Turku, 1827

Barrick’s first taste of regret was on the day he’d come home for the first time in six years to find his little sister already gone. Ache was an understatement, the fury blinding, while the immense, suffocating feeling of regret rendered him to his knees. He came home to a coffin already in the ground, to his parents with wrinkles and black clothes, and tears that refused to spill from his eyes.

He’d told his sister stories when they were young, things like you could hear the dead in the wind, last wishes in the whistle of the air. He sits at her grave wondering if she’s speaking to him now, if the wind tickling at his forehead was her trying to comfort him somehow, trying to tell him it’s okay, I’m okay. but deep down he knows it’s just some twisted form of self-comfort because it isn’t okay.

It isn’t okay.

He’d left his home because a small town wasn’t enough for how big he wanted to be. He never returned home because his pride never matched his position. He avoided his mother’s letters often because he didn’t want to admit that still, after six years of growing up on his own, after turning into a man, deep down he stilled wanted his mother and his father. Deep down was still the fifteen year old boy.

She deserved more, his sister deserved the most. She deserved an older brother, and he’d spent years comforting himself, telling himself that he’d make it up to her. That’d he wait till he was successful, and then he’d give her the world. So how was he supposed to know that in the end it was going to be the world that took to her?

Barrick thinks briefly of Henrikka; of all the life’s she must have lived, of all the people she must have known, and all the grief she must feel. He wonders how people can possibly live like this, this feeling like your insides were slowly shrivelling up and drying you out. He wonders if it’s possible for a feeling to turn you into dust.

If time eases the pain, then was a week enough for Barrick to mourn and then move on with his life? He dreads the thought of leaving now, he dreads the thought of knowing his sister is under the soil all alone and cold, he wants to bury himself with her. To cradle her to sleep like he did when she was could barely understand that the shadows in her room weren’t meant to harm but that they’re there to protect her.

A week to travel home, a week to mourn, a week to travel back. Barrick couldn’t help but feel like something was coming to a close, something creeping up on him. Something inevitable. He’d left Henrikka with tears welling up in her eyes, he left her begging for him to stay. He couldn’t forget the sound of fear that weaved in her words, the feel of her shaky palms upon his arms as he made his way to the travelling tradesman. He promised he’d return within three weeks, but he couldn’t guarantee he’d be the same person.

Seoul, 2016

For all eight months Mark has been working at Yonsei university, this would have been the first time he’s ever willingly decided to visit Professor Jung’s office. Not to say either he or her seem happy about it, but he takes a little pride in the fact he hasn’t come today with the primal instinct of survival kicking in.

“Professor Tuan, what do I owe this pleasure? Please, take a seat.” She says robotically, not looking up from her desk.

“No thank you, I’ve just come to notify you about something.” Mark says from where he is, just barely a step away from the door.

“Well, what is it then?” She presses, clearly the few ten seconds he’s taken up has been ten seconds too long.

“I’ve decided to continue my contract for the rest of the year.” He announces.

This, in turn, finally garners Professor Jung’s attention. She pauses mid pen and looks up from her desk. “This is sudden, although pleasant to hear. You’ve saved me a lot of work, Professor Tuan.”

Mark grimaces ever so slightly. Not like he was expecting her undying devotion of how much she respects him as a fellow intellect but to be brushed away like he was a pest problem did wound his ego just a little bit.

“Well, that’s it. I’ll get going then,” Mark awkwardly shuffles on his feet, and Professor Jung returns back to her work without another word said. He’s about to make his way out of the room but pauses just as he reaches out for the door knob. Gingerly, he peers over his shoulder and decides to take this new found confidence to a higher level. “Professor Jung.”

“Yes?” She replies in a tone that would otherwise say you haven’t left yet?

“…you’re distaste for me has been pretty evident from the beginning, I guess I just don’t understand why you requested for me in the first place if you believe I was going to be too much of a hassle.” He says quickly, his worlds tumbling into each other and he doesn’t try to let his uncertainty show in his shoulders.

Professor Jung looks down at her still hand for a moment before lifting her head. She takes off her glasses and places them gently on the desk. “You aren’t that special Mr Tuan, I have an outright distaste for most things. But to answer your question, it wasn’t me that petitioned for you to lecture here.”

