He lives for the shutter of the camera, he lives for the way the sound waves vibrate against the hairs of his skin. He’s finally in the center of it all, absorbing the glory of the spot light, but for what? He can hardly remember who he is.
The only piece he recalls is the mint green sweater he was found in. The only piece of him he can grasp onto, that he can say he remembers of himself.
And that is the name on the tag. Luhan.
Is that who he is though? Who knows. There is nothing else left of him that is his, all he can gather now is the lingering warmth from the stage lights and these five letters that may not be his.
Those are the only things left that he can claim as his; the only things that are keeping him mildly sane and human.