Minseok and Jongin meet Sehun the day they get on a train and decide to ride it to the end of the world.

But, of course, all trips must end somewhere, and they’re forced to get off when the train pulls into the last stop—the destination point, where the crew members are exchanged, gas and other essentials are added to the train, and the evidence of any previous passengers are removed from the train.

Minseok and Jongin get up when the doors open. They’re both holding nothing more than a bag of sunflower seeds each, bags that contain more shells of the eaten seeds than the actual seeds themselves.

“You want to take the next train back?” Jongin asks, and Minseok thinks his voice is a little sad. It’s not like this trip is anything particularly important, and it’s not like they did anything other than eat sunflower seeds and stare out the window, but it’s the idea of the trip: the dream of running away, so fast that life’s troubles can’t catch up. For the journey to end, like this, is a reminder that reality will catch up, sooner or later.

“Let’s get lunch first,” Minseok suggests. They’d drunk a few cups of coffee for breakfast, but he’s ready for something more substantial.

Getting out of the train station and finding a restaurant nearby is too much of an effort, so they end up buying a few cups of instant ramen that they eat on the chairs as they stare up at the departing train times. There’s constant activity around them, the rise and fall of voices, some more distinctive than others. People pass around them, some getting on trains with their arms loaded with luggage, others excitedly getting off trains and heading out of the station. No one seems to notice them, two teenagers sitting alone on the waiting chairs.

They eat their ramen quietly, sharing a moment of silence that comes from years of knowing and understanding each other. It fits, somehow, even in this busy, ever-changing environment.

It’s broken by someone sitting down in a chair across from them and leaning forward to talk to them. “Hey, you guys have any extra food?”

Minseok’s first impression of Sehun isn’t all that different from what he first thought of Jongin: lanky limbs that he hasn’t quite grown into, voice purposefully lowered and syllables slurred to give off the impression of a cool kid, eyes soft and vulnerable behind their glaring, defensive look.

“You can have the rest of mine,” Minseok offers immediately, giving his half-finished cup of instant noodles to the boy.

The boy starts eating the moment the cup is in his hands. “Thanks,” he mumbles around a mouthful, and Minseok nods to tell him that it’s okay. “Who are you guys?” he asks, after consuming several consecutive mouthfuls.

“This is Jongin. He’s fifteen,” Minseok says, putting a hand on Jongin’s shoulder. “My name’s Minseok, and I’m sixteen.”

Sehun nods, his eyes sweeping over Jongin briefly before landing on Minseok again. “I’m Sehun.” His words are confident and strong, but his posture gives him away. “Fourteen years old.” He takes another mouthful and chews on the end of the cheap wooden chopsticks. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re runaways,” Jongin speaks up, finishing his cup of noodles.

Sehun blinks, a look of surprise crossing his face briefly, before he smiles. It’s a small smile, but Minseok can see some of the defensiveness fading away. “Me too.”



It’s decided when Minseok asks Sehun, “You want to come with us?” and the younger nods eagerly. They buy one more ticket for the return trip, and going back suddenly doesn’t seem like so much of a defeat anymore.

They have Sehun now—Sehun, who, although he doesn’t contribute much to the conversation, brings out so many words from Minseok and Jongin—words that they’ve never had to speak before, but ones that are beautiful nonetheless, painting and bridging the distance between the three of them.

“We’re professional runaways,” Jongin tells Sehun proudly, as they get off the train. “Runaways with a home.”

“A home?” Sehun repeats. He’s clearly excited, the skip in his steps obvious as they walk out of the train station.

“It’s my grandmother’s,” Minseok explains, “but she lets us use it.” It’s not a real refuge, but it’s good enough for them. It’s somewhere they can go to when they need a break from the world.

They take Sehun back with them, talking the whole hour’s walk back to Minseok’s grandmother’s home. It’s a small place, hidden in the woods. By the time they get back, it’s already dark. They show Sehun around the house: the dock where there was once a boat, but which they now use for fishing; the building that was once a barn, but which they now use for storing their golf cart and various other supplies; and the small fenced in area that was once used to house chickens, but is now used for keeping their bunny, a mean, black-furred animal they’ve named Lulu.

“She used to be really nice and cuddly,” Minseok says, “but now she’s just old.” He reaches into the small area to try to pick Lulu up, but she tries to bite off his finger.