“It wasn’t?” Mark is taken back. In hindsight there wasn’t really anything that had pointed towards Professor Jung requesting for him in the first place other than the fact that she had made the initial call and handled all his paperwork and contracts when he first arrived. He’d just assumed it was her that made the request in the first place.

“No, it was Professor Choi. He’d come to me with your recently published thesis and had basically pitched to me the benefits of inviting you here. I had nothing to lose, and we had seen a decline in international applications, thankfully that is something your presence has improved.” She her lips and smiles a little, it’s not wide or wicked, but it still makes Mark cringe. “Anyway, is that all?”

Mark nods uncertainly, “Yes, thank you Professor Jung.”

“Also Professor Tuan…” She calls out to his back and when he turns around, her glasses are already back on her nose. “You may think I’m just a tyrant here but I hope you understand to some extent that my job is to make sure the university runs smoothly. And just as you are under me and have to meet my expectations, I am also under someone else, and I am continuously trying to meet their expectations.”

Mark blinks at her, he realises her words may have lead to an opening somewhere he’d never seen from her before but she said it with such flatness he wonders if he’d just misheard that whole monologue. “Right, of course.” Is all he ends up saying and gives her a nod, quickly exiting the office.

Standing in the hallway, Mark finds a crease has formed in between his eyebrows. Youngjae? He’d never mentioned anything about this. When Mark first arrived here, Youngjae was of the few friendly staff members that hadn’t shied away from him, and they’d just naturally become closer. Youngjae had mentioned he’d read some of Mark’s work before, but not to the extent it garnered him a transfer request.

“Professor?” Someone calls out and Mark jumps at the sight of Jinyoung beside him.

“Jesus, Jinyoung. Can you make some noise?” Mark complains.

Jinyoung narrows his eyes, “You know you do this thing where you completely zone out and don’t hear anything for a while?”

“You mean what you do on a day to day basis?” Mark asks with a of his eyebrow. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car.”

“Do you know how suffocated I am? I’ve been holed up in that cottage-mansion for like three days now. I’m going to bite my hand off.” Jinyoung seethes. He was right, Mark had warned him off going outside for as long as possible but anyone would start feeling cramped by this point.

“But still the university is one place you won’t get a breather, let’s go before someone notices you, everyone’s probably in class right now.” Mark says with a pat to his back and Jinyoung gives him a little pout in return but still follows his guide willingly.

“What were you talking to Professor Jung about anyway?”

“Among all the mayhem I forgot to tell her that I wasn’t leaving anymore,” Mark says as the two of them turn out into the quart-yard where a few students are speckled around the benches and patches of green. Luckily there weren’t that many students out, being it summer and all most of the under-graduates have gone home for the break, leaving the campus for the post-grads to take over. That being said, Mark’s still nervous, just one person noticing Jinyoung now could set off a crowd.

“I’m in a hoody, no one can see my face Professor, relax.” Jinyoung says, and Mark swears he can hear him roll his eye from under the shadow of his hood.

Mark let’s out a huff and pats the top of his cotton head, “I know, I know.”

They make their way back to Mark’s car, just parked off the side of the road from the quart-yard and buckle themselves in. Mark pauses mid-motion, his hand to the ignition. “You know what?” He says mostly to himself as he turns the car on. It rumbles to life, apparently as eager as Mark to get going. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Jinyoung shifts out of his hood and looks to the side, “Go where?”

“Anywhere,” Mark shrugs, and starts turning the car out onto the road. “We’ve both been holed up for too long. So let’s just drive.”

Jinyoung settles into his seat and gives Mark a meek nod of agreement. So they drive, Mark not really having a destination but craving the need for the wind in his hair. He opens the windows to the lowest and speeds up, letting the air ride with them.

It makes him think of the sea, of the wind that tackled the coast. Fishing ports and trading docks, old men and young men pulling in boats with their ropes, and the sound of fishing rods reeling out into the water. There’s the cheery waves of laughter and the sound of men arguing over nothing like ghosts speaking to him through the wind.

“I know that face,” Jinyoung says from beside him, pulling him out gently from his thoughts. “You’re reminiscing.”

Mark pulls up the windows on either side of the car so the roar of the wind becomes nothing but a whistle and gives Jinyoung a quick smile. “You know the definition for reminiscing is indulging in past events? But for some reason whenever I find myself reminiscing it’s never really about the memories I experienced. They’re always Barrick’s.”

