On Sunday, Minho came around to pack his stuff. When he was finished with his clothes and personal belongings, he directed his sullen self to the kitchen, where he opened drawers and examined shelves, searching for items to which, based on his logic, he had the right of ownership. Every time he found such an item, he made a comment about it such as ‘This is mine’ or ‘I bought this’ and gave Kibum a meaningful look before putting it into the box. So far among such subjects had been: a Heinz ketchup, a bottle of mustard, assorted spices for cooking, a bag of almonds, the rice cooker etc.

Meanwhile, Kibum was standing in the doorway, eating mint choco ice cream from a cup and staring at Minho's . He was wearing a tight-fitting white shirt and blue jeans that hugged his assets in all the right ways – Kibum just couldn't help himself.

“What have we got here?” Minho wondered dramatically, peeking into the section under the sink. “Liquid laundry detergent with the scent of the ocean! Wonderful! I wonder who finally bought it after repeatedly asking someone else to do that because he was too busy working, but to no avail!”

Kibum shook his head, his spoon.

“I don't really get the point you're trying to make here, so you might as well pack quietly.”

“The point here, Kibum,” Minho began explaining, dropping the fabric softener into the box as well, “is to highlight how ungrateful you've been to someone who invested so much money and care into this place.”

“Oh, I am grateful. Thank you for showing me what butthurt is and how far it can take you. If you ever succeed in the movies, you know what to call your autobiographical film, by the way.”

Minho just shook his head. He remembered Gwiboon's warnings: Don't get provoked and don't get into an argument. Once you're in, he will win.

 “I would've taken the toaster, too, but I know that your lazy will never condescend to walk all the fifty meters to the E-mart and buy a new one.”

“Why not, though?” Kibum asked innocently, scraping the remaining ice-cream off the bottom of the cup. “Might come handy in your newly found straight life.”

That was when Minho exploded.

“Oh, no, how dare a biual fall in love with a person of a different gender! Now I have to return my special gay card!!!”

Kibum couldn't bear his friend's fiery glare and looked away. Minho breathed, counted to ten in his mind and continued packing.

“You can keep your special gay card. I'm just a bitter single,” his friend murmured.

“You certainly act like it.”

Kibum pouted.

“Do you remember the days when you still liked me? When I was funny and sweet.”

“Yeah, before you turned into a nasty little .”

“But people love me for being a nasty little .”

“No, they love you in spite of that.”

Kibum gave a long sigh, watching his friend knock over the cereal box by accident and crouch down to gather the flakes scattered on the floor. He took the dustpan with the brush and joined to help.

“Minho, you don't have to move,” he said, finally, when the cleaning was done and they stood in the middle of the kitchen, with Minho thinking if there was something else he should take.

“Oh, I think I do.”

“I'm over my feelings for you.”

Minho looked at him with both surprise and a tinge of embarrassment.

“Relax. I know that you know. I'm not in love with you anymore and you don't have to do this to spare my feelings. I know that you love this place, so you and Gwiboon should stay.”

“But... why did you fight with her then? I thought you were, um...” Minho scratched his nose.

“Jealous? Well, I'm jealous of all happy people by default. But not because of you... However, Gwiboon needs to get her own masks. They're given out for free, for 's sake!”

“But she told me she likes the snail ones and now that the shop people have memorized her face they won't give her any free stuff... Granted, it's because she doesn't really buy anything, but you know that's she's saving up for a job,” Minho explained in a smart tone of a person making a presentation for a group of very dumb investors.

“You know what to buy her on your next date, then!… Look. I know that you love this place, and you've invested in it. And you don't want to move in with Gwiboon's farting uncle. Let's leave our stupid conflicts behind and live like we used to. What do you say?”

Minho took a pause to consider.

“Will you continue being a total ?”

Kibum crossed his arms on his chest.

“Only as much as my nature requires.”

Minho gave him a heavy look.

“Okay, maybe fifteen percent less than before.”

“That's not enough.”

“Okay, thirty... But that's my final offer!”

“You'll have to apologize to Gwiboon, too.”

Kibum groaned and went to the living room.

“Do I have to?” he whined, plopping on the couch, right on top of Minho's neat office suit that was used for special occasions only, which he had prepared to take with him today.

