A week later, Jinyoung ran into Mark coming up the dirt path to his house on his way to one of the bookstores on his list. “Aren’t you supposed to call before you show up?” Jinyoung asked.

“Your cell phone was off. I thought I’d take my chances.”

“It’s been so long that I’d almost forgotten about you.”

“You missed me?”

“Nope.”

Mark smiled. “I’ve been busy with school,” he said.

“Good. That’s what you should be doing. You didn’t need to come back.”

“I got the itch. And I still need to make you fall in love with me. Can’t do that if I don’t keep myself at the forefront of your mind.”

Jinyoung didn’t deign this with a response.

“Where are you headed?” Mark asked. “Let me guess—a bookstore?”

“Yes.”

“I’m tagging along. I’m curious about these infamous bookstore trips.”

“Trust me, they’re not that exciting.”

“I’m still coming.”

Jinyoung no longer saw any point in protesting when it came to Mark. He just sighed and kept walking forward, letting Mark follow after him.

“How’s school?” Jinyoung asked.

“I thought you didn’t believe in small talk.”

“Would you like to just walk in awkward silence?”

“I’ve never been one to shy away from awkward silence, honestly.” Mark stretched his hands over his head. “I like it. The classes are interesting. Going to college in Asia isn’t as cutthroat as I thought it would be.”

“High school’s the cutthroat one. People are more relaxed in college, as I understand. Just be prepared for the cutthroat stuff to come back in corporate life.” He glanced at Mark. “What do you even want to do with your life, career-wise?”

“Something humanitarian related. Maybe relief aid?”

“That’s noble.”

“The past few years in California with the fires really hit home for me. It felt like the end times, but we didn’t even have it as bad as a lot of people have it. A lot of the houses that were affected were insured. So many people don’t have that luxury.”

“And you’ll wind up working with a lot kinder people than you would in an office job. It would suit you.”

“Do you seriously not work?” Mark asked.

Jinyoung bit his lip. He had, in previous versions of himself. Much of his time had been devoted to his mission, but there had been times when the money had run dry. The only good thing about living forever was that he was always in his prime, and could work whenever he needed to. He hadn’t needed to in a while, though; he’d struck rich about a century ago when he’d uncovered a treasure trove of the rare, undiscovered texts of a certain philosopher which had earned him millions (one of the pages had been missing, but no one had suspected him or blamed him for that). He’d invested much of it during his time in America and was now quite wealthy. Not that anyone would ever guess, given his minimalist lifestyle and lack of desire to spend it on anything outside of travel and survival.

“I’m taking a bit of a gap year,” Jinyoung said finally. “Something I can do because of the privilege of inherited wealth. I guess I’m not as altruistic as you.”

“I knew that,” Mark said with his typical bluntness. “Altruism comes from caring about people. And you don’t. But you will. Starting with me.”

Jinyoung couldn’t even snark on this, since in the context it would also be akin to declaring his intention to remain selfish and miserly in the face of the suffering that Mark was planning on devoting his career to helping. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

Independent bookstores, in Jinyoung’s experience, came in two types. The first and most common was a lovingly curated introvert-haven born out of a true and genuine love for books. These were usually run by bibliophilic old men, eager hipsters fueled by overeducation and generational wealth, or slightly eccentric women who magically knew the perfect book for whoever walked through the doors.

The second type were the close cousins of retail chain bookstores insofar as they were indifferent cash grabs. Rather than catering to literary types, they stocked mainly whatever novels were guaranteed to be on the school reading list, plus the regular bestsellers and mainstream titles that went down like cheap snack food. The employees knew nothing about the books, and had to consult their computers for anything more obscure than John Grisham—or whoever the Korean equivalent was these days (Jinyoung was still playing catch up on the pop culture of this new era).

This particular bookstore in Inje was the second type. The girl behind the counter didn’t even look up when they walked in. There definitely wouldn’t be any cozy book recommendations or dorking out over promising new authors here. In his heart, Jinyoung liked the first kind of bookstore best, but he always felt guiltier about damaging their books; here, the cashier probably wouldn’t care all that much even if she watched Jinyoung cutting out a page with her own two eyes.

“You can browse on your own,” Jinyoung said to Mark, making a beeline for the children’s book section. Mark instead followed doggedly after him.