“You’re not happy with your current life?” Jinyoung asks, looking out across the highway. The little strands to the top his head are dancing in the breeze, his shoulders soft against the seat, and Mark thinks this may be the first time he’s seen Jinyoung look so relaxed.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy...but rather I think I spent this life focusing too much on pretending Barrick didn’t exist. Pretending I was ‘normal’, making sure no one found out about me, that I never really lived. I just went with the flow, education then job, minimal relationships.” Mark says, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wheel. “I didn’t get into trouble, I didn’t bother, so that means I never really failed either, I guess I felt tired of life. I’d already lived once, I couldn’t bare continuing something I already knew the end to.”

“You never dated someone? Ever thought about having a family or something?” Jinyoung asks, watching Mark’s side profile.

He shrugs, “Not really. The thought kind of scared me actually. What If I remembered my last life and I could meet my grandchildren? Or great-grandchildren. It’s a bit scary, the idea of remembering a life and having to start a new one with different people while your old one continued on. Am I making sense?”

“Yeah...you are. Although I’ve never had children, not in any of my lives. But I get the vague idea I know what it feels like to have one. Maybe in some sense every life after the other feels like a child. Like they’re all watching over me, protecting me.” Jinyoung says, he’s tugging at the hem of his sleeves like he usually does when he’s thinking about something, when he’s here.

“I see, you’re a family in your own sense.”

“In our own twisted sense, yeah,” He snorts and gives Mark a quick look from the side. He’s biting his lip a little in thought. “Professor…”

“Hm?” Mark hums, looking up at the sky through the windshield. It’s sunny out but there’s the anxious curl of grey clouds crawling from the corner of the sky and Mark wonders if they’re going to get caught in rain.

“Are you gay?”

Mark’s foot slips and he presses on the brake on instinct, the car jolting and coughing up for a second. The blare of honks whizz by them as Mark slows down all of sudden, disrupting the speed of traffic.

“Was that a bad question?” Jinyoung gulps, his hand clenched to the car door.

“No, it’s just- my foot slipped, and you caught me off guard with that topic. We were talking about one thing and you mentioned- I just. Ok, hm.” Mark clears his throat and shuffles in his seat. He tries to roll out his shoulders and relax but now he’s become too hyper aware of Jinyoung.

“Well, it’s different for the two of us, you know? I’ve been female and male, and eventually genders just become a blur to me, but you’ve only been male, or at least you only ever remember being male so I was just wondering, I guess.” He’s looking uncomfortable where he is. In the car there is no corner for him to hide in and fold into so now he’s just trying to hide his face casually with his hand.

“Can I tell you the truth?” Mark says as they turn into the right lane, slowing down a little bit. “I don’t really know, or I guess I never thought about it. I guess in some sense, uality doesn’t mean much to me. I haven’t ever really dated anyone long term, and anyone I have been with was female just because it was easier. But…” He gives Jinyoung a look, and then quickly returns back to the road. “It may be a little different now.”

Jinyoung visibly stiffens and Mark finds himself smiling. “Have you dated anyone though? I’m sure people were all over you?”

“I like the use of past tense, Professor.” Jinyoung deadpans but he’s smiling too. “Yeah, I dated a girl when I was an under-graduate for three years but when we graduated she had to go back to her hometown in Daegu, I guess breaking up was just inevitable.”

“So what you were straight before and now you’re not?”

Jinyoung tilts his head in thought and hums, “I don’t think it works like that. I kind of think growing up in society that tells you you’re either straight or not is a pretty restrictive. I mean what if uality is just a spectrum, there’s no percentage to how much you may like girls or how much you may like guys? But society just tells you have to conform to this or that, some people may be more susceptible to it and others may not be. I don’t know, in the end I think you just fall for people, not gender.”

“I never thought about it like that,” Mark nods, looking up at the highway signs. One has an arrow pointing to the right towards Panmunjon and he impulsively takes the turning. “So am I the first male you’re aware of falling for?”

Jinyoung freezes now, a hand to his mouth and he’s staring hard at the dashboard as if almost wishing for something horribly drastic to happen. But seconds tick by and nothing does, and Jinyoung eventually realises he has to respond. “I told you it isn’t like that.” He forces out.

