Before I get started, I want to remind you all of something. Maybe you know already. Maybe you could have guessed it even if I didn't go so far as to explicitly spell this out to you. But, even if you did, I find the need to reiterate myself. To say it again, in case there's someone out there that's missing something. In case there's someone out there who, by now, is still unable to judge my character. The type of person I am. Or, at least, the type of person I try to be.

In case there's someone out there just like me and we can take this moment to appreciate our similarities. Because I'm sure I'm not the only one. I can't be, or else the world would be a better place, wouldn't it? Dogs wouldn't pee on carpets. Cats wouldn't use your face as their bed at night. Cockroaches would look like lady bugs. Roses would actually smell sweet instead of like any other weed out there. No one would be allergic to peanuts. The world would be a better place.

What I'm trying to say, in a roundabout way I must admit, is that I'm not the comforting type of person.

One could venture so far as to say I .

I at feeling any kind of sympathy or empathy. No, that's not exactly it. More that I at putting my feelings into words. And because I , I am not the person those with problems come to to sort things out. Sehun would go so far as to call me heartless – he has once or twice.

But, I have a heart. It's beating hard, here, in this chest of mine.

I'm not heartless.

I'm simply helpless.

I simply don't know how to solve another person's problems. I can only begin to imagine the scope of thoughts that other's have outside of the small pair of lens I use in order to view the world around me. I don't have a book with tips and tricks of what to say in order to sound both neutral and supportive at the same time. I'm certainly no soothsayer who knows exactly what to say at the drop of the hat, words of wisdom and extreme profoundness as easy to form as it is to recite the alphabet.

In fact, all I can really offer is a pair of zipped lips and an attentive ear.

I like to compare myself to an emotional piggy bank. You can stuff me full of money but it’s going to be a long while and take one heck of an effort to get me to give you anything back. What? You wanted that twenty? Pry it from my broken ceramic corpse if you need it so badly.

Because there are no words I can even begin to form in the face of your plea for lunch money. Because feeding you once won't solve your problem. Because it depends on you in the end, doesn't it?

And if it depends on you, what can I say that you haven't said to yourself already?

What can I say to change your mind? If you're looking for a sense of affirmation, you should turn your gaze to yourself. Because you won't get it here. Because this piggy bank doesn't function on give and take.

I'm defective like that, perhaps.

I'm helpless like that, perhaps.

I'm selfish, perhaps.

Because for some reason, I poured my soul onto her like she was the guardian of the River Styx. I was turning to her for affirmation. Or, well, I'd like to think I was speaking for myself. To myself. For herself. To herself.

I'm hypocritical, perhaps.

Because all I want, all humans want, when they turn to another for help in the form of wise words, is affirmation, don't you think?

That's what I thought as I spoke to her.

As I spoke to Miss Victoria Song, giving her the code to crack her own piggy bank once and for all.

I'm quite profound when I want to be, perhaps.

Perhaps, we all are.

"You know, I lie to myself at least three times a day," I held up my hand, counting to myself silently before nodding, "Yeah, at least three."

Okay, I must admit, it was not the best way to start this conversation, but, it was still just that wasn't it?

It was still a start, wasn't it?

"Why did you follow me up here?" Was Miss Victoria Song’s response to my sudden confession.

Currently, the two of us were sitting on one of many benches on the wooden floored balcony of the hospital’s sixth floor. She had come up here first, after I managed to rouse her to action from her frozen state in the hospital’s hallway just earlier – all it took was a yell or two of her name. She promptly aided the other doctors in stabilizing the condition of the young man who had been rushed in.

He would be fine, I overheard them saying to his parents who had shown up mere minutes after he arrived. And then, as I waited outside of the room to see how things went, already too invested in this to simply walk away, she walked out along with a few of her coworkers.

Except, she wasn’t smiling from ear to ear as they were.

She was staring forward, off into nothing.

Just as she was here, by my side, right at this very moment.

And as she said, I followed her here. I followed her even though I had no idea what to say. Even though I didn’t know if the words I spoke next would manage to affect her in the least. Even though I didn’t give her the answer she wanted right away. Even though.

“Because by lying to myself, I don’t have to face the truth. I don’t have to come to terms with anything. I can hold onto the reality I know. Right now. Right here. I don’t have to be affected by anything or anyone. No experience or person will be able to change who I am. If I lie, I can keep being me. I can keep being Park Sora. 

“So, I do. And I tell myself that when I wake up each morning, everything will be the same as it was when I fell asleep. The next day comes and goes as usual, and the lies keep piling up. And there’s that voice in the back of my head that’s telling me this can’t go on forever. But, I want it to. I want to continue to be ignorant. Naïve. Without an inkling of a clue about that which happens around me each day. Nothing can change me. No one can.”

And, that’s when she spoke up, her eyes no longer staring forward, her gaze casted towards me in confusion, as she asked me the question she had been too scared to ask herself, shoulders square, eyebrows arched downwards, lips set into a firm line, “But, isn’t that sad?