“Yes, you have to, and get your off my suit if you're not ready to die!” Minho yelled, his eyes round with indignation.

“So much for your anger control techniques,” Kibum grumbled, lifting his rear just enough for the owner of the suit to snatch it from under him. “Urgh... Okay, I'll apologize to her. Now stop packing and put that ketchup back.”

Minho looked around, sighed and sat down beside Kibum.

“Of course, I'm not excited to leave… I mean, the subway is near, our apartment is clean, the space is big…”

“Not to mention that I decorated it beautifully,” Kibum chimed in.

“Well, you did... Heck, I don't wanna travel from ing Ilsan every morning...”

“See? So many reasons to stay.”

“Yep... I guess... What will you say to whomever you made a deal with, though?”

Kibum faltered.

“Ah, that... I didn't really make a deal.”

“But you've shown the room to people, right?”

“Um... no.”

“You mean you just sat here waiting for a genie to appear and take care of it or something?!”

“No, I knew that you'd stay in the end.”

“You're unbelievable,” Minho said, shaking his head.

“I mean, I also hoped that Jinki would take it, but it just so happened that he broke up with his bipolar client slash boyfriend that night, we got drunk on cocktails and soju and fought while eating ramen at 3 am, and then after he broke down in the shower we both figured out that I have a crush on him and it all fell apart… In short, he said ‘no’, and I still don't know whether it's because of me or because he wants to take a break from the work and needs the money.”

Kibum himself didn't know what was that in Minho that always invited him to spill all the dramatic episodes of his life on him, supplied with all the unnecessary details. He would never say out loud how much he had missed that during the time of their brief falling out.

“You have a crush on the Nerd?!” Minho cried in disbelief, as if all of the other aspects of the story were perfectly normal.

“I think so, yes,” Kibum answered in a plaintive voice, seeking sympathy. “Ain't it sad?”

“Jeez... You really shouldn't be left unattended.”

“It's good that you're not going anywhere anymore, then. Right?”

“I feel like my presence is necessary, so I have no choice.”

Kibum grinned.

“Good.”

They hugged, sat back and relaxed like in the olden times.

“Minho.”

“What?”

“You're sitting on your suit.”

“Uh, ... well, it's crushed already, so no need to budge.”

“True.”

And they both laughed.

Mrs. Lee was calling the internet provider to find out what was wrong with the Wi-Fi. She didn't know much about computers. Her son did, but asking him would be too troublesome. The operator put her on hold and she walked around the house, fixing flowers and curtains and checking if the maids had done the cleaning properly while the music was playing.

When she went downstairs to the living room, she was surprised to find Taemin lounging on the couch and watching ‘The Game of Thrones’ with a plate of sushi rolls laid out in front of him on the coffee table.

“You're supposed to be at the academy. Why are you here?” she asked, putting the phone away from her ear.

“And you are supposed to be in your personal Hell into which you've successfully dragged me.” Taemin retorted with icy calmness, not looking at her. “Oh wait, you're always in it.”

“How many weeks have you missed already?”

Taemin shrugged.

“Dunno. Three?”

She reclined on the leather-bound armchair nearby with a concerned expression on her face.

“When was the last time you went outside at all?”

“The night you made me ultimately hate myself?”

“You can't just lock yourself up like this. You need to breath some air.”

Taemin stuffed a salmon roll in his mouth, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“You wanted me to stay put. What are you complaining about?”

Mrs. Lee sighed, running her manicured hand over her wavy hair.

“I wanted you to stay away from dangerous places and strange people. But sitting in four walls is damaging for your health, physical and mental. Even a couple of days without going outside is bad, but it's been two weeks.”

“I'm fine,” Taemin argued, chewing. “Please, leave me alone.”

“No, you're not!” his mother insisted in her high-pitched voice. “You look pale and gray, your eyes are red, and you're even more irritable than usual. You must go ou-”

The young man turned the volume up on the remote to drown out his mother's preaching with the sounds of the violent battle taking place on the screen.

But the woman didn't give up.

“Taemin! I will call your therapist and you will resume your treatment!”

He made the TV even louder.

“A time comes for everyone to pay for their mistakes,” the woman muttered. She remembered about her call and put the phone to her ear.

“Oh, hello? Yes, I'm here. I'm calling about...”

