Mark spent the whole night wishing. Words got tangled in dreams while consciousness drifted in and out. He wished, and wished, and wished. Wished to undo the knots that have tightened around their necks like a noose for the last five hundred years. His begs spilled into the air, trickling down his face in sleepy tears. Nothing changed though. Nothing but the darkness slowly giving way to light and soon enough, morning had come with the sun greeting him in mockery.

Hope is dangerous, Mark concludes as he achingly sits up.

Many thoughts swam around him amongst the darkness, where he laid under his covers, hearing nothing but the soft creak of the house. He’d tried piecing together everything Jinyoung and Youngjae had told him, frustrated by the fact that neither of them really knew the truth about their own predicament.

Youngjae had said Mark shared a Jinn with Jinyoung, but then he said he shared one with Youngjae too. Was it even possible for them to split themselves into two people? Into a person who had never even voluntarily gave themselves up in the first place? Or maybe it was an opportunity? If Jinns like to play games so much, to twist and prick at human’s like plucking the legs of a spider one by one, then certainly they must have left an opening?

After all, fixed immortality doesn’t seem like something that even a demon would want.

So if he had a wish or even two, how does he go about getting them granted?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jinyoung’s voice is light, a butterfly fluttering through the thick fog of Mark’s room.

“Do you have a couple of pennies?” Mark chuckles.

“Rough night?” Jinyoung asks as he makes his way into the room.

“Can you tell?” Mark sighs and rubs a palm over his face. He feels sticky and hot, it was warm throughout the night but with the sun now rising, Mark can tell today was going to be torture.

Jinyoung settles beside him on the bed and takes a hand to the side of Mark’s face. “Don’t do that.” Mark cringes. “I’m all… gross right now.”

Jinyoung snorts and takes his head to Mark’s hair where he ruffles at the clump of strands. With the little space between them, Mark can see all the fine details of Jinyoung’s face. There’s the small upturn of his lips that says he’s trying to act like he’s okay. Mark is silent for a moment, his eyes travelling across Jinyoung’s face, noting the dark shadows beneath Jinyoung’s eyes and the faint lines of his forehead, as if he’d had his eyebrows scrunched together for a while.

“Are you alright?” Mark finally asks, quiet and gentle.

Jinyoung’s hand settles down onto the cushion of Mark’s hair. His eyes flicker down briefly before traveling back to meet with Mark’s. “What context are you asking in?”

“Memories of dead people aside context?” Mark asks with a raise of an eyebrow.

It earns him a small, genuine smile from Jinyoung before it disappears into a sigh. “It’s nothing much, I’ve just been having headaches. Makes it hard to sleep but I guess the nightmares are less frequent?”

Mark half-smiles as he takes two palms to Jinyoung’s cheeks and cradles his face. “Were you always such a positive person?”

Jinyoung puckers his lips and gives Mark an arrogant sort of look. “I try.”

Mark chuckles and goes to press his lips to Jinyoung’s for a short kiss. “Oh, you’re being loveable, Professor.” Jinyoung says between the tight space of Mark’s hands. His words make Mark still for a moment before cringing back.

“Can we agree not to use titles like ‘Professor’ in these sort of situations? It makes me feel like a ert.” Mark mumbles, dropping his hands away from Jinyoung’s face and almost rubbing them on his pants.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, Mr. Tuan.” He huffs, getting up off the bed.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Mark whines as he follows him up, heading out of the bedroom door.

Jinyoung suddenly stops mid-step and swivels around on his heels, facing Mark with extreme proximity and a sly grin on his face. “Let’s just go down and have some breakfast before Ahjumma starts screaming, hmm, Mark?” Jinyoung grins wide now, his eyes dancing and in a flash, he gives him a peck on the cheek and disappears down the hallway.

Mark blinks as he brings his hand up to his face, fingertips barely grazing the skin of his cheek. He’s trying to fight off a goofy smile but it eventually wins and now Mark’s standing in his doorway alone looking like an idiot.

After a very much dazed wash up in the bathroom, Mark finally makes his way downstairs and into the kitchen where breakfast is set up in the form of a feast. Insook and Jinyoung are already settled in their seats, their faces nose deep into their rice bowls. Mark’s staring down at the spread of food, he stops counting how many side dishes there are laid out on the table by the time he gets to eleven.

