Turku, 1927

Barrick could feel Summer slipping through his fingers. It was faint but the nights had grown darker, and Barrick couldn’t help but feel something else was disappearing with the sun a little more each night.

It’d become some sort of an addiction, an incessant need to visit the asylum and spend his insomniac induced nights reading books he’d never thought to even touch before. It was sort of ironic, how much his world had opened up in the prison that belonged to Henrikka. He’d become a volunteer prisoner, spending his time under the shadows the bars casted and moulding a shape of himself in the cushions of the sofa he silently claimed.

He’d thought of what Carl had told him. To Barrick’s dismay, his friend was right, if rumours were to sprout it’d cause...problems. Especially if her father, the Governor-general, had caught whiff of the fact a man was visiting his unmarried daughter every night, Barrick may just end up with an ‘accidental’ bullet in his head.

More than that, however, he thought about what it’d to do Henrikka. To grow up in seclusion and under locks, to contain yourself when you were a firework ready to burst, to have others look upon you like you’d lost half your mind when really her mind was wider, more colourful than any other human Barrick had ever met.

She was wonder, and fire swallowed down, and Barrick couldn’t bare to leave her alone.

She’s staring at her overflowing shelf, books hanging out from the gaps she shoved them in and everything was a cluttered mess of puzzle pieces that didn’t fit forced together.

“I feel as if...everything is going to fall upon my head if I were to even try and take a book out,” She muttered to herself, a long pointed finger tapping against her chin. “I must reorder everything.”

Barrick sat up from where he was on the sofa, the book he was reading on the Ming Dynasty and the Hongwu Emperor slid from his hand and onto his lap. Henrikka had said those kind of historical books were rather rare to purchase, especially because they had been translated, and insisted on Barrick to read it because of the amount of money put towards obtaining meant that it needed to at least be read by more than one person.

Barrick perched an elbow onto the back of the sofa and stared at Henrikka’s slim back. She was wearing a dress today, which was rare, but it was thin upon her shoulders and it didn’t carry any heavy embroidery or ruffles. It was of a light pink, almost peach, and it contrasted against the deep black of her hair that sat upon her head in a tight bun.

“Where would you even start?” Barrick mused, satisfied to see the sharp look she had given him over her shoulder.

“Barrick this is where you are meant to offer your kindness and help me,” She had said it as a suggestion but really she was demanding it of him, which made Barrick even more inclined to tease.

“I’d rather not,” He said and sat back into the sofa, staring up at the ceiling he’d already familiarized himself with over the last month.

Henrikka tutted and Barrick slapped a palm to his mouth to refrain himself from laughing out loud. It was pointless however because Henrikka had made her way towards the back of the sofa and bent over him, looking down at him with an unpleasant face. A single strand of hair found itself loose from the pins of her hair and Barrick couldn’t help but stare at it.

“I do rather miss the polite, quiet Barrick these days,” She said with a scowl, and in response Barrick took an arm and reached upwards with one finger to tuck the astray strand behind her ear. Her face was still as he did so, and she stared down at him until he lowered his arm.

“Well, if it is any consolation, it is only because you do not frighten me anymore,” Barrick admitted.

Henrikka raised an eyebrow, “I frightened you? Why? Because you thought I was a lunatic?”

“No…” Barrick trailed off, trying to find the right words. “You just did not seem of this world.”

Henrikka blinked down at him, and from the position they were in Barrick could see just how long her dark eyelashes were, curled upwards to just reach her eyebrows. She tilted her head to the side and stared down at him with a look of curiosity. ”And now?”

“Now, I might just think you are a bit of a lunatic,” Barrick smirked and it earned him a slap to to the face with the book he was reading.

“You are infuriating sometimes,” She huffed, puffing up her cheeks, and made her way back to the shelf. Barrick quickly sat up, picking up the book from his chest and rubbing at his nose.

“That was rather brutal, my lady,” Barrick chuckled into his palm.

“Do you wish for me to show you brutal, my...dear?” Henrikka mocked, giving him another thin glare from across her shoulder.

Barrick simply replied with a wide smile, and Henrikka took it with a low snarl before returning her attention to the bookshelf with her hands upon her hips. After a minute or so, she let out an aggravated groan and quickly stomped her way to the sofa just across the coffee table from Barrick.

