Numb, devoid of strength to sort the havoc of emotions that threatened to freeze him in place, his eyes remained focused on the emptiness of the streets ahead. Not even the chilly air was able to break through the icy cage he had put himself into, disquietude causing suffocation, chest raising and falling with small huffs of breath that were the reflection of his inner chaos.
He could barely keep his body from giving up under his own weight, aching muscles causing his legs to tremble at every step he took. A far away thought about the commotion that would be caused when night finally faded away had forced him, demanded him to get away from a destruction he still did not know how to fix.
There was no memory of what had happened before consciousness had been regained but when his eyes had scanned his surroundings, he had been faced with a newly deserted area that was once covered by trees that proudly stood giving shelter from the sun and hiding beings at night under their shadow. The grass that minutes- no, he had lost track of time -his body swayed slightly to the side losing his sense of balance for a brief moment when a wave of dizziness assaulted him-, had felt soft under his feet had also vanished, no leaving traces of what it all had been except for ashes.
The scenery, or the lack of, had been just as shocking as the first time and in the middle of the apprehension taking over him, all the doubts had been swept away at the realization that it could have been no other than himself, denial could not be held any longer when his palms were covered in blisters and small wounds becoming the solid proof of the invisible fire that had so eagerly devoured the life that once existed there.
It was meaningless to try to convince himself that he was not the one to be blamed when that lapse of time was missing from his memories.
The pounding in his head made him halt his steps and two hands were pressed against the sides of his skull, leaning back onto a nearby wall of a building. As the seconds tickled by it was becoming harder to keep himself steady. Inhaling deeply, forcing the air into his lungs, his eyes opened slowly though he did not know when he had closed them, and the sight they fell upon suddenly felt all too familiar. How had he reached this far, furthermore, how had he reached this place, it was like if his subconscious had betrayed him, and still, a small part of himself felt relief sipping through his pores at the familiarity.
He found himself already stumbling into the building and everything had become a blurry mass of images that made sense at one moment and were distorted at the next. When he reached the right floor, in the mist of this instant of clarity when he realized where he was, he was not able to decipher how he had made it up until here for the last thing he remembered now was the doors of the elevator sliding close back in the first floor.
Had he been a fool assuming he would find the person he was suddenly looking for? Was it being too selfish of him to bring back someone from their slumber at such hour of the night? There was nowhere else to go and he was aware he would not be able to go any further even if he tried. His knockings on the door were heavy, tired, eventually fading as he willed himself to remain standing just a little bit longer using the wall as a support.
Build a fire and night comes. Light the fire and darkness surrounds you. Hide the fire and the flames arisen from a corpse shall creep in. This fire is the passion of a human being. Nothing shall dampen the ever hungry flames, for even in the lowest moments of life, these flames shall rise from the sodden below.
Consumed in passion, one can either fall into a loop of danger or a loop of power and success.
Yongguk works by night, his only company being the brooding slivers of starlight matured under the curse of a silver moon. Piece by piece they fit together. Bit by bit they formed the most intricate of devices. His thoughts were flooded by multiple conscious states of mind, each and every one contributing in their own experiences of life.
It is in such places that Yongguk becomes lost. It is with his passion, his nepenthe that he is finally able to forget what he wishes to never remember. Hear his cries for comfort be muffled by the perfervid personality he holds so strong. Hear the slow descent towards insanity be overpowered by the naivety that frames his figure so well. Any audience watching Yongguk would be lachrymose, yet the only individual watching him was himself. He, and those millions of others who shared his consciousness.
What they felt, he felt.
What he felt, they felt.
The night is his mother; the night is his pacifier. Bring forth the day and nothing but the troubles of rash actions shall haunt him. Somehow, it is only in the latest hours of night, where the demons prowl and hunt for their daily satisfaction, that Yongguk’s fingers can slip easily about cogs and silicon to creep closer to completing the next contrivance of time. Yet again, he mustn’t entirely douse the daylight with his hatred. It is only within such blinding hours of living that the mental depiction of his next theory can come to life.
Night harbours the serenity that halts time. Day, on the other hand, nurses the bustling movement of the seconds, minutes, hours and days.
At one of the final cogs, Yongguk freezes, the chill of night biting into his skin. The alloy metal slips from his fingers, hitting the table and shattering all the passion that he had built about him moments before. Somewhere, in his millions of conscious states, something was changing. Altering and moving.
He’d often get such moments transmitted to his subconsciousness. Sometimes it’d be a flash of blood, a trickle of death upon his own lips. At others, it’d be the breath shortening cackle that rumbled low with far too much grace. However, it was neither of the above. Instead, it was an image of the complete device, looking nothing like what he had in his hands. Glowing orange was framed with transparent liquid. Tracks of electricity were running wildly about a translucent bar of black.
‘The Divergence Meter — finally complete. My word, it’s beautiful. Could my hands really craft such a delicate device? Could my thoughts really conjure such perfect angles and races of electrons?’ he thought.
These thoughts were not permitted to stay long, as heavy, sluggish pounds upon his door echoed about his laboratory. Leaving the incomplete work upon the bench, he pulled the goggles so that they pushed up his strands of black, forcing them to be bunched about and sprawled messily upon his head. Why would there be someone at his front door at such hours of the morning?
Yongguk glanced at his clock, eyebrow crooked as the neon blue figures flashed another night, well day, of sleep deprivation. Muttering soft profanities, his bare feet padded towards the door, all the while quickly pushing aside sheets, books, folders and prototypes. He opens the door, part of him ready to slam it shut again before his eyes were caught by the sight of a shadowed figure gripping the wall for support.
“Oi, you okay there?”