What doesn’t stand on the other side of the road is what scares Kyungsoo the most—when there’s only that empty space greeting him and he feels his chest constricting because he has fooled himself once again into thinking that he will see some kind of a miracle.

The night is young and the nocturnal spatial bodies have just risen as the waning full moon begins to illuminate the dark vastness of the sky. Kyungsoo looks up with a long helpless sigh, certain that outside the tantalizing set of evaporated clouds—in the space that they had always dreamed of exploring—countless blue stars will soon shiver beautifully to protect the wishes of the millions who dare believe in the utter fallacy of naivety.

He has long dismounted himself from the boat of naïve wishes, choosing instead to drown in the sea of sad reality, where the black waters are his memories of them that beg to be remembered and forgotten at the same time.

If only he can permanently burn all the words from those flags of paper. Yet even if he has ripped his journal apart, he comes back creeping and curling at the corner pasting everything anew—or at least he tries— rereading each word on every page and crying amidst his laughter as the surge of memories cut his heart with a million swishes of knives.

It takes time to pick up the threads of a broken life; but even now—after all those weeks that has taken forever to pass—he still hasn’t picked anything up. There are still those broken pieces of him that have fallen, and even the so-called immaculate greatness of believing and having faith isn’t enough to blanket him with its healing grace.

Because there is no point on holding on. What is lost is lost; there is no retrieving it. However he schemes, there is no returning to how things are; there is no going back.

Kyungsoo lives to remember moments, and it's the ing sick way of life's cruelty that leads him to do otherwise. There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold. Kyungsoo recognizes this and it leaves him to wonder. What hurts more, trying to forget or trying not to remember?

“I promise I won’t forget you but please, can I not remember? It hurts. It’s been weeks but I’m still hurting. So much. Would you be mad if I don’t remember you? Would you call me selfish if I wish to not remember you? I won’t forget, just—I don’t want you to be just a memory, Jongin; you can’t be just a memory."

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