Everything seems to come into sharp focus the moment Jinyoung pressed his lips against Mark’s. The dust in the air, swimming in the moonlight just over Jinyoung’s shoulder. There’s the deep hum of the house, a silence that sleeps in the wood of the floor and the bricks of the walls. There’s a scent, a mix of bitter and intoxicating, like sweat melded in perfume. It smells of Jinyoung and Mark finds himself breathing it in between the gaps of their lips.

Jinyoung has his palms pressed against Mark’s neck, his skin hot, tracing the line of his jaw. His touch trickles to the back of his neck where the smalls of his hair rise and his spine trembles under the heat in his fingertips. Mark swallows the feeling down and flutters his eyes shut, where behind his eyelids he see’s the wind in the sand and the sun falling off the edge of the world.

There’s a gasp, the sound like a hiss that cuts through the two of them like a knife to an apple and the coldness creeps up on Mark too quickly as Jinyoung breaks away from him and propels himself across the bed. There’s a look in his eyes like he’s made a mistake and fear, maybe of the repercussions to come.

Mark takes in a shaky breath, his nails dug deep into the sheets below him as if to anchor himself from the lightheadedness that seems to wash over him like he was just going to float away. He feels breathless, Jinyoung’s lips had taken the air from his lungs and left him to suffocate.

“Professor?” Jinyoung whispers, his voice comes out so small, a drop of water from a closed tap.

Mark opens his lips to speak, but his jaw is stiff and the inside of his mouth is dry, and he thinks his heart has managed to crawl its way up his throat. He breathes through his nose and goes to rub at his temple, willing his body to come back to him.

“Jinyoung,” He manages to force out, his own voice thick and hoarse. “Did you see that too?”

Jinyoung blinks, confused. “See what?”

The end of the world.

“Nothing,” Mark murmurs, getting himself up off the bed. Jinyoung flinches, the slightest sound, like the creak of the bed startling him. “Are you alright?”

Jinyoung puffs out a gust of air and sits up straighter from the corner of the bed he’s boxed himself into. He’s hidden himself in the shadows of this room, the moonlight like a metaphysical barrier between the two of them. Mark itches to cross it but there’s a wild look in Jinyoung’s eyes he doesn’t understand.

“What are you doing here?” Jinyoung asks almost accusingly.

“You were whining in your sleep, thought you were having a bad dream or something,” Mark barely audibly responds.

“This happens all the time, you didn’t have to wake me up, no-you shouldn’t, there’s no guarantee it’ll be me,” Jinyoung says the words almost desperately, anxiety speckled in the crescents of his eyes.

“It’s fine, nothing happened,” Mark murmurs childishly, thriving silently in the hurt that flashes across Jinyoung’s face, it goes by so fast anyone else would pass it as a flicker of the eye. But Mark knows, he knows those eyes, Jinyoung’s pupils like the moon, shadows upon them like the memories that invade him. His eyes so open and vast as if they were a reflection of the universe itself. Past lives like dying stars that never fell, their end dragging forever in the limbo of Jinyoung’s mind.

He’s being defensive.

Mark wonders why he never noticed it before, the layer of glass Jinyoung wears so tightly like skin to the bones. He’s protecting himself from something, but how could one shield himself from the cluster of cocoons that have nestled on the inside only to sprout butterflies of ill thought? Jinyoung is at war with himself, and yet it wasn’t the lives burned to the back of his eyelids like a brand that he seems to want to hide himself from.

“You don’t understand, Professor,” Jinyoung says quietly, and Mark thinks he can hear the flutter of wings on his tongue. “Not all of these lives...not everyone I was is safe.”

“What do you mean?” Mark replies. There’s a challenge in his voice, like he’s waiting for Jinyoung to say something to push him away but Jinyoung’s eyes just seem to go vacant in that moment.

“I can hear them Professor...so clearly, a storm of screams of children and woman, the cries of the men that mourned them,” He whispers the words laced with guilt. Shaky breaths bleeding into the room, they clink in the air and wrap themselves around Mark’s body like chains. “And what scares me the most isn’t the sound of people dying like their bodies are being ripped apart limb by limb...what scares me is the satisfaction I feel. Like I caused it and I couldn’t feel more content with the outcome.”

