It was raining outside.

Each drop plummeted earthwards, every one a thin, glistening strand of silver, the gray sky from whence it fell barely visible in the darkness of the fading daylight. Still, the young man stood just inside the bars of the iron gate, his long red hair slickened down by the water, dull forest-green eyes staring emotionlessly past them. His stature was slumped, arms uselessly dangling at his side, shoulders bent downwards, his bored displeasure plainly evident. Down the walk aways, the flame of a street lamp flickered.

“Please!” The young girl cried from the other side of the gate, the drops oblivious to her attempt at a rain coat, soaking her through. Though rain streaked her face, it was easy to tell she was crying, her eyes widened and plea-full, knowing far more about the real world and life than a girl of her young age should. “You must let us in, sir! Please!”

“If master Malachi was troubled by every poor beggar,” the young man said darkly, stepping back from the gate and further onto the dark garden path that led to a large, overgrown manor. “He would be a poor beggar himself. Leave this place, and come back when you can pay like everyone else he delivers his services to.”

“But he will die!” She cried, rushing towards the gates, her small hands curling around the bars tightly until the skin of her knuckles turned white. “He will die if you do not let us in to speak with Mr. Izaak-”

“That is hardly my problem...” He looked to the figure at her side, slumped over on the ground against the stone pillar at one side of the gate, covered in meager blanketing. Silver hair spilled over his face, drops of rain falling down it in shades of gold and amber. Turning away in a flurry of red hair, he began to retreat.

“Please..!” She cried, halfheartedly, slumping down to her knees in what she felt was impending failure. “I'm so sorry, Rinan...” She fell against the bars, and rested her head in defeat, smiling sadly. “I'm sorry... I brought you all the way here just to fail you... I'm so sorry, I thought it would work... Rinan I-”

“What did you just say?”

“W-what?” She asked, startled at the sudden reappearance of the green-eyed young man. “I...”

“What did you just call him?” He demanded, glaring down at her.

“I-I... Rinan.... Rinan Tuyen. He is my brother, sir! Please let me speak to Mister Izaak! Please!”

He only glared at her more, and she dropped her head again, feeling that one fleeting moment of hope rush from her thoughts as he walked away. “Ah..!” She was surprised when, with a lurch, the gates slowly began to creak open, and had to stop herself from falling forwards at the loss of her support. She looked up when the gates fully opened with a loud clang, to find the young man again standing before her, but this time there was no barrier between them. “What..?”

“Don't just sit there in the rain, you foolish girl. Help me carry him inside. Master Malachi is waiting, to be sure...” For a moment, all she could do was gape up at him, who had changed his mind so suddenly. When she hesitated in moving, he gave a small sneer and brushed past her, easily lifting the white-haired boy into his arms, though they seemed nearly equal in size.

He walked past her again, carrying the frail boy in his arms. His hair had fallen off of his face, and his head now hung limply, his angelic features strained in a painful slumber. The red-eyed boy's breath shook, and his own knees nearly gave way, before he pulled the boy's head to rest against his shoulder, covering his face once more. “Follow me...” He said slowly, before walking briskly off.

The young girl scrambled to her feet and stumbled down the broken pathway after him to the dark house, the iron gates creaking to a close behind them. He was still many strides ahead of her when he murmured something softly to himself, clutching the now quivering boy against his chest...

“Rinan Tuyen...”

Rain

“Rinan Tuyen...”

The words fell past Izaak's lips like music, each note as soft and beautiful as the next. He watched the young silver-haired boy sing from under the messy strands of his rusty-red colored bangs, and from behind the lenses of darkened glasses. Even through the shaded blemishes, the boy was beautiful and flawless in his every feature and movement.

Infatuation overwhelmed Izaak as Rinan's large golden eyes fluttered closed in a flurry of long eye lashes, his beautifully full lips parted in song, and his silken, silvery hair shimmering and falling perfectly in place with his every gesture. He sat in the middle of the stage rather than stood, the fake angelic wings he wore giving him a look of frailty. His skin shone like ivory, pale against the gold strands that wove and bordered over his clothing. In the dim lighting but for on the stage, it gave him an ethereal glow and warmth that would catch the attention of anyone in the room.