“My Korean’s not good enough to read most the books in here,” Mark said. “I think I could manage the picture books at least.”

“There should be a few that can teach you hangul, if you’re desperate.”

“I’m not that bad, thank you very much.”

Jinyoung scanned the row of faith-based books for kids. Most were Jesus-themed. “Jesus Loves Me!” and “The Story of the Loaves and the Fishes”—things like that. There was one Buddhist children’s book, and beside it, the book Jinyoung was looking for.

“So, what’s you’re interest in picture books?” Mark asked. “Any nieces? Nephews?”

“I don’t have any family left,” Jinyoung said. “I’m…interested in the artwork.” He glanced back towards the front counter. The girl there had decided to stop ignoring them and was full on ogling Mark. She didn’t even seem to notice that Jinyoung had spotted her salivating.

This could work, Jinyoung thought. He elbowed Mark. “Hey, Mark,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“The girl behind the counter is checking you out.”

“I’m gay.”

“I realized that.” Jinyoung lowered his voice. “I kind of need you to distract her for me.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to rob the store, are you?”

“Believe it or not, I’m perfectly able to afford a picture book. It’s just…considered to be in very bad form to read an entire book in a bookstore without paying for it. And I need to read this book, but don’t want to buy it.”

“You need to read a picture book?”

“Desperately.” Jinyoung returned Mark’s gaze unflinchingly. “Help a guy out?”

Mark studied him for a long moment as if trying to decide for sure whether or not he was crazy. At length, he sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you’ll owe me one.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Mark slicked back his hair and marched towards the front counter. The girl’s eyes widened, and a blush spotted her cheeks. Jinyoung opened the book and paged through it. The story he was looking for was right at the beginning, as with all stories involving creation. There was a picture accompanying the story of a long haired man in traditional robes spilling stars from his fingers. Another man lurked behind the shadow of the moon, watching greedily.

Jinyoung slid the knife out of his pocket. He watched Mark and the girl out of the corner of his eye as he made a cut down the spine. The girl was already drowning in his eyes, dazed with all the possibilities of him and where this meet cute in the bookstore would go. It was amazing how capable some people were of weaving this kind of spell and making someone in a single moment craft an entire fantasy and future together in their head over a bit of eye contact and a sweet smile. No wonder Mark was so convinced Jinyoung would fall in love with him. Everyone else did.

But Jinyoung was different then this girl, who was likely thinking of wedding dresses and babies and home cooked dinner together. When Jinyoung longed for the future, he longed for blankness. An eternal empty. Unknowing.

Jinyoung folded the cut out page and stuck it in his pocket. Having this page gone would save him some trouble. The sooner he prevented these myths from spreading to children, the sooner he could achieve his work of wiping his existence from living memory.

He set the picture book back on the shelf. “Mark!” he called out.

Mark turned, giving him a look.

“I need your help,” Jinyoung said. “Come over here.” The girl glared at him thunderously.

Mark said his goodbyes to her and walked back to Jinyoung. He slung his arm around Jinyoung’s waist and nuzzled his nose to his neck before planting an affectionate kiss there.

“Excuse me?” Jinyoung choked out. The spot on his neck felt like it was burning.

“Better for her not to get her hopes up,” Mark said in a low voice. “Baby.”

“I think you proved your point. Let go.”

Mark did, his expression perfectly innocent. Jinyoung scowled, absently placing his hand on his neck. He could still faintly feel the contact of skin there. How long had it been, since someone had touched him so intimately? Though not fully human, he possessed a human body and its desires, and sometimes the best way to quiet those desires was to give in to them. Through every era, there was usually detached ways to do so, physical exchanges that were entirely transactional to the point where you didn’t need to spare a thought or feeling over who it was happening with. And Jinyoung didn’t—he couldn’t remember the faces, just the appreciated end result of having his body stop nagging him for relief for a while.

But this one small kiss on his neck felt somehow different than anything that had ever been done to him before in those far between occasions of surrender. Had there ever been a kiss before? He usually didn’t want there to be any semblance of real affection where there wasn’t. And he was sure he would remember a feeling as burning as this. 

“So, what now?” Mark asked.

Jinyoung shook his head, trying to clear it. “I haven’t bought any books yet. I like to buy at least one.”

“Why didn’t you buy the picture book, then?”