Making room for Sehun isn’t that difficult. There are only two bedrooms in the house, but one of them was Minseok’s late grandfather’s room, one that had been turned into a study after he’d died. It’s filled with books and various articles, and Minseok tries to never go in there if he can help it. He shares the other room with Jongin.

They’d thrown out the old mattress many months ago so that they could sleep on the entire length of the bedroom’s floor. On cold winter nights, they tend to curl up together for warmth, but on these hot summer nights, they each claim a corner of the room. It’s the only room that they keep especially clean, so they won’t wake up with painful bites in the morning. Moving an extra pillow and blanket into the room isn’t that difficult.

So even though they’d never intended on picking up another kid when they’d set out that morning, it’s still nice having Sehun here. Sehun, who fits in surprisingly well in this environment, who smiles and sits with them outside in the grass as they eat dinner, effortlessly filling the spaces that they hadn’t even known were there. Minseok knows that he doesn’t know anything about the kid, but that’s okay. They’re all here for the same reason, and that’s all that matters.

“You can see the stars here,” Sehun points out, his voice soft and awed as he tilts his head back to look up at the skies.

Minseok smiles as he lies on his back to look up at the sky. “Yup. Whole constellations.” Stargazing is something he used to do as a kid with dreams too big for this world. It’s something that he hasn’t done in a long time, but he doesn’t mind doing it now, looking up and seeing eternities before his eyes.

He feels two other bodies pressing against his side as all three of them lie in the grass, the warmth comforting but not suppressing. Minseok closes his eyes and smiles.



They help their neighbors whenever they have time. It’s a good way to establish a good relationship with most of them, and although they’re not badly off, it never hurts to have a little extra money. Not only that, but Minseok has a suspicion that Jongin has an eye on Mr. Kwon’s older daughter, and he uses any excuse he can make up for them to make the half hour drive through the woods to the Kwon residence.

The tasks that they’re given aren’t difficult. Sometimes, they help with mowing the grass, a feat that’s especially difficult when some of the lands can stretch on for acres. They also help with weeding during spring and summer, and with harvesting during the autumn.

It’s a nice balance between the work they doing the day and the fun that they have at night.

Sometimes, they don’t even see each other the entire day. They wake up at different times, and they have different schedules. At least one of them stays behind in the house in case there’s an emergency of some kind, unless if all three of them are needed at the same place.

But when the sun sets, they’re all back at the house, preparing dinner and washing the dishes together. Dinner is usually the only meal that they eat together, taking their plates outside in time to catch the setting sun and to feel the refreshing night breeze. Afterwards, they go to the edge of the lake to fish or into the forest to the tire swing. Sometimes, when they’re not too tired, they’ll even put on some music and just dance outside the barn.

However, the moment they finish the dishes today, Jongin excuses himself. “I’m tired,” he says, even though it’s barely eight. “I’m going in first.”

Sehun frowns after him as he leaves. “What’s wrong with him? He barely said anything during dinner.”

“He was over at the Kwons today.” Sehun still looks confused, so Minseok says, “It’s just issues he’s going through while growing up. He’ll get over it.”

“Oh.” Sehun looks at Minseok, his eyes sharp and attentive. “Did you have issues too?”

“I’m not a problematic child,” Minseok says, then tugs on Sehun’s arm before he can ask any more questions. For such a reserved kid, Sehun was curious about nearly everything he could perceive. “You want to go fishing?”

“I never catch anything,” Sehun says, but he follows Minseok into the barn.

“You have to be patient,” Minseok tells him, grabbing the small bucket they keep for the bait. It looks like they still have enough worms from yesterday. He’d never admit it aloud, but digging through the dirt for worms is his least favorite part about fishing.

They sit on the edge of the dock, their legs dangling over the water as they wait for an unsuspecting fish to take the bait. They’d caught several big ones last night, though, so Minseok doubts they’ll get quite as lucky today.

“How did you meet Jongin?” Sehun asks, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Minseok blinks, staring into the water as he tries to remember. “We used to go to school together. He was kind of an outcast back then.”

“Really? Why?” Sehun’s staring intently at Minseok, the last of the sun’s rays reflecting in his eyes.