Jinyoung folds into into the ball he’s morphed himself into. The shadows hungry to swallow him up, and he drowns in them willingly as if he could wish for nothing more than to melt into the darkness and disintegrate into nothing but space.

“Why are you blaming yourself for something someone else did?” Mark asks, and he thinks his words fizz into the air before they reach Jinyoung because he doesn’t move from where he is. He doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing. “You and Henrikka...you blame yourselves. Is it because you remember their actions like you remember your own? You remember their feelings as if you conjured them up yourself? But they’re not yours Jinyoung, you have no right to claim someone else’s guilt and actions, like you have no right to claim their happiness. They don’t belong to you.”

Jinyoung moves then, a fraction of a tilt of his head to reveal water edged eyes reflecting light like the night sky upon a lake. “Professor, do you think what we remember is really nothing but memories?” His voice comes out so fragile, muffled into the skin of his bare arms.

“What do you mean?”

Jinyoung takes in a deep breath, the sound like a wave to the coast. “Sometimes they feel too alive, sometimes...it’s like they’re alive.”

“They’ve died, Jinyoung.” Mark states flatly, despite the uncertainty that’s always settled in the back of his mind. They have died, but sometimes it was too much like carrying two heart beats in his chest, like another conscience overlapping his own, and to lose his body like a possession to a ghost. Sometimes the prospect that they were nothing but memories seemed too bewildering, but what else could they be?

“Do you think death is really the end?” Jinyoung whispers the question like a secret shared beneath a blanket.

Mark doesn’t know how to respond, because he’s seen the other side, a limbo of debris made up of souls, forgotten worlds hidden behind stars. A place where there’s no gravity, or darkness or light. A plane made up of edge of worlds where suns fall, and moons take the abyss as their home.

“I’d like to think so, because if we don’t get to rest after all this, there has got to be a way to lose your mind in the afterlife,” Mark huffs, trying to go for a lighter mood but it was hard to ease the tension that seems to have sunk its teeth so deep into the atmosphere.

Mark thinks he sees the ghost of a smile on Jinyoung’s face but in the shadows it was easy for the mind’s eye to twist things, easy for Mark to see what he wanted to see. “Okay well I think I’ll leave you for now.”

He turns to leave, his footsteps creaking with reluctance. “Professor…” Jinyoung calls out to his back. Mark stiffens with his hand to the door knob, he twists his neck to look just over his shoulder, it’s an awkward attempt in containing any sort of expectations that bubble up inside him. “It wasn’t me...before...it was Henrikka.” He says this with an unusual flatness to his voice, as if a lie hid somewhere under his tongue.

“Right,” Is all Mark says, in understanding, or maybe in irritance. Either way he doesn’t bother to give Jinyoung any final look before exiting his room with a swift swing of the door and a quietly harsh click from behind. He stands there for a moment, an inch of space between his back and Jinyoung’s door, his hand still twisted round behind him, latching onto the handle with a grip that tightens the veins in his hand.

It wasn’t Henrikka, even you know that right?

Barrick’s voice is the last thing Mark wants to hear right now, his presence too much of a reminder of the feelings he used to swallow down when he was around Henrikka. His feelings too much like his own.

I had thought you simply did not understand before, but as I’m beginning to see, you just did not want to admit it.

Mark presses the heel of his hand to his eyes and inwardly wishes for the ghosts to disappear, for his mind to be his own for just a fraction of a moment.

You’re being ridiculous. You cannot help who you fall in love with.

Mark closes his eyes, transcending into the deepest of darkness. For a brief moment, he thinks he can feel Jinyoung’s heart through the door, a pulse in the wood, beating soothingly against his back.

...is it because he is a man or because he’s your student?

“That’s not it…” Mark whispers to himself mostly. He presses his palm hard against his mouth, his nails scratching against his lips as if he could somehow grab the ghost trail of Jinyoung’s lips and capture it in his hand.

It’s not that I can’t...it’s that I shouldn’t.

What do you mean?

