“Like a dream, like fireworks, we burned and all that remained were ashes.”

“Take away such things as love. Tonight I’ll be crooked.”

There is an email waiting for Jihoon when he opens the laptop. He decided to actually keep his word and work on some song, at least get the best out of his ty state. Because, being honest, Jihoon knows that his greatest songs were composed from pain and despair. The email stops him, however.

It’s from the competition he signed up to. He holds his breath and clicks on it with a trembling hand. His eyes scan the content briefly, skipping over the formalities and the contest’s info. He then closes the tab and opens it again, just to make sure it's not some spam mail. He does it again and again, until his breath comes out in short laughs. He is a finalist. They emailed him to tell him he is one of the two finalists, that his songs is going to be released worldwide, even if he wins this or not. He feels the tears pricking at his orbs, and chuckles leaving his lips.

“Unbelievable.” His voice fills the room, even if he doesn’t actually notice that he is talking. He can’t believe this, though. His song is going to be released. His and Jihoon’s song. And not by some small, local company. But by Stone’s Entertainment, one of the oldest labels in the music industry. He laughs again, hand gripping his headphones as he plays Simple again. He feels his chest fill with pride. The whole world will listen to this song. The whole world will know the names of Lee Woozi and Park Jihoon. That little boy’s dream will come true and Woozi will finally be able to sleep in peace from now on.

The knock on his door doesn’t pass through his headphones, but the cold wind that comes together with the intruder makes him turn around. His smile drops at the same time with his headphones. In front of him, Seungcheol looks mad, eyes cold and hands gathered into fists.

“What was that, Woozi?” even his voice is rough, cutting into Jihoon’s soul. Truthfully, he knew that this was coming, but he didn’t expect it so soon. He thought he would have a few more hours to prepare for this, that Seungcheol will be busy with that girl. Normally, the fact that Seungcheol came after him will have made him feel better, but not in this situation.

“Not now.” He mumbles, turning his chair around. He really hopes that the taller will get the message and leave him alone for now. His eyes met his laptop screen, the email still opened. A small smile tugs at his lips in spite of the atmosphere in the room. He wonders if he should tell Seungcheol, but now may not be the right moment.

“But when?” the angry voice behind him asks. Jihoon let his anguish out in a sigh, hand coming up to close his laptop. He should have known he won’t get out of this easily.

“You always say that, postponing things and then never bringing them up again.”

It’s the truth and he deserves it, but it still stings, burning his insides and strangely turning them into fire. His sadness turns into something more powerful, more aching and he spins his chair around.

“What do you mean by that?” he spats back and for a second he sees uncertainty on Seungcheol’s face. But it passes quickly, eyebrows coming back down in anger, mirroring Jihoon’s.

“You know exactly what I mean. I’m done waiting for you, Lee Jihoon!”

Jihoon freezes. Did he hear that right? But how could Seungcheol know that name!? It’s impossible. He involuntarily closes his eyes. It must be a dream, just another sadistic method his brain came up with to torture him.

He truly wished Seungcheol won’t ever call him by that name. He keeps his eyes closed even when he hears the steps nearing him. If he concentrates enough, he’ll wake up from this nightmare. But he doesn’t and reality is hitting him hard in the guts. Gulping down a sob, he finally takes back the breath he lost a few minutes ago.

“Isn’t that your name? Lee Jihoon?” the voice asks again, closer this time.

Dejected, he opens his eyes with a sign. ‘Why did it have to be Seungcheol?’ he asks himself. After all these years of hiding, why did Seungcheol have to be the one to uncover his secrets? Why didn’t he wait for Jihoon to tell him everything?

He wants to run. The truth is that even if he faked it all this time, Jihoon is not an adult, he never was. He is a child and children run when they have to face their problems. But how can he run when the first place that came up in his mind were Seungcheol’s arms? Realizing how screwed he is, he raises his eyes, readying himself for whatever disappointment or hatred he’ll see in Seungcheol’s.

“Since when?” he asks wearily. He needs to know what fight he is carrying. He should have been the one telling Seungcheol everything. He was so close this morning, but he hesitated too much and then that girl came. He refuses to get angry again, but the fire is still burning in his stomach.