“What’s the occasion?” Mark asks mildly baffled and a little starstruck.

“Leftovers.” Jinyoung says mouthful, not even bothering to lift his eyes up from wherever his chopsticks were landing. “Ahjumma and her daughter have been making food together we’ve now got side dishes to feed an army for a week.”

“I see.” Mark nods as he takes his seat in front of Jinyoung, meekly picking up his own set of chopstick. “Thank you for the food.” He quickly mumbles before flying for the food.

They eat in blissful silence for a while, Mark and Jinyoung completely immersed in the home cooked food that they don’t even notice Insook has been staring at them for ten minutes straight.

“You two didn’t come home the other night.” She says out of the blue.

Mark spits out rice everywhere, mainly at Jinyoung. “What!?” He chokes out.

“Ah, Professor,” Jinyoung sighs to himself, picking small bits of rice off of his t-shirt. “Ever the obvious.”

Mark gives him a thin glare before returning his look to Insook. She simply shrugs and goes back to her food.

“This woman,” Mark mutters and slaps his chopstick to the table. “We went to the beach, Ahjumma, stop thinking weird things!”

“I didn’t say anything,” She retorts. Jinyoung bites his lip, a futile attempt in trying to to hide his amused smile.

“Seriously,” Mark frustratingly huffs, eyeing Insook for a moment longer before something over her shoulder, in the garden, catches his eye. He thinks he sees a cloth flying in the wind for a moment, a vibrant orange against the soft green leaves cradling flowers in beds of soil. It flickers in the air for a moment before disappearing behind the wall of the kitchen.

Mark stares out to through the glass doors of the garden for a while, waiting to see that same orange fabric come flying back around but nothing appears. In fact, Mark doesn’t see any movement at all, not even a breeze strong enough to even rattle the hanging flower pots.

“What you looking at?” Jinyoung asks between chews.

“Hm?” Mark blinks. “Ah, nothing, just thought I saw something.”

Jinyoung’s jaw moves slower as he eyes Mark pick his chopsticks back up. “I decided to go back to classes today.” He announces quickly.

Insook continues on slurping up her soup and picking at side dishes as if she hadn’t heard a thing, somehow comfortable in settling into the background. Mark tries not to let the sudden spark of worry show on his face, his fists growing tighter as he swings the pair of chopsticks in the air.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He tries to go for nonchalant but his jaw is stiff and his voices comes out small, constraint.

Jinyoung easily picks up on it but doesn’t try to make a point of it. “It’s been nearly three weeks. The longer I stay absent, the more my reappearance is a big deal. I need to go back like I’ve got nothing to hide.” He says.

It’s reasonable, it’s understandable. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean Mark likes it. “What if someone starts asking questions? What if there are still reporters hanging around?”

“Oh come on, Professor. Reporters can only hold onto a conspiracy theory for so long. Besides I know how to deal with people more than you know. I wasn’t always the… hysteric?” Jinyoung quips with a grin, a soft smile trying to ease the tension in Mark that’s so evident he might as well have had a neon light above his head that said ‘don’t go’.

“Fine,” Mark forces out, breathing sharply through his nose. “But you stick with Mihyun at all times, even to the bathroom if you have to and if anything happens- and I mean the tiniest anything- call me, okay? I haven’t got any lectures today so I’m at home.”

Jinyoung gives Mark a nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says with so much ease Mark almost believes him. “So if you’ve got the day off, what’re you planning to do today?”

Mark his lips as he reaches for his cup of water. His eyes travel back towards the double doors of the back garden where the sky is clean of clouds and the roofs of houses ripple with heat. “I’m going to meditate.” Mark says and takes a long sip of his water.

Mark’s been sitting on the docks for a while too long now. Even though time is a whimsical concept to the waters of his mind, there was only so much entertainment in watching the faint waves of the sea before him.

“Barrick,” Mark almost groans. “You can’t hide forever.”

“On the contrary, that’s exactly what I can do.” He huffs from behind. Mark doesn’t bother turning around, his eyes down to his hands where he’s been picking at his nails .

“You’ve been fighting your way through for so long, what a waste of time and effort.” Mark snorts as Barrick moves closer to him. The wooden docks below creak and moan as he shifts his weight downwards and settles crossed legged beside Mark.

