Luhan flipped onto his back, levitating above the burgers and fries Sehun and I had bought for lunch. He was thinking about something or other, me myself and I too distracted by my greasy meal to ask exactly what. Of course, unlike other men — living and dead — in my life right now, he didn’t keep me guessing for long.

“This kid’s got it hard for you,” he glanced back at me, waiting in anticipation for an answer I didn’t have then.

“Who? Sehun?” I said out loud, getting the “kid” in question’s attention. 

Eyes fluttering upwards, he too stared on anxiously as he awaited my next words. It seems like everyone’s waiting around for me lately. Everyone’s being patient. Everyone’s catering to the ignorant, slightly pig-headed, Park Sora. 

And I’d love to deliver on all the promises I’ve made, I really would. But it’s not that easy. I’ve been dealing with this long enough to know it’s the farthest from it, in fact. It’s like that can of orange juice that gets stuck on its way out of the vending machine. Relief in sight, yet just out of reach. 

It , I’ll tell you that.

Feeling useless to the person you want to help all kinds of, well, you know. You get me, don’t you? You’ll understand me, won’t you? After seeing everything through my eyes. Via my words. Only mine and no one else’s, there’s no way you’re upset with me. You’re waiting, just like everyone else. 

You’re waiting for me to reveal that I’ve known about my grandfather and his shrine and spirits all along! I’ve seen them for as long as I can remember, in fact! Everything I’ve learnt up until this point are things I already know — save a few details. Why would I this fact from you?

Isn’t it more interesting to feel as though you’re going on this adventure with me? 

There’s no dramatic irony where you know more than me. There are seemingly no secrets as though I know more than you; even if I do. We’ve come this far together despite everything. That’s saying something, isn’t it?

I’ve tried to help Luhan become a spirit. 

That’s saying something, isn’t it?

I’ve failed for over two weeks now to find a spirit willing to give up its cushy afterlife to the pretty ghost boy Luhan. The younger ones don’t give us the time of day. The older ones have been doing their jobs too long to entertain the idea that some other spirit could do it better. Protective spirits. Shrine spirits that issue blessings. Even the almighty trashcan spirit refused to give up his life of refuse. All wordplay aside, years of dealing with all of this doesn’t make it easier.

It never gets easier.

“Just don’t enjoy your date so much you end up forgetting about little ol’ me.” Luhan shrugged, stretching his arms outwards as he yawned widely. 

Even if he was faking it, Luhan was surely tired of this too. 

So, I don’t blame him for betraying me. 

Not when Mr. Demon had a much more promising proposition for him when we returned home just a few hours later.

“Say that again,” Luhan stirred by my side, eyes trained on where Bang Yongguk stood at my grandparent’s front door. “I heard you the first time, but I just need to be sure you were serious.”

Bang Yongguk reiterated what he'd said, explaining in more convincing detail, “The longer you stay a drifting spirit, the more you’ll forget yourself. Seeing as how the residents of the afterlife are just as selfish, if not more so, than the living, you’ll most likely be drifting for much longer than you’d like. You'll end up forgetting a lot more than you've ever wanted to.”

He was undermining me. Insulting my pathetic abilities, my subpar experience, right in front of my face. It would have been easy to step on his tail and prove all of his claims about me right. It was much harder to just stand there and take it. I never was one for the easy way out anyway.

Everything had to be difficult when dealing with me.

This had to have been some unspoken rule the universe created when I was born.

“Becoming a demon, on the other hand, is instantaneous.”

Mr. Demon’s tail shifted from behind him, reacting to the excitement I could practically see shining in Luhan’s eyes. Like I said earlier, I don’t blame him. I don’t know the specifics of becoming a demon, should one choose to do so, but I don’t doubt my very own when he says it’s easier. It’s simpler. And, as also previously aforementioned, I don’t do simple.

“Hell no.” I made a pun despite attempting to be serious. I blame my natural disposition to gravitate towards light-heartedness. To avoiding a subject with laughter. To immediately grow irritated when someone calls me out on it — as you’ve seen through my track record.

