Yixing was the observer. He didn’t engage. He didn’t like to. He didn’t know how. His heart no longer seemed to support that sort of interaction with people. It was as useless as lungs under water. He knew it was slowly failing him as time progressed and Yixing became more and more detached from the outside world. He lived, but he certainly wasn’t living. Some days, Yixing wasn’t even sure if he was alive. How was he supposed to tell? He didn’t have any references anymore. 

Currently undergoing rewrites.