“Exactly, what a waste of time.” Barrick sighs and in turn, the wind around them moves quickly, cold sweeping through the strands of their hair.

“Do you regret it though?” Mark asks, finally turning to look at Barrick. He’s in his favourite white tunic, tucked neatly into a pair of brown trousers fastened with a black belt.

Barrick’s blue eyes are bright, the usual greyness that clouded them had seemingly dissipated. They flicker to meet with Mark’s and reveal that it was more than the colour that had changed in them. “I have had enough of regrets.” He says simply.

This makes Mark smile, it’s unfamiliar to the both of them but he doesn’t fight it off his face. “That is possibly the best thing I have heard from you yet.” Mark chuckles lowly, returning his gaze back out to the sea. He thinks briefly about this place, how in his head he associated it a lot with Turku even though it wasn’t the same view Barrick had seen for most of his life.

“It feels like home.” Barrick says, reading Mark’s thoughts.

“It is home.” Mark replies. “No matter where I am, no matter who I am, it is always home.”

“Do you think we’d feel the same if we remembered Sadiya?” Barrick contemplates.

“You don’t remember her?” Mark asks.

Barrick shakes his head. “We weren’t ever meant to remember.”

“You can’t even talk to her now? In whatever… place you are in now?”

“No, I’ve never had any contact with our previous lives.”

“What about the ones in between?” Mark pushes, looking at Barrick from the side. “France? Japan?”

“I couldn’t get through to them. They don’t remember me and I lost them the moment they died.” Barrick sighs and turns his face to look at Mark directly. “I know why you wanted to meet and talk, Mark, but if I had answers for you, I would have given them to you.”

Mark’s eyebrows knit together as his lips downturn into a scowl. “Would you have? Are you telling the truth now?”

Barrick takes in Mark’s contempt, his face flat and still. “Before… I had my reasons to keep things from you, I didn’t want you to get in the way, but now, there’s nothing. There’s no reason for me to be here.” He admits solemnly, and despite what he had said earlier, Mark could still feel the regret spilling off him.

Mark in a big breath and drops his head into his hands. “I feel like these past few months have been a puzzle I piece together from one end only to have it unravel from another.”

“You’ve been nervous.” Barrick notes.

Mark rubs at his face and settles his chin into the palm of his hand. “I feel like something is going to happen. And with everything that’s gone on, I don’t know to what extent this feeling is just a feeling...” He trails off and turns to look at Barrick. “Or a warning.”

Barrick levels his eyes to Mark and then goes to place a large hand to Mark’s back. It’s odd, even though Barrick looked younger, his hands smaller than Mark’s, he comforted him better than anyone could have, and he didn’t say a thing.

“I’m not sure of it but I am rather confident that there have been memories coming undone inside you that do not belong to either of us. Nor do they belong to those between us either.” Barrick says, his face serious and thoughtful. “Desert and silk, heat beyond comprehension. Things I have never felt before but remember as though I had. She may be with us, Mark.”

“Then why isn’t she showing herself?” Mark frustratingly sighs.

“Maybe there’s just a time for everything-”

“I don’t have time!” Mark snaps and gets up to his feet.

Barrick looks up at him with confusion. “What has agitated you so much?” His eyes swarm over Mark, evidently trying to find the answer to his question on his own.

“I don’t know,” Mark sighs, the heels of his feet digging into the wood below. “No one knows anything. They’ve been chasing each other for 500 hundred years and they don’t even know anything!”

“You are talking about Ca- Youngjae and Jinyoung?” Barrick says, following him up to his feet.

“Barrick, I thought Youngjae might have all the answers, and I don’t know if he’s really oblivious or lying but his words aren’t adding up. How can I possibly go about breaking this and saving Jinyoung if no one even knows what this is?” Mark in a large breath, brushing his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You need to stop being so harsh on yourself, my friend.” Barrick says carefully. He steps in front of Mark and places two hands to his shoulder. His height is almost overbearing at this proximity, something Mark had never noticed before. “You have more answers now than any of us had since the beginning, reincarnations included. It will come.”

Mark looks into Barrick’s eyes and let’s out a deep breath. “It will come…”

“What will come?” Minhyun’s voice comes in like a crack to concrete. The ocean before him slips away into the holes of his mind, water falling into beds of soil where flowers bloom in colours so vibrant it stings his eyes. What was the sun once clogged with the fogs and clouds of his imagination now hangs in the sky with a fiery revenge, insufferable heat coating the ground. Mark wonders briefly if he thought to put on sunscreen before he decided to meditate in the back garden. The chances are low.

