Yerin: "Excuse me?"

Kayee: "Hm?"

Yerin: "That song that you're humming, what is it?"

              Raising his head from its lowered position, his eyes shift from his still steaming hot cup of Ramen which sits warmly atop the blue plastic surface of the table to which he is seated at. Black tendrils hang loosely before his eyes, and a set of chopsticks are held loosely within his hand. Staring across, at the table just beside his own, he sees her, their eyes meet, and they proceed to greet one another with warm smiles. 

Kayee: "I uh... Don't know actually... Heh, didn't even notice that I was humming."

            She pouts playfully, the two cotton balls which dangle from their attached placement upon her wool cap, swing lightly as she does so. 

Yerin: "Oh, okay. Sorry, for being so nosey -- it just sounded, familiar..."

Kayee: "No worries."

            In a circular formation, his hand stirs the contents within his cup, using the ends of his wooden utensils. 

Yerin: "Have we met before?"

           She asks curiously, drawing his attention away from his meal. 

Kayee: "Hm?"

            His chopsticks which were steadily stirring in a continuous rotation, gradually ceases to do so, as his head tilts slightly to its side. While allowing for his eyes to survey the young girl completely, he shrugs lightly before raising his head back in an upright position. 

Kayee: "uh... No -- I don't think so."

          A soft giggle escapes her.

Yerin: "Ah~ I must be losing it."

            She continues to laugh to herself while holding on tightly to her juice packet. 

Kayee: "Aren't we all?"

            He jokes before joining her in a light round of laughter. He watches as she drags the plastic legs of her matching blue chair across the pavement, leaving her enough space between she and the table so that she can step away from it upon standing. 

Yerin: "It should be cool by now."

             Her gloved hands smoothing out the creases in her jacket. 

Kayee: "W-What?"

            She points to his ramen. His eyes lower, taking notice of the lack of steam rising from the small cup, before returning them unto her. A smile now accompanying his glare. 

Yerin: "Well~ enjoy your meal. Sorry to have bothered you"

          He grins brightly. 

Kayee: "It's really no problem at all."

            The two wave to one another before she steps away from the table completely, leaving him alone, seated just outside the convenience store where he purchased his ramen. His eyes lower once more, as her descending footsteps pause just a few feet away from behind him. His fingers curl around his chopsticks, and he continues to stir the contents within. 

Yerin: "Forever."

             He turns to face her, his brows raised as he questions her with a single look. 

Yerin: "The song you were humming, it's Forever -- by Chris Brown?"

Kayee: "Oh~ was it?"

Yerin: "Yeah, Sorry, I know that was random, but I would've been thinking about it all night if I didn't remember it."

             She chuckles timidly. 

Yerin: "I can't believe I forgot that song, my friend would want to sing it over and over every time we -- went -- to..."

              She pauses. Kayee turns completely in order to face her with his entire body, his hands clutching onto the plastic armrests at his aides.  Taking notice of her change in demeanor, his brow is once again cocked. 

Kayee: "Is something the matter?"

             He questions, though his words seem to be drowned out by her nervous laughter. 

Yerin: "Are you sure that we've never met?"

          He continues to stare at her blankly. 

Kayee: "Do you... Do you think that you know me from somewhere?"

Yerin: "I -- "

         A ringing cell phone steals his attention away from her, as his hand reaches into his coat pocket in order to retrieve it. Youngji's name flashes across the screen, and a sigh is expressed by him before he raises his attention, only to find Yerin no longer standing there. His eyes beginning to survey the area, and he raises sharply from his seat as he attempts to locate her. Finding himself alone yet again, he returns to his previous seated position. 
           Shakily, his eyes return back toward his ramen, his chopsticks of which are tucked into the bowl, tilt slightly against the inside of it. Shaken by the odd behavior displayed by Yerin he allows himself to become somewhat detached, as the focus placed on his meal all but fades away, before he is completely consumed by an overwhelming wave of black.
        As it clears, he reawakens, finding himself back within the confines of the schools cafeteria. The surrounding area, which consisted of empty plastic seats, tables, and a brightly decorated convenience store, all are but replaced by fellow students and rows of benches attached to lunch room tables. His hands loosely hold on to a set of plastic chopsticks, which are dipped halfway into a small cup of over watered ramen. 
             Staring at its watery consistency, he scoffs, before grabbing a hold of the cup and raising from his seat. Silently, he makes his way past the others. His head hung low, as he feels the eyes of many, solely on him. Upon drawing closer to the rooms exit, he is met by a teacher, who stands guard, beside a large garbage bin. 

