Believe me, fell in love with my bestfriend –my brother –was never my choice. If it was up to my decision, I’d never pick someone like you to be the bowl of my attention. I would not choose you to be the one I persistently want to show all of me, all the things behind what I was expected to be. I never wanted us to spiral down toward whatever we are now.

Fame chased almost all my friends away and brought back some new ones, but love burnt things like wildfire until everything was ashes and all I could see was your back leaving through the smoke.

The gift Seungri brought is a crystal ball that has a miniature of Eiffel Tower inside, floating within some kind of liquid with tiny colorful bubbles serve as imitation of snow, and I’m a hundred–percent sure didn’t come from Hong Kong at all. It’s the size of my fist and the shape is, well, round, it will roll away the moment you forget to be careful.

I shake it and watch the bubbles dance inside the transparent glass, the figurine stays in the middle in a standing position no matter what.

“I have a girlfriend.”

The glass shattered against the cold tiles, the sound it makes when it breaks is ugly and echoed through my empty house. I watch the end of beauty pooling into small puddle, the tiny statue lies in the middle, now in solitary without companion.

I feel thunders of memories strike me like shots, the day I lost what I never really had.