Mrs. Lee stood up and hurried away from the noise of the TV as Taemin watched her leave out of the corner of his eye. When she was completely gone, he put the volume of the TV back to normal. The terrible tension caused by his mother's presence released his body and he sank back into the pillows.

A few days later Taemin had to admit to himself that his mother was right – the house, for all of its air conditioners and big spaces, got stuffy and began suffocating him. Except after all that time he had spent not going out he developed a fear of the outside: the sunny weather was rather alienating than inviting, now. He felt the need to leave, but didn't know how to.

His mother had gone somewhere that morning, and Taemin felt free enough to walk around the house. The warm yellow light streaking in from under the curtains was tantalizing.

He sat by the piano and played a few of his own pieces. (He didn't really feel them today.) Then he struck a random chord and sat in silence, feeling the suffocating lack of air with his very skin. He knew he had to go.

I should really put an end to this.

Taemin closed the lid of the instrument gently, and walked to the balcony overlooking the garden and the gates. There wasn't much in the garden – just a few trees, some bushes and hedges, but mostly the boring lawn, the mowing of which woke him up so often.

Mr. Kim was outside, standing near the BMW and making himself busy by cleaning the wing mirror.

They greeted each other.

For a minute, Taemin looked around, leaning on the railings, and the man continued cleaning in silence.

Then Taemin asked why Mr. Kim was here (because Mrs. Lee had taken her own car and told him to stay here in case ‘Master Taemin needed him’).

“So, you've been waiting here for me every day?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Isn't it boring?”

The driver shrugged with a smile.

“I always find little things to do, so it's quite alright, sir.”

Taemin sighed.

“Okay, let's go to Sokcho.”

Mr. Kim raised his eyebrows.

“Sokcho, sir?”

“Yes, I want to go to the sea.”

“But… will you be alright with going such a long way? It will take about three hours to get there.”

“I'll be fine, I'll take my car sickness pills. I mean, if it's not too far for you.”

The driver smiled warmly.

“On the contrary, sir, I'll be happy to take you to the sea.”

While Taemin was getting ready, Mr. Kim had to report to the lady of the house by the phone.

She couldn't understand her son's sudden impulse.

“Why going all the way to Gangwon when you can simply go to the beach in Incheon? It takes a bit more than an hour to get there and the roads are less dangerous.”

“Forgive me, Ma'am, but I think Master Taemin wants to see ‘the big sea’, like he used to say... He might be wanting to relive his happy memories there.”

Mrs. Lee gave a quiet laugh.

“Sadly, that doesn't sound like my son anymore... I wanted him to go outside, and he chose to go as far away from me as he could… But what can be done. Let me know when you get there and don't let him near the braised chicken.”

Mr. Kim assured her that he would do as she asked and bring her son back safely.

Taemin got dressed without putting much thought into it, didn't style his hair (it was going to be ruined by the wind anyway), and threw his black coat on without checking the weather.

Then he knelt down beside the bed and took his favorite box out. After rummaging in there a bit, he found a single razor blade in a little paper envelope. He took it out and tapped the edge of the blade with his fingertip to check if it was still sharp (it was), put it back into the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. He then hid the box, grabbed his phone from the dressing table and went outside without throwing one last look around.

In the car, Taemin stretched himself on the backseat and drifted off right away. Mr. Kim woke him up once by asking if he would like to have a snack at a cafeteria by the road before the mountain area started. He declined.

“But you should go out and eat something. I'll just sleep here,” he said, closing his eyes again.

Mr. Kim went and came back quickly, and started the engine again. Shortly before they reached Sokcho Taemin woke up and sat up to look through the window. The sun was still up, it being about four in the afternoon, but the shadows were already becoming longer.

Finally, they reached the shore. Taemin got out of the car and shut his eyes again. Long road trips were a challenge for him and he felt a bit dizzy, but the air from the sea felt fresh and cool on his face.

He walked into the breeze, the pavement under his feet changed into sand and the murmur of the waves became louder. It was the low season now, and there were only a few people scattered around – mostly the elderly, a family and a man with a big golden retriever that was running after its master's bicycle briskly.

Naturally, Taemin went to the emptiest area of the beach. He stopped at the very edge of the tide, gazed at the foamy blue waves and the cloudless, gradually darkening skies. He took a few steps away from the water to sit down. When he looked around, he saw Mr. Kim standing at a distance.

