A/N: Thanks for your continued support of Old Wounds ^_^ I just wanted to give a heads up to some readers that there are some very slight trigger warnings for this chapter. Nothing serious, but check the spoiler if you're unsure. [highlight to read] : Chapter contains instances of past traumatic event, attempted self-harm Hope you enjoy

Like clockwork, Youngjae texted the next morning. So, how did it go, lover boy????

Mark stuck his tongue out, rolling over in bed. You didn't wait for Yugyeom and Eunmi to safely leave for the buffet. Turns out Eunmi's in love with Yugyeom, but needed someone around for moral support during their 'date'. Guess who she asked.

You never introduced me to her, I couldn't just ask her to leave out of nowhere! But it's good she's not a rival after all. I was getting that feeling during your concert that she wasn't interested in Jinyoung. Youngjae's first text said. A few seconds later, another arrived. Wait, are you trying to tell me you didn't confess? Couldn't you have just waited until she left and gone home with him or invited him over or SOMETHING? I expect better from you. I thought you were serious about this.

I am serious about this. Very serious. That's why I could wait just one more day. Because before Eunmi barged in, I was going to kiss Jinyoung. And I'm about 85% sure he was okay with that.

Of course he was. I was sitting next to him in the audience, and I swear he was staring at you and only you the entire night. Not to mention all that leading questioning he had with me, trying to figure out just how close of friends we are. I a little bit about that, by the way. Not to the point where he'd actually think we had a thing, but enough to turn on some possessive alarms.

Mark snorted. Anyways, it's looking promising. I was thinking about going to see him today, and then maybe we can talk about everything for real this time. I really want that kiss that I missed out on...

That's a switch, coming from you. I thought you had your concerns about kissing.

I do. But if it's with him, I don't think it could be bad in any way. Speaking of which, how is Jaebum?

Youngjae took much longer to respond this time.  You were right about me. I got shy as soon as we were alone, but I still had a fun time. He's really nice, isn't he? I felt like such an idiot stammering in front of him, but he listened patiently to everything I said. I really like him a lot, I think. I want to get to know him better, if that's okay.

What do you mean 'if that's okay'? Of course it's okay!

He's your friend, so I didn't know if you wanted me intruding...

He's Jinyoung's friend more than mine. And why would I think you're intruding? You're my best friend, I'm completely fine with you seeing someone you like!

Good. Oh, and he gave me some valuable information about you and your conquest. When you see Jinyoung-ssi today, ask him about the accident when you guys met. I don't think he ever told you the whole story.

I thought he wanted to put that behind him?

He must have, because he comes out looking completely embarrassing. But ask him. Take my word on it.

All right, all right.

And let me know how everything goes, I'm dying here!

When he and Youngjae had wrapped up their conversation, Mark dragged himself out of bed and dug around his closet for some nice clothes to wear. He didn't want to make the effort too obvious, but he was in a good enough mood to where he wanted everything about him to match how he was feeling. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before since he'd stayed up thinking about what had happened after the concert, but he didn't feel tired in the slightest. In fact, he felt more energized than he had in a long time. The life he'd been shutting himself off from for years had been better than he ever could have imagined it, and everything around him seemed just a little bit brighter for it. I guess that's what meeting the one for you is supposed to do, he thought, smiling at his reflection in the mirror. Because even if I had figured this all out on my own, having someone I love with me adds an entirely different dimension of happiness to it. It feels like I can finally start moving forward, now.

When he was all dressed and groomed, he put on his shoes and made the walk down the three blocks to Jinyoung's house. It was a pretty day. It was getting colder slowly, but still warm enough to go out walking with just a windbreaker. The sky was clear, the locals kids were out playing basketball in the side streets, and though one of the neighbors' rottweilers had gotten loose again and was snapping at him, forcing him to take a longer route to stay out of its way, even that didn't bother him. It somehow only heightened his anticipation for what was waiting ahead.