Mark in a quiet breath and squeezes his eyes shut, reality slipping back in slowly but surely. He’d always feel like this whenever he’d come out of his visits with Barrick, whenever he swam through his past life for too long. It could be explained as a sort of ‘out of body’ experience, but it felt more like delving very deep into himself, like playing with the edges of a coma.

“Professor?” Minhyun’s voice is small as she calls out to him. Her blonde hair curtains Mark’s vision as she cranes down to get a closer look.

Mark blinks and looks up, offering her a small smile. “You’re here?”

Mihyun takes in his expression and nods meekly, whatever may have been worrying her now swept aside. “Yeah, just came back with Jinyoung.”

“Already?” Mark mumbles and looks down to his wristwatch, it’s already two in the afternoon.

“We just had the one lecture today,” She explains as Mark pushes himself up from the tiled ground.

“How was it?” Mark asks as he pats off fine dust from his bottoms and stretches out his arms, muscles stiff and tight. He didn’t check what time he’d come out here to think but he feels as if he’d been here for hours.

“Awkward, definitely awkward,” Mihyun says, crossing her arms over her chest. “But no one really went out and attacked him so better than expected?”

Mark nods, patting Mihyun on the shoulder. “Thank you, Mihyun. You’ve done a lot.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Professor. He’s my friend.” Mihyun grins but then it drops as a thought dawns on her. “Ah, but Jinyoung’s not very happy right now so I’d say to stay away from his room.”

“What, why?” Mark asks more than ready to ignore her warning and make his way to Jinyoung.

Mihyun puts a hand out to stop him. “We went to pick some stuff up from his dorm room and he just found all his boxes outside. Seems that Jaebum has requested for a roommate change.” She explains.

“Can he just do that?”

“Well considering Jinyoung's unique circumstances, I’m going to assume it wasn’t hard.” Mihyun shrugs and drops her hand. “On the plus side, they’re offering him a single room without extra charges. Said it’d be free some time next week.”

A pang of disappointment hits Mark. “He agreed to it?”

“Yeah, he probably doesn’t want to bother you guys anymore.” Mihyun says as she goes to head back into the house. The glass doors are wide open and Mark enters the kitchen to Insook hunched over the counter, kneading what looks like dough in a silver bowl.

She looks up at him with her small beady eyes and then narrows them, “Did you go out there without any sunscreen?”

“Huh?” Mark dumbly retorts.

The old woman rolls her eyes and then nods towards him. “Your entire face and neck is red.”

“What?” Mark’s hand flies to his neck. The moment skin touches skin, he flinches. “Mother fu-” He mutters, a stinging pain radiates from the base of his collarbones up to his neck. “It didn’t feel that hot outside.” He mutters under his breath.

Insook rolls her eyes so hard Mark thinks he can almost hear them. “There’s cream in my room, top drawer of the cabinet by the door.”

Mark gives the old woman a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”

She huffs as Minhyun makes her way around the counter, “Is there anything I can help you with, Ahjumma?” She asks as Mark heads out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

There’s the sound of the soft click of a door that comes from above Mark’s head as he climbs the steps, quickly followed by footsteps and the sound of another door shutting. When Mark reaches the landing he sees Jinyoung’s bedroom door wide open, light spilling into the dimly lit corridor. He figures Jinyoung must have gone into the bathroom and heads into Insook’s room.

It’s one of the smaller bedrooms of the house, but still large enough for a double bed to fit, pressed to the side of the room. A chest of drawers, polished but aged into a dark brown, stands guard to the foot of the bed. A smaller one, identical in colour and wood, is snuggled up to the wall right by the door. Upon is it an old lamp, the shade beige and the metal lining rusty.

Mark pauses in the door frame of the room, feeling slightly intrusive. He’s never entered Insook’s room alone before. There’s an otherworldly feel to it, maybe what is likely of a room that belongs to someone of a different time. It holds an odd sense of nostalgia, a kind bittersweet feeling for something he’s never had an attachment to in the first place.