Izaak Malachi III had noticed him some time ago, and had made it a personal point to attend his performances as often as possible. Though he'd never spoken with him, he was unable to keep this strange fondness he found himself adopting for the boy from growing into a fully fledged, beautiful monster that haunted him in his dreams. He wanted the boy, and his perfection... To make him his.

But no matter his own desires, he couldn't have the boy. At least not unwillingly. He'd much rather dream of him, study him... Re-create him.

He closed his eyes at the applause when the boy's performance reached an intermission; always, it was the second most painful part of visiting him... Ein had been a complete failure. At home, the young boy ‘rested', locked away in one of the many rooms of Izaak's manor, emerged in chemically preserving liquids, keeping the boy from aging, deteriorating... Death. Izaak had thought himself so close with Ein, but it was all for naught.

His hair, though silvery white as Rinan's, what short and messy, and his eyes, while nearly the same shade of amber gold, were too thin... Too slanted... Ein had also been too young; though, in his smaller size he was also stronger than Izaak had imagined Rinan to be. Besides all of this, after a little over a month, Ein had stopped doing as he was told... He had stopped functioning correctly, and serving his purpose. In an attempt to preserve his failure until he could be remedied, Izaak had locked Ein away indefinitely.

Zwei, though still a failure, was partly an accidental success in his own right. Unlike Ein, Izaak had given him free run of his estate, which he now more or less managed on his own. He was similar to Rinan in features, but the pigmentation had been incredibly far off. His skin was too dark, his eyes, though far closer to the right shape than Ein's, were green and much less innocent, and his hair, while nearly the right length, was flaming red. In moments of reminiscent despair, Izaak had chosen Zwei to be far too much like his young, dead brother.

His personality, too, had been much too fiery and pessimistic to belong to Rinan. But, as Izaak had obviously wished to somehow replace his brother, was lonely after Ein's presence and absence, and Zwei had brought himself to too much of the household's duty, he had left him to his own whims, and allowed him the freedom Ein would never have.

Drei, while closer in coloring to Zwei, still had too much coloring, his hair lightly tinted purple, and his eyes a chocolatey brown, and though frail, he was also too short to fully please Izaak. While trying to force less of a personality into Drei than Zwei had ended up with, Zwei had ended up hardly having one at all. After his third failure, Izaak had started to become desperate.

Vier and Fünf had come together, and while both exhibited nearly all the features of Rinan as a whole, neither was perfect enough on their own. Izaak had begun to resign himself to failure, and not bothered to challenge their developing personalities, leaving them both to their own devices... He was at first enraged to find that the two had fallen in love, but later didn't have the heart to do away with either of them as he had originally intended.

Sechs had looked nearly perfect in every way. His hair, though still slightly a pale blonde, had been the closest in both length and coloring that Izaak had yet come upon besides Ein's. His eyes, though still slightly slanted as Ein's had been, were far closer in shading than any of the others'. Even his skin was nearly the same ivory tone as Rinan's. Izaak was crestfallen to find Sechs had no voice. He couldn't understand why. His every body proportion was so close to Rinan's that he had nearly scared himself, but Sechs could neither sing nor speak.

Izaak, who had been determined to never give up, finally had. He found himself unable to re-create Rinan's perfection and beauty fully, and instead had resigned himself to trying to perfect Ein, who he had still yet to let out of his holdings. Ein was partially the reason Izaak, a very well known recluse, had ventured out to see Rinan that night.

His presence on the stage was made known once more when all lights in the room dimmed, and diverted their glow, setting the silver locks shimmering again. Izaak averted his eyes to the young boy as he began to sing a capello in that unique, beautiful, perfect voice of his before the music started up and began to accompany him. At the side of his darkly tinted glasses, Izaak flicked a switch, and white, pixelated circles swirled about with numbers flashing at their sides on the lenses, calculating Rinan's proportions from afar.

A young brunette sat to quietly in the dim light, eagerly waiting for her brother...

A young brunette sat to quietly in the dim light, eagerly waiting for her brother...