Jinoyung's grandfather was already outside the house when Mark arrived, working on potting new flowers for the steps. He waved when he saw Mark coming, setting aside his tools so his hands were free.

Mark, he signed, smiling warmly. Are you doing well? It's been awhile since you've been around.

I was busy preparing for the concert we had last night. Has Jinyoung still been practicing well without me?

Yes, he certainly has. The quality of my conversations with him have definitely improved since you got ahold of him. I'm proud of the work he's put into it, and of you being willing to help him. He really is a good kid, that boy. He smiled. Also, my grandson had quite the time at your concert last night. He was signing almost every single word he knew to describe it to me, but I'm afraid I'm a little lost when it comes to imagining what a particular piece of music sounds like through a verbal description alone.

I'm sure he still tried to do it justice, anyways. Mark also smiled. I'm just glad he enjoyed himself. Is he around?

I'm sorry, but you just missed him. That pretty singing partner of his came along wanting something, and they went off together no more than twenty minutes ago. Don't know any more than that, since I don't read lips, and that girl of his doesn't know signing. Think there's something there?

Something where?

Between them. His gramps smiled wryly. Excuse this old man's prying. It's just that I care for that boy very much, and I'd like to see him starting to settle before... well, I'm no spring chicken myself. I still have some years left in me, but one never knows. But that boy has already been left downtrodden and grieving one too many times in his life, and I won't allow that to happen to him again. He's just been so happy lately, that I thought he may have found someone. And there's nothing I want more than him finding somebody to take care of him. The poor child is always trying to look after everybody else, but what he needs someone to do that for him when he gets too serious or spreads himself too thin. Someone who makes him smile and laugh, someone kind and strong who makes him relax rather than worry. I thought he might be seeing that Eunmi friend of his, but now I'm beginning to think it's his singing partner he may be in love with.

Mark's heart twinged slightly, though he was sure Jinyoung's gramps was misinterpreting something. He'd never even seen Jinyoung with his singing partner since their comepetion, and even if he had, she certainly wasn't the person Jinyoung had given flowers to and almost kissed last night. But Jinyoung probably wasn't going around spouting off about Mark  when things like that were rarely a good idea. It was a misunderstanding. That was it.

What does he say about her?, Mark asked carefully.

Oh, Jinyoung's no name dropper. I'm only guessing here about who he means. Besides, he's never been particularly coherent, especially before you started training him properly. But as time went on, I noticed he kept mentioning someone he said he really liked and going on and on about how happy he was and how he thought he might have fallen in love. I don't follow most of what he's saying, but one thing he does mention a lot is this person's voice. How much he likes it, how much he likes listening to this person talk, how beautiful the voice of the person he loves sounds. Seems like an odd thing to carry on about to a deaf man, but I try to be understanding when I can. And it's the reason why I started suspecting it might be that singing partner of his. Can't tell myself, but I'm sure she's got a lovely voice if she's going to that performing school of yours.​ 

I think, he said finally, that whoever makes Jinyoung that happy would still be lucky to have him. Whoever it is. Because Jinyoung is going to make that person a thousand times more happy by being with them.

Jinyoung's grandfather looked at him in surprise. Well. If I'm not mistaken, you're a part of that happiness, too. I hope you don't forget that either.

Mark nodded. He hoped he wouldn't, too, whatever Jinyoung's answer to him would be. He'd always felt that he lived an unlucky life, an existence with several missing pieces, but maybe that was because he'd never allowed his own happiness, much less the happiness of someone else, to fill it until now.

I should go, he signed finally. I don't want to take up any more of your time.

It's no trouble to me. I'll tell Jinyoung you were here.

Yes. Please tell him to come see me as soon as he can. I have something I want to say to him. Tell him I'll be waiting.