“Isn’t it?” I questioned back, locking her gaze with my own. And I saw it, that flicker of recognition across her eyes. “Isn’t it sad to live in your own little bubble, shut off from the world, in denial of things that happen around you? Isn’t it sad when you blame yourself for all the bad things, lie upon lie upon lie suffocating you, but continue to play the fool? To pretend all is well and good?

“To never face the truth of it all, because for some reason, that’ll make you feel even guiltier than you already do? Even though it’s a truth that another person has accepted? A truth that wasn't established to make you feel guilty in the first place? And at the end of the day, the only one left lying is you? At the end of the day, isn’t it sad?”

Because no one can prevent death. Because lying to yourself, telling yourself you can, is sad, isn’t it? Because feeling guilty when you can’t, even though you tried, even though you’ll continue to try, is sad, isn’t it? Because blaming herself for the death of someone who smiled in the end, who found her blameless in the end, was sad, wasn’t it?

“Yes.” She answered her question, her hands coming together in her lap, her figure slouching over, her lips softening, her eyebrows relaxing above her eyes. “Yes, it is.”

“So, why did I follow you up here?” I kicked my legs back and forth, my tone lifting from its melancholic tone, because even though I would continue to lie, it didn’t mean she had to. “For the same reason you haven’t asked me to leave.”

She smiled at me, understanding the message I was trying to convey in roundabout terms. Coming to terms with the guilt she felt for that which was inevitable in roundabout terms. Deciding to face the truth of it all, in anything but roundabout terms.

Because in the future, a future I didn’t know now, Miss Victoria Song would never stop trying in the face of death. Even when it came crashing down around her, the truth of life, a truth she dared not blame herself for again, she always tried. There’s even this rumor that went around, you know? A rumor that the few she couldn’t save were smiling in the end.

Smiling, as I did now, standing from her side, a skip in my step as I took this as my time to leave, my job over and done with. But, not before I, with a wave, managed one last statement of, "Doctor Song, congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you."

Was Miss Victoria Song’s reply, her excitement so palpable it was impossible to label it false. And tomorrow morning, nothing would be the same. And, I had a feeling she was okay with that. 

With everything being solved much quicker than anticipated – Jongup having told me the woman's spirit disappeared, a skip in her step, as I was exiting the hospital to meet up with all of them – I had seemingly nothing else to do with my day. Well, there were many things I could do but, honestly, after falling down a flight of stairs, I think I deserve some rest.

Did I mention that the hospital proscribed me a disposable package of eye patches? Don't even get me started on how many pirate jokes I've heard pass their lips since I, along with my five spirits and demon in tow, started my long trek home.

"Avast ye, mateys! Land ahoy!" The Gumiho sang out, jogging forward ahead of us with a grin so large I thought it would crack and fall off. He was clearly, if it wasn't already obvious, the one who had been most adamant about reminding me that I had a giant black eye swelling underneath the white eye patch I sported. But, he was also the most fun-spirited about it.

Unlike a certain someone else who shalt certainly be named.

"Watch your step," Bang Yongguk warned me, holding his hand out to pause me in my stride for a moment, a genuinely ingenuine look of worry on his face before those thick lips curved into that sly smirk, "If you fall again, you might just have to replace your foot with a peg leg, Captain!"

I snarled, reaching out to give him a piece of my mind in the form of a, very uncoordinated considering my situation, clenched fist. It didn't matter where. As long as my hand made contact in some way, I would have been more than satisfied.

Unfortunately, I went unsatisfied as he dodged my flimsy swing, meandering over to Himchan's side as if that would allow him to escape my wrath. Then again, I'm sure he's not even the slightest bit scared of me. He just wants me to think he is, so that he can flip the switch on me just like he did the day we first met.

Figuring him out is getting easier with each day that goes by.

"We're going to the shrine tomorrow, Captain Sora?" Jongup questioned from my right, causing me to have to do an entire ninety-degree turn in order to see him properly. I ignored his new playful nickname – I swear he could call me any nickname and I’d find it endearing – and nodded in response, because we hadn’t been to the shrine since that pretty female spirit showed up, taking up all of our attention; not that Daehyun or Yongguk seemed to mind all too much.

Speaking of Daehyun, because why would I speak of Mr. Demon? Anyway, speaking of Daehyun, I pivoted on my heel, grabbing hold of his shirtsleeve to keep him from walking too far away. And, well, to keep myself from toppling over due to my awful coordination at the current point in time.

He looked over his shoulder, eyeing my hand on him with disdain, his eyes asking the question his lips didn’t have to. Why had I stopped him? On any other occasion, I would have boasted that I could stop him if I wanted to. Those eyes he was giving me were begging me to scold him in some way or form. But, I held back. I held back upon remembering the “serious” Daehyun from earlier today.

It was that Daehyun who I was proposing my next statement to. Or, rather than proposing, it was more of a rhetorical question that I expected him to answer affirmatively to immediately, "Tomorrow, come over for breakfast?"