You know how it feels don’t you? To have something so close to you, you think nothing could happen to it but in the next moment it’s gone-

’And you become nothing but a ghost with regret.’ I see, you fear losing him.

No...Barrick. I can’t lose something I never had.

August 6th 1827
Dear Barrick,

I write this letter despite your lack of response, because it is a matter of urgency.

Your sister has fallen gravely ill. The physician has come by again and again with no answers. She has been suffering from a high fever, and her stomach can hardly handle the food we give her.

I fear of the worst my dear Barrick. I beg of you, please come and visit her. I do not know if your presence can do something but I'd hope it'd at least give her strength to fight.

All my love, your Mother.

When Mihyun makes an entrance the next morning it’s with a frown so deep it could compete against Professor Jung’s. Which Mark isn’t particularly happy about because now he’s thinking about Professor Jung as he sips on his too-bitter coffee, bagged-eyes and dark circles staring up at her from above his mug.

“Good morning or should I say morning because that is exactly the kind of one I’ve been having,” Mihyun snaps from the entrance of the kitchen. She looks a right mess, the blonde in hair dull, the curled ends looking lifeless, and her complexion as grey as the overbearing clouds Mark could see impending through the kitchen window.

“Yeah, you look too,” Jinyoung mutters from across the table, an absolute look of contempt masking his face. He’s sitting opposite Mark which is excruciating because he’s so close and yet so skillfully avoiding Mark’s eyes, he was almost convinced Jinyoung just couldn’t see him.

Mihyun throws daggers across the small living space, and Mark winces a little like he could feel their edges. “You. Do you know the crowds I almost died in because people think I know your deepest darkest secrets?”

“Well, you kind of do,” Jinyoung throws back, giving Mihyun a nonchalant shrug.

“I’ll kill you,” She spits.

“Please.” Jinyoung almost begs and throws his head back.

Mihyun raises an eyebrow at that, and in response she finally decides to acknowledge Mark’s existence, her expression almost softening. “Professor, you don’t look too chipper yourself.”

“Rough night,” He says looking directly at Jinyoung but Jinyoung’s still looking up at the ceiling, apparently far more interested in the chipped white paint branching out from the corners of the kitchen. “What were you being asked about?”

“More like whatwasn’t I asked about,” Mihyun huffs going to settle in the seat beside Jinyoung. She gives his perched legs a violent kick, knocking him up from his slumped position. “You know...his xenoglossy, what could it mean, was he born this way, am I dating him-”

“That is disgusting,” Jinyoung interjects.

“You know what Jinyoung? I don’t need to go through this hassle for you, I’m here out of my own good will,” She puts a palm to her chest, and Mark almost swears her eyes glisten but whatever emotion seems to shimmer in her for a brief moment is stomped out the next second.

“You’re here because you couldn’t mind your business,” Jinyoung retorts flatly.

A smirk grows on Mihyun’s face and she instantly drops her hand onto her lap, “True. Is this what they mean when they say curiosity killed the cat?”

“You’re not dead...yet.” Jinyoung says whimsically.

Mihyun’s face drops, “God, you’re morbid.”

“It kind of comes with being five hundred years old and all,” Jinyoung snorts.

Mark’s watches them from across the table thinking about how much he’d rather be anywhere but here right now. Foul moods and grey clouds did not make up for a happy Mark, and with the extra bonus of Jinyoung completely ignoring him, he’s wondering if he should just pretend today isn’t a day at all and go back to bed.

“I ing hate old people,” Mihyun mutters sourly just as the garden door opens and Insook makes her way in. “Oh, jesus christ.” Mihyun facepalms and Jinyoung clutches his stomach in laughter.

A rough gust of wind follows her inside, the cold brief but sharp against Mark’s skin. It doesn’t seem to phase her though, her face as flaccid as ever as she shuts the door behind her. In her hand is a basket full of strawberries, their bright red tips peeking out just from the sides of the thin blanket she’s placed upon them.

“Those for your daughter?” Mark asks, and it earns him the slightest turn of her lips.

“Yes.” She simply replies.