Mark meekly makes his way to the small cabinet and pulls at the metal handle, all curved and carved with swirls. No one really makes stuff like this anymore, somehow detail giving into simplicity over time. The thought is brief as Mark pulls opens the drawer to trinkets: an ashtray filled with buttons and two round tubs of cream. Mark picks them both up and stares at the labels, one was for wrinkles and the other sunscreen.

“Is it your habit to snoop in old ladies’ room?” Jinyoung mocks from beside the open door. Mark jumps, startled, grabbing his chest as he shoots him a thin glare.

“Can you make some noise?” Mark sighs, placing back the anti-wrinkle tub and closing the drawer.

“Why?” Jinyoung half-smirks. “You doing something something you don’t want to get caught over?”

“Yeah, stealing some cream from old ladies is one of my past times.” Mark grumbles, ready to walk out and past Jinyoung to make a some stubborn point but Jinyoung’s walked in and decided to have a tour.

He gives the room a once over, a thoughtful expression on his face. “At what point exactly do you think people get stuck in time?” Jinyoung thinks aloud, gliding a single finger over the top of the large chest of drawers.

Mark tilts his head and gives the room another look. The walls were plastered with a faded, floral wallpaper, something maybe less out of preference and more for convenience. In fact, the whole room could just have been items that eventually aged alongside Insook.

“Attachment?” Mark finally offers. “Or maybe clinging to a time that made them happiest?”

“She doesn’t have pictures.” Jinyoung notes, now standing idle before the desk that’s pressed underneath the window, and beside a blocked off chimney that stuck out of the wall. Knitting needles and a yarn of wool lay sprawled out across the dark wood, colours of peach and white entangled. Chipped bowls filled with needles, fray strings and spare change speckle across the top. To the right is a writing box, the top opened and exposing off-coloured paper and a pencil that looks like it’s been sharpened with a knife.

Mark’s eyes spread across the room confirming that there wasn’t a single picture. Not even framed paintings or pieces of art. “She doesn’t like them but I don’t know if it’s just because she doesn’t have people to like and picture or she just doesn’t like pictures themselves?”

Jinyoung looks over his shoulder and gives Mark a quirk of his eyebrow. “I get it.”

“You do?”

Strings play in Jinyoung’s mind, the light seemingly flickering in his pupils with the changing thoughts. With a blink, a conclusion seems to dawn on him and he simply nods. “You ever… loved something so much it made you sad?”

Mark blinks, “Oh.”

Jinyoung equips a small smile as he gives the scattered items on the desk one last look. He gives the desk a small tap with the tip of his finger and then turns around to look at Mark. Eyes narrowed and observing, his small smile soon gives into a signature smirk. “You were in the sun for too long I guess?”

“You can tell?” Mark sarcastically responds as he turns on his heels. He hears Jinyoung follow him quickly, shutting Insook’s door with a slight bang behind him. The two of them make their way down the hall where Mark makes an unexpected left turn into Jinyoung’s room.

“What’s up?” Jinyoung asks curiously.

Mark throws the tub of cream onto Jinyoung’s bed, indenting the smooth, laid out duvet and then goes to grab the hem of his shirt, quickly slipping off the piece from over his head.

“Woah, woah, what’s going on?” Jinyoung flusters.

Mark looks over his shoulder and raises both eyebrows at Jinyoung, “My skin is red and I’ve got a tub of cream here, what do you think is going on?” He chides.

A blush resembling sunburn bursts up his neck to the tips of his ears and the ends of his lips quickly drop into a grimace. Mark bites on his lip to keep the small grin on his face from growing into anything more.

Jinyoung opens his mouth only to quickly clamp it shut. “Sit down.” He says tightly through his lips.

Mark chuckles softly as he climbs on the bed, shuffling to the middle to give space for Jinyoung to sit behind him. The bed creaks with Jinyoung’s weight, Mark doesn’t miss the aggression he uses when he grabs the tub of cream and swivels it open. “Aren’t you supposed to put sunscreen on before you bake yourself in the sun?” Jinyoung bitterly remarks.

“Yeah, I know-” Mark hisses as Jinyoung slaps the cream onto his skin, cool and rough hands moving rapidly over Mark’s back. “Ok, I deserved that a little bit.” Mark clears his throat, breathing deeply through his nose.

“What were you doing outside for so long? I’m pretty sure your skin is going to start peeling tomorrow.” Jinyoung mumbles concerned, his hands now moving at a slower, more gentle pace.

