They say the clouds are lined with silver—grey dashes sprawled out across the rows of sky. And the silver linings sparkle at night, when you sleep under covers and sheets; they stream through your veins in the littlest zest of humanity.

For Kyungsoo, silver linings wrap around his throat and slit him to a mere piece of destruction—brittle and unforgiving. Through the roar of night and the creature of silence, Kyungsoo battles against these so-called lucky streaks of silver.

But he knows better than to challenge fate, because fate has plans. And Kyungsoo’s fate is drawn out against the palm of his hands—careful creases plotted and carved into the constellations of the sky and the fragility of the clouds.

Silver—consoling in the midst of a storm.

Silver—drafting in the midst of wind.

Silver—sorry but Kyungsoo hates silver.