“You don’t really talk much do you Ahjumma?” Jinyoung adds unnecessarily, his whole body twisting over his chair, apparently more than eager to give Mark his back. Mark takes a long loud sip from his drink, cringing a little at the already luke-warm coffee, too late to add an extra spoon of sugar.

“You enjoying that Professor?” Mihyun asks with a cocked eyebrow and Mark almost finds himself choking.

“You talk a little too much, don’t-” Insook stops mid sentence, her attention gone from the strawberries in her hand to the bare counter. She looks up and stares up at the wall behind Mark where shelves of pots, containers of rice and beans, and plates are pressed together.

All of a sudden Jinyoung exhales loudly and slumps in his seat, his shoulders seem to cave in on themselves and his head hangs off the back of the chair. Mark watches his back closely, rising and falling with small intakes of breath like he’s sleeping. Then he begins to shake, his body trembling from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes, a low whining sound rumbling in the base of his throat.

“Jinyoung?” Mihyun whispers.

Her voice seems to flick a switch in him because then Jinyoung slowly begins to twist round and for the first time today his eyes finally meet Mark’s, but they don’t belong to him. “鳥...” He whispers in a kindling fear as he looks up to the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” Mark murmurs under his breath.

“Mark!” Insook calls out all of sudden. “There’s an earthquake.”

Mark looks up at Insook’s bewildered eyes and it’s then with a sudden jolt he hears the slosh of his coffee in his cup. Mihyun makes an audible squeak as the table too soon begins to tremble from beneath them, and quickly the whole kitchen feels as if it were going to unhinge from the floor and start to roll.

“Get under the table!” Mark barks out the order and shoots up from his chair towards Insook. She’s clinging onto the wicker basket of strawberries with an iron grip, her body hunched forward in a strong will of preparation. “Ahjumma, I got you.” He whispers from beside her, and goes to cup her elbows in reassurance. She moves rigidly, the tremble in the ground rattling at her knees and she leans heavily onto Mark as they make their way back to the table.

Jinyoung’s still sitting in his seat, his eyes up to the ceiling while Mihyun cowers below, tugging at the hem of Jinyoung’s bottoms. “He’s completely out of it!” Mihyun whines. Just then, a stone pot slides from the shelf it’s propped on and slams onto the ground with a deafening crack. “Mother!” Mihyun screeches as she cowers deeper into a ball.

Mark has his hand protectively to Insook’s head as he ushers her under the table, he thinks it’s the tremble in the ground that has him shaking but he quickly realises the nerves are short circuiting in him. His mind is everywhere; protecting Insook, worrying over Mihyun and making sure Jinyoung doesn’t decide to get up and do anything while the ground quaked from beneath them.

However, just as Insook goes to bend under the table, the room slowly seems to stop rocking on its side and the rumble in the ground slowly begins to morph into a low groan and soon enough the earthquake comes to an end. The room becomes deathly silent, fear and vulnerability too thick in the air.

“Is everyone okay…?” Mark asks as Mihyun crawls her way out from under the table, her hair now a disarray mess.

“What the hell was that?” She gasps, the remains of the earthquake still in her hands as she goes to sit back in her seat.

“It wasn’t a bad one, thank god, but we should be careful just in case there’s an aftershock. You okay Ahjumma?” Mark asks, his hands still wrapped around her small frame protectively. She takes a deep breath in response and slides out from his grip.

“I’m fine,” She murmurs and makes her way to the stone pot that found its grave in the cracked floor. “It wasn’t my first earthquake.” Mark watches her briefly, deciding not to poke at her pride and make a note of just how shaken up she looks and decides to take his attention to Jinyoung who is simply sitting in his seat, his hands clasped together in his lap.

“Jinyoung?” Mark calls out cautiously, even though the colour in Jinyoung’s eyes had come back, there’s a sort of emptiness in them now that wasn’t there before. “Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung’s dazedly looks up to Mark, and Mark see’s him, see’s Jinyoung but it was like his soul had been squashed out and there was nothing left but the hollowness of a warm body. “The bird...is falling down.” He whispers this in Korean and then his eyes roll back.