“Since the week Joshua came.” Seungcheol answers. The fire burns out, dread piling up instead. The week Seungcheol avoided him makes sense now.

“That was so long ago.” He whispers more to himself. Seungcheol’s anger seems to have lessened too, but his position is still defensive.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”

“I was going to.” Jihoon tries to protect himself. But Seungcheol just scoffs.

“Were you, really?”

It’s not fair, Jihoon thinks. Because he really was going to explain everything to Seungcheol. But he can’t say that now. He had no proof, of course Seungcheol will think he’s lying.

“You are not fair.” It rolls off his tongue before he can think it and he regrets it instantly. That’s the worst thing to say in this situation and he can actually see the anger climbing back on the other’s features.

“Oh, I’m the one that is unfair?” the raised voice makes him jump a little in his chair. He feels the need to shield himself.

“Don’t yell at me.” He darkly says. Seungcheol seems taken aback for a short moment before he lets out a dry chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I leave then? Wait until you are ready to talk?”

He is mocking him, Jihoon thinks appalled. Seungcheol, his sweet boyfriend, is mocking him. By now he knows that there is no chance for this to end well, not when he feels his own defensive side taking control of his body, the edges of his vision turning red.

“What the is your problem?” he yells back, successfully surprising the other. “I don’t own you anything! I wasn’t the one who said that I will wait! Even so, I promised you I will explain and I was doing it when that woman came up.” He is standing up now, not realizing that he pushed the chair back until it violently collides with his desk.

“Don’t bring Eunbi in this!”

“Why not? You two seem so close. Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be with her, bringing back memories or ?”

“I’m here because you are my boyfriend!” Seungcheol screams. Jihoon stops.

“Am I, really?” His breathing comes out harshly into a laugh. “I thought we are just going to the same university. Just friends, you said.” He wants to take it back the moment he says it. That’s it: the root of his anguish, the seed of his jealousy. The words reflect the ugliest side of him, the one he never wanted Seungcheol to see.

“W-what?” Seungcheol’s words seemed to finally have died down. Jihoon hesitates for a second, but it is already out, he can’t take it back now. All he can do is go on.

“That’s what you said to her. We are just friends aren’t we? Why did you do it, though? Do you want to get back to her?” Are you ashamed of me? The most important question remains unspoken, covered by pride, but still hanging between them. Seungcheol doesn’t give him any answer, shock still gracing his features. Jihoon huffs, his fury leaving him together with the air. The hollowness replaces it, making him feel a little dizzy. He goes back to his chair, refusing to look at Seungcheol anymore. It’s not over yet, the tension is still there and he knows the other is just preparing his counterattack, but Jihoon is tired already. He slumps in his chair, knees up to rest his forehead on. The comeback comes earlier that he thought.

“Are you blaming it on me now? It’s not like you even tried.”

It should hurt, but maybe he is too tired. Maybe he is numb already.

“That’s what you think?” he quietly asks, turning his head around to watch Seungcheol. His cheek is still supported on his knees, his head too heavy to stay up on its own. Seungcheol doesn’t look at him, though.

“I don’t just think it. It’s already proved. You never talk to me, you don’t like to go out, never calling or texting first. You don’t like to show any affection and, heck, I don’t even know if we are on the same page. Is not like you ever told me anything about your feelings.” He looks more frustrated than angry and Jihoon feels guilt creeping in his guts. A sad smile covers his mouth.

“I never did?” It’s a rhetorical question, its softness melting the tension around the walls. He never did? he wonders. What about the song? But Seungcheol doesn’t know about the song. He should probably delete it, it was a stupid idea anyway.

“I guess I didn’t.” He didn’t. When Seungcheol was such a caring boyfriend, all Jihoon did was be his grumpy self. He wants to fight back that he tried, that usually he won’t even bother talking with a stranger. That he did so many things he had never done before because of Seungcheol. But maybe they weren’t enough. They surely weren’t enough. A bright person as Seungcheol couldn’t understand the struggle Jihoon has to go every time he as much as wanted to touch him. A bright person like Seungcheol won’t know the shadows that cloud around Jihoon. And that’s good, Seungcheol shouldn’t know. He should remain bright. What was Jihoon even thinking? Somebody like Seungcheol deserves a lot more that he could ever offer.