“He was dating a guy back then.” Minseok smiles tightly when he sees Sehun’s eyes widen. “His parents were against it, too, and even though they broke up later, people wouldn’t stop giving him crap about it.”

“But—I thought he liked Youngmi.”

“He does now.” Minseok tilts his head. “Is that a problem?” Sehun quickly shakes his head, his eyes wide, and Minseok smiles at him. “What about you? What’s your life story?”

“I was born.” Minseok starts to roll his eyes, but Sehun continues, “Um. My parents died a few weeks ago.”

Minseok freezes, staring at Sehun incredulously. “Really? What about your relatives?”

“I have an uncle. He went overseas for college, and he hasn’t been back to Korea since then.” Sehun shifts so that his feet are on the dock and rests his chin on his knees. Usually, Minseok would admonish him for jostling his fishing pole and scaring off any potential prey, but Sehun looks so small right now that he just wants to hug him.

“Oh.” Minseok stares down at the water for a moment, watching as the moon’s reflection wavers on the surface. So Sehun doesn’t have a place to go, either. “It’s okay,” he says, scooting closer to Sehun so he can put an arm around his shoulder. “You can stay here.”



Before long, nearly a year has passed. It’s been about ten months since they first met Sehun. They’ve spent most of those days together, spending the days working and the nights playing around. They celebrated Minseok’s birthday with cheap fireworks, and they took a train to a fancy restaurant in a nearby town for Jongin’s birthday.

For Sehun’s birthday, they settle for something simpler. They buy a watermelon from the market, and Minseok cuts it for all of them to eat after a quick dinner. Minseok and Jongin insist on singing happy birthday, and Sehun laughs even as he tells them how off tune they are.

“It’s not cake, but it should be good enough,” Jongin says, and Minseok catches a brief glance of the mischievous look in his eyes before he pushes a slice of watermelon in Sehun’s face.

It’s not sticky and clingy the way cake is, but it does leave Sehun with a mouthful of watermelon and juice on his face. Minseok laughs, picking up a napkin and gesturing for Sehun to come closer. When Sehun does, closing his eyes and tilting his face forward, Minseok picks up his own watermelon slice and shoves it in Sehun’s face.

“You guys are so mean,” Sehun protests, but he’s smiling as he wipes his face off. “Ganging up on me for my birthday.”

Later, when they’ve finished the watermelon, they walk over to the lake together, stepping into the water and splashing each other. It’s dangerous to step into the lake, since Minseok had found a snake not long ago, but there’s no fear when the three of them are together.

Jongin is the first one to excuse himself, getting out of the lake and drying his face with his equally wet shirt. “I’m showering first,” he calls over his shoulder.

“We should probably do that, huh?” Minseok muses. He barely has time to let out a cry when Sehun pulls him underwater.

After trying to get Sehun back, Minseok sits down in the grass next to Sehun. “What’s it like, being one year older?” he asks, leaning over so his shoulder nudges Sehun’s.

“Fun, when I’m with you guys.” Sehun smiles, and although he’s still staring at the lake, Minseok knows that smile is directed towards him.

“Really? No regrets about coming here?” Minseok teases, his tone light but the meaning behind them serious.

“None.” Sehun reaches over to take Minseok’s hand, fitting their fingers together. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me,” Minseok says, using his other hand to flick Sehun’s forehead lightly. He doesn’t pull his hand away, though.

Sehun’s staring down at their hands, a small smile on his lips, and a thought suddenly crosses Minseok’s mind.

“Hey.” Minseok makes sure that Sehun’s looking at him before leaning forward to close the distance between them. He moves slowly, giving Sehun plenty of time to pull away, and only pauses when their noses are just a few centimeters away. “Is this okay?” he asks, and Sehun’s responding nod is barely noticeable.

Sehun’s lips are unusually soft. He doesn’t move away when Minseok kisses him, but he doesn’t respond, either, remaining motionless until Minseok pulls away. Minseok studies Sehun’s expression as Sehun’s eyes slowly open, but Sehun seems to be studying his expression as well.

Minseok laughs when the silence stretches too long, reaching out a hand to ruffle Sehun’s hair. "Happy birthday."



The old clock in the living room of their house seems to be their only connection with the outside world on most days. They rarely bother checking the time, and there's no way of telling if the clock is even accurate. The box TV in the living room mostly shows static whenever they turn it on, and they don't get telephone service out here.