“I’ll have Ruuben deal with it,” She decided flatly and went to cross her legs on the sofa before realising she was in a dress. “For god sake, I really hate these sort of garments.” She said with a kick of the skirting.

“I really do not understand your distaste for dresses,” Barrick said with an amused smile.

“I do apologize but have you ever worn a dress Barrick?” Henrikka shot at him. “Because if you did, I’m sure you’d come to understand how uncomfortable being in one for a long period of time can be. Would you like to try? I have many in my closet.”

Barrick put up his palms in surrender, “Thank you..for the kind offer but I understand your point now.”

“I doubt it but anyway when you’ve lived several lives as a man with the freedom of wearing whatever you want, and even nothing at all, becoming a women can be rather suffocating,” She huffed sliding into the corner of her seat so she could look back at the window. Beyond the window pane were the bars and beyond that the sun, low in the sky and asleep within the horizon, it slept in a glow of soft orange and faded yellow.

“Freedom of a man?” Barrick repeated.

Henrikka gave him a quick glance before returning her gaze back to the window, “Of course you would not notice. Women are meant to be oppressed and stay that way silently. They cannot walk freely, they cannot wear what they would want, they cannot show skin, they cannot work or thirst for knowledge.”

“But for men to do everything for you, would it not make life easier?”

“It is not about what ‘what is easier’, my Barrick,” Her tone turned softer as she turned to look at him. “It is about choice.”

“Choice…”

“To live life the way you wish, to not feel the judgement or scorn of others for ideologies only man have created - humans have only ever restricted themselves, and if one were to try and dare to bypass those restrictions, they end up dead or...here.” She said the last world with a flick of her hand.

Barrick thought of his family for a moment. His mother who had spent most of her life helping his father run their bakery shop, their marriage wasn’t particularly arranged but they had grown up together and naturally their parents approved of their relationship. His father had taken over his father’s business and his mother had taken care of cooking meals, cleaning the house, doing the washing naturally as well. He thinks however about what ‘natural’ really meant, was it what society just simply expected of you? Did his mother simply follow the path already carved for her, did she have a choice? Did she have ambitions? Was his sister fated to follow the same path? Barrick’s heart sank a little in his chest.

“Do not look like that, I beg of you,” Henrikka murmured, her voice so soft and comforting to Barrick even from the distance. “Realisation, awareness, consciousness...they are essentially what differs us from animals, but also what ruins us the most.”

“Emotions make up the human empire.” Barrick whispered.

“Yes...exactly.”

“You sound a lot like Carl,” Barrick didn’t really intend to say it like it was an accusation but the sudden stiffness in Henrikka’s body and the look of bewilderment made it definitely seem like he’d accused her of something.

“Is that so?” She said rigidly, giving the back of her neck a light rub.

“You do not like him?” Barrick insinuated with a tilt of his head and Henrikka gave him an uncomfortable stare.

“He is...not one you can easily get along with,” She muttered.

“True, and your first meeting wasn’t rather pleasant. But if you were to meet again under different circumstance I’m sure you would get along. He has a rather sharp exterior but underneath it, he’s very caring,” Barrick said, awkwardly tugging at the blond strand of hair that freed itself from the backstroke of his hair and tickled at his temple. He’d hoped secretly he could find a way for the two of them to meet, to find a way for them to change their opinions on each other. For every time Barrick came to visit Henrikka, he couldn’t help but feel like he was betraying his friend.

The hope however is quickly extinguished when Henrikka offered him a sad smile and said, “I’m sure he is.”

Barrick, although disappointed, knew the topic ended there and he didn’t like the wallowing atmosphere that suddenly shrouded Henrikka so he changed the subject. “I want to know…” He started, waiting for Henrikka to look up and meet his eyes. “About the beginning.” He cannot say it was the greatest diversion but Barrick’s curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“I do not wish to talk about it,” Henrikka flatly stated, quickly getting up from her seat. “It is not something that needs to be discussed.” She said and made her way to the desk on the other side of the room.

Barrick’s eyes followed her, “Do I not have a right to know? After all, you say I am entangled in this curse of yours, and the fact I cannot remember anything is part of it as well, is it not?”

“You’re not meant to remember, no one is,” She said quietly, picking up her feather pen from its ink pot and bringing it down absentmindedly to a journal she had left open on a blank page. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes, it does.” Barrick quickly replied, trying to keep his own frustration at bay.

“Barrick...I do not want to talk about it.”

“But I do.”