“Get out.” His voice is still soft, hiding the tornado ravishing his mind. What the hell was he thinking? Why did he let things go so far? He was already broken, why did he try dragging another person down with him?

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol sounds hesitant, almost afraid. It makes Jihoon feel worse. His fault, this was all his fault. His pain, Seungcheol’s anger and frustrations, he is the one who’s guilty.

“Don’t call me that!” he snaps. “Get out! I don’t need you.” The last one comes a lot quieter than his previous yells. His hand curls around the headphones resting on the chair’s arm. That’s right. He doesn’t need him. As long as he has his music he doesn’t need anybody. He should have known better than to put his trust in a human being.

“Don’t be like that.” The other’s voice is slightly quivering, but Jihoon resist the urge to raise his head. “This is not what I want, Woozi.”

“What do you want then?” his curiosity gets the best of him when he knows he should end this quickly, for both of their sakes. He feels Seungcheol’s body heath when the other comes even closer, but refuses to acknowledge it.

“I was angry. Still am. But I know we can work this out. You can’t end this.” Seungcheol’s soft voice makes him feel like a child. But he refuses to be consoled by him anymore.

“There’s nothing to end.” He argues back, voice gaining a little more strength. He pushes his chair more back when Seungcheol’s hand comes in his vision. “Let’s be serious. Since the beginning you were attracted to me because everyone told you to stay away. You found me mysterious or some . But now that you saw all of me your interest will disappear eventually.”

“That’s not true.” Seungcheol offended tone tempts him to look up. But he is afraid of the pain he could see on the other’s face. Or maybe worse, a validation of his words. He’s terrified that he’ll see in Seungcheol’s eyes how true his speculations are. Even the thoughts of it pains him enormously. He never felt the blade cutting so deep in his chest, not when he left home, not when Joshua abandoned him. The tumult of emotions that turns his head into a migraine and stomach upside down was never so strong.

“You broke me.” He ghostly whispers. For some reason, he finally raises his head. He is welcomed with confused, watery eyes. Another fault of his. “I have been just fine before you.” His brain seems to have shut down, his lips moving by themselves. The pain that paints Seungcheol’s face could only be his work. His words’ masterpiece. He watches attentively, curious about what could result from his tongue’s brushes.

 “Before you stepped into my life, I was content with it. I had all I needed. You just messed it all up.”

“Woozi, please.”

Should he be proud of the agony in Seungcheol’s eyes? Of the way he so pathetically begs for him? He has always known that love is ugly, that it could destroy oneself. Seungcheol’s pain is his proof. His own emotions too.

“I don’t need this. Please, leave.”

He turns the chair around and pushes the headphones on his ears, refusing to watch his work of art anymore. Without music, the headphones only make him more conscious of his own body’s sound, his erratic breaths, his heart’s spasms, the tears stinging his eyes and the knot in his throat. He ignores them all, falling more in his chair, hiding his whole being in it.

Seungcheol leaves after a few minutes. The bang of the door echoes around the room and in the hollowness that creeps inside Jihoon. The silence that follows is flat and unendurable. He reaches for his phone, hand cold and covered in sweat, and replays his song.

He is fine. He has his music. He’ll be okay.

He is proven wrong when more than two hours pass and he doesn’t succeed in doing anything. The music editor stares back at him from his laptop’s screen, same as when he opened it. His mind stays blank and the headache distracts him every time he tries to do something. The headphones lay on his lap, even their pressure being too much for him right now. The silence is heavy, choking the air of out his lungs, hovering above him and squeezing his soul. He needs air, and maybe something to soothe the ache in his chest too.

He doesn’t know how he gets to the small club in the elite part of the city. He didn’t think he will remember the way. After all, he has been there just once, two years ago. Back then he hesitated in front of the entrance and ran back home when he saw somebody exit it.

It’s small, just as Soonyoung described it so long ago, disguised between the bigger buildings with flashy signs. The dark wooden surface has no windows, no sign whatsoever that could tell what hides behind them.

The only change from the last time Jihoon visited the area is the bulky man dressed in black that waits next to the door. The same man that puts an arm in his way when he tries to enter.

“Where do you think you are going, kid?” he asks, eyes disapproving. Of course. His god damn appearance must stay in his way as always. The pink must have been a bad idea. Maybe he should change it. He swiftly gets his wallet of his pocket, shoving his ID in the man’s face. The man takes it and inspects it carefully, taking his time to glance at Jihoon and then back at the picture.

“Are you done?” he harshly asks after a minute. The man throws him another questioning look before giving back his ID and stepping aside.

Jihoon enters a narrow hallway, lightened by only a few purple bulbs along the floor. The only door at its end is just as dark and plain as the outside and for a moment Jihoon doubts his choice. Maybe Soonyoung was just lying, sending him a random address or something. But he is already here, and at the moment he doesn’t really give a about what could happen to him.

The knob is cold against his skin. He hasn't realized he was burning until he touches it. The door opens smoothly, but even if it would have made any sound, the music inside would have covered it. The walls must be soundproof, Jihoon thinks. The moment he closes the door after him, he feels his headache drifting away. It feels a lot like drowning, but the water is replaced with the thick beat of the song.

The room is small, nothing like a usual club. There is a small stage, but it looks more designed for performances. The place is almost empty, maybe because it’s an early evening, maybe because is still the start of the week. The few people crowd around the bar, chatting quietly enough to not cover the music. Any regret Jihoon had disappears. This place is perfect.

The bartender gives him the same questioning look as the bodyguard outside when he takes a seat in front of him. Jihoon just shoves his ID in his face and orders a glass of vodka.

As the night falls, the place becomes more crowded. Through his blurry state, Jihoon realizes that there is some short of dance performance on the stage and people are cheering loudly. The dancers look almost identical and Jihoon wonders if it is really a crew or just one dancer. He comes to the conclusion that the only thing that he cares about is the new glass in front of him.

It could be hours later, maybe even days, when the bartender refuses him another drink. Jihoon tries to fight him, but his thoughts don’t seem to coagulate in words. He just raises his glass for a tenth time, demanding another one, showing his ID again when he is refused. He is old enough to drink as much as he wants. As long as he is paying he doesn’t see the guy’s problem. Somewhere, at the back of his mind where his rational side is hiding, he knows that the man is right. He was never so drunk in his life, his vision doubled and the whole world spinning, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Because every time his heavy eyelids fall close he sees the pain in Seungcheol’s eyes.

“It’s not about the age, sir.” The man before him tries to explain even if he knows he is talking to deaf ears. Jihoon frowns and opens his mouth to say that the age is the only thing that matters. That he needs that drink if he wants to survive this night. But the words must have gotten lost somewhere between his mind and tongue. The only thing that he manages to say is Soonyoung's name. He repeats it again and again until he can’t comprehend if he is saying it out loud or only in his head.

The bartender throws him a pitiful look before he grabs his phone and speed dials his boss.

“Can you come down for a second?” he asks when a voice answers him. The kid with pink hair is looking at him strangely, eyes boring into his skull like he could see through it. With that much alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t be surprised if he really could.

“There’s a wasted kid here, saying that he knows you.” He answers the man on the other line. The calls ends shortly after and he turns back to the man. It seems he forgot about the requested drink, eyes fixated on the empty glass and fingers unconsciously tapping the beat of the current song.

For Jihoon it feels like only a few seconds has passed when somebody shakes his shoulder. He turns around a little too quickly, and his head starts spinning. He brings both of his hands up to steady it, scared that it will fall on the ground and shatter.

“Jihoon?”

The voice is familiar, even after all these years. When his vision finally clears enough, his eyes are filled with a mop of blue hair. It used to blonde, he thinks. A chuckle escapes his lips, remembering how hard he laughed when the other bleached his hair, a poorly done job.

“Soonyoung.” His voice is slurred and he bets that his breath smells like a cemetery. But Soonyoung eyes are filled with worry and even as drunk as he is, Jihoon can see the sincerity of that emotion.

Unknowingly, his tears finally start to fall, followed shortly by loud sobs. They all end up muffled in Soonyoung shirt and Jihoon thinks it is a very nice shirt. He wouldn’t mind disappearing in it too.