“Because it was worthless.”

“OK…” Mark glanced down at the bookshelf of picture books, brows furrowed. He leaned down, pulling out the book Jinyoung had taken out earlier—or at least, that must have been what he was trying to do. He instead grabbed one of the many Jesus books, the story of the resurrection. He paged through it, only looking more confused.

“Were you, um, researching how to come back from the dead?” Mark asked.

“If I died, there’s an absolute zero chance that I’d want to come back from it,” Jinyoung said. “Now, I think I’ve had enough of picture books, how about you?” He wandered over to the poetry section. Mark shoved the resurrection picture book back on the shelf and followed after him. Jinyoung traced his fingers along the spines of the books he passed. There were familiar names, but new ones as well from the fresh generation of writers. It would give him something to do in the evenings when the libraries and bookstores were closed and he couldn’t continue his work.

He paused at a certain book upon seeing the author name and pulled it out. “W.H. Auden,” he read.

“Who?”

“Uneducated swine. He was a famous American poet. Have you really never heard of him?”

Mark shrugged. “I’m not a literature major, am I?”

“He was a figure in the gay community as well.”

“I don’t know every gay on this planet, my apologies.”

“Well, he’s one worth knowing. He was one of the ones where history actually acknowledges he was gay, even though he lived during one of the eras of silence.”

“One of the eras of silence,” Mark repeated. “You have an interesting way of saying things, sometimes.”

“I’ll buy this for you,” Jinyoung said, tucking the book of poems under his arms. “He was a very good writer. I think you’d like him.”

“I’m not really known for reading poetry.”

“And I’m not really known for letting pathetic university students stalk me, but here we are today.”

He took the book up to the cashier. She gazed at him with mournful eyes as she took the book from him. “When will I find a kind and handsome man who likes women?” she asked.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Jinyoung said. “Maybe never.”

“That’s not a very helpful answer.”

“Would you prefer me to make up an arbitrary date?”

“Sorry, he’s a bit of a jerk,” Mark told the girl kindly. “I’m sure your day will come.”

Jinyoung had meant to visit some of the other bookstores in Inje, but with Mark tagging along, it wasn’t going to happen. There were only so many excuses he could come up with to get Mark to overlook him cutting pages out of books.

“Let’s get lunch,” Mark suggested. “There’s a place with good prepackaged lunches nearby. We could take it to the park.”

Jinyoung shrugged, but followed him to the store. They picked out lunches—seafood pancake for Mark, spicy chicken for Jinyoung—and then they went outside to find a park bench.

“Well,” Mark said, cracking open a coke he’d bought to go with. “Color me even more confused about you.”

“Hmm?”

“I just assumed you were doing something momentously important at the bookstores. But I didn’t see any evidence of it.”

“Maybe you I missed it.”

“Maybe I did.” Mark looked at him levelly. “Are you a vampire, maybe?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. This feels like the beginning of Twilight when Bella picks up all those warning signals that something’s remarkably different about Edward. And no, I have not read Twilight before you ask. My sister just dragged me to the movie. Never again.”

Jinyoung remembered the book cover of Twilight from his bookstore trips a decade ago, but didn’t know anything about it. “I’m not a vampire.”

“A werewolf, then? A wizard? A time traveler?”

“No.” If he kept this up, he could actually guess it by accident. “Does it matter? I thought you pinned down who I really was already. Lonely and searching for meaning.”

“I guess.” Mark sighed. “Tell me at least you’re not a serial killer.”

“I’m not. Can we talk about something else?”

“What’s an avenue of conversation you won’t just shut down?”

“Read me a poem.”

“I’m eating.”

“Then pause your eating. Auden has far more interesting things to say than you.”

Mark rolled his eyes, but set aside his container of food and pulled out the book of Auden’s poems. He cleared his throat and began to read. “Time will say nothing but I told you so, Time only knows the price we have to pay; If I could tell you I would let you know. If we should weep when clowns put on their show, If we should stumble when musicians play, Time will say nothing but I told you so. There are no fortunes to be told, although, Because I love you more than I can say, If I could tell you I would let you know.” Mark stopped reading, though Jinyoung knew there were three more stanzas left. “Jinyoung, I think I’m too stupid to understand this.”