0o0

Mark wasn't sure what made a voice beautiful. He was fascinated by voices, and tried to recreate them in his own little way through his instruments, but he didn't understand them. Jinyoung's voice was beautiful. It was something he simply knew, without any concrete reason or another. Listening to him speak was soothing, like idling his fingers over the keys of a piano. Listening to him sing was even better. His voice was deep and rich, and echoed through him, proof that all that beauty existed somewhere inside of him as well. His whole body was a temple for it. That was what Mark thought.

Mark didn't have a voice, so it couldn't be beautiful. It had been beautiful once, but Jinyoung didn't know that. Even Mark barely remembered. The sound of it was hazy in his memories, but even through the fog of passed time, it was beautiful. Loveliness had exsisted inside him before, but it was gone, leaving an emptiness he couldn't pull anything out of. He opened his mouth sometimes, trying to bring it back to the surface, but was greeted only by silence. Some people thought silence was beautiful, or else thought they did. But people were also the first to ask things like why aren't you talking? don't just stand there, say something! A deviation from the way things were supposed to be couldn't be beautiful, in their eyes.

How much he likes it, how much he likes listening to this person talk, how beautiful they sound. The words repeated over and over again through Mark's head as he walked back home. He wanted to believe they could mean him, but was terrified they didn't. Even as uncertain as he was as to what made a voice beautiful, he was pretty sure not having one at all took him out of contention for every definition.

That was what Mark was thinking when he to his street and saw the neighboorhood girl biking down the street on her Disney Princess tricycle, her dark hair fluttering in the wind behind her. It was the last thing he thought of before feeling the whoosh of something running by his leg and straight towards the road ahead of him. The neighbor's rottweiler was flying as if it had the devil chasing after it, or, more likely, it was possessed by the devil entirely. It had caused numerous incidents in the neighborhood-- baiting skunks, biting postmen, chewing through garden houses, terrorizing the kids who dared pass its owner's house-- and it was supposed to be chained up in yard behind an electric fence for safety reasons. But for what seemed like the millionth time, it wasn't. It was running straight toward the girl and her bike, hell bent on throwing itself at it, at her.

Mark opened his mouth to scream out a warning. Nothing happened.

And then everything happened. The dog slammed into the girl's bike as it tried to snap her T-shirt in its jaws, the girl sailed off her tricycle, skidding on the ground, and the dog howled over her, gnashing its teeth. A car horn blared behind Mark. The dog looked up, teeth bared as if still considering asserting its dominance. The horn blared again. The dog darted away, leaving behind the girl and her tricycle and the damage it had done. She was bleeding, her legs skinned from the pavement and her fall. Blood dripped down from her knees and onto the ground beneath her.

She was so much like the other girl, the first one like this he had seen, a dark haired girl littered with blood and broken glass, a girl he also hadn't saved. There had been car horns then, too, and screams of Why didn't you tell her not cross, you saw the car coming, I saw you look at it! and screams of people who were terrified, because they'd just seen someone die. Mark had seen it, too, but he couldn't scream. He could only watch. He still could only watch.

Someone got out of the car behind Mark. "Don't just stand there!" the person yelled. "Call 911. Goddamn it, what the hell do you think you're doing? That girl... god, the people with that damn dog should be sued, now look what it's done. Stop staring, pick up your phone!"

Mark folded his arms across his chest, hugging himself as he trembled. The person behind him stepped closer, finally getting a look at his face. "Oh. Mark. I'm sorry, didn't know it was you. Should have known, from the hair." Mark recognized the voice of the guy two doors down from him, Mr. Shin, though he still couldn't bring himself to move and look at him. "I'll call 911 and make sure she's okay. You... there's nothing you can do here. I'll take care of it. Go on. That goddamn dog."

There was a knock on the door. “Mark, are you okay?” His mother. He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see him like this, even though she had before. He heard the door knob turn, and then her terrified gasp. “Mark!” She ran to him, pulling his hands away from his neck. “No, no, no, calm down, baby, please calm down. It's all right, it's okay, just breathe in, calm down...”