“Why are you standing so far away?” Taemin shouted through the wind.

“I didn't want to disturb you, sir. In case you want to be alone.”

“It's okay. Come, sit with me.”

The man obeyed, and in a minute, they were sitting on the sand, watching the sea and the sky changing, together.

“Do you remember the times when I brought you and Mrs. Lee here?”

“I was small.”

“You were a tiny little boy,” Mr. Kim reminisced with a pensive smile. “So full of joy and vigor. One minute you were running around with your kite, the other you were splashing in the water... You would collect sea shells, remember?”

Taemin did remember, but somehow it felt like those memories didn't belong to him anymore.

“Vaguely.”

“You'd play in the sand, and when you got tired, you would rush to Mrs. Lee and throw your arms around her, and kiss her...”

Mr. Kim's voice shook, and when the young man looked at him, he saw that his eyes were glistening with tears.

“Why are you crying?”

“You told your mother that she was beautiful... And both of you were so happy. And I was happy looking at you. I'm crying because those are such good memories.”

“And now it feels like those moments are gone forever?”

Taemin didn't ask that question to bring pain. He was trying to understand.

“No matter what, I don't want to think so, Master Taemin. I hope they're not.”

Taemin was sure that they were, but he didn't say it out loud.

He felt like walking around a bit more. So, he stood up and walked along the beach, his sneakers sinking in the sand.

This air is so good.

He breathed deeply.

He imagined Jinki walking beside him in his Yonsei vest, hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans. He saw him so vividly – indeed, he had studied him well.

“I'm being very selfish again, right?” he asked the vision, smiling faintly.

“You're always very selfish, though,” Jinki answered, his voice so realistically soft – just like the breeze sweeping through his messy dark hair. “One might say, you're living the expectations.”

“Well, if I'm expected to be selfish anyway... Doesn't it mean that I give others what they ask for?”

Jinki pouted.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Which means I'm doing them a favor... And if I'm here with the intent of doing everyone a favor, I'm not that selfish, right?”

Jinki shrugged.

“What do you care anyway? To them you're nothing but a brat.”

“True. What am I to you, though?”

“Well... Only the real me would know for sure. But I'd say, you're still a brat. And kind of a creep, too.”

Taemin nodded.

“Right. So, you must be relieved that you're rid of me now.”

“Oh, I am relieved, I imagine,” the other agreed, fixing his glasses. “I mean, you grew so attached... You were erratic, unpredictable. Basically stalked me to beg for attention. And all that negativity, all that complaining... All those mood swings... Even if I felt a momentary affection for you, you successfully killed it.”

“I understand. You see yourself as the victim, don't you?”

“Well, I was, wasn't I?”

Taemin thought a little.

“When I try to see it from your point of view, it makes perfect sense. A whiny, crazy rich kid who won't stop pestering you with his stories and feelings... With a bipolar disorder, too.”

“Yeah, I suspected something like that.”

They stopped walking. The sea was exhilarating, but Taemin felt a heavy lump in his chest.

“You were never in love with me, right?”

Jinki was looking at him almost sympathetically.

“You don't have to ask me when you already have the answer in your heart.”

Taemin's eyes started stinging. He tried to get hold of himself, but it was hard. His vision got blurry.

He buried his face in his hands. His head was aching again.

“It was obvious, though,” Jinki's voice said into his ear. “I never took you seriously. I always called you stupid, lazy and a brat, was deliberately cold with you and always reminded you that I'm only with you for your money. Firstly, because it was true, secondly, when someone is that crazy and impulsive, it's easy to forget that they are, you know, a living human being.”

“Ah, give me a break.”

“I saw that you were falling in love with me, since you were always very open about it, but I didn't really want to cut ties with you, because being with a handsome young man with a desirable body is way more convenient than ing with ugly, potentially dangerous older men. I liked reminding you that I was only your , but, in fact, the was you.”

Taemin removed his hands from his face and covered his ears instead. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Please, stop. The real you would never say such things,” he sobbed.

Jinki sighed.

“Then you should stop saying them to yourself.”

Taemin looked at the water. The sun was distinctly approaching the horizon. The waves became a darker blue and the light was both golden and pink.