He sways in his seat like a puppet at the end of a show, strings loose and limbs limp, and then he falls. Mark is already beside him though, waiting for his body to land against his, quick to encircle him in a protective bubble.

“Is he okay?” Mihyun asks cautiously from the side, peering over the chair towards the two of them crouched on the floor.

Mark looks up at her to reassure her but his words get stuck in his throat. There’s a wild look in Mihyun’s eyes, thoughts running rampant and Mark could see them as light as day. He’d never seen such an expression on her face, or maybe it is the fear he’d never seen in her before.

“He’s fine, his pulse is steady,” Mark says, his fingers pressing into the side of Jinyoung’s neck, the beat of his pulse comforting the nerves prickling under his skin. “I’m going to take him upstairs...can you look after her?” Mark asks her quietly, almost mouthing the request.

Mihyun nods stiffly, giving Insook a brief look before returning her glance back to Jinyoung. Mark wants to ask her what she’s thinking about but now isn’t the time. Besides, from the look on her face Mark feels like it may be something he doesn’t want to hear.

Mark slips an arm underneath Jinyoung’s knees and another wraps around his shoulder, with a grunt he swoops the two of them up. He’s cradling him close, Jinyoung’s head bent into Mark’s shoulder. He smells of cologne and sweat, and Mark almost reels back at the memory of last night.

He’d told himself to forget it, evidently it is something that Jinyoung doesn’t want to acknowledge, and he’d respect that. But the thing about wanting to forget something is that chances are you’ll probably just be reminded of it that just much more. Especially when he has triggers like Jinyoung’s breath gliding across the nape of his neck, or the feel of his hair tickling at his skin. Mark inhales deeply to settle himself, but instead it proves to be more detrimental than helpful and begrudgingly starts making his way out the kitchen and up the stairs.

Getting into Jinyoung’s room proves to be a bit of a struggle. Mark’s strength isn’t all it’s out to be and he’s shaking a little as he presses his back to the closed door of Jinyoung’s temporary room and shoves his elbow onto the handle, maneuvering awkwardly to turn it open. He trips back a little into the room, his fingers deep into Jinyoung’s skin and he’s about to crumble into the ground but pushes his last bit of strength on getting Jinyoung onto the bed.

“Jesus christ,” Mark huffs, settling himself upon the side of the bed. He thinks someone so skinny looking shouldn’t be so heavy and gives Jinyoung’s hip a little shove. He looks up at the room now, in daylight, last night almost feels like a wistful dream, only the lingering heat of what felt like Jinyoung’s lips against Mark’s telling him it did happen.

A sigh fills the small space between them and Mark looks towards Jinyoung to find his eyes open. He’s looking up at the ceiling, his hands settled upon his stomach. “I’m getting kind of tired of this,” Jinyoung mutters and pushes himself upright, his jeans wrinkling against the covers as he slides up against the headboard. “Why are we always in this position?”

Mark thinks he’s meant to reply with something witty like what other position would you like? but he isn’t really the witty type of person and any humour he does try comes out dry and awkward, and mildly torturing for him and the other party, so he just keeps his mouth shut. But he’s revelling a little in the fact Jinyoung’s looking him in the eye without batting an eyelash, like he could finally see him, or that he decided he no longer wanted to pretend Mark’s existence was an inconsistent one.

“Are you alright?” Mark opts for saying instead, clenching his fist tight in some sort of endearing way to control himself. Controlling himself from what exactly, he can’t say he’s exactly sure, but he has this incessant need to jump.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I think,” Jinyoung says, flickering his eyes away from Mark’s in thought. “I remembered something new.”

“What? I thought you said you remembered all of them?”

“Yeah but there’s also two missing, aren’t there? The beginning, and the last.” Jinyoung looks a little complacent, an unsure expression on his face and Mark isn’t sure if he should push him for more answers or not. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to ask him for more? Their relationship is hanging in a limbo that was once their mentor type of relationship and a new, far more intertwined and complicated relationship. Mark unsure of himself, especially now something like age and position means nothing between them.