Little by little, she eased him back onto his bed, rubbing him gently on the back and coaching his breathing. It had been awhile since either of them had been in this position, but apparently she remembered how to handle it better than he did. He tried to steady himself while she waited for him to calm down before ministering to his neck, so he wouldn't fight her off.

When he'd stopped shaking, she called his father's number. “Come in from the workshop,” she said softly. “Mark's had a panic attack. We need to take him to the doctor's.”

If he was surprised at it happening again after three years, he most likely didn't mention it, since his mother hung up right away and turned back to Mark. “Better?” she asked, gently touching his shoulder.

I'm sorry, Mark signed. I'm so sorry.

“No, dear, don't be sorry. Just be well.” She paused. “You'd been doing better recently... what happened?”

Mark shook his head. He didn't want to go into it. He'd gone over all of this when his first attacks had happened when he was a child. With doctors, with psychiatrists, with his instructors at special ed. It wasn't uncommon for people to suffer from these kinds of conditions when they were under a particular kind of stress. For the most part, he had been a model case. He'd been young when he'd lost his ability to speak, he'd moved on well, he'd learned sign language, he'd made friends with his classmates and could function fine on a day to day basis. Every other conflict is in his head, his therapist had told his parents when he'd had his first panic attack at eight years-old, three years after he'd stopped speaking. His body remembers having the ability to speak, and part of him believes he should still have it. When that ability fails him at a time he's relying on it, he lashes out. It's not an incurable condition, but he needs to work through it internally. If his thinking remains on the same track, it will keep coming back to plague him.

He thought he had learned to get beyond it. He'd kept it as a silly theory in the back of his mind after his last attack when he was fifteen, but he hadn't let it overcome him. He'd been living happily, he'd thought. But that doubt had been inside of him all along. It had taken his worst memory and a few most likely misunderstood words to bring it back, but it was his mind that had failed him still by resisting the reality that he had lost something that had been important to him, and that it wasn't coming back.

I'm sorry, he said again. I've been dancing around trying to solve this problem for years, of course it would come back again. I need to try this time. For good. 

When his father brought the car around, he went with them to the doctor's willingly. He didn't want to think about the potential for medication and more therapy, hoping they'd see it as a remote case brought on by the stress of having to see the girl's accident right in front of him, but he knew it was something he still had to do when he looked at the red marks on his throat in the car's mirror. This isn't something that was brought about by love, he thought, hating that Jinyoung had even come into his mind for a single second when he'd done this to himself. If I want to have love, I need to have room inside me for it. I can't be empty. I can't be an incomplete person. He deserves better than that. And so do I.

0o0

Mark wound up saddled with medication in case of a relapse, as well as some additional therapy sessions to assure he wasn't suffering from PTSD from his last episode when he was fifteen. Thinking that the episode had only been worsened by stress at school, Mark's parents even agreed to let him take time off of classes until he was sufficiently recovered. They called in to Joohyun to explain the situation to her, and Mark texted Youngjae with a short warning. Had another panic attack. I need some time and space to recover, so I won't be seeing you or the others for awhile. I'm sorry. Youngjae had texted back, trying to tactfully ask what had happened and if there was anything he could do, but Mark simply informed him again that he needed time alone to think. He didn't think he could text Jinyoung without something in him breaking all over again, so he could only hope that Youngjae would spread the word and give him the breathing room he needed.

He tried to take advantage of that room as much as he could. It was a difficult thing to realize that in spite of how much he loved Jinyoung, he wasn't and hadn't been strong enough for that love to go anywhere. Jinyoung's grandfather had been right. Jinyoung had suffered enough grief and pain without needing the entire burden of someone else's. Mark had spent the past thirteen years grappling with a much minor loss, and still hadn't even come to terms with it. How could he pile all of that on top of Jinyoung and demand him to accept it, when he had never really accepted it himself? He owed it to Jinyoung and the others to do more than that. I was their friend, he reminded himself at every possible moment. I didn't have a voice, but they heard me all the same. My voice isn't lost inside me. My voice is in my hands. My voice is in my piano and all the instruments I make. I don't need to find my voice, I already have one. I'm not broken. I'm healing. I'm not empty. There are no holes within me.