It seems like the days go by slower out here, when no one's counting and when they're all making the most of each moment.

They still keep up with their work. Each year, Minseok's mother sends them textbooks to make sure that they're keeping up with their schoolwork. So far, they've managed to avoid going to an actual school by claiming to be homeschooled, but they can't afford to fall behind on their studies either.

They all know that this is only going to last so long, that sooner or later, they'll have to take the college entrance exam and leave the place. It's like Neverland here, a place without definite time, a temporary break from reality.

The first sign that their time is running out is when Jongin sees a flier advertising an audition for an entertainment company. He doesn't say anything about it afterwards, but Minseok can see the bright spark in his eyes, the determination in his steps. It's why Jongin goes to sleep so early these days, leaving Minseok and Sehun on their own right after dinner, and it's why Jongin wakes up before even the sun is up. He practices in the woods, by the tire swing. Jongin claimed, at first, that he was just jogging through the woods. But Minseok could tell from the way that he walked back, how happy he looked, that it hadn't just been jogging.

Dancing is something that Jongin's always enjoyed. It's meant more to him than Minseok could hope to understand. Even if Jongin had stopped taking official dance lessons a few years back, he still manages to keep up, learning from videos and mirrors, pushing himself to be a little better each day. He's talented and he's determined, and Minseok doesn't doubt that he could get in if he tried.

When Jongin first brings it up one afternoon, when Minseok is sitting alone digging for worms, Minseok can't even bring himself to act surprised. He's always known, and really, he should be happy for Jongin, but for whatever reason, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'm sure you'll make it," he says, reaching over and putting his arm around Jongin so he can knock their heads together. It's his way of telling Jongin that it's okay. His hands are too dirty to pat Jongin's head, so this should be enough.

Jongin winces, touching the side of his head gingerly. "But if I don't," Jongin begins.

Minseok cuts him off as he goes back to digging through the dirt for worms. "You will. You know you will."

Maybe that's why it feels so final when he and Sehun accompany Jongin into the city for the audition. It will take months, probably, for Jongin to go through the whole process and be formally accepted as a trainee.

That doesn't stop Minseok from hugging Jongin tightly as they get out of the train, holding onto him longer than necessary on the crowded platform. They're not the only ones in this kind of embrace, but it's not like Jongin won't go back on the same train with them later today.

"Hyung, let go," Jongin says, bending down a little so he's speaking directly into Minseok's ear. "It's not like I'm leaving forever."

Minseok does step back eventually, letting his arms fall from Jongin's waist. He reaches up to ruffle Jongin's hair, smiling as Jongin complains that looks are a crucial factor in the auditions. "Good luck."

Jongin gives Sehun a brief one-armed embrace before he leaves, walking away with a bright smile and a wave over his shoulder.

"I feel like a mother, seeing my first child off from home," Minseok says. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans as a sudden chill comes over him, making him shiver slightly.

As though noticing, Sehun walks closer to Minseok until their arms are touching and Minseok can feel his warmth through the layers of their clothing. "Are you my mother too?"

Minseok snorts, not bothering to reply as they start walking out of the train station. They still have a few hours before Jongin gets back.

"Please buy me some food, mother," Sehun says, his voice sickly sweet as he leans into Minseok.

Minseok laughs and pushes Sehun away, unrepentant even when Sehun stumbles into a pole.

They end up going to a restaurant anyway, sitting down across from each other at a table. Halfway through their meal, Sehun's phone starts ringing, and he looks down at the screen with a grown.

"I forgot I had service here," he says. He looks up at Minseok. "I'm going to take this call, okay?"

Minseok waves at him to go on, spinning the ice in his glass. "Who was it?" he asks the moment Sehun slides into his seat again.

"My uncle," Sehun says. His expression is guarded, like he's trying to decide whether he's happy or annoyed by the turn of events. "He's back in Korea."

"Oh." Minseok brings his glass up to his lips and swallows, washing down the food in his mouth with the cold liquid. "I see."

Sehun doesn't say any more than that, but he doesn't need to. The implications are all there, the cold edges of reality seeping in no matter how hard they try to stay away.

The rest of the meal is quiet, the lack of conversation making the clink of their utensils and the noise around them even more obvious. Minseok gets up after he's finished paying the bill.