She slammed the pen down and it is only then does Barrick notice that she was shaking. “Hen-”

“I had done something, I had done something so incredibly horrible I can only beg this curse will last for another five hundred years because I do not deserve peace, Barrick,” She admitted with a shaky breath, leaning over the table as if to keep herself up.

“What did you do?” Barrick whispered, he felt the space around him suddenly become so delicate.

“I extracted a revenge,” She said, her breath shallow, her shoulder looking smaller than they ever had before. “I was filled with so much agony I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted revenge Barrick, I just wanted them to suffer.”

Her shoulders began to shake and Barrick slowly rose from where he sat, “Who?” He asked, walking around the sofa to quietly make his way towards her. “Who did you want to suffer?”

She turned around, aware Barrick was beside her and brought a palm to his face, her thumb at his cheekbone. “All of them...I wanted them to all suffer and they did. They did. But the thing about revenge Barrick is that it’s a disease, it spreads, and it spreads and it goes on forever until someone decides to just...stop.” Her voice cracked and her green eyes shone with the tears that welled up within them. “But it won’t stop, it’ll never stop. Just as I had extracted revenge, someone had done the same to me. We gave into demons and lost our souls.”

Barrick brought two firm hands to her shoulder but her eyes had lost their glimmer and suddenly she was not here, and when she spoke again, it was not in Finnish but a language that twirled on her tongue and scratched at . Her eyes looked into the distance for a long time before they flickered towards Barrick and he knew they were staring right at him. They brought up their other hand to Barrick’s face and a look of pure sadness took over Henrikka’s face and although Barrick couldn’t understand a single thing, he still heard the words, he heard a name.

“Ana asfa, Sadiya.”

Seoul, 2016

It’s midnight when Insook finally returns home. The hallway is deep in darkness and Insook doesn’t seem to make any effort in turning on the light as she shuffles out of her coat and places it on the hook by the front door. There’s the soft rattling of keys as she places them into the bowl beside a stack of untouched letters. The moonlight streaming through the glass of the front door barely etches out Insook’s silhouette as Mark watches her from the top of the stairs.

“Were you planning on say anything, Mark?” Insook asks gruffly, the shadow of her head tilting upwards as if to address Mark.

“How did you know I was here?” Mark says into the dark. There’s a click then, and the hallway and staircase is lit up in an orange light. It was an uncomfortable view, Mark had never seen this space of the house with the light on, it almost made everything seem animated.

“People have a presence,” Insook simply says as starts making her way towards the kitchen.

Mark stares at her with a curious look as he gets up off the landing of the stairs and makes his way down. “I was heading to my room when I saw you through the window, I didn’t think you’d be coming back tonight.” He says as he enters the kitchen, giving the clock just above the stove a look, it was just past midnight.

“Where else would I sleep but at my house?” Insook replies, her back facing Mark as she places her handbag on the dining room table and heads towards the fridge.

“I don’t know,” Mark shrugs, leaning into the door frame. “It just didn’t seem anyone had been home when I came this morning.”

“I had gone to visit my daughter,” Insook simply states as she begins to take out several containers of packed side dishes and food from the fridge, placing them on the kitchen island.

It took Mark a couple of seconds to process what she said, “The daughter you were pretending didn’t send you constant letters and the one you’ve been hiding pictures of?”

Insook gave him a hard look, and Mark put his hands up in defence. “Just double checking.”

She shook her head, and bent down into a cupboard to pull out several smaller containers. “Those for your daughter?”

“Yes…” Insook replies, almost reluctantly as she starts filling a container with kimchi. “She doesn’t look after herself well, and she doesn’t have time to cook.” She pauses then, giving her red pepper paste covered hands a hard look before continuing. “My husband and I...we raised her to do well in school, to be a doctor, a lawyer, but she...she was not interested in any of those. No, she wanted to do...art. Of course, I had gone against it but she is a stubborn girl, too much like me. Even when I had threatened to kick her out of the house, and even when...I did, she did not give up. She went to an arts university and I hadn’t realised until after my husband had died, he’d been secretly paying for her tuition fees.”

“He didn’t disapprove?” Mark asks, watching Insook carefully.

She makes the effort at keeping her face masked but Mark can see a familiar emotion swimming in the depths of her eyes. He can see regret. “He had not said much on the matter, he was always a quiet man, so I had taken most of the authority in the house. He had stayed beside me and not fought me so I had assumed he understood. Or maybe he had understood but didn't agree. He had too much of a kind heart.”

