they find themselves woven into a memory—full moons on christmas nights, broken-down people, photocopied posters and worn-out skin.  

He craves for a world in which humans are delicate pieces of glass—merely an intricate texture of string woven into stone. Or maybe he imagined humans as paint swung onto large boards of canvas—uneven smudges and heavy blends of burning colours. ~~~  

Jongin kills himself. Kyungsoo wishes he could kill himself.

Kyungsoo has long since forgotten what it's like to laugh. Or what it's like to love. Because his thoughts seem to travel too far away.