Mark groans deeply. “I zoned out for a couple of hours I guess.”

“Zoned out…?” Jinyoung trails off and Mark itches to look over his shoulder to catch his expression but the pain shoots up his neck every time he tries to turn his head. “You were gone for a couple of hours the other night… when we came back from the seaside.”

Mark stiffens, but not visibly enough for Jinyoung to take notice. He contemplates whether to tell Jinyoung the truth or not.

Something taps upon Mark’s shoulder that feels too heavy to be Jinyoung’s hand. Mark tilts his head to the side a little where Jinyoung’s hair tickles at Mark’s cheek, he has his forehead pressed into the corner of Mark’s neck.

“What’s wrong?” Mark stiffly asks.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Jinyoung retorts, his voice small and brittle.

Mark doesn’t try to turn around, resigning himself to looking down into his lap. He flicks at his fingernails, scratching at his cuticles and pulling at the skin. “I went to see Youngjae.” He states flatly, and the anxiety that surges with his words bubbles through his veins but soon enough dissipates.

Tell the truth. You don’t need to be burdened alone.

The weight of Jinyoung’s head eases off of Mark, leaving his skin sore from the contact. “You haven’t given up.” It wasn’t a question.

“I can’t.” Mark sighs.

Jinyoung shifts from behind him, Mark doesn’t know what he’s doing until he flops down to sit crossed legged in front of him. Mark feels like he can’t look up, guilt prickling at his skin, or maybe that was just the sunburn. “Why can’t you?” Jinyoung asks.

“Why do you think?” Mark grumbles, lifting his head up meekly. Their eyes meet and Mark sees the brown colour of Jinyoung’s irises glimmer, wide and shimmering like they held the world in them. Mark holds his breath, thinking about the first time they spoke in the lecture hall all those weeks ago, where his eyes were as black as charcoal, his soul lost. He looks a little content now, like the pieces have finally matched and he’s become whole.

“Honestly, I understand,” Jinyoung nods to himself, looking down briefly into his own lap before he goes to grab Mark’s hands. “But I’m also tired, Mark.” He murmurs, his voice trickling like puddles slipping into cracked pavements.

It chips away at Mark, the exhaustion in his voice. He couldn’t even begin to imagine even a small fraction of what Jinyoung is going through, but that’s exactly why he couldn’t give up. “There’s still hope.” Mark presses, shutting his eyes tight together because he knew that if Jinyoung pushed enough, he’d give in to giving up.

An unexpected and thin smile appears on Jinyoung’s face. “There’s always hope,” He says. “But at what point does hope become redundant when you focus on chasing it and end up forgetting everything else?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Mark mumbles, his head dipping deeper into his lap.

Jinyoung’s grip on Mark’s hands grows tight, a call for attention. Mark flickers his eyes up to meet Jinyoung’s again, this time they look vulnerable and so open it almost feels intrusive. “I’m scared, Mark.”

Mark lets out a shaky breath. “So am I-”

“No, not like that.” Jinyoung shakes his head. “I’m scared that we don’t have long now, I’m scared that we’re going to waste time on something that isn’t definite, that isn’t possible. This is the only life where you know me, where you really know me and I want to cherish it. God knows what’s going to happen in the next. You may never remember this life or Finland, everything may just return to how it was and it scares me. So please, stop.”

Mark wants to argue, wants to find the words, any words to convince Jinyoung that there is a chance they could fix this. But like he said, it was just hope; weightless, bright hope that blinds you and runs through your fingers.

“I won’t tell you to give up completely,” Jinyoung says finally, possibly after seeing the distraught look on Mark’s face. “But just a little, don’t let it distract you so much? Don’t give up your nights for it. And… give me a little more attention, hm?” He says lightly, nudging Mark with his knee.

A ticklish feeling scratches at Mark’s throat, a feeling between a sob and a sigh. He untangles his fingers from Jinyoung’s and raises his hand to Jinyoung’s face, caressing his cheek with the back of his hand. “I just… care about you.”

This makes Jinyoung smile wide. “So do I.” He replies sweetly, opening Mark’s hand so he could snuggle his cheek into his palm. “So, what do you say?”

Mark lets out a stubborn breath and gives Jinyoung a weak but definite nod. “I’ll try not to be so… obsessive.”