“You’re pretty bad at lying Jinyoung, you know that?”

“Wrong, Professor, I’m actually a great liar. It’s just that part of my brain that makes me function seems to break down around you is all. So really this whole awkward situation is your fault.” Jinyoung grumbles, his lips pursed out into a pout and Mark can’t help but choke in laughter.

“How did you manage to twist it around like that? Why is this my fault?” He chuckles, but Jinyoung isn’t playing cute anymore and is instead looking out towards the road with a distant look.

“I can’t tell you how...or when. Honestly I don’t even really know. It’s just...at first you were hope to me, and now you’re more.” He says softly, so softly the wind could have easily taken it away from Mark before it reached him.

There’s a large sign reading pit stop pointing towards a road that disappears into a corner and Mark quickly takes the turning. They reach a parking lot bordered with restaurants, a hotel, and a gas station. Mark doesn’t really think about where or how he’s parked, he just takes the seemingly most easiest, emptiest spot at the back of the lot and turns off the car.

Jinyoung looks around curiously, “Are we grabbing food or something?”

Mark takes a deep breath and unbuckles his seatbelt. Then, in a burst of bravery, he leans over to the passenger seat and presses his lips against Jinyoung’s. Jinyoung blinks wide eyed, shock and fluster running around in them, and his cheeks quickly warm up to Mark’s touch. “What are you doing?” Jinyoung says against Mark’s lips. He’s already relaxed against him, and his eyes look seconds away from fluttering shut.

Mark takes another shaky breath in and inches back by just a fraction, “Just let me try something, okay?” He leans closer to Jinyoung and presses their lips together, this time Jinyoung more welcoming to the touch. Mark has his hand just delicately cradling his jaw and Jinyoung must notice his hand shaking because he takes it into his own and intertwines their fingers together. Their lips move slowly, bottom lip against top lip, softness and warmth, and Mark thinks of honey and feathers.

Jinyoung takes his hand to the back of Mark’s neck and pulls him in closer, there’s a low rubble in his throat and Mark’s more than eager to taste it. He shivers under his touch and finds himself desperate for more than sweet pecks and plush lips. “Mark,” He breathes and Mark responds to the call with a more heated kiss.

Hot breaths fill the space between them, low murmurs and hoarse moans meld together so tightly they couldn’t tell whose voice belonged to who. Mark has a hand against the back of Jinyoung’s seat, his fingers digging into the leather so tightly like it could hold himself back from slipping into a kiss that tasted so much like hunger and wanting. He’d never kissed someone like this, he never knew it was possible to kiss someone like this. His heart in his throat and he’s weak in his knees, and he wonders if it’s possible to feel this trapped by someone’s touch.

They part eventually, too soon, or maybe after too long, Mark can’t tell. He’s dizzy with heat and he’s struggling to breathe. He almost feels embarrassed but then he looks down at Jinyoung who looks so pink in the cheeks, his lips swollen and mildly red and suddenly Mark’s overcome with this bittersweet pain.

Jinyoung’s staring at Mark’s lips and Mark swallows down to keep whatever lingering resolve he has left to sit back in his seat. This is then where the imminent awkward atmosphere starts leaking in, and where Mark should start regretting something right about now, but nothing hits him and he’s wondering if the situation is malfunctioning in on itself or maybe Mark didn’t just do something incredibly stupid. He’s pretty sure he did something stupid.

“Professor.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to the bathroom real quick.” Jinyoung says and basically lurches for the car handle.

“Yup, yup, go ahead, I’ll just wait here…” Mark says quickly as Jinyoung exits the car. “And die.” He slams his head back into the seat once, twice, three times until he feels like a fourth could be borderline concussion inducing and sighs. “Idiot-”

“Professor.” Jinyoung calls out, looking at him through the small opening in the window.

“! Yes, I mean hello-what?” Mark clears his throat and sits up in his seat.

“You didn’t do anything wrong just in case you started panicking there, I’ll be back.” Jinyoung’s voice is so calm and low Mark could almost hear the wires in his head short-circuiting.

“Yeah, right, got it.” Mark says and Jinyoung gives him a nod before sprinting down the car park.