“Strawberries,” Jinyoung says all of a sudden. “When I saw the strawberries I remembered something that didn’t match with the others. I had a sister who loved them, strawberries. My mother used to grow a little in the garden in a pot but she couldn’t…” Jinyoung groans, his hands quickly reaching to his head. “, it hurts.”

“Stop, Jinyoung,” Mark pulls at Jinyoung’s wrist. “The more you try to remember something you can’t, the more it’ll hurt you. Don’t. If it wants to come, or if they want you to see it, you will. Just leave it be, please.”

Jinyoung stares up at Mark’s like he’s trying to un-code something. The ends of lips turned down ever so slightly like he’s trying to make sense of a thought. “You...almost sound worried.”

There isn’t mockery in his voice or sarcasm, but some genuine form of confusion. Mark let’s out an exasperated sigh and loosens his grip on Jinyoung’s hand. “Of course I’m worried. I’m worried about you.”

“Why? Because I’m a student? Because I’m He-” He bites his lip instantly, clearly stepping back from a line he drew and swore he’d never cross but there’s anxiety in his eyes, and upset lined in his frown and watching him now, so closely and intently, Mark feels like he’s come to understand something.

“It’s because you’re you,” Mark mutters unconfidently, not because he finds himself unsure or in a position of reluctance but maybe for the first time in a long time he’s found himself vulnerable. “Since the moment I first saw you, you made me think. And that may sound ridiculous coming from a philosophy professor, but the thing is, Jinyoung, there aren’t many people like that. People that make you think.”

Jinyoung chews on his lip, maybe in his own form of holding himself back, because just as much as the confusion is etched into his face, so is this new more open expression. “Think about what? Think about the world? Think about...me?”

Mark takes in a quiet breath and he itches to make some space between the two of them, more so than they already are but he knows it’ll mean more than just a physical divide for Jinyoung so he holds his ground, and instead let’s the floor take his eyes. “Yes. I’m not easy for people to get close with, and I didn’t find myself interested in other people all that much. I suppose I grew up my life trying so hard to block out Barrick I ended up blocking other people too. But you...since the first time I saw you walk into my lecture, way before your memories began to resurface, I guess I haven’t been able to stop thinking…”

“Professor,” Jinyoung calls out, he’s leaned in closer towards Mark, a sparkle of confidence glittering in his eyes. “It wasn’t Henrikka...last night, it was me. Or half-asleep me at least.”

Mark finds himself smiling a half-smile. “I know.” He says almost in a sort of revenge that tasted more like sugar than rust, and he’s far more than content to see the little look of embarrassment completely take over his face. Jinyoung’s cheeks bloom in a dusty rose and Mark doesn’t feel any qualms in taking his thumb to the skin of his face, and the circle of colour like he could rub it off. “It’s good to see you look like...well, alive.” He wants to say it jokingly, but there’s no laughter in his voice, and he realises then just how desperate he is to see Jinyoung alright. To stop watching him fall into darknesses not even fires could drown out, to see the life his eyes flutter away as if death weren’t an end but an inevitable forever.

“Professor,” Jinyoung murmurs, taking his own hand to settle over Mark’s. “You should be careful.”

“Of what?”

Jinyoung slides his face so his lips are pressed against Mark’s palm as he smiles into the lines of his hands. “I’m not a very patient person, just to let you know.” There’s mischief sparking in his eyes and secrets dug into the ends of his lips, and his voice is laced with words unsaid.

Mark slides his hand away from Jinyoung, thinking maybe this time he’s really managed to capture the ghost of his lips and quickly presses his hand to his own. “Neither am I.” He hums to himself, but loud enough for the two of them.

“Apparently the earthquake only hit the west of Seoul,” Mihyun announces from where she’s seated on the living room sofa watching the news. Mark stares at the back of her head from the entrance of the room, feeling a little uncomfortable to step in. Not that the living room was off limits but it isn’t a place either him or Insook took much use of. There’s an old TV pressed to the opposing wall and an old faded teal sofa slap bang in the middle. Frames and pictures of Insook and her husband when they were younger are scattered across drawers with their legs caving in on them, including the odd baby picture here and there which Mark assumed was their daughter.

