How to Be Human [EDITING]

❤︎

ACT THREE

Love.

In telenovelas, love is described as something fated; something destined; something eternal. In reality, it's as transient as the fleeting touch of a summer breeze. It's a distant dream—a mirage that once danced on the golden horizons, but now fades away into the twilight.

For so long, Jisung Han had wondered if inability to love was apart of his genetic code. He had always felt a disconnect with the concept of romance, like he was an alien trying to fit in on a planet that he didn't belong to. He had always felt like he was living in a different universe than everyone else.

And then he met Minho Lee, and for a moment, the universe seemed to shift into place.

In the span of a single summer, Jisung had fallen in love. He had fallen in love with the way Minho's eyes sparkled when he laughed; the way his mouth ran synonymous with strawberry milkshakes and cigarettes; the way his touch set Jisung's skin on fire.

It was the kind of love that made Jisung want to tear out his own heart and give it to Minho. It was the kind of love that made him want to rip out his veins and stitch them into Minho's body.

It was the kind of love that made Jisung want to give up everything.

It's hard to let go, and it hurts, but time moves on. So do people. Sometimes people decide that time is a torture chamber and look for the easiest way out; a release from the relentless pursuit of happiness in a world that prohibits every attempt at achieving it.

Love, according to contemporary society and campy television, is supposed to be the healing factor.

In this case, not even desperate love—where the world was falling off its hinges—could repair the damage done to Minho's body. There's no way of knowing. No way of understanding what makes people tick, or why they do what they do. It's a mystery, a riddle that can't be solved. Was love not enough to stop Minho from slitting his wrists open?

What did Jisung do wrong?

Is love really supposed to fix things, or is it just a coping mechanism to mask the ugly truths that lurk beneath the surface? Is the truth so ugly that Minho would rather die than live with the knowledge that the world is not perfect and that he has suffered the consequences of living in it?

Wasn't there anything worth fighting for?