“If I asked you right this second to tell me what lies in the future and what the meaning of our lives are, what would you say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes. And that’s what the poem’s about. Time knows the answer, but we don’t. ‘If I could tell you I would let you know.’ But you can’t.”

“Oh,” Mark said. He looked down at the poem, rereading the first few lines. “Hmmm.”

“You think on that. Preferably in silence.”

While Mark continued to read and reread the poem, Jinyoung thought of time. For such a long while, they’d been both constant companions and enemies. But Jinyoung thought that if at the end, Time wanted to rub in one last ‘I told you,’ he wouldn’t mind. As long as there was an end.

Mark set down the book. “I need to think about this more,” he said. “But can I eat now?”

“Go ahead.”

They stayed in the park until late afternoon. When Mark had finished eating, he read through some of the other poems, stopping every once in a while to have Jinyoung explain the meaning. Mark didn’t seem to have the patience to unravel the words for himself, but once Jinyoung gave him the context and he grasped it, it seemed to really click. He’d get pensive and stop talking for a long time. Jinyoung thought he would enjoy the silence, but he caught himself wondering and wanting to know what Mark was thinking.

“We should get back,” Jinyoung said finally. “And you should go home.”

“I won’t wait a week to come back this time,” Mark said, tucking the book under his arm. “You were lonely, weren’t you?”

“Not at all. And you being around makes it hard to get anything done.”

“Such as…reading picture books?”

“Yes.”

They reached the train station, and it was time for them to split up. “Did you fall in love with me yet?” Mark asked.

“No.”

“OK.”

“Goodbye, then.”

“Jinyoung.” Mark grabbed his sleeve, holding him in place. “Do you think you’ll ever tell me who you really are?”

“I’d sooner fall in love with you than tell you that,” Jinyoung said. When Mark looked hopeful, Jinyoung added, “And I’m not planning on falling in love with you, so that means it’s a never on both.”

“I want to know you,” Mark said. “Front cover to back, like the words of a book only I’ve been given to read.”

“You didn’t let the girl behind the counter get her hopes up. You should treat yourself just as kindly.” Jinyoung turned to leave.

“You don’t know that it’ll be a never on both,” Mark called after him. “Only time knows!”

Jinyoung kept walking.

The spot on his neck still felt, faintly, like it was burning.

Mark came over next on Saturday night.

“Why would you want to come so late?” Jinyoung asked when he called.

“I’m staying over.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m already on the train with my overnight bag.”

“I hate you.”

“I guess that means I haven’t made you fall in love with me yet.”

“ you.”

Jinyoung had glanced at his calendar when he hung up. He was going to start having to go north, towards the border. He’d tell Mark that after this, he’d have to stop visiting. The house would be empty. Until the stores and libraries near the border were cleared, Jinyoung would be gone. And even when he came back, it would only be to rest the night and leave again to go south.

It would be good for him to go. He needed to go back to the way things had been, back when he’d been alone. He was beginning to feel something unmistakably like an itch when Mark was gone, and he couldn’t let himself feel something as meaningless as missing someone. If he started now, when would he stop? Before Mark was permanently gone? Into the endless after?

He needed to cure himself. Tonight would be a last hurrah. He’d leave and Mark would continue to go to school, and they’d separately be fine. If one could describe an existence such as Jinyoung’s ‘fine.’ 

Mark seemed in high spirits when he arrived. Along with his overnight bag, he’d even brought his own pillow. Jinyoung wondered if Mark might try to seduce him, and how he would do so.

“I passed my first exam,” Mark said. “I thought I deserved a celebration.”

“At my expense?”

“You seem ambiguously rich.”

“Don’t you have any friends?”

“I do. Quite a few, now. Jackson’s probably my closest one, but I’ve got others. Yugyeom. BamBam.”

“Wasn’t Jackson the one who wanted to sleep with you?”

“He changed his mind.”

“Glad you were able to find friendship through that.”

“We have a lot in common. Plus, he likes hearing how it’s going with you.”

“Right. Because I’m your conquest. Does he give you tips on how to win my heart?”

“If he did, I wouldn’t listen. There’s no point if you don’t fall in love with me on your own.”

 Jinyoung grimaced. Mark grabbed some snacks from the counter and plopped down on the floor.

