A nearly-deafening noise sounded close to his head and he grumbled, swatting at his alarm clock until it turned off. He hated mornings. He always had. He especially hated his birthdays, and today, unluckily enough, was his birthday.

Now most people love their birthdays. He knew that and at one point in his life, he did too. He used to love waking up, spending time with his family and friends, and getting to blow out his candles before devouring a big slice of his mom’s famous strawberry cake at the end of the day.

But those days were over, long past and to all but him, completely forgotten.

His parents were both dead, departing from the world years ago. His sister and most of his friends were also dead, old age and disease carrying them away one by one.

If only he could join them. If only he hadn’t made the promises he had made to his mother, to never purposely end his life. He might not be so lonely then.

A knock resounded on his door and he turned to face it. “Come in,” he called, watching as Daesung, one of the few people to understand him and his plight, walked in to join him.

“Happy birthday,” the other man said, smiling at him. “We all made you breakfast if you’re ready for it.” He toed the carpet with his bare feet. “We know you don’t really like your birthday, but we at least wanted to do a little something for you…”

Jiyong sighed, “Thank you, Daesung. You’re a good friend. I will join you in a few minutes.” With that Daesung nodded and left, leaving Jiyong to return to his thoughts.

He knew he should feel lucky; his sister always used to tell him he was, especially when her arthritis had flared up, or another family friend passed away. He would never have to feel the aches and pains of old age, never have to deal with the illnesses. From what he had seen, that was a blessing, but he still struggled with it.

He’d lost too many friends to count, leaving him with four close friends, all but one of whom he had met after both parents had passed away. He rarely trusted people outside of their little group anymore; it was too hard to explain and most just assumed he’d gone mad.

But he hadn’t. He was still Jiyong, whether he wanted to be or not.

Looking into the mirror in his bathroom, the young face of a man about twenty-five stared back at him. It was the same face he saw every morning, the same one he had seen every single day, basically unchanging for years.

He knew he was special; he’d always felt different as a child but never knew this was the reason why. You see unlike 99.999% of the world, he never aged. He never looked a day older than twenty five, and he was well beyond that in years.

Today was his 118^th birthday…