“You sound a lot like my parents,” Mark comments as he goes to make his way to the dining room table and takes a seat.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, my mother disapproved a lot of my choices. When I dropped out of my psychology major, and pursued philosophy she couldn't comprehend I was the same child she raised. I was always pretty consistent with my choices, what I wanted to do, I rarely wavered. That was probably what she loved most about me but when I challenged that, I guess it is was almost like betrayal.” Mark says.

“Do you resent her?” Insook asks quietly, and Mark meets her eyes and knows she is asking him as if she were asking her own daughter.

“I did,” He says, his tone hard. “I still do, which is why I avoid her calls because she hasn't changed much. She's just become more tolerant.”

“I see.” Insook says and quickly snaps the container of kimchi closed, turning round to wash her hands.

“What made you decide to see her all of a sudden anyway?” Mark asks, watching her back as she rubs as little too roughly at her hands.

She doesn't seem like she’s going to to respond until she turns the sink off. “When I had received the call from the hospital I immediately thought...I thought it must have been her. I guess I was always waiting for it to be her. When she paints she falls into this...trance, she doesn’t eat or sleep until she’s done. When we were still written as her guardians, we’d be called into hospital every time she fainted.” She goes to grab the towel hanging from the corner of cupboard and rubs her hands dry.

Mark nods, “So when you heard I died, it made you think…”

She sighs, “I started to get scared. I’m old, and she is already married, I have already missed so much, and I have no right to regret my decisions but I couldn’t help it. When I had left the hospital the first night, I found myself at her home.” She looks almost bashful as she crosses her arms over her chest, if it weren’t for her sagging eyes and permanent scowl, Mark might actually think she looks a little happy.

“I’m sure she was happy,” Mark says wistfully, giving Insook the smile she was trying so hard to hide.

“What makes you think she was happy?” Insook asks with a clear of , quickly returning her attention to repacking food.

“Well, it wasn’t like the overflowing pile of unread letters wasn’t a clear indication that she wanted to get back in touch but also, I spoke to her once.” Mark admits out of nowhere, and if it wasn’t for the fact Mark’s felt like he was always the brink of near death, he’d be scared right now to have admitted that completely. However when Insook looks up at him, it’s simply in confusion, not impending death.

“It was a couple of months ago, you weren’t here and the phone rang. My mother said she was planning to call me some time that day so I figured it was her but it was a different woman’s voice,” Mark explains. “She asked who I was, I asked who she was - it was kind of awkward for a moment before I explained I was a new tenant. She said she was glad you wouldn’t be on your own and told me she was having a hard time contacting you. I didn’t really believe her, I’d seen you avoid the phone before, but I didn’t tell her that. She sounded hopeful you know, she said she was opening her second gallery and wanted you to come.”

“I never heard about that,” Insook mumbles.

“I never told you,” Mark says simply. “You weren’t going to pick up the phone so you wouldn’t have known, and your daughter didn’t ask to pass a message, so I left it at that. I’m not one to get involved in other people’s decisions. You didn’t want to talk to her, that was your choice, I wasn’t going to try and be a bridge.”

“I see.” Insook says lowly, clicking shut another small container of food.

Mark places his chin into his hand and considers Insook for a moment, “I’m proud of you though, Ahjumma. Not many people can change their minds like that after so long. Especially when you’re so old.”

Insook gives him a look and leans forward on the kitchen island, “Well, it only took you dying for it to happen.”

“And you are very welcome,” Mark jokes.

Insook shakes her head and makes her way back to the fridge, placing all the containers back into the shelves. The small ones have a corner of their own and Mark assumes Insook’s going to make a visit tomorrow morning with them. “By the way,” Insook says as she shuts the fridge. “I was not aware I was written down as your guardian.”

Mark clears his throat. “Sure you did, you signed my health insurance papers and everything.”

Insook narrows her eyes and they almost disappear into the folds of her wrinkles, “Any papers I signed were meant to be in relation to your tenancy here.”

“Aaaand then there was that one paper you signed agreeing to be my guardian in case of an emergency,” Mark flashes the old woman a smile and she quickly responds with a huff.