Mark then slams his head down to the wheel where he settles his forehead, the centre pulsing in pain. “What are you doing?” He asks himself quietly. Right now wasn’t a time for romantic endeavours, not when Jinyoung’s degree was at stake, not when their lives were at risk, nothing about this was appropriate. But Mark couldn’t help but think about Barrick’s words, while you still can...grab his hand. If there was one thing Mark didn’t want to take as his own, it was Barrick’s feelings of regret. Wretched twisted feelings that felt too much like suffocation and tasted too much like blood to the tongue - he’d take anything but that.

When Jinyoung returns it’s just started to rain, droplets staining the windshield. When he jumps back into the car he brings with him cold air and the faint scent of hand soap. The nerves seem to have settled within Mark now, his insides feeling a little like the blue sky cluttered with sickly clouds. He didn’t want to feel like he’d done something bad, but he couldn’t help it either.

“I wanted to take us to the coast, but I don’t think the weather’s going to ease up by the time we get there,” Mark says, giving Jinyoung the most natural look he could conjure. He thinks his lip twitched, no, his lip definitely twitched.

“It’s alright Professor, I’m already feeling better.” Jinyoung says, slipping on his seatbelt. “But you’re not going to pretend what just happened didn’t happen are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Mark almost instinctively replies.

Jinyoung’s smiling a little as he settles into the passenger seat, “That’s good.”

Mark gives him another look, but a little more contemplating this time. In some vague moment of cowardice he actually thought about pretending it didn’t happen, but then the idea hurt himself more than he would like so he just scrapped that. That didn’t stop the demon on his shoulder from whispering in his ear, convincing him what he did was either crossing a line between their teacher-student relationship, or maybe Mark just took advantage of Jinyoung’s feelings, or maybe he just misread Jinyoung’s feelings for him entirely. Either way he was trying not to let the anxiety eating away at him show on his face.

“Professor, are you okay?” Jinyoung asks after waiting a moment too long, Mark’s hand hovering over the ignition. He just needs to turn the keys but even such a simple command can’t seem to make a proper circuit to his brain.

“Yes, maybe- no not really. Just to be clear, that was consensual, right?” Mark mumbles.

Jinyoung looks at him with a tilt of his head, trying to read Mark’s expression. Mark, however, is imminent on keeping his face flat. “Yes.”

“I didn’t take advantage of you?”

“No.”

“We sure?”

“Are you sure?”

Mark bites his tongue. “I just need to make sure I didn’t just absolutely destroy something here, Jinyoung.”

“Well…” Jinyoung looks up at the dull sky from his window, a smile itching to play on his face. “Nothing I wouldn’t have destroyed eventually, Professor.” He says the last word like he was laughing at some personal joke, but the lightness in his voice eases Mark’s nerves and it’s enough to melt the tension in his hand so he can get the car started.

“Okay...let’s get some food and pick up Mihyun while we’re on our way home, hm?” Mark says, giving Jinyoung’s head a quick rub before he takes it to the wheel and pulls the car out of the parking lot.

“Yeah.” Jinyoung responds.

Exiting the pit stop, Mark doesn’t miss the little rub Jinyoung gives himself on the head, and the smile in the reflection of the rain tattered window.

It’s late in the evening when Mark makes a visit to Youngjae’s apartment. Now that he thinks about it, Mark’s probably never visited Youngjae’s place during the day. He can’t seem to imagine what the flat that's always settled itself in darkness would look like in the brightness of day.

“Evening,” Mark says, holding up a pack of beers.

Youngjae’s staring at him through lopsided glasses and heavy lidded eyes.

“Were you napping?” Mark asks, and Youngjae barely nods in response. “Do you ever sleep on a regular schedule?”

“...difficult to sleep.” Youngjae mumbles as he lets Mark into his home. As usual, the second Mark steps in, he regrets everything. The heaters seem to be set to full blast and the windows don’t even look like they’ve been touched since he moved in, and Mark’s wondering how Youngjae hasn’t suffocated to death yet.

“Why is the heater always on? What’s wrong with you? It’s summer.” Mark complains from the front door as he shuffles out of his shoes. Youngjae’s already deep into his living room, turning on the lights and shuffling to the open kitchen. “Oh .”