“Didn’t even think that television , it looks older than me,” Mark comments, stiffly making his way deeper into the room. It’s the only room in the house with carpet, and it feels a little ticklish against his bare feet. (Mark isn’t much of a slipper man.)

“Doubt it is, I still remember these box things when I was young, even remembered to change the channel from the tv, there’s no remote, that or it’s turned to dust,” Mihyun snorts. “Anyway it seems it wasn’t that big of an earthquake, we were in the centre of it but what’s odd is that usually there’s forewarnings for earthquakes like these. You know scientists behind their little computers and squiggly lines, watching the plates and what-not.”

“And what-not, not like it’s an important job or anything,” Mark retorts with a roll of his eyes which Mihyun seems to sense because she’s quick to throw a glare over her shoulder.

“That’s my point, no fore-warning at all...it’s like it came out of nowhere,” Mihyun grumbles.

“You can’t predict everything, Mihyun.”

“Can’t predict what?” Jinyoung asks as he makes his way into the living room. He’s changed into a new pair of clothes, a different pair of loose jeans and a striped t-shirt. His hair is damp from the shower he took, slightly towel dried and a little frizzy at the top and Mark has to remind himself it’s not particularly natural to want to brush the top of his head till it’s neat.

“Earthquakes,” Mihyun says and then looks back over the shoulder. “Besides, what happened to you?”

“The usual,” Jinyoung shrugs and Mihyun narrows her eyes.

“Did you really just say that? I mean no matter how long this has been going on, there’s nothing usual about this situation at all. By the way am I the only one thinking it’s a coincidence that at the same time Jinyoung dips into one of his possession fests, an earthquake happens?” She’s doing the thing where she’s talking without thinking, her brain to mouth filter completely dashed for maybe what Mark thinks is a budding fear in Mihyun that she never showed until now.

Mark notices Jinyoung stiffen from beside him, and quickly interjects. “The strawberries are what triggered him, the earthquake was just a coincidence.”

“Mmmhmm,” Mihyun hums and turns back to settle in the sofa. “Or maybe the strawberries triggered him, and he triggered the earthquake?”

“You can’t be serious right now,” Mark almost snaps, a little annoyed at how easily she was spouting words that were definitely going to grow into horrible weeds in the back of Jinyoung’s mind.

“I don’t know, Professor, these days, is anything impossible?” She says, looking a little dazed out as she watches the television. “If there’s more to what the eye can see, then I’m starting to think we’re are all pretty much blind.”

Jinyoung’s made his way to the back of the sofa where he hovers over Mihyun’s head and with one quick move of his hand he slaps a palm to her forehead and cranes her neck backwards so that they’re looking down and up at each other. “Stop thinking, you do too much of it.”

Mihyun blinks up at him in mild shock and then quickly laughs. “I guess I do.”

“No guesses, enough, you need some rest.”

“Resting feels like too much of a privilege right now when I know you die every time you close your eyes,” She half-jokes and slides her away from under Jinyoung, getting up off the sofa. “Either way I need to start heading home, I have no clue if my dorm room is still intact after that shake up. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Don’t even, what are you going to do here but be a bother?” Jinyoung puts it bluntly and at some point Mark may have tried to put himself between the two to soften the blows but he figures now they’ve just formed some type of special relationships only sadists can understand.

“Love you too Jinyoungie.” She says finally with a skip and wink and makes her way passed the two of them into the hallway. Mark and Jinyoung watch her from the entry of the living room as she slips on her shoes and exits by the front door.

“Where’s the old lady?” Jinyoung asks curiously as he makes his way out into the hallway and into the kitchen.

Mark follows him in, peering out through the glass door towards the garden. “Think she went to her daughter’s place.”

“Wow, nothing phases that woman,” Jinyoung says with a shake of his head as he heads to the fridge and peers inside. “I could cry, I’ve not seen so much side-dishes since I went home last winter break.” He excitedly starts popping out containers of food, piling them up on the kitchen counter.

Mark makes his way back to the table where he’s left his deserted coffee, giving the muddy looking substance inside a grimace. “I can never make a good cup of coffee.” Mark mutters as he makes his way to the sink, more than happy to see the concoction swirl down the drain.