Teacher: "That's three days in a row Mr.Wang... I'm going to have to report this."

             Jackson shrugs before tossing the completely full cup of ramen into the trash and stepping through the large archway exit which now places him in the hallway. He winces slightly, before clutching at his side, as the rumbling in his stomach is soon followed by a sudden shooting pain. Bypassing  several floors, he quickly makes it to his own, standing at one end of the empty hall, his eyes can only see the guard stationed outside of Marks room directly ahead. 
             Their eyes meet, and Jackson holds contact as he slowly motions forth, toward his own room. His hand slowly lowers, dangling at his side as he attempts to ignore the pain at his side. 

Guard: "Is there a problem?"

           He asks, while staring down at the still approaching Jackson. Though quite intimidated, the much smaller Jackson, holds his ground. 

Jackson: "N-no... I was just wondering... how is Mark?"

           He struggles to force a smile,  his sadness concealed by a set of fully exposed teeth, and widened eyes. The guard grunts, as he rolls his shoulders, his hands are clasped together directly in front of him. His pale blue uniform completely washing out his already pale skin. 

Guard: "Mr.Tuan is fine..."

             His deep voice carrying over to Jacksons ears. Upon hearing his response, his head lowers.

Jackson: "Has he asked about me?"

          He questions timidly.

Guard: "No."

            He snaps back, prompting Jackson to raise his head in response. 

Jackson: "Can I -- can I see him today?"

             His words meant to sound strong, but manage to almost mimic a whimper. 

Guard: "He is no longer allowed to interact with you Mr.Wang..."

          The orderly responds sternly, his already pronounced brow bone, becoming more so as his brows furrow. His slender arms begin to raise, and fold over his chest. 

Jackson: "Just for one minute, just so that I -- "

          His quivering voice wavers, as a soft air of breath escapes him
Whilst attempting to hold back tears. 

Guard: "Keep it moving Mr.Wang."

            Dismissing him, he turns away. Jackson continues to stand there, his hands balling up into a fist while taking in the sight of the man standing in between he and Mark. 

Jackson: "please... just so that I know that he's okay."

            It finally cracks, and a single tear manages to make its escape. The guard remains silent, leaving Jackson standing there in uncertainty, his hand reaching back to clutch the doorknob to his room. A smile begins to form, crooked as it may be, as heavy breaths are expelled solely through his now flared nostrils. Another sharp pain strikes, this time too unbearable to keep hidden, which forces him to turn away from the guard and push past his door.
             As the door slams shut, the one inside belonging to his bathroom swings open. Rushing forth, he drops to his knees, his palms slamming onto the ground, propping him up, his face nearly inside the bowl as a clear liquid proceeds to eject from the pit of his stomach. His coughs are suppressed, as they are made from his lowered position, whilst more liquid proceeds to roughly, burn his throat while making its way up and out of him. 
              Heavy breaths are met with wet nostrils, saliva dangling from his lips. His eyes shakily stare at the emptiness which was just regurgitated into the toilet bowl. His hand raises, and behind the whirring of his toilet flushing, he watches blankly as it is all just washed away. Raising upward, slowly he wipes away what he can, using his forearm, he then reaches out for the faucet. 
            He stares ahead at his gaunt reflection, as he allows for the cold water to hit against his hands which have proceeded to cup what water he can. Splashing his face, and consuming what's left, he allows for the water to cascade off of his face, while swishing around the rest inside his mouth. Bending over, he spits the yellowish tinted water out into the sink, watching as it hits against the bone white porcelain that it is made of. 
          His hands grip its edges, as he continues to exhale heavily, using what strength he has, he props himself up briefly, his eyes fixated on the water as it swirls down the drain. The water ceases to run, as he turns the faucet in the opposite direction.
             Stepping from out of the bathroom, water still rolling from off of his chin. The toe of his right foot, holds against the back of his left, which allows for him to slip out of his sneakers. He repeats the action using the opposite foot, before throwing himself onto his bed, flat on his still aching stomach. 
           His swollen eyes watch as the sun gradually sets from out of his opened window. The orange, and purple hues dance across the sky, the shadows created by the lack of light dance around his bedroom. He rolls over, now laying flat on his back, his head remaining in its same position. His eyes find themselves drawn to a thin book sitting on his nightstand. A smirk forms as he reaches out for it. 
         
Jackson: "The house at Pooh corner."

