" Tino bows his head and looks to the side with a bent hip. "I don't think you can just leave it up to the watches to sort everything out, if you know what I mean."
Cheng shakes his head. "I have to admit I have very little references to the way the watches work. Leon is the only one in my close family that has a watch this generation, you see."
"Oh. There has to be some way to explain it. Maybe…It's like this. Do you know what a sauna is, Mr. Wang?"
Though the question strikes him as odd and random, Cheng tells him that he knows what a sauna is through personal experience.
"Good. Then you should know that having a good time in a sauna isn't about having the right temperature or the right humidity level—though those do help. It's mind over matter. You can't just expect to have the finest sauna in the world and have a good time. You have to tell yourself that you are having a good time. Just because everything is in the right place doesn't always mean you're going to happy. You have a choice whether to be happy or not, don't you think so?"
"I suppose," Cheng replies.
"Though, to be honest, I can't imagine why anyone would dislike being in a sauna. If it were up to me, everyone should have a sauna in their house."
"If only that were possible," he laughs in amusement at this eccentric character. "Then, with things the way they are, I suspect I'm going to have to keep a close eye on my cousin. All I want is for Leon to be happy, but I wonder if his methods of achieving it will last."
"Only time will tell, Mr. Wang."
"Perhaps, Mr. Väinämöinen."
"Is that all?" Tino looks up. "There wasn't anything else?"
Cheng looks down and sees the little white dog, Hanatamago rolling around in circles at his feet. She appears to be so tamed that he finds it difficult to believe what he is looking at truly is a real dog.
"There is one more thing I want you to do."
He has Tino's full attention. "What did you come here for?"
"The files you have on Leon Wang and Emil Steilsson. Burn them. Ink them out. Delete any files you have on their watches. I never came here. You never saw me."
Thank you for being patient with me, everyone! School is out for me, so I hope to get out a few more updates with the passing days. And thank you to everyone who has stopped to take the time to write a review and read this story this far in general. Every single view means a lot to me!