It took only until the second day of Mark's absence for Jinyoung to arrive at his house. Mark had been resting in bed, absently staring at his ceiling and counting the cracks, when he'd heard his voice from the entryway. He stealthily crept out of his room to eavesdrop, and heard Jinyoung addressing his mother.

“-jae told me Mark was sick,” Jinyoung was saying. “A panic attack, or something? Will he be okay? Can I see him?”

“Mark is doing much better, thank you for your concern. Youngjae may have told you, but he's had a past history with minor panic issues, and he's gotten better at managing them. It's still alarming to see... very alarming. Terrifying, as a mother. He has a tendency of hurting himself during them. That's my concern, but this is still the first one in three years... perhaps it really was an isolated case.”

“Hurting himself?” Jinyoung asked, his voice sounding alarmed. “Is he really okay?”

“His head is clear again, at least.”

“So it would be fine for me to see him?”

She sighed. “He... doesn't want to see anyone until he's recovered fully. Having people he cares about seeing him like that is stressful to him. Our Mark likes to maintain a cool facade, so asking him to meet with people and discuss it so soon... it might make things worse, truthfully. He wouldn't want you seeing him at his worst, especially since...” Her words fell short, presumably to avoid mentioning that Mark's attack had involved him scratching his neck.

“I don't care how bad he looks,” Jinyoung insisted. “I won't ask him to speak about it if he doesn't want to, I just want to see with my own eyes that he's okay!”

“I understand, dear. But please think for a moment about how Mark feels. When the attack starts, it's almost as if he loses control of his body, and even his mind. It's something he can't control, and something that pains him. Even if you don't care, he wouldn't want you to think of him in that state. For his sake, please try to respect those wishes for the time being.” She paused. “You've been a good friend to him since he's started university, so perhaps it wouldn't hurt for me to explain it to you. Youngjae already knows, so I think he wouldn't be upset for you to know the same information. You probably know already that Mark lost his voice to an illness when he was five. It's a terrible thing for a child, but he coped quite well. Maybe it was because he's always been a quiet child to begin with. He learned Sign Language so adeptly that it was almost hard to remember he hadn't been using it all his life. But when he was eight, an incident happened when we were at home. It was such a small thing... he'd found this giant spider in his room, which naturally terrified him. But that wasn't what caused his attack. He'd tried to scream when he saw it, and when he couldn't, that's when the terror set it. He explained it to us later, when the episode was over. I couldn't scream, so I tried to pull my voice out. That's when we understood. He still thought he could speak, and that 'his voice' was somewhere lost within him. He received therapy, but the attacks would still happen for similar reasons, especially when something happened that frightened him."

"He didn't grow out of that when he was older?"

"To an extent. But the worst and last-- at least it was the last before the attack a few days ago-- was when he was fifteen. It was terrible. He was out for a walk to the shopping center downtown, and at one of the four way intersections, the stop light was broken. There was a little girl out walking by herself, and she didn't understand how the traffic stop worked without the light functional. She walked out right as a car was making a turn. Mark was the only one at the crosswalk with her, and his first reaction was to call out to her rather than pull her back. He blamed himself for that. She died from her injuries, and when he found out... he went wild. I've never seen him like that in all my life. I really wasn't sure he would ever come out from it.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung said quietly. “I had no idea.”

“He doesn't talk about it. He went through intensive therapy which seemed to help, and Youngjae was his full time cheerleader until he got better. Honestly, I'm deeply surprised it happened again. He's been improving ever since that incident, and even more so since going to university and meeting you and your friends. The doctors said witnessing another accident similar to his first trauma triggered it, but I still can't undersand why he would still return to that old way of thinking...”