“I hope you don’t put yourself in a position where I’ll have to answer that kind of call again, it isn’t good for the heart,” Insook grumbles, poorly hiding her worry behind irritance. Mark smiles a little to himself as she makes her way to the dining table and picks up her bag. “I’m going to bed and so should you, are you going back to work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I won’t start classes till next week but it’s a good idea to go in and catch up, get ready for classes,” Mark says and gets up off his seat too.

“And how are you feeling?”

Mark goes to slap at his chest, “All good!”

Insook eyes him like she doesn’t believe him but doesn’t push on the topic any further. “That’s good. Well, I’m going to go get some rest. Good night, Mark.”

“Good night Ahjumma,” Mark says and watches her hunched back as she walks down the hallway and turn the corner up towards the stairs, her footsteps fading until she reaches the landing and Mark is left staring at a brightly lit corridor.

Barrick, what does it mean?

What are you referring to?

When you spoke to Henrikka, you said regret is stronger than a thirst for revenge.

Yes...it was just a way for her to know if I was really here, I suppose.

But what does it mean?

There is nothing stronger than an emotion you cannot resolve, Mark. Revenge, it eventually comes to an end, whether you decide to extract it or not but regret, regret never leaves, it never ends. Regret comes from things you know you can never resolve, you cannot go back and fix. It stays with you.

And what about you? I feel it in you, feel it in myself. You regret something.

Yes, I’ve been regretting for two hundred years now.

Regretting what?

Letting her die, Mark. Killing her.

She said you didn’t.

But I did, and she might not see it that way, but I did, Mark.

You don’t want to talk to her?

Why are you being so insistent?

Because I can feel these… things swirling around in me. Actually, I’ve been feeling them for a while now, but it makes sense now that I’ve found out Jinyoung’s Henrikka, and it’s bothering me.

Mark...you’ve never once had yourself confused between who you are and who I am. We’ve always been separated even if we share the same mind now. Do not start using me as an excuse for something you do not understand.

What are you talking about?

Barrick doesn’t respond and it leaves Mark feeling like he just got scolded. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back onto the dining room table feeling a little ridiculous.

This desert is on fire.

Hills of sand erupting into flames, up at the sky as if trying to reach the sun so high and bright in the sky. This land is made of heat, the air thick, the ground scorching and your skin has hardened, and darkened, and you are fire.

You are the desert, and when you die, your bones will sift into the sand and you are the hills that make the landscape and you are the homes that shelter your children.

But you are fire, and as you seek to protect, you will also burn, and destroy and turn everything in your sight to nothing but ashes.

You will burn cities down, you will destroy lives, and homes, you will kill and hurt.

You burned this city down, this city wrapped in cold, you burned it down, and you killed her.

Mark wakes up slowly, his eyes barely flickering open when he realises he fell asleep at his desk. He tries to swallow down but his throat is dry and he can’t seem to open his mouth to breathe. He peels himself off the polished wood of his desk, half of his face hot from the pressure. His white shirt sticks to him, the cold sweat that coated his body seeping through the fabric.

Mark sits up straight, his back stiff and his neck aching as he turns in his chair and reaches out for the bottle of water on his desk with a shaky hand. The water sloshes in the plastic as Mark unsteadily brings it to his dry lips and chugs down the water desperately.

He can breathe now, but his breath is hitching and the tremble in his body doesn’t seem to decrease so he quickly goes to latch onto the first drawer under his desk. He takes a little comfort in the sight of the familiar white bottle, and quickly reaches out to it, popping the lid with his thumb and shovelling two pills down his throat. He thinks he should drink some water to let it go down easier but he barely manages to get the bottle back into the drawer.

He leans back into his chair, feeling the painful contractions of his chest as his lungs struggle to take in air. The lights of his office are bright but he doesn’t close his eyes, he wants them to blind him, momentarily or permanently, he wasn’t sure but he knows he doesn’t want to see anything right now.

He wants to stop dreaming, to stop remembering, he wants to forget everything. He wants to forget his past life, and his current life, he just wants to sleep without worrying about what worlds he’ll fall into, and what abyss’ he’ll get lost in. He wants to think to himself and not worry about the thoughts of another twisting their way in. He wants to breathe without feeling like it was a struggle.

You can have them, you know.

Have what?

Your wishes, Mark. You can have them.

How?

Find them. End this.

“Professor?” A voice that most certainly did not come from the inside of Mark’s head cuts into the silence of the room and Mark jumps up startled. His chair rolls back as he gets to his feet and finds Jinyoung on the other side of his desk.