Jinyoung snorts at that. “Can’t ask for a better response.” He laughs, the sound vibrating like an echo. Mark loves the sound, like he loves the sound of church bells and the flutter of wings. The type of sounds that carry in the wind. It carries Mark close enough to Jinyoung that he can easily press their lips together, the touch slow but warm, possibly too warm for the level of humidity but it doesn’t stop Mark from bringing the kiss in deeper.

When they break apart, Mark finds some of the anxiety inside has settled a little, and almost chokes from laughter when he sees Jinyoung’s expectant face, eyes shut and lips pursed. “What, that’s it?” Jinyoung pouts, cracking an eye open.

Mark chuckles and take his hand to ruffle at Jinyoung’s hair, what was once short strands now have given into weight, strands of hair flopping through the gaps of Mark’s fingers. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”

Jinyoung looks up and shrugs. “I tend to keep it at a decent length, but during the early stages of my… episodes I woke up to a good portion of my hair shaved off so I kind of had to do the rest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… thinking about it, I may know who did it now.” Jinyoung grumbles under his breath, a grudging look on his face.

Mark doesn’t drop his hand, Jinyoung looking resigned to letting him trace all over the edges of his face and neck. Mark has a thumb rubbing against Jinyoung’s cheek when Mihyun’s voice comes hollering from downstairs. “Guys! Food’s ready, come down.”

“Ooooo, I’m hungry but I also really like this.” Jinyoung grumbles.

Mark rolls his eyes and drops his hand. “Let’s go, you probably haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Yes, sir.” Jinyoung mocks salutes and jumps off the bed, tugging on Mark to follow.

“By the way, how are your headaches?” Mark asks as he pushes himself off the bed, grabbing his shirt on the way.

Jinyoung pauses in the door frame and tilts his head to the side. “They’re okay? They come and go. Mihyun says I just need to drink more water.” He shrugs as he makes his way out the room. The dismissive tone to his voice felt forced but Mark doesn’t push it any further.

He’s about to follow Jinyoung and shut the door behind him, his hand just an inch away from the door knob but something makes him stop mid-step. A sort of grainy sound suddenly weaves its way around Mark, the sound distant and weak. It brings him to a stoney still, unsure of whether this was in his head or not. It eventually grows louder, and soon enough Mark recognises it, the sound of the sand running in the wind.

Mark.

A shiver runs down Mark’s spine and grapples at his lungs. The hairs to the back of his neck and down his arm rise and his knees almost buckle in on him.

A voice so loud and so clear as if someone were in the room with him. A voice thick and coarse like bark echoes but instead of the sound dissipating, it grows stronger and louder. The only person that has ever made Mark feel like this was Barrick, but this voice did not belong to Barrick.

Mark.

Mark gasps heavily as an intense ache to turn around tenses at his muscles. Her voice, so deep and melodic, almost bewitching. It’s nothing like Barrick’s, Barrick’s which was once demanding and rough, crushing Mark. No, her voice is smooth and thick, her call as heavy as an order. It made Mark want to give in.

Turning around was inevitable but still in the back of his head, he thought that there’d be no one there. He hadn’t actually expected to see her. Her eyes a deep brown, a bright fiery look in them almost enough to distract from the jagged scar across her face, either ends disappearing into her veil. Bright orange tunics hang off her tall frame, the edges embroidered with gold and black patterns. The dark skin of her face and her hands stand out against the brightness of her clothes, and she glows.

Mark buckles at the sight of her, but more so, at the way she looks at him. The look that belonged to Jinyoung when Hakim was present. A hard look that said these eyes have seen too much and have seen enough, a look that could only belong to someone who has lived for too long.

“Sadiya.” Mark gasps, his hand tight as it grips the door for support. His heart's beating frantically, his muscles suddenly weak and cold sweat breaks out across his face and neck. He wheezes, his hands flying to his chest as his knees fall to the ground. He knew this feeling. “Is it happening again?”

Don’t fight it. She says, and Mark dares to think he could hear care in her voice.

“Sadiya.” Mark calls out, his voice now small and weak. Consciousness is slipping away. “Don’t let me die.” He demands, his forehead pressed against the floor. A shadow moves before him, orange silk sliding across the floor.

I won’t. She says, and it’s the last thing he hears before Mark gives into the darkness.