“Anyways, we already went out drinking and blew some cash at karaoke. You and I still have to do that, by the way.”

Jinyoung grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge and joined Mark on the floor. He popped the tab of one and passed it to Mark. “There. Drinking.” He popped his own open. “You sing?”

“Not well.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. What’s your go-to song?”

“Sicko Mode.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I figured. You listen to…chamber music? Trot?”

“I like music from the 60s and 70s. The Beatles. Zepplin. The Eagles.”

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad,” Mark sang in a warbly voice. “, I don’t remember the rest of the lyrics other than all the na na nas. Let me try something else. What’s that famous Eagles song?”

“Hotel California?”

“No, the other one. …why don’t you come to your senses, you’ve been outright offensive for so long now?”

Jinyoung shook his head. “That’s ‘Desperado.’ And it’s ‘out riding fences,’ not ‘outright offensive.’”

“No kidding? What is ‘riding fences’?”

“Are you even American? It’s an old Western term. It means…” Jinyoung’s voice faltered. “It means working alone. Doing everything by yourself. Being…isolated.”

They were silent for a moment. Mark sipped his beer, then set it down. “I remember some of the rest,” he said.

“You don’t have to sing it. You clearly don’t have a talent for remembering lyrics.” Jinyoung didn’t want to hear any more of it. Not the part that went your prison is walking through this world all alone. Or the part that went you better let somebody love you, before it’s too late. The whole entire song was an accusation, one someone like Mark could prick right into the feeble remains of Jinyoung’s conscience.

Mark studied him, and Jinyoung got the feeling that these were exactly the lyrics he was thinking of. But for once, he wasn’t obnoxious to the point of singing them all the same. Instead, he tipped his head back and sang, jokingly, “Jinyoungie, why don't you come to your senses, you've been outright offensive for so long now, oh, you're a hard one, but I know you got your reasons-”

Jinyoung kicked him in the leg. Mark laughed. “I could do Sicko Mode instead.”

“No thank you. You make me sick enough as it is.” He downed a bit of beer, wondering vaguely what might happen if the two of them got drunk. Probably nothing good; he decided to be careful not to have too much.

“Oh, by the way, there was a really interesting news broadcast on TV,” Mark said suddenly. “I thought you’d like it. It was about narrative control.”

“Meaning…?”

“You know, whoever controls the narrative controls the world? They went into some of the things the Park Geunhye administration did to control information. And how powerful media companies can delete news stories on scandals right in front of the readers’ eyes. But the part I thought you’d be interested in was the book vandalism part. Some people are accusing Christians of trying to remove Buddhist or pagan narratives from Korean shelves. Like, literally damaging book shipments and defacing texts.”

Jinyoung tried to look nonchalant. This had happened in the past, too. Except last time, the Buddhists had been blamed, since the Christians hadn’t been as prevalent. Of course he couldn’t do what he did completely unnoticed, but it was always problematic for him when people started getting up and arms. Last time, the historians had vowed to document and spread traditional mythologies more carefully, to protect them from erasure by rival faiths. That was the work he was still attempting to undo now that he was back in Korea.

“How awful,” he said blandly.

“It is kind of sad, though, right? Korea’s history shouldn’t be lost.”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if one or two myths no one believes in anymore were forgotten, though.”

“Tell that to aboriginal people around the world who have had their religions erased. It matters to them.”

“Of course they matter. But stories should never be overinflated to value more than human lives.”

“You really have a bone to pick with religion, don’t you?” Mark’s eyes widened. “New theory! You’re a demon sent to undo the Lord’s work upon this earth.”

“You found me out,” Jinyoung said, slow clapping. “Hail Satan! Guess you have to give up on seducing me now. Consorting with a demon would be blasphemy.”

“Actually, sounds kind of hot. Since I’m in religious studies, it may even qualify as research.”

How about a fallen pagan deity, would that also qualify?

“I wish you would stop using the word ‘seducing,’ though,” Mark said. “I’m not.”

“What are you doing, then?”

“Convincing you to look at me. Properly.”

Jinyoung looked at him. He wondered what it would mean to look at him properly. What he would see that he didn’t see already. Already, Mark was sharper and more distinct to him than any other person he’d met. Jinyoung could remember the lines and curves of his face even when he wasn’t there, even though he forgot most people he ever looked at. What did it mean to see deeper than that?