“Jesus christ-” Mark hisses under his breath. “Can you make some noise?”

“I knocked,” Jinyoung says flatly. “Like four times.”

Mark opens his mouth to respond but his jaw just hangs, “Just- ok, sorry- how long have you been standing there exactly?”

“Not long,” Jinyoung replies, his tone monotone and Mark can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “What were those pills for?”

“So you’ve been here long enough,” Mark deadpans and Jinyoung responds with a casual shrug. “They’re nothing, it’s just to...calm me down.”

“Calm you down? From what? Like a panic attack?” Jinyoung talks like he’s prodding a stick at a cat and Mark just wonders if he should snap but he keeps his composure and gives him a vague nod.

“Sort of.” Mark says and goes to grab his seat to sit back into it. “Why are you here? Isn’t it pretty late?” He says, peeking at the clock on his desk that says its eight pm.

“Ah, yeah, I was just taking a walk on campus and saw your lights on, didn’t realise you came back,” Jinyoung says as he takes one of the two wooden chairs before Mark’s desk, looking uncomfortable no matter how he positions himself. Mark see’s the dark circles around his eyes then, the bright light above his head shadowing the hollows of his eyes, making them look even more sunken than they were.

“You’re not sleeping?” Mark asks, intertwining his hands together on the desk.

Jinyoung stares down at his hands with a masked face, simply humming in agreement.

“What’s wrong?” Mark presses, he could tell there was something wrong and he was sure it wasn’t a matter of memories because Jinyoung is here, and he is distracted. “Is something else bothering you?”

“Not really,” Jinyoung blinks and goes to scratch at the back of neck. “I was just alone in my room and realised it was probably the last place I wanted to be. I guess I’ve gotten too used to company.”

“I see,” Mark says and unclasps his fingers, leaning back into his chair. “Well, you know you can always come visit me when you want, here or my house.”

“Thanks…” Jinyoung says, but he doesn’t look entirely eager.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mark asks again, trying to meet with Jinyoung’s eyes but he seem sot be looking at everything but Mark. “You look like something's bothering you.”

“Aside from the memories?” Jinyoung snorts and there’s a brief smirk on his face as he does so but it disappears too soon and Mark finds himself on the edge of his seat, frustrated at the down turn of his lips.

“Aside from the memories, Jinyoung,” Mark presses, and it’s at the sound of his name does Jinyoung finally look up to meet his eyes.

“I have a question, for me...or for Henrikka, for Barrick, I don’t know,” Jinyoung mumbles, his lips now pressed into a thoughtful pout.

“Ask.”

Jinyoung swallows down, Mark watching his adams-apple dipping in his throat slowly until he finally opens his mouth to speak again, “Did Barrick really love Henrikka?”

It wasn’t a question Mark was expecting but Jinyoung looks like the thought has been weighing him down so Mark takes it in and considers it carefully. “He did, wasn’t it obvious?”

“Was it?” Jinyoung questions. “I guess it was, but what kind of love was it?”

“What kind of love?” Mark echoes. “What do you mean?”

“Was he…in love with her? Or did he just love her like a sister? She always thought about it. She was nervous about it, nervous around him. She could tell he cared for her but was it under obligation or did he really...feel for her?” Jinyoung pauses and then bursts out laughing. “She’s telling me to shut up. It’s funny how loud dead people can be.”

Barrick was silent in Mark’s head, but Mark already knew the answer to the question. “He loved her.” Mark said, strongly, surely like it was his own feelings he is announcing. “He was in love with her. At first he was attracted, she had this atmosphere that just immediately pulled him in, and then when they started to meet and they got to know each other, he found she was well and beyond his expectations. He was in love with her, I’m sure.”

“You’re sure?” Jinyoung says, his voice coming out hoarse like he had the air knocked right out of him. “Did he tell you that?”

“No, but I can feel it. I can feel so many things inside, sometimes it’s confusing, but now that we’ve had this conversation I’m sure of one thing.” Mark nods to himself, pressing a palm to his chest.

“Of what?” Jinyoung asks breathlessly.

“One of his regrets was that he couldn’t tell her he loved her before she died,” Mark whispers, feeling his own eyes prick with tears that didn’t belong to him. “He loved her so much but he always felt like she was someone he couldn’t be with.”

“W-why?”