He smiles as Sehun gets up as well, reaching over to take Sehun's hand and entwining their fingers together. "Let's go back."



Jongin makes it past the final round of auditions. They’re seeing him off tomorrow, early in the morning. He’ll be entering the company as a trainee, and it might take months, years, or even never before he’ll become one of the many stars on TV.

“I’m going to miss this place,” Jongin says. There’s a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, smoke drifting lazily into the evening air. The three of them are sitting on the edge of a bridge side by side, legs dangling over the water.

Maybe it’s not the last time that they’ll see each other, but it still feels like the last time. Minseok remembers the day they first got here clearly, when the woods had seemed endless and the open sky above them promised freedom. Too soon, they’re growing up, the silences between them too obvious as they watch the sun set.

Minseok doesn’t promise to see Jongin. He doesn’t know how often they’ll be able to see each other, doesn’t know if they’ll still be able to stay friends in the years to come. He wants to stay, to stay by Jongin’s side on his long, difficult road to stardom, but sometimes, the sun is bound to set no matter how fast you run and the best days are meant to end with a goodbye.

“I’m going to go find Youngmi,” Jongin says. He gets up, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the ash tray. “I’ll see you guys.”

It’s just Sehun by his side now. Minseok stares into the water, watching as the sun slips further into the trees.

“Are you upset?” Sehun’s voice is too sharp, too loud in the setting, but his hand on Minseok’s is comforting.

Minseok turns his hand over so their palms are touching. “Not really. I’ll still see him, and there’s TV.” Except it won’t be the same. There’s nothing that can replace Jongin’s laugh by his ear, his arms around Minseok in the cold of winter, his hand gently pushing Minseok on the swing. Those are moments that will be hidden somewhere in the pages of the past, the young boy sitting by the staircase, crying alone, being replaced by this charismatic man with nothing to fear, backed by supportive fans and the unwavering spotlight.

“Don’t you want him to stay?” Sehun’s gaze is unwavering as he stares at Minseok, like he can read all of the other’s thoughts.

There was a time when Minseok would have said yes, when he had felt like there was nothing he needed more than Jongin by his side. But Jongin doesn’t need him now, and as little as Minseok wants to admit it, he doesn’t need Jongin as much as he once did, either. “I want him to pursue his dreams,” Minseok says instead, and smiles as he reaches over to pat Sehun’s head. “Why do you look so serious?”

“I don’t know.” Sehun sighs, a soft exhale as he rolls his cigarette between his fingers. He’d put it in his mouth and inhaled too deeply the first time. As expected, it made him to cough, trying to force the smoke from his lungs as he tried to inhale fresh oxygen. It lies in his palm now, touched but unused.

Jongin leaving doesn’t make Minseok feel as much as he thinks he should. Maybe it’s because Sehun’s still by his side. Maybe it’s because the loss won’t sink in until later, when he’s reaching out his hand for another body by his side, only to close his fingers around empty air. Maybe he’ll remember it in passing, a time when there had been three of them together on this bridge, three laughs filling the air.

Minseok closes his eyes and brings his cigarette to his lips, listening to the crickets around them and waiting for the footsteps on the bridge, for a familiar voice and laugh, for someone to slip into the space beside him.



Minseok knows that something's wrong when his mother's car pulls up before the house. 

Sehun isn't awake yet, and Minseok is barely awake, stumbling outside to the unfamiliar sound. This visit is like an unwelcome clash between this timeless place and the world he'd tried to escape. 

It's only his mother, and he isn't surprised. When he'd chosen to leave, his father hadn't been pleased, had even gone so far as threatening to disown him. Even now, when he visits, it's only his mother who willingly sees him. His father is always busy, his calendar full of deadlines scrawled in red ink. It's exactly the kind of life that Minseok doesn't want to live. 

His mother stumbles as she gets out of the car, her heels teetering on the uneven gravel of the driveway, and Minseok steps forward to support her. It's like the distance between them breaks down, then, as she nearly collapses into his arms. 

Her next words are enough to wake Minseok up completely, startling him with a cold, cold punch of reality. 

When Sehun wakes up, she's already long gone, taking her expensive perfumes and unshed tears with her back into the city. 