“That’s surprising,” Jinyoung says between mouthfuls of food, he hasn’t even bothered to set out a plate and just took a chopstick to the opened containers. “Thought you were the I’m-good-at-everything type of person.”

“I am not good at everything,” Mark half-laughs. “If I was life would be so much easier than it is now.”

“What’s hard about it? I mean really in this life, minus you know the dead talking.” Jinyoung taps his chopsticks to the table and gives Mark a look. “In France, you know who you were?”

“I don’t know if I should know,” Mark replies unsurely.

“Don’t worry I won’t give you gross details,” Jinyoung says, chewing fast and swallowing down his mouthful. “You were a war nurse, everyone had a crush on you.”

“I was female?” Mark raises an eyebrow at that. He didn’t think he was a male throughout all his lives really but he only ever remembered being a man. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, you were like godly, which maybe was the excessive amount of totesereon talking but literally everyone in my platoon was fawning over you,” Jinyoung says, smiling a little warmly, his chopsticks settled upon his lips. “Of course, I was the only person back then that could have caught your attention. We both had incredibly high standards.”

“Uh-huh, you’re not by chance twisting this round to mend any wounded egos?” Mark chuckles as he goes to pick up the kettle, popping the lid upon and filling it up with water. He may not be able to make coffee, but nothing could go wrong with tea.

“Of course not, do you know how popular I was before the war?” Jinyoung defensively remarks, poking his cutlery in the air. “Bronze hair, slight freckles, a jaw that could kill! I was clearly the only one up to your standards.”

“God help me if I was that superficial,” Mark says as he pops in two spoons of sugar into his mug, watching the little white crystals melt into the deep red of his tea. It reminds him vaguely of the tea sessions Barrick and Henrikka had, she always liked four cubes in her tea, and Barrick always gagged at it.

“You weren’t,” Jinyoung says, pulling Mark’s attention back. “You were kind-hearted and tender, outrageously independent and sometimes a little angry, you hated the situation you were in but you felt a responsibility to the men that were fighting. Even when you were afraid, you loved stronger than anyone could ever.”

Mark’s hiding his face behind his mug, the steam from his drink vaguely clouding his vision. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to respond to that. Even though he knew he was talking about someone else, Mark couldn’t help but feel the strings at his heart tug a little.

“Boy, have you changed.” Jinyoung chides, taking his attention back to the food before him.

“Excuse me?” Mark retorts, placing his mug beside him on the counter. “I didn’t change, I’m a completely different person.” He’s also incredibly offended but he wasn’t going to let Jinyoung know that.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s kind of weird how different you are in every life, like I know you don’t remember but don’t you think there’d be some type of correlation to why I always end up falling in love with you?” Jinyoung says it all so naturally and smoothly Mark almost didn’t pick up on the last bit.

“You’re in love with me?” Mark asks with a very fine raise of his eyebrow, he picks up his mug again and sips on it quietly, watching Jinyoung from over the rim of the cup.

Jinyoung’s looking down at the containers, his chewing slightly slower than before and he’s got one hand gripping the counter as he leans over it. “I didn’t say that,” He coughs, and gives Mark a look. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Uh-huh,” Mark’s smiling widely into his cup, not really thinking about just how much the heat from his drink is scalding his lips.

Jinyoung groans deeply and goes to shovel four mouthfuls full of food in one go, as if it could hide just how embarrassed he is right now. Mark watches him as he chews violently wondering if this was really okay, wondering if he could give in maybe. He couldn’t help but think if they were fated to always meet, did that mean they were always fated to part?

You’re wrong, Mark.

Barrick?

He is not fate. Fate would be a blessing, fate would mean it’s written in the stars. Fate would say this is meant to be. But this is a curse, we have always been a curse, nothing more, and nothing less. A curse made up of forever, a forever always at an arm's length from each other. So while you can still grab his hand, Mark, I’d suggest you do it because you never know when the fire will come.

_____

A/N: hey hey, hope you're enjoying it!! if you'd like join me on le twitter @silkscrew :D