Mark’s nails dig deep into his shirt, “Their class? His insecurity? Or maybe the fact she was always at an arm’s length away. She kept things from him, thinking she was protecting him but he just felt like she was pushing him away.”

“I see,” Jinyoung breathes out and closes his eyes, his own hand to his chest. “It seems she has many regrets of her own.”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” Mark asks, watching Jinyoung’s face closely as he slowly begins to open his eyes.

“Sort of?” He smirks, and Mark wants to feel annoyed at the ambiguity of his answer but he’s too pleased with the half smile on his face.

“Anything else? How are you sleeping?” Mark asks and to quickly, Jinyoung’s face drops into a scowl.

“Are we still doing this? These meetings?” He says a little too bitterly and it strikes confusion in Mark.

“No, I was genuinely asking, but also, I need to update Youngjae and Yoonseok. I haven’t been telling them details, and they know I’m holding back on them, but they’re not complaining since it seems there are some improvements.” Mark explains, but it doesn’t seem the ease the sudden bad mood Jinyoung is in.

“You know Professor, you really have knack for killing the mood,” He sighs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jinyoung gives Mark a look and places his cheek into his hand, “I just don’t know if you’re great at pretending or just really oblivious.”

“Excuse-”

A phone goes off then and Jinyoung quickly wiggles in his seat to grab his mobile out from the pocket of his jeans. He looks at the caller id and smiles a little to himself as he answers it. “Mihyun, I called you earlier but you didn’t pick up…” He says and then pauses to hear her talk.

Mark feels his own face slipping into a frown, thinking that he wasn’t actually Jinyoung’s first choice for company. Of course, a professor wasn’t exactly the greatest person to look for comfort in, but Mark thought their new found relationship meant things went beyond their student, teacher relationship.

“What!?” Jinyoung exclaims, pulling Mark out of his little brooding fest. “P-Professor, can I use your computer real quick?”

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks bewildered, shrinking back quickly from his desk as Jinyoung flew up from his seat and took over the computer. Mark rolls himself to the side to peer under Jinyoung’s arms where he opens up the internet to a news site.

Quickly he scrolls towards the trending topics, his mouse hovers down the top eight topics and lands on the ninth that reads ‘Yonsei University’. He clicks on it to open a new page where a video sits large in the centre of the page and at the top a title; ‘Yonsei University Student tries to kill himself.’ Below it is a small description that reads ‘A Yonsei University student has been filmed trying to throw himself off the connecting bridge leading from the residential areas to the university's campus. It seems he made it out okay thanks to his friend and a professor that reached him in time. What’s more interesting however is that this isn’t this particular student’s first incident. See below for more details.’

Jinyoung goes to click the play button on the video immediately and Mark leans in closer as the video begins. It was taken a bit away from where Jinyoung had tried to jump, the camera evidently zoomed in from the opposite corner of the bridge. It plays just as Mihyun grabs Jinyoung by the leg, screaming his name until Mark runs into the shot, the camera following him shakily until he gets to Jinyoung and tackles him to the ground.

“, , ,” Jinyoung mutters under his breath as he scrolls down to the bottom of the page where comments keep appearing in their seconds.

Hey, isn’t that the Park Jinyoung fellow in Professor Tuan’s Philosophy class?

He was the one that handed his essays in Arabic and almost got expelled.

Wasn’t he the same one that started screaming and started speaking Japanese in the hallway?

“This...isn’t good.” Mark mutters under his breath.

Jinyoung slams his palm to the desk and swivels on his feet, he makes his way round the desk and then pauses. “...what did I do? Professor Jung might just really kick me out now.”

“Hey, we don’t know that-”

“Yes, we do! Do you see the comments? This was the one thing everyone wanted to avoid.” Jinyoung shouts, his body shaking with anxiety as he began to pace.

Mark quickly gets up to his feet and walks up to Jinyoung, “Jinyoung, calm down. I won’t let that happen.”

“What can you do?” Jinyoung snaps and then quickly catches himself. “I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault.”

“It’s fine.” Mark says, putting two firm hands on his shoulders. “It’s going to be fine. I won’t let you get expelled, even if it means involving lawyers and all that bull, okay? We’ll fix this.”

Jinyoung looks up at him hopefully and nods, “We’ll fix this.”

Mark pats him on the head and nods with him. “We will.” He says finally, already dreading the hell that was going to ensue tomorrow.