Now Mark’s always known Youngjae has a knack for making a wreck out of any space he’s claimed his own. In fact after the first few visits to Youngjae’s apartment, Mark had begun to specifically schedule his visits for after the cleaner made a visit. So Mark knows he’s made a mistake now because the living room seems to be drowning. There isn’t a single flat piece of furniture that hasn’t been covered in papers and files.

“I know what this is, I know exactly what this means.” Mark mumbles, narrowing his eyes at the laptop on the coffee table, snuggled right in between what looks like a mountain of purple highlighted articles. “You’re writing a paper?” He asks, almost in horror.

Youngjae’s staring at Mark from across the living space like his soul has completely departed his body. “You know when you read one thing and you just suddenly start tumbling and now you can’t stop?”

“Yup, that’s it. So what’s the topic?” Mark asks curiously, picking up a random picture up from the floor beside his foot. It’s of a desert, black and white, and below it the caption Talkamakan desert, 1899.

“Do you have time for me to tell you?”

“How long will it take?”

“About a week.”

“I think I’m okay,” Mark smiles cheekily and quickly drops the picture to the coffee table. “Got enough to think about as it is.”

“How is Jinyoung?” Youngjae asks as he bends down into his fridge, pulling out a carton of apple juice. Mark quickly marches his way to the island counter, snatching the carton into his hands as Youngjae turns around with a glass cup. “Do you want some?”

Mark looks up at him with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Are you asking me because you’ll know I say no or because you know I know there isn’t actual apple juice in there?”

Youngjae grabs the carton out of his hand and goes to pour himself a drink, “That’s not true. There is apple juice in here. And vodka.” Mark slaps a hand to the top of the glass and drags it away from Youngjae.

“I brought beer for a reason.” He says and settles the six pack onto the counter. Youngjae looks up from his circle lenses and eyes Mark for a moment before letting his grip on the cup go. “That’s a responsible adult.”

“Don’t mock me,” Youngjae retorts with a roll of his eyes. He goes to the six pack and grabs a can, popping it open.

“What’s with you hiding vodka in juice cartons anyway?” Mark says, sniffing at the drink and cringing at the bitter scent.

“My mother comes often and stuffs my fridge up. She’s anti-alcohol, you wouldn’t even believe.” Youngjae sighs as he makes his way round back into the living room, eyeing his living room with a narrow look.

“What if she fancied a cup of apple juice one day?”

Youngjae looks over his shoulder with a playful smirk, “She doesn’t like apple juice.”

“Genius.”

Youngjae chuckles lightly and takes a swing of his beer. “You didn’t answer my question, how is Jinyoung?” He asks as he goes to the sofa and shuffles the heap of papers to one side.

“Same old, same old.” Mark responds casually, leaning back against the island counter.

Youngjae raises his eyebrows up above his glasses visibly from where he is now settled onto the sofa, articles and reports blanketing him at the lap. “You say ‘same old’ as if Jinyoung’s ‘old’ was any good. Any improvements?”

Mark purses his lips in thought. He couldn’t really say there were improvements, but neither has things gotten worse. “Things have changed…?”

“For better or for worse?” He asks as he leans over his laptop, one hand sliding across the touchpad while the other had his can of beer held to his lips.

“I’m not sure. Things are a bit difficult.”

“Too difficult to tell me or to explain? Two minds are better than one.” He suggests, now too focused on whatever was going across his screen.

Mark sighs heavily and makes his way towards the coffee table where he digs out an empty space on the wooden floor and places himself down. His own can of beer in his hands unopened. “I wish I could, really. But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I get it,” Youngjae says, popping his face over his laptop. “As long as you’re both okay that’s all that matters. I mean aside from the suicide attempt, I actually thought Jinyoung was improving. He was starting to look a little relaxed, a little himself.”

“A little himself,” Mark repeats to himself as a he cracks open his beer, quick to up the froth that bubbles up through the opening. “You ever wonder what people really are?”

“What do you mean?” Youngjae asks, chugging down on the rest of his beer. He quickly gets up to grab the remaining four packs and settles it upon the coffee table, just above a stack of printed photographs. Mark eyes them casually, there were pictures of green landscapes, spruce trees upon mountains layered in snow, deserts that go on forever like the sea dried up.

“Existence, people, the brain, souls?” He says absentmindedly.

“Do you believe people have souls?”