Minseok has already cooked breakfast, but it lies untouched on the table as he stares blankly ahead. He manages a smile as Sehun sits down across from him, but Sehun sees right through his efforts. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, picking up his chopsticks as he fixes his attention on Minseok. 

"My mother was here this morning." Minseok looks down at the tablecloth, a once bright red that has faded into a faint orange color. "My grandmother passed away." 

It had happened several days ago, his mother had said, soft words barely making their way to Minseok's ears. They'd tried telling Minseok, tried calling and emailing, but Minseok doesn't get service out here. In the end, she'd driven here herself, getting up before the sun did and leaving to attend an event that same morning. 

"I see." Sehun puts down his chopsticks so he can take Minseok's hand in his own. Minseok almost expects him to follow that with an, "I'm sorry," but there's nothing that either one of them can apologize for, other than not being able to stop time where they stood. "Do you need to go to the city?" he asks instead. 

Minseok shakes his head. "My parents already have that covered." 

The only thing that he regrets is not staying by his grandmother's side during her last days. And granted, none of them had expected this. Over the years, his grandmother was hospitalized a few times, but none of the stays were that serious, just a few complications expected with old age. But this time, there had been a sudden turn for the worse in the middle of the night, and there had been nothing any of them could do. 

Even now, there's nothing Minseok can do. 

Sehun understands, although he doesn't say anything. They eat their breakfast in silence, the table larger today than it had been before as Minseok reaches across for the salt shaker. 

After he helps Minseok finish the dishes, Sehun doesn't leave. Instead, he follows Minseok into the backyard, sitting next to him in the grass. 

Minseok's thoughts wonder for a while, and he loses track of time as he stares up at the clear blue sky. Sehun doesn't say anything, his fingers playing with the grass around them. His head is tilted in Minseok's direction, like he's waiting for Minseok to say something. 

Minseok breaks the silence eventually, taking a deep breath as he speaks. "My grandmother left a note, actually. A dying wish, if you will." He feels Sehun watching him, gaze steady and unwavering. "She wanted me to sell this place and use the money to get into a good college." Pursue the future your parents always wanted for you, give up the life that you've always wanted, in a way, only it hadn't been in those exact words. 

Minseok hadn't believed at first. He'd stiffened in his mother's embrace when he heard her say those words, unwilling to believe that the very person who had given him this sanctuary was telling him to leave. But maybe it's for the best. He can't stay here forever, not when there are worlds waiting for him outside this place. 

"I think you should go too," he continues. "You should go live with your uncle, attend a real school, get a good job." 

"I don't want any of that," Sehun says. His voice sounds hoarse, scratchy, and there are strands of grass in his hands that he'd pulled from the ground. "I just want you." It's a simple sentence, said with such sincerity that Minseok wavers. 

"You have me," he says, gently placing a hand under Sehun's chin so they're looking each other in the eye. "You've always had me." Since the day he'd taken Sehun here, Sehun's made a kind of home in Minseok's heart. He still occupies that space now, filling all the gaps Minseok hadn't even known were there. 

This time, it's Sehun who crosses the distance between them to kiss Minseok, their noses bumping before their lips touch. 

Kissing Sehun like this steals the oxygen from Minseok's lungs, like it's suddenly too difficult to breathe. It makes him want to break away from the kiss, but it also makes him want to hold Sehun tighter and never let go. 

Kissing Sehun makes the world around them disappear, until all Minseok can feel is the smoothness of Sehun's skin under his fingers, the slightly unevenness in Sehun's breath, and the softness of Sehun's lips against his own. 

It tastes a lot like goodbye. 



When Minseok leaves the property, leaving behind the For Sale sign as the only evidence that he'd occupied this place for the past few years, Sehun is by his side. Sehun stands by him as he looks back one last time at the house with its three solid pillars, the lake with its endless supply of fish, and the woods with trails he knows by heart. 

This is the place that had taught him how to fly, and this is the place that he's now flying away from. There's a magic in this place that has seeped into him over time. Maybe that magic won't stay. One day, he might forget the exact pitch of the crickets at night, the timeless qualify as the days passed, and the contentment that he'd felt with two close friends by his side. 

One day, he might forget how to fly, might not believe in these simple, beautiful tales of forever. 

But today, he walks away with Sehun by side towards the futures ahead.