“You've made me so angry, Jinki. So angry.” He turned to the vision. Jinki's face looked so eerily peaceful. “But all I wanna do is kiss you for it.”

“You can try, but don't be surprised if people look at you funny. That old lady you passed a few minutes ago is still staring at your back ‘cause you're talking to air.”

Taemin laughed, wiping his nose with his hand. Jinki smiled, too.

“The reason why I'm angry with you, among the rest, is that you've made me the villain of your story. The villain and a liar.”

The smile turned into a frown.

“You constantly flaked on me, though, didn't you?”

“Well, try to be insecure, ignorant and scared of the world, be haunted by the image of your lover leaving you because of your issues, struggle with the intuitive knowledge that he doesn't love you back and then be consistent with your promises.”

The frown dissipated.

“Hm... It does makes sense. Or maybe it's a bunch of crap you're telling yourself to justify your behavior.”

“Maybe. But it feels true now. I've never been a liar, really. And if my feelings change, it's because they really do. I would never lie to you, never mind purposely deceive you to manipulate you into anything. Much less about the feelings I had for you.”

Jinki nodded understandingly.

“It's a bummer that I'll never know, then.”

“I don't know. Maybe it's good. I don't want you to pity me.”

“True. But you're still a stupid brat.”

Taemin laughed again, wiping his tears away.

“That might end today, though.”

“I'm sure you don't even know how to cut properly.”

“It's funny how, even when I willfully hallucinate you, you are so dismissive about any piece of knowledge I might have in this life.”

Jinki chuckled.

“I know.” He patted Taemin's shoulder awkwardly. “Now stop dilly dallying and go back. It's getting late.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Tae, I'm not real. I will be wherever the hell you put me.”

Right.

Taemin took a deep breath and turned back where he had left Mr. Kim. He took a few steps and threw a glance over his shoulder. Jinki had fallen behind. He stood, waving at him with his goofy smile.

“Mr. Kim, would you be so kind and buy some ice-cream for both of us?” Taemin asked as he approached the man. “I saw a Baskin Robbins on the way here.”

“Oh, really? Where was it, sir?”

“Um... about ten minutes away from here? Maybe fifteen. Just drive the same way back until it's on your left, I think.”

“Sure.”

The man got back on his feet quickly, happy that he could be of service.

“I'll be right back,” he promised, putting his hat back on.

“It's okay, Mr. Kim, there's no hurry.” He sat down again. There was no one around him.

He wished he could say that he was composed, determined and content with the fact that all the obstacles were now gone. Instead, he could feel the knot of anxiety in his stomach. Strangely, he almost wanted not to be alone right now.

It's funny how you called me shallow and vain all the time, when in my feelings for you I were neither. You were attracted to my appearance and the fact that being with me got you distracted from your own struggles, while I lived for the moments when you opened up to me. I only kept coming back because I hoped that you were in love with me too.

Taemin raised his eyes. The imaginary Jinki was standing over him.

“And we're at it again, are we... What made you think I was in love with you?”

“I don't know. I guess I felt that you cared for me, deep down. You gave me support sometimes, the way you could… You listened to my grievances. You started telling me more about yourself, you became gentler in bed... You told me yourself that you're not good with words. So, I started looking for signs. When I thought of those moments, I couldn't believe that there wasn't at least one tiny part of you that loved me back.”

Jinki gave a heavy sigh.

“The problem with looking for signs, Tae, is that you will always find them... Just because I showed you some kindness, it didn't mean that I loved you. Kindness doesn't serve any other purpose apart from being what it is. That's why it's good. And love… love is trust.”

“And you said on the phone that I am someone you can't trust,” Taemin murmured.

“Exactly... But, anyway,” Jinki knelt down on the sand in front of him so that their eyes were on the same level. “We both know that this is not about me. So stop daydreaming, and concentrate. You're losing time.”

Taemin saw his disheveled reflection in his glasses.

“I can't.”

Jinki put his hands on the sides of Taemin's face and put their foreheads together.

“You can do it. I know you can.”

He closed eyes.

When he opened them again, the vision was gone. The sound of the waves and the screaming of seagulls became more distinct, washing over all of the other thoughts. Everything else gradually faded, melted away.

It was time.