“We haven't been doing enough for him. If he still thinks he needs a voice other than the one he has.” Jinyoung's voice broke a little. “Please, Mrs. Tuan, can you let me know the moment I can see him? I don't want him to go through this alone. I know he's not a weak person, but that he couldn't even talk to us about this... I must not be much of a friend, huh?”

Mark winced, but his mother stepped in quickly. “Don't think that way, Jinyoung. You aren't responsible for Mark's psyche, you've only known him for a handful of months. He has made serious efforts to improve, and I believe he's sincere in working even harder. He's experienced too much happiness to let it slip from him now. Just give him a little more time and let him do what he needs to do before helping him. Heaven knows that I've tried to save him plenty of times on my own.” She sighed. “I feel his pain, too. It was a terrifying experience, his illness. We didn't even know if he'd survive, so thinking that way, his voice was only a small sacrifice. And we were so busy learning Sign Language together that there wasn't much time to dwell on it. But I can understand the loss he perceived inside himself. It's something he needs to accept, but it's never easy to accept the things we resent about ourselves.”

“It's not something he should feel that way about.”

“I agree. And I think he's learning that, too. When he's ready to talk about it, just listen to him well and be the friend you've always been. You're right that he isn't weak. But he's isolated himself for years, so his system of support wasn't always strong. That's changed now, and you were a part of that change.”

“But still not enough. Not enough for him to be happy enough to accept every part of himself.”

“Now, now, you won't be able to help him if you're gloomy yourself. Have a little faith in yourself, too.”

After his mother sent Jinyoung away with promises of contacting him as soon as Mark was 'better,' Mark crept back to his room, his heart feeling a strange of mix of emotions. His love hadn't weakened in the slightest, he found, even though he no longer believed it was the love Jinyoung needed. He felt ashamed as well, that the things he had done made Jinyoung cast blame on himself. But most of all, he felt a new resolve to face up to everything inside of him. His feelings for Jinyoung weren't changing and probably wouldn't for awhile. He wanted to have the strength to tell that to Jinyoung himself without collapsing at the thought that it wasn't meant to be. He'd promised a confession. Even if it was a pointless one, he thought he still owed it to himself and Jinyoung to speak the truth for once to the person who expected so much of it.

0o0

Gradually, Mark's stability started coming back to him. Maybe having something to work towards had made it easier for him this time around, but for once he felt fully committed to doing something about his mental condition. He pulled out his old journals from his initial therapy sessions and tried to confront every flaw in his way of thinking, reminding himself of how the past few months had proven everything he'd used to think of himself wrong. Every once in awhile the taunting words of how beautiful the voice of the person he loves sounds haunted him, but he tried to shut them out. So what if Jinyoung did love someone else, someone with a beautiful voice, and not him? He could love whosoever he chose. That didn't make Mark a lacking person. Whenever his mind tried to convince him otherwise, all he had to do was look in the mirror at the marks slowly fading on his throat. That was the part of him that was lacking. Nothing else.

When he started to feel closer to improvement, he finally reached out to Youngjae again. I think I might be getting better, he wrote.

Thank god. What happened to you? I almost didn't believe you when you said you'd had another attack. Everything was going so well, and then that happened out of nowhere...

Mark supposed Jinyoung hadn't told him what details of his accident Jinyoung had picked up from his mother. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it all the way just yet, he wrote back. I'm getting there. But there was something I wanted to ask you.

You can ask me anything, Youngjae wrote back.

Did you ever think I was crazy?

Knowing that will help? Okay. No. I never thought you were crazy. There were times when I thought the way you looked at yourself was odd, but not crazy. And not even wrong, because I knew that was how you genuinely felt. And there were times I was scared on your behalf... and on mine, too. I didn't have the easiest time either. But we were happy for the most part. There were times that were hard, but we were really trying to fit in to a world that isn't kind to people like us.