          He says in an almost silent whisper. His fingers, trace the title written across the green cover of the book. His smirk widens, forming into a complete smile as he opens it. "I'm sorry that I couldn't find the one your favorite quote is from, I'll keep looking. I promise that I won't stop until I find it!! Merry Christmas Jackson, I hope you like it." Is inscribed on the inside of the book. 
            The crisp pages are quickly sifted through, stopping once being met by a picture tucked in between as if being used as some sort of a bookmark. 

Jackson: "If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever."

             He reads aloud, before allowing his eyes to shift from the page, toward the photo. Closing the book, he places it back on the nightstand but manages to hold onto the photograph. The smile he wears widening to its limit as the sight of Mark sleeping on his side of the bed is captured within the picture. Turning completely on his side, he places the photo on the empty space usually occupied by him. 

Jackson: "Goodnight Mark."

           He whispers, before taking one last look at the setting sun, and allowing for his eyes to lower shut as he imagines that instead of the photo, it is actually Mark laying beside him. 
              
Store owner: " Is something wrong with the Ramen young man?"

             The sound of his voice drawing Kayee back to where he drifted off, seated alone, alongside a bevy of empty blue chairs. Turning toward the stores entrance, he takes notice of the man standing there, beneath the doorway. 

Kayee: "N-no -- its fine -- I guess I just wasn't as hungry as I thought I was."

             He watches as the man steps back inside, before taking notice of the multicolored sky which surrounds the now setting sun. Raising upward, he places the lid back on his ramen, before tossing it away inside the bin just a few feet away. Making his way back to his own apartment, he takes notice of the streetlights, they begin to light up the sidewalk, one by one, as the sun continues to set. Following the line of brightly lit street lamps, he finally makes his way back home.
            Stepping inside his apartment, he slips out of his shoes and makes his way toward the sofa centered in the middle of the room. He reaches for the remote and turns the television on which is placed directly in front of him. The sound of his phone ringing from within his pocket practically forces him to reach for it, placing it on the seat cushion beside him, without even bothering to take a look at who's calling, though instinctively he already knows. 
           Upon grabbing a hold of the remote control, his thumb presses continuously on a single button which signals for the channels to change. The light from which protrudes off of the television screen reflects within the shimmering gloss which slowly begins to consume his eyes. The room starts to fade away, being enraptured by darkness, as the setting sun finally transitions from sunset to evening. 
       Awoken by sun kisses, Bam Bam's eyes struggle to open. His body, stained against the mattress, his vision, adjusting, only to see the blankness of his ceiling which hovers above. His chapped lips part, and swollen eyes, attempt to remain open, as the beams of sunlight which have penetrated his room rest against his pale flesh. 
           A soft sigh escapes him, only to be masked by the growling which beats against the pit of his stomach. Reaching out, his hand presses firmly against it, clutching at the fabric which sheaths it, as it proceeds to grumble once again. Using what strength he can muster, he turns, his eyes squint, as the brown in them reflect the light of the sun.
             Pained, he rises, his arms remain at his side, his hands dangling off of the bed as he simply stares forth blankly. A grunt is expelled, whilst he motions forward, planting his bare feet onto the ground and springing forth in a single motion which positions him upright. Weakened, his body trudges forth, the few steps he's managed to take, overwhelming him. 
            Using the sturdiness of the dresser directly in front of him, he allows for it to prop up his weakened body. His head hangs low, and his eyes meet with the brown leather bound Journal which sits in the center of a collective of items placed there. Clutching onto it, he turns, before dropping into a seated position directly in front of it. His eyes lower, gradually, and remain still once falling upon the sight of a single paper star which sits in front of his door. 
       A smile teeters on his face, his back pressed against the wooden dresser, whilst seated on the ground. With his legs curled upward, his knees point to the ceiling as he cradles a now opened book between his lap and midsection. His sweaty palms dig into the carpeted flooring, before rubbing what residue has built up within them, in an attempt to dry them. His eyes, fixated on the single star, have yet to waver. 
           Reaching for the pen tucked in between the pages of the book, he allows for the heels of his feet to dig into the ground, before sliding forth, and allowing for his legs to then stretch outward. With his right hand, he props up the book, whilst using his left to begin writing inside. 
       "Time... Being away from home for so long... It had just become one of those things that I've learned to ignore... To live without. Seconds eventually begin to pass like nothing, minutes simply go missing and hours evaporate into thin air. Birthdays have gone unnoticed,