Mark looks up where Youngjae’s leaning back into his sofa, his second can of beer in his hand. “I don’t know really. Are people born with souls or is the brain a soul? When we die does everything just shut off?”

“I wonder about that too sometimes,” Youngjae says into his drink. “But the thing about pondering over things we’ll never be able to find out is that it can easily take you over. Like running through a maze that has no end. You’ll keep turning and twisting but there isn’t an exit, you won’t find your answer. So what’s the point in thinking about it?”

“I suppose, although I can’t say that was very inspirational. Think of the scientists.” Mark pouts, taking his own meek sip. Revelling in the cold bitterness that glides down his throat.

“Think of the scientists,” Youngjae barks out a laugh. “I like that one.”

“Glad to see a smile, I feel like I’ve been living in mud I can’t get out these past few weeks.” Mark says, looking and feeling a little solemn.

“Things are a tough, huh?”

“Well, you could say that. Nothing like looking after a student who’s losing his mind, me actually dying out of nowhere, reporters chasing me, oh and let’s not forget that earthquake.” He’s trying to go for a joke-y tone but it sounds a lot more like ranting, the words coming out of his mouth fast and a little too naturally. Mark’s come to realise that in hindsight, he may not be taking recent events as well as he’d thought. Change was natural, change was normal over a slow progession of time. But the changes he felt twisting around him was something far beyond rationality.

“Earthquake, that was strange.” Youngjae murmurs, the eyes behind his lenses now a little lost. He’s staring at his laptop screen but Mark knew that kind of look, the look he’d seen on Jinyoung, where something had completely taken over his mind.

“Of course, but it’s not like Korea is a stranger to them.” Mark shrugs, tilting his head back to take the last drops of his beer before he crushes the can between his hand.

“No, but the thing that’s strange was that there was no fore-warnings, nothing that indicated even the possibility of a tremor.” Youngjae contemplates mostly to himself, his finger circling the edge of his can.

“I suppose, but they can happen out of nowhere too, can’t they?” Mark shrugs as he goes to reach for another beer. He picks up the pack and finds the pictures he was looking at earlier stick to the bottom of the can, lifting it, they reveal a second larger picture from below. It’s of a painting, a river gliding through the middle while a city of ashes borders its edges.

Mark slowly takes the picture into his hand and settles the pack back where it was. “What’s this?” He asks as casually as he can.

“What’s what?” Youngjae responds as he taps away furiously at his laptop.

Mark looks up at Youngjae and let’s out a shaky breath. “It’s a picture of a city burned to the ground.”

“Ah, It’s probably of Turku. The capital of Finland, it burned down in the nineteenth century.” Youngjae replies casually, not taking his attention off the screen.

“Really? What happened?”

“A fire started at someone’s home, no one knows if it was arson or an accident but it destroyed like 75% of the city. The remaining surviving part is kind of like a museum now, it’s pretty amazing.” Youngjae explains as he rises off the sofa. “Want some snacks? I fell asleep the second I got home from work and haven’t eaten anything.”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Mark mutters as Youngjae starts shuffling through cabinets. Mark looks back down at the picture in his hand and finds it is definitely the very same painting by Gustaf Wilhelm Finnberg, the one that was attached to the emails he received.

“You sure? I’ve got like four packets of ramen I’ve managed to covertly hide from my mother too.” Youngjae laughs lightheartedly, his head deep into a cabinet just below the sink.

Mark watches him as chucks two packets of ramen onto the counter and makes his way to the fridge. “Have you got egg to go with it?” Mark asks smoothly.

“Hmmm, I’ve got egg, green onions, and sausage. Shall I put them all in?” Youngjae says into his refrigerator in the most fluent of Finnish, his accent so smooth Mark would believe him if he said he was born and raised there.

There’s a flat moment of silence that rings so painfully throughout the apartment then. Youngjae’s frozen at the fridge and Mark’s stopped breathing. Then, ever so slowly, Youngjae quietly goes to shut the fridge door and takes his hand to rub at his neck. Mark feels like puking, or running, actually he feels like doing both but he’s turned to stone on the floor of Youngjae’s living room, watching him as he turns to look at Mark just over his shoulder.

“Ah...I slipped.” Youngjae says and then gives Mark the faintest of smiles.