“I’m going to be going on a trip,” Jinyoung announced, deciding he was done thinking about it.

Mark frowned. “Where?”

“North.”

“As in…North Korea?”

“No, genius. Near the border, not over it.”

“Why?”

“There’s some books there that I want to collect.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Not sure.”

“Days? Weeks?”

“Still not sure.”

Mark stared at him, his eyes hard. “So you’re just going to leave me with no idea of when I’ll see you again.”

“I’m not just going to abandon this house never to return.” Jinyoung exhaled. “You believe in fate, don’t you? Doesn’t that mean if we’re meant to see each other again, we’ll see each other again?”

“You say that, but you don’t believe in fate.”

“Then this will prove which one of us is right.”

They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. Jinyoung refused to budge. It felt like hours, but Mark’s shoulders finally slumped a little.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll see which one of us is right.” He downed the last of his drink. “If you think you’re getting rid of me, you have another think coming.”

“I only have the one mattress,” Jinyoung said, pointing to the floor.

“I know. You’re allergic to furniture.” Mark set his overnight bag down beside it and pulled open the zipper. “It’s big. We’ll both fit.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“Of course not. I know you’re not interested at the moment.” Mark pulled out a pair of pajamas and started taking off his clothes. Jinyoung looked away, mumbling about going to the bathroom. He took his own pajamas with him and changed behind closed doors. He lingered to brush his teeth and clean his face before finally coming back out. Mark was in the hallway bathroom judging by the sounds of the sink, so Jinyoung bit the bullet and got onto the mattress first. He was used to sleeping in the middle, but this time he went all the way to the edge, leaving Mark more than enough space to get in without coming close to touching him.

How did I get here?, Jinyoung wondered. How did I end up with this crazy person in my house, sleeping the night in my bed? Isn’t this the exact opposite of how I live my life?

Mark popped back into the bedroom a moment later. He didn’t make a big show of getting onto the mattress with Jinyoung, much to Jinyoung’s relief.

“I know you’re a ghoster,” Mark said once he was settled. “Don’t you dare even try.”

“You have my number,” Jinyoung quipped.

“Don’t change it.”

“I won’t. I promise. I just might not answer your calls. I’ll be busy.”

“Then I won’t call you. Unless it’s an emergency.”

“Emergency? Where have I heard that before?”

“I mean it, this time,” Mark said. “I’ll only call you if it’s an emergency. So if you see my name, promise me you’ll answer?”

“Fine. But if you call and it’s not an emergency, I promise you I will change my number.” Jinyoung ground his teeth. So much for the last hurrah. All he could hope was that Mark would get so caught up in school and life that he’d forget about him. That was the ultimate goal, right? To be forgotten? Then Mark was a good place to start. Ease him off and let him forget.

“Don’t forget,” Mark murmured sleepily, settling into his pillow. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”

“Mmhm,” Jinyoung said. “Sure you are. If that helps you sleep.”

He woke up in the morning well before Mark. He was half-surprised Mark hadn’t wormed his way over to the other side of the mattress, whether intentionally or unintentionally. He was still sleeping at a respectful distance, his mouth half-open.

Jinyoung went to the closet where his suitcase was already packed from the morning before. He lifted it so the wheels wouldn’t make any noise against the floor and carried it to the front door. Then he looped back to the room to get his clothes. He quietly changed and washed in the bathroom. To his relief, Mark was still sleeping when he came back out.

Before he left, he grabbed a piece of paper from the kitchen. Remember: only emergencies, he wrote. And don’t go looking for me. I’m not ghosting anyone or anything. I’ll be back. Lock up the house before you leave.

He set the note down by the mattress, and placed his house key down on top of it. He looked at Mark one last time. Maybe with distance, with more of his fly-like lifespan ticking away in Jinyoung’s absence, that face of his would become fuzzier. Maybe he would revert back to being just another indistinct existence in a sea of indistinct existences.

It wasn’t a happy thought, but not a purely sad one either. Still, Jinyoung’s heart felt a little heavier than he was used to as he walked out the door.

He shook it off. Back to riding his fences. The Eagles had no clue what they were talking about when they’d said your prison is walking through this world all alone.

The world was the prison. Whether you walked it alone or with someone else, it caged you all the same.