I was really messed up after that accident those years ago, though. You know that better than anyone.

Yes. Who wouldn't be messed up? But I was mad on your behalf, too. You shouldn't have had to hear anyone blaming you because you couldn't stop her in time, so I never blamed you for the hurt you felt because of that. I was just around to keep it from hurting even worse. I would never think you crazy for that whole experience being painful to you.

Still, I should have had a better handle on myself. I'm not unhappy with the way I am. I can still communicate. I have friends. I'm luckier than so many people in this world. I don't know why it was never quite enough.

You're a human. It's only natural to want things, whether you can have them or not.

I know. But I think what I wanted were the wrong things. I'm never going to be able to speak out loud again.

I know.

And it's going to be okay.

Of course it will be. I'll be here for you. As always.

Thank you. You've been a great best friend to me.  I still need some more time, but... let's talk more as soon as we can, okay?

Can I update Jinyoung and Jaebum and the others about how you're doing? Jinyoung has been texting me almost every day asking if I've heard anything.

Has he?

What do you mean 'has he'? The poor guy had no idea you had a past history with these attacks. You probably know this, but he talked to your mom about it. I thought she had explained everything, so I told him... about you trying to tear your throat open whenever it happened. He called me right after he heard that, and he sounded like he was going to cry. Shouldn't you text him, or something?

I need more time.

I understand that. But he's hurting, too. Don't make him wait too long.

Mark sighed. Jinyoung was proving to be a great friend, too, with how much concern he was showing. Why doesn't that feel like quite enough, either? It should be. He's given me so much already, and I just keep continuing to want more, even when I'm not even close to deserving it yet.

He grabbed his cell phone, pressing it close to his heart for a moment before pulling up Jinyoung's number. I'm trying to get better, he wrote, his body trembling. I'm sorry I haven't seen you in so long, that I haven't been talking to you. Can you wait a little longer?

Jinyoung responded quickly. Are you giving me a choice? I want to see you. I miss you.

Mark shivered. Soon. I can do this soon. But right now... I just don't want it to happen again, no matter what. I just want to be sure I'm okay again.

I don't want you to be alone during all of this.

I'm not. I know you all are thinking of me.

Mark... even if I'm thinking of you, it doesn't feel like it will be all right until I see you. I haven't seen you since the night of the concert, and all I can think about is you trying to hurt yourself. I don't even fully understand the reason why.

Mark shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. I never want to feel like this again, he realized. I never want to make anyone else feel like this, because of me.

Jinyoung texted him again. I'm sorry. I'm probably making you feel worse. Just take what time you need, and get better. That's what matters. But please, as soon as that happens, let me see you. I just want to see you.

Mark nodded, even though Jinyoung was nowhere around him to see. He knew he had to do this, and now more than anything else, he knew it was something he wanted to do. Even if seeing Jinyoung again was as painful as a knife going into his chest, he wanted to at least have the strength to accept himself in front of the first person who he loved, and who loved him so beautifully, though he wasn't sure if it was in the way he had so desperately wanted.

A/N: Another author's note! I'm sure some readers are surprised at the serious shift, but actually one of things I wanted to do when starting this story was shed some light on the huge problem of how people who are "different"-- even if that difference is an actual disability-- are treated in some collectivist cultures. In places where certain rules of behavior are expected, people can still be ostracized and made to feel guilty for things they can't even control, which often leads to further mental issues as they try to force themselves to be the way they're "supposed" to be, such as in this story. Things like abelism and discrimnation are of course major issues around the world, and while they can happen in huge, blaring ways, they also happen in small, every day ways which harm people more than we think.  Like Joohyun says at the beginning of the story, people's lives can become closed off from it-- but that doesn't have to happen. That's one thing I hope people will keep in mind from my story. Thank you ^_^