“Do you want to help him or not?” Bang Yongguk shot back, upper lip curling, sailing past a point of anger I’d never seen him reach before, “Do you want me to help you or not?”

“Not.” I responded. Tit for tat. Hostility in the face of inhospitality. Rejecting out of fear of being rejected.

And fueling this fear were his following words. The ones he yelled at me. The one’s he’d most likely been thinking since my grandfather saddled me on his shoulders over half a year ago. 

“No worlds revolve around you, Sora! You don’t get to decide to throw me out of your life at the drop of a hat because you feel like it! You’re stuck with me just like he’s stuck with you; wafting between existence and oblivion while you stall over burgers and fries. At the very least, give him a choice in whether to be chained to you like a dog or chase his own chance for freedom!”

And since we were both being honest, I honestly yelled back, “I don’t want him to be like you!”

Words are my worst enemy, I think. Other than myself, of course. You see, I don’t know if you knew, but words are hard. Saying what you mean with words is hard. Being limited by the words you choose is easy.

The words I chose in response to Bang Yongguk’s own weren’t the best.

They limited my feelings and my intentions to a single verb: hate.

Hate for what he was. Hate for how he was. Hate for who he was.

My stomach hurt, food-poisoning hitting me all at once, as he reacted to my poor use of words.

“Being like me is better than being nothing!”

My chest hurt, the air suddenly too thick to breathe as he turned, looking to leave me with my hateful words.

“Hey!” I couldn’t let him go just like that. “Bang Yongguk!” I couldn’t bring myself to be the one walked away from. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I stormed off. I’m sorry I cursed at you. I’m sorry for acting like an oblivious child. I’m ing sorry for making you feel like when you don’t deserve it. When none of you do.”

He had stalled, stared, and begun to say, “Stop—”

“Stop saying such self-serving, pessimistic nonsense?” I laughed despite feeling like crying. “I’ve been helping spirits for almost my entire life. I recall seeing them. I remember ignoring them. I end up helping every single one of them in the end.” Crying because of who-knows-what? Telling my life story for who-knows-why? “The last thing I’ve been is self-serving and pessimistic. Oblivious and childish. Ignorant and thick-headed. I’ve heard all the adjectives and synonyms. Narcissistic is a popular one with the female spirits, too.” I’m still laughing because, let’s face it, “But I don’t deny it. I’m an awful human being,” my life is pretty hilarious, “emphasis on the human part.” 

My choice of words all wrong again, his gummy smile was nowhere to be seen as he sighed. Bored. Tired. Annoyed. He asked, “What are you trying to say, Sora?”

Twenty years of trying to help, failing, and apologizing. Getting up in the morning only to do it all again. I’d seen enough people walk away from me to prompt the question of “why bother?” each and every agonizing time. I think the only thing that kept me going during middle school and my first year of highschool was the snooze button.

The snooze button that would come back for me in five minutes.

That never gave up on me.

To think a single button is stronger than I’ll ever be.

“If this awful human being can’t help Luhan, the least I can do is give him to an exemplary demon who can.” I looked to Luhan; in need of that kind of strength. “Take him. And take care of him.”

“Sora?” I avoided his eyes as he reached after me. As I closed the door in his face, he replayed my name like a broken record, “Sora! Sora! Sora!”

Wearing me out.

It had all worn me out enough. 

I plopped down onto the couch by Sehun, my new snooze button, ignoring Luhan’s call. He didn’t say anything, most likely having heard everything. We had a James Bond marathon with unlimited popcorn. While he was sleeping on the couch, at three in the morning, I gathered together six slips of paper. 

A simple pink sticky note. A folded piece from a notebook. A page ripped from a poetry book. A newer piece of calligraphy papyrus. A post card from Namsan Tower. And a yellowing, unevenly folded piece of paper on which hangul was neatly written with thick, bold lines.

One by one, I burnt them all.