Because he’d do anything to eat, wouldn’t he? And for some reason, hearing him say that made me want to feed him even more than before. Even more than my natural disposition had caused me to.

Of course, leave it to a certain Demon to interpret my words differently. To look at them as anything but me simply offering Daehyun breakfast out of the kindness of my heart.

"Is someone scheduling a date?" Yongguk whistled, nudging Himchan at his side suggestively. Grandfather, give me the strength to electrocute him on the spot just like you. If only.

If only.

"Can I come too?" Himchan whined, looking longingly over at my grandparent’s house as though simply imagining the idea made him so happy he could sprout wings and fly up into the skies above. And, just to make this clear, if he did, I’d contemplate for a second before going after him.

I’d think about how lucky I was that his banshee like yell was out of my earshot. I’d think about how grateful I was to finally have a single peaceful moment to myself without him – as he is the only one who’d come running to me of his own volition, completely absent of any logical reason when he did so. And then, I’d think about the poor birds up there who’d have to deal with him.

And, again, out of the endless kindness of my soul, I’d call him back to earth for breakfast too.

The thing is, though, I was kind of insinuating all of them would come though, not just Daehyun. Had I said it weird or something? Did I sound too affectionate on reflex? Sure, the suggestion was directed towards the Tokebi, but I expected them all to come over in the end.

In the end, I should have kept my kindness to myself.

"No thanks, I'd rather eat Ms. Kim's cooking." Daehyun dismissed me easily, ignoring the comments we were receiving, his expression unfaltering. He reached out, softly tapping on my hand to make me release him from my grip before, with a lackadaisical wave, he suggestively said, "See you tomorrow morning."

And just like that, he disappeared inside Ms. Kim’s abode.

I stood still, stunned into a frozen state, because I didn’t know what just happened.

Because I didn’t understand his suggestion.

Jung Daehyun, the Tokebi, the black hole, the Mary Poppins’s bag of stomachs, just said no to an offer to eat.

The world must be coming to an end, World War IV coming to a conclusion oh-so-anti-climatically.

At least that’s what I would have thought, had Youngjae not, as he passed by, accepted the terms and conditions that his after-life long friend had rejected in his steed, "You should make him a batch of pancakes, if you can. Ms. Kim doesn't do cook western food often and I honestly don't feel like hearing him complain about it again."

So then, I suppose this was just another instance in which Jung Daehyun was playing hard to get. Alright, fine then. I’ll play along. We’ll see how long he can resist a batch of pancakes arriving at Ms. Kim’s doorstep tomorrow morning.

"You got it." I attempted a wink and failed miserably, forgetting my right eye was still out of commission.

Himchan managed a snicker at the action before he waved as well, except much more enthusiastically, forgetting his complaints in the face of my cute action. Not that I’m being narcissistic. No way. Not at all.

I’ve simply asked Himchan why he’s laughed at me in the past; his eyes disappearing beneath his risen cheekbones and his pearly whites peaking from under his pink lips when as he does so. It was a look of both amusement and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. And, I had seen it countless times – the reason I asked him about it in the first place.

He told me then, without batting a single shameful eyelash, “Because you’re cute.”

It’s safe to say I didn’t know how to respond. It’s safe to say I didn’t respond at all. I simply nodded my head, as though I somehow understood the workings of his mysterious mind.

"See you later, Sora!" He yelled, as though making sure the entire neighborhood heard him. As though he needed to proclaim to the world that we’d indeed, beyond all doubt, be meeting up tomorrow.

A mysterious mind indeed.

“I look forward to the pillaging we’ll be conducting tomorrow, Captain Sore Eye.” Bang Yongguk fake saluted, feet pasted together, posture upright and squared, as though he had sailed the seven seas in a past life.

I have to admit too, it was a little bit charming to imagine him as a naval officer. Just a bit. Just a tad bit, I couldn’t help but think it suited him. But, that doesn’t mean I didn’t catch onto the later half of his sentence. Particularly the pun he had so tactfully made of my name.

I faked a laugh, watching him disappear into the house behind Himchan, hands in his pockets, his slouched over stature back with a vengeance.

Though, I suppose the usual Bang Yongguk was a bit charming as well.

Or, am I weird for thinking that?

Well, in general, I certainly cannot deny that I am.

Zelo remained by my side, hands in his own pockets, lips firmly shut, eyes casted forward. Like a statue, he seemed unreal. Just an imagination of the mind. A figment of a world I had been denying knowledge of this entire time.

"He doesn’t mean half of the jokes he says. It's just how he deals with things." He explained, like a loyal, filial son would for his over zealous father. He turned that melancholic glance of his towards me, irises lined in that brilliant deep blue I hadn't paid enough attention to notice lately. "He's kind of like you like that, you know?"

And, just like that, he joined them inside the warm confines of the house whose bustling inhabitants could be heard even from where I now stood.

And, I wasn't so dumb as to deny his claim before he did so.

Because, it was true.

Because even now, I'm smiling despite it all.

Perhaps, we're all profoundly helpless.