Handful of Heart

He is stuck in the sand of regret and self-filth, and then the salty sea waves crash to let another soul in, to remind Jiyong that while he may think that his hands are not pretty, someone else does.

"They are not pretty", he shakes, and there is saline coming out, streaming out of his eyes like a leaky faucet, in the form of tears, and then he continues, "but I don't even want them to be pretty. I just want them to be norm--"

"They're not normal, or pretty, Ji", a comforting squeeze, a reassuring warmth, "they're special." Kisses on gaunt knuckles, butterfly flutters of the heart--but it's all too late because the ticking time is up.