Minseok sits down slowly in the lawn chair stretched out in his backyard, a photo tucked under his arm. Golden leaves slip from the maple tree above him and onto his shoulders. Spring hasn’t officially settled yet, but the traces of winter are dwindling further with each break of dawn.

Minseok rights his knitted sweater, feeling the sunlight warm his wrinkling skin. A soft, almost non-existent ruffle of a cool breeze brushes the maple leaves from his shoulders. Ever since that time Tao paid him a visit and touched this particular branch, it’s been completely off season.

It sheds leaves in the spring, stays bare in the summer, sprouts during autumn and becomes full-grown in the winter. Minseok bends down to the side with difficulty, gently picking up one of the fallen leaves from off the grass, then straightening up again.

Minseok places the photo album on his lap and runs a finger over the body of the leaf, the corners of his paling lips raising ever so slightly as the image of a glowing blue hourglass appears and disappears. How are you, my panda?

He opens his photo album and tucks the leaf into the pocket of the last page, then turns back to the front cover to admire the intricate designs. Twelve rather small, diamond-studded images, implanted into the cover itself, forming a perfect circle. The corners of Minseok’s eyes wrinkle as he smiles, remembering.

Unlike most photo albums, with their clear, plastic pockets, this album has four golden corners built in on each page for the corners of photos to be tucked. Slipped into the first set of four golden corners is a photo of Minseok himself, one hand over a smooth, polished wooden table, a patch of nearly blue ice newborn from where his palm hovers, spreading out.

It’s quite funny if you think about it, Minseok thinks. What everyone thought was a creative way to support a comeback…turned out to be real. But no one needs to know that. We are forgotten by now, anyway. No one remembers us; no one remembers that there used to be a boy band named EXO, ruling half the planet.

Maybe there’s someone out there who sometimes shuffles through their old things and finds one of our albums, and remembers to wonder where we are. They must be very old now, too. After all, EXO has dismissed for sixty years now.

Minseok turns ninety years old today.

Once in a while, the delivery man would call out: “Addressed to…Xiumin! Is Xiumin here?” And Minseok would use as much strength as he had left to call back: “No! Xiumin doesn’t live here!” Of course. Because Xiumin was erased sixty years ago. The boy who set one foot on the stage and fell in love with it is gone. Xiumin doesn’t exist anymore.

Minseok’s breath suddenly becomes shallow. He finds it hard to breathe. His lungs don’t seem to be providing him with enough air. It takes several agonizing moments before it dawns on him: he is dying now. His time is up. It’s so sudden.

Minseok begins to turn the pages in his photo album with urgency.

Luhan, pushing aside the metal spheres surrounding him without laying hands on them. Kris, in the air without so much as a breeze supporting him. Suho, one hand out in front of him, a swirl of clear water forming right above his open palm.

Lay, one hand extended towards a wilting flower, bringing it back to life. Chen, one hand resting close to the ground, electric blue bolts of lightning rising around his wrist. Baekhyun, beams of light radiating from his fingertips igniting the darkness, illuminating his face.

Chanyeol, leaving a path of fire behind him as he paces forward. Kyungsoo, standing there, the weight applied to one foot making the ground tremble, captured in the photo as a blur. Tao, reaching out to the petals frozen in the air.

Kai, a double of him across from where he really stands. Sehun, one arm out, a whirl of wind forming around his wrist and spinning upwards.

And the last page, a photo of all twelve of them together, jammed into one camera lens, hair unstyled and faces free of makeup. Minseok wants, more than anything, to memorize these faces, as they once were. Youthful. Bright. Smiling. Full of hope.

This is how I want to remember the world.

With a last breath, Minseok’s eyes slide closed.

In the misty, cold twilight, he thinks he hears: “EXO?” And he responds: “We are one.” He looks to the side, smiling, and finds himself reflected in the mirror. But he doesn’t see Minseok.

He sees Xiumin.