The young redhead stepped out from the doorway, followed by a man of similarly colored hair, Izaak Malachi III. The girl stared at them expectantly, awaiting the news of her brother's status, her eyes widening as she stared at the dark crimson stains all over Izaak's clothes. “R-rinan..!” she sobbed.

Before the young girl burst into tears, Izaak spoke. “Your brother was a very sick young man... It's a shame you couldn't have brought him to me sooner...” She stared up at him, before he caught himself and continued. “He's fine... For now. He'll last at least a little longer, but that was all I could do on such short notice.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you!” She cried, relief washing over her very essence. “I was so afraid that... That Rinan, he might... How can we ever repay you, Mister Izaak, sir?” Her worries had changed suddenly, from her sick, frail, dying brother to thoughts of money, but that was the way of the world now... Nothing priceless couldn't be bought.

“More than you could ever pay to me,” Izaak said simply. It wasn't meant to be cold... Just truthful, but the girl froze. “I only did this just now because I am... A fan of... His music.” To his side, Zwei, the green-eyed boy, shifted his footing rather uncomfortably. “Many more surgeries will be needed for him to fully recover, but even then... He wont be quite himself, if you understand that meaning...”

“I... I see...” She said softly, sadly after a moment. “What... What can we do? What can I do? I know he is a singer but... He is not well known, and we are very poor. I am surprised you have heard of him... Without the money we manage make from his performances, I will have to return home immediately and take more hours on my job... I don't know if I can pay you, and I certainly can't afford to bring him here and back for every surgery... What can I do?” she asked hopelessly, not expecting a helpful answer.

Izaak was silent for a moment. Most assuredly, for everyone involved in the current situation -aside from Rinan who had yet to awaken- it all seamed like a dream. His sister would never dare to think about the day that her frail brother could actually die, Zwei had never thought he could ever meet his own perfection, and Izaak had never imagined his lovely angel would be so near to him. He could finally study his body, his features, and even the tones of his voice, without being hindered by needing an explanation for his obsession. “Leave him here, with me...”

Her eyes widened much, much more, and she stared up at him, and at Zwei, who looked wholeheartedly uncomfortable, and justly so, considering his predicament. “R-r-really? That would save us so much money in traveling, sir! I... I will come up with the money to pay his board, and perhaps if we put a second mortgage on our house, we can-”

“Nonsense. He'll stay for free, and when he is well enough, he will do household chores in between surgeries... You're welcomed to come see him whenever you wish, but not too often because he must be allowed to recover.” He continued, and she only nodded in awe and disbelief. “You wont have to pay at all... It really is an honor to be helping out such an amazingly talented young singer...”

“B-b-b-but I must pay you somehow!” She cried, standing finally. “I swear I will! Please, he would not like it if it were charity! Somehow I will manage to-”

“It's fine, and don't worry...” He smiled, for the first time that she had seen him smile the entire night; it was eerily charming, but something about his confident face she found reassuring. “It wont be charity... Not at all. Now, it's very late, and you should probably be heading home. This is Zwei,” he gestured towards the young man at his side, and he stepped forwards. “He will escort you to whatever motive of transportation you took in getting here...”

She only continued to stare at him as Zwei indignantly led her away when she began to gape. “Don't worry,” Izaak said after her as Zwei escorted her down a long, dark hallway. “He'll be perfectly safe, I promise you. And I'll keep in touch... He'll give me your address and home number when he wakes up... I'll give him your fondest wishes...” She only nodded dazedly before disappearing around the corner.

After he was quite sure she was gone, Izaak reentered the room where Rinan lay silent and unmoving on a bloodied bed, his silvery white hair astonishingly unmarred by the dark liquid, and spread out magnificently beneath him. Moonlight streamed in through a large window, illuminating his hair with a faint, shimmering glow, and was the room's only source of light as Izaak took a chair next to the bed, and leaned over to run his fingers across Rinan's pale cheeks.

“So beautiful...” He whispered softly as he caressed the cold, soft flesh at his fingertips. “So... Perfect...”

He removed his glasses and set them on a table of bloodied medical tools next to the bed, and rested his head on Rinan's chest, closing his eyes, and listening to the lulling sound of the young singer's faint heart beat.

Just outside, the flame of a dying street lamp flickered once, and then died, as the rain splattered across the window.