Kibum did hate going out on cold nights, and the bar in which Jinki was drowning his sorrows was not exactly around the corner. He was walking fast, and sniffling, and cussing under his breath for sure, but the thought of sending it all to hell and retreating to the warmth and comfort of his home didn't cross his mind even for a second. What he expected of others to do for him, he did for them.

Jinki was sitting by the counter, slouched, with his chin resting on his arm. His glasses had been put aside and the dim lights – a mixture of purplish pink and green – were reflected in them. His eyes were shut, but it was hard to tell if he was actually sleeping or just wandering in his thoughts.

He didn't move when Kibum sat next to him.

Kibum took a moment to look at his friend's face. It was so small and so boyish, that face, and the messy brown bangs made it look even more so. Young, innocent, even. Then Kibum remembered what he actually did for a living. Well, maybe not. But he also remembered how at someone's birthday party he had found Jinki in the kitchen, utterly faced and peeling oranges for some reason, and also trying to come up with as many rhymes for the word “refrigerator” as he could (he had come up with precisely zero). Then again... You can take it in the for cash, but still have a brain of a five-year old, I guess.

“Order something nice, I'll pay,” Jinki said without opening his eyes, causing Kibum to snap out of his reverie.

He ordered a citrus cocktail, and looked at his friend again. Words came easy to him most of the time, however, now he didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what had happened, but didn't hurry to ask about it, too.

He slept with him. They did it in some motel, and the brat kissed him on the mouth. Because he let him.

He bit his lip so hard it hurt, but then an image of Jonghyun shaking his head disapprovingly appeared in his mind, and the tension released him.

He opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, but Jinki was the first to speak:

“It happened again. The usual thing.” The young man opened his eyes and looked at Kibum. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“You said he's selfish, unreliable and will never get out of his own lies.”

I did?

“You said that he doesn't really care about anyone other than himself, that he only brings chaos, and I should get away from him if I have some self-respect left. You were absolutely right.”

Kibum sighed. Instead of marveling at his own rightness, he asked himself for a hundredth time just why it seemed so hard for him to shut the up, ever.

“Are you happy?” Jinki asked. His soft brown eyes were lost and somewhat apathetic.

“No,” the other answered quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not a complete jerk.”

Kibum reached out to remove a fallen eyelash from Jinki's nose. His skin was smooth and soft, and Kibum was quick to put his hand away and take a big sip from his cocktail that had arrived just on time.

“I ended it, it's all over,” Jinki said. “I left, he called me after and I told him what I think, I guess it was a closure... Farewell, good riddance... I'm supposed to feel relieved, aren't I? But why do I feel like , then?”

The other sighed.

“From my experience, a closure is not something you say when you end a relationship, nor is it what the other person says... Sure, right words spoken on time can create some sort of... completeness. But closure is something you achieve within yourself. It's you coming to peace with the past, letting it go... A true closure will take some time.”

Jinki picked up his glass, but didn't drink from it. He just looked into its shiny surface pensively.

“Maybe it's that. Maybe it's something else, too. But I feel like I'm missing something... Like there's something I overlooked. It could be important, or not...”

Kibum had some thoughts on that, it seemed, but hesitated to voice them for some reason. When he did open his mouth to say something, Jinki spoke first, again:

“But you're right. I'll wait a little and it will pass.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes.

“I'm glad you came.”

Kibum shrugged.

“It's nothing.”

“No, I really appreciate it.”

“What kind of person would reject an invitation to his friend's self-pity party? Come on, it's stuffy here, let's go and breath some air,” he said, taking his wallet out to pay for the drinks.

Jinki put his hand on Kibum's wrist to stop him.

“I said I'm paying,” he reminded him.

His hand lingered just a moment longer than it should have.

They went outside and cursed at the cold gust of wind that rushed onto their faces. Jinki put his glasses back on and blinked.

“Now I can feel the alcohol.”

“Well, with the amount you've had... , it's cold,” Kibum grumbled, shrinking into himself. He waited while the other struggled with his zipper. “Uh, hurry up.”

“You are the one who wanted to get some fresh air.”

“This air is way too fresh to me, I'd say.”

Jinki laughed – a cheerful, genuine laugh that was so out of place on that troublesome night.

Kibum was taken aback by that laughter somehow. Who is he?, it made Kibum wonder. How can he be so unfeeling when he was heartbroken an hour ago?

“If only people got paid for whining 24/7,” Jinki joked, giving him a rough, if playful push as they started walking.

“Then I'd still be poor, ,” the other murmured. “You'd be pooping diamonds, though.”

“You butthole,” the older boy growled, pulling him into a headlock, out of which Kibum broke out with some effort.

“, you've ruined my hair!”

“I can't see any difference, though.”

That's what Jinki was like when drunk – merry and rough. Kibum couldn't say that he didn't like it, but it did get on his nerves sometimes.

“Where will we go?” Jinki asked, throwing his arm around the other's shoulders as they walked.

“To our respective homes?”

“No, not there. Anywhere but home.”

Kibum looked at him and saw a bit of a frown. Maybe he's not unfeeling. Maybe he's just trying not to feel.

“You need some rest, though.”

Jinki let him go and dug his hands into his pockets.

“I won't get any there, that's for sure. Some dude dumped a huge turd in the toilet and it's been blocked for two days now because our landlord can't get off his and do something about it.”

“Man, that's disgusting.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What about the roaches and the fridge?”

“Still thriving. Still broken.”

Kibum clicked his tongue.

“Why don't you just move out?”

“Nah... The place is dirt cheap, I get free ramen, there's an elevator and it's like ten meters away from the uni.”

“But ing roaches?!”

Jinki shrugged.

“I don't spend much time there anyway. And when I do, I just... turn off my brain. It's like I'm there, but I'm not... I did think of moving last spring, but time passed, and I did nothing. The roaches were there, something was rotting in the fridge, I got used to trying not to breathe while taking shower, to hearing the Taiwanese guys babbling in the kitchen at night... I realized that you can get used to anything if you turn your mind off well enough.”

They were crossing the bridge now. Below, where a stream had used to flow, there was a construction site, lifeless at this time of night. No light, no motion, just chilly darkness and the headlights of occasional cars passing by.

Jinki's words made the air colder, heavier. What was so unsettling about them? The easy manner in which they had been uttered? Or the fact that Kibum knew exactly what they meant and how far they reached?

“Anyway, I got used to it. It's just that tonight I don't wanna go back there.”

“My last guy was too rough,” Kibum confessed, suddenly.

“How rough?”

They stopped halfway across the bridge and leaned on the railings.

“Sitting down is a pain in the . Literally.”

“That happened before, no?”

“Yeah, but I had to resort to biting this time.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, he came to his senses and apologized profusely. You know what those uncle types are like.”

Jinki nodded, lighting a cigarette.

“Is it the guy you've been with before? The one with the stutter?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did he go harder on you this time?”

“That's the problem. He didn't. He did the usual thing. It's just...” Kibum frowned. “I kind of snapped out of it in the middle. And felt only the pain and fear... For a moment I thought I'd die, really. So I know what you mean by switching your mind off. It protects us from realizing what's going on. In fact, it got me thinking... would we even be able to do our job if we were constantly aware of what we're doing?” He looked at Jinki. “Is it even normal that we have to freeze our brains in order to be able to endure every single minute of it?”

Jinki sighed, smoke streaming out of his mouth and lingering in the air.

“Normal for who? What we do is not normal for most people, yet for us it is, because it's the reality that we're used to. And it's not like the freezing your brain part only pertains to ion. If I were an office rat and had to sit in a cubicle and fill out tables from 9 to 6, the that I'm doing would be the last thing that I would be thinking about. They're all living with their eyes firmly shut.”

“But… don't you sometimes feel that you will regret it in the future? What you spent your young years on?”

“A job is a job... It's not the best, but it brings in the cash – why should I regret it?”

Kibum bit his lip.

“Well, the job we're doing is not exactly good. Sometimes I think about it...”

“But it's not exactly bad, either. It's not like we're harming anyone. Except for ourselves, maybe, but whatever happens to our bodies is our responsibility. ‘Good’ and ‘bad’ are relative notions anyway.”

“You can't live relying on such vague terms, though.”

“On the contrary, to me, there are two types of things – those that are relevant to my life right now and those that aren't. To me, the world is pretty much black and white. You, on the other hand, believe in Heaven and angels, and predetermined moral value systems, and no offense, but relying on something so subjective is rather vague to me.”

“Did you see Taemin as black and white, too?”

Jinki hesitated to answer.

“No. Sometimes I think I couldn't see him at all... He made me doubt everything. Myself, too.” He peered into the darkness below, taking another drag. “I wish there was water down below.”

Kibum followed his gaze, but the sight of empty pits and wooden planks under the bridge disturbed him. He turned around, leaning his back on the railings.

“Minho is out tonight,” he said, examining his shoes. “You can crash at our place.”

“Thanks.”

“In fact...” Kibum faltered, as if unsure if whatever he was going to say was a good idea. “He'll be moving out for good in two weeks, so...”

Jinki looked at him in surprise.

“Really? Why?”

“Well, do you remember his girlfriend? The really loud one?”

“The one who uses your face masks without asking?”

“The one who uses my face masks without asking, yes...” Kibum answered, pretending to be checking his nails now. “Anyways, she's finally gonna get that plastic surgery she was rattling on about, and I may or may not have told her, in a moment of extreme frustration, that it can't do much for her personality, and Minho may or may not be pissed at me because of that, so...”

The unsympathetic Jinki burst into laughter.

“Anyway, you can stay there for a while. I know it's more expensive than your hole, but at least I took care of the deposit and I won't make you pay the utility fees, so it's a good offer... Actually, it's more like a strong recommendation than an offer, now that I've heard the tale of the giant turd.”

The other smiled, looking at him.

“I'll think about it, thank you.”

He threw the finished cigarette away.

“What do you wanna do right now, then?”

“Hmm... What about singing a bit?”

Kibum groaned, and his friend grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the other side of the bridge.

“You're in the mood for singing?!”

“Come on, I know you love it, too.”

“Okay, but just one round, you hear me?”

“Yes, yes,” Jinki promised, dragging him away into the night.

Mr. Kim stopped the car just in time before Taemin threw up. He managed to open the door and scramble out of the backseat before the leather-bound seats suffered, but couldn't hold it in long enough to take a few steps from the vehicle, and vomited on the road. Mrs. Lee hurried to get out from the other side, and her heels click-clacked around the car as she rushed to her son as if she could do something to help him. However, there was no way she could be of use, so she just stood beside him, his back and looking anguished.

Mr. Kim promptly prepared some paper tissues, and Mr. Lee snatched them from him to wipe her son's face, but Taemin jerked away and did it himself. Without saying anything, he got back inside the car and slammed the door shut.

The engine started again. Taemin, pale and teary-eyed after the strain his body had been put through, was staring into space, while his mother watched him, as if expecting something new to happen.

“I'm fine. No need to stare at me.”

“What did you eat?”

“Chicken. Fried.”

“What did the doctor tell you about fat food? It's bad for you. Your stomach can't digest it prop-”

Taemin closed his eyes and broke her off:

“For god's sake, mom. Shut up.”

They sat in silence for a while.

Taemin was dozing off when he heard his mother doing something on her phone (because, of course, she hadn't turned off the key sounds). He opened his eyes again.

“You won,” he uttered. “You wanted me to have nowhere to go but the house, to have no one to talk to but you. No one to ‘love’ me but you... And now there is no one left except for you. Nothing but bitter emptiness.” He looked at her. “Come on, congratulate yourself.”

He was trying to sound distant, but couldn't overcome the vexation, the sorrow burning his chest. His voice trembled.

Mrs. Lee put her phone away, her curled eyelashes fluttering as she breathed in and said:

“How can I be congratulating myself when my child is in pain?”

“Didn't bother you before, did it? … You controlled me, thinking you know what's best, and I hated you for it. You suffocated me... But then I turned into you. And now my friends have left me, the person I love has left me. Everybody leaves. Is this what your lonely, pathetic life is like?”

A tear trickled down the boy's cheek, but he didn't move to wipe out away. He was looking at his mother with hazy eyes, as if she was only a reflection on water.

“Is it worth it?” he added, because she remained silent.

“Yes. As long as I have you, I don't care about others leaving,” she murmured. “I love you and I'd do anything for your sake.”

Taemin, unable to keep his feelings in, hid his face in his hands and let out a pained cry, his shoulders visibly shaking with the force of the sobs racking his body.

Unsure at first, Mrs. Lee gently wrapped her arm around her son's shoulders, and pulled him closer. He didn't resist.

He wept in his mother's arms wordlessly until fatigue dulled the pain and he fell asleep, resting his head on her lap.

When the car arrived in Cheongdam, he was still sleeping. Mr. Kim stopped the engine and got out of the car to open the door, but Mrs. Lee hesitated to wake the boy up. She combed her slim fingers through his messy black hair and leaned down to put a light kiss on his temple.

She and the driver exchanged glances. It was late and the air coming in from the outside was cold. It was time to go. At first Taemin was barely aware of what was going on, then he remembered – and the look in his eyes became heavier, sadder. He was weak from the emotional whirlwind he had gone through, and every movement was a struggle.

Mrs. Lee and Mr. Kim held him by the arms as they walked to the house and climbed the stairs. When they were inside, the woman turned to the driver and motioned him away, meaning that she could manage on her own from that moment.

However, Taemin didn't want her to lead him all the way to his room. On the way upstairs, he pulled away from her and continued upwards before pausing and turning his head to the side.

“For how long have you known that I'm gay?” he asked, his back facing her.

“For a while.”

“How did you find out?”

“I...” Mrs. Lee gulped. “I saw your browser history.”

Taemin laughed, joylessly.

“No comments on that, then?”

“I've gotten past the shock already. There's nothing to say.”

“Right.”

“Goodnight,” his mother's voice muttered from behind his back apprehensively.

“Goodnight,” he replied emotionlessly as he retreated back to his room.

Kibum didn't bring his ID with him, so they had to go to the noraebang where those weren't required. They ended up going to one of the cheaper coin ones where you get two songs for five hundred won. It was located in a basement, too shabby to have a CCTV system, and Jinki had no problem smuggling soju inside.

It was well past midnight already, and they easily found a room.

“Wait, I think I have a five-hundred...” Kibum murmured, rummaging his pockets for change.

“It's okay, I have a thousand.”

Jinki inserted a bank note into the slot, and the screen greeted them with colorful animations and music.

“What the have you done?!” Kibum cried, pointing at the upper right corner of the screen frantically.

Jinki raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“How come we've got forty songs?!”

“We do?”

“How much did you put in?”

Jinki looked at the other bank note he was still holding in his hand – a one-thousand.

“Um... I think I put in the ten thousand won by mistake.”

Kibum was staring at him in shock. The corners of Jinki's mouth trembled and he burst into laughter.

“Your face, I can't...”

The other clicked his tongue, taking his jacket off.

“Whatever, I'm not staying for forty songs.”

“Come on, if an average song is 3 minutes and 30 seconds, it's just 2 hours and 20 minutes of singing, and if we also add an average, say, 1.5 minutes to choose each song, though that might take longer in your case, it's 60 minutes more. So, in the end we get only 3 hours and 20 minutes.” Jinki pushed his glasses up his nose with a look of self-satisfaction on his face.

Kibum glared at him.

“Two things: you are a nerd, and I'm not staying here for 3 ing hours. Now pass me the bottle and I'll choose first.”

Jinki began with trot songs, like he always did, because he had an odd sort of affection for them. Something from the family, I guess. Kibum might groan and roll his eyes at that old-fashioned choice, but in the end he inevitably sang along. Those tunes were catchy after all, and the naive, often humorous lyrics were ingrained in his consciousness after years spent living with his grandmother.

He then moved on to ballads, which he also loved, and for Kibum it was time to sit back and drink, and let the sound of his friend's voice fill him up. And he did have one hell of a voice. It was velvety and powerful, low and high, sad and warm - it was everything. The more Kibum drank, the deeper it flowed into his very core. He knew Jinki himself had nothing to do with that: it was a gift he had been born with.

Jinki looked different when he sang. He closed his eyes, let the music move his body, became soft and even sensitive. But he wasn't really here. His mind wandered somewhere, and even in this moment of openness he was by himself.

Today his voice made Kibum sad. Another song ended, Jinki got his 96 points (not without huffing with scorn, because he had gotten all the notes and lyrics right), and his friend was staring at the screen absently.

“Wanna choose?”

Jinki offered him the remote, but Kibum shook his head.

“Pass.”

“You've passed three times already.”

“It's fine, you sing.”

Jinki put the remote on the other's lap.

“Pick.”

Kibum groaned and activated the menu.

“Gotta do the old girl, then.”

“Who's the old girl?”

“Adele.”

Jinki laughed.

“You're so gay.”

“Yes. Aren't you?”

He shrugged.

“I don't know what I am, to be honest. I'm just… tired.”

Kibum sang “When We Were Young”. He had promised himself that he wouldn't sing anything sad, but Jinki's ballads had put him in a pensive mood. Jinki knew that song, too, but didn't sing along. He listened, watching the random landscapes accompanying the lyrics change, his eyes glistening behind the glasses.

Kibum forgot a part, but still got 91 points. They sat back, surrounded by the cacophony of sounds coming from the adjacent rooms. Some guy behind the wall was trying to sing a Girlfriend's song in the original key and failing miserably.

“At least he's got the soul,” Jinki remarked, and they both cracked up.

They sang along loudly when the chorus came and laughed again, even louder than before.

Kibum knew the choreography for that song and got up to dance, to his friend's delight. He did all the facial expressions too, and would've created a perfect image of a shy school girl if he wasn't a drunken man in his mid-20s wearing ripped jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a leopard pattern.

Jinki cheered for him and clapped when, breathless after that sudden outburst of energy, Kibum tumbled back down on the bench, sweat visible on his forehead.

“Damn, you're good!”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“On the contrary,” Jinki argued, smiling. “I always thought very highly of you.”

He patted Kibum's knee, but somehow missed a perfectly good moment to put his hand away without creating any sort of ambiguous tension.

“Cool,” Kibum said, taking another sip of soju that he didn't really need.

“You got a new haircut.”

“You only noticed now?”

“You know I'm bad at noticing things.” Jinki sounded quite casual, considering the placement of his hand and the fact that his thumb was his friend's knee - as if his mind wasn't fully aware of what his body was doing.

Kibum was aware of everything.

“Yep, I think I know what you're talking about.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.”

Jinki gave a drunken giggle, his eyes turning into slits behind the glasses.

Don't look at his lips. Don't. Look.

Kibum also giggled, feeling hot. It seemed that the hand had moved up his thigh a bit.

It's not that hard to push it away, is it.

They kept laughing, staring at each other.

Don't look.

Jinki's eyes shifted. He did look. his lip. Kibum did the same, blood pulsing in his temples.

Unable to bear the excruciating suspense any longer, he put his hands on his friend's cheeks and kissed him.

They looked at each other. Jinki's eyes were smiling. He leaned closer and pressed his mouth to Kibum's, again.

It was easy and natural, to be making out among the dancing lights, drunk and not bound by any kind of promise – almost to the point of drowning out the wrongness of kissing someone whose heart and mind were elsewhere.

Jinki's hand slipped under his shirt as the kiss deepened, his glasses getting in the way. Kibum moaned softly.

He pulled away to take the bottle standing by his side and place it on the floor instead. He then lay his back on the bench, bringing the other down with him.

They were too intoxicated to be good at what they were doing, the bench and their position were equally uncomfortable, but there was enough chemistry involved to keep them engaged.

They were interrupted by the door being flung open and a low, drunken voice stammering:

“Oh… wrong room… sorry.”

The intruder shut the door quickly and the two lovers sat upright. Jinki bit his lip and Kibum rubbed his forehead. The electricity had dissolved.

“I'd say that was a welcome intervention.”

Jinki nodded.

“Agreed.”

“I'm kinda hungry… How about some nocturnal ramen?”

He shrugged.

“Sure.”

They fixed their clothes, took their stuff and walked out, leaving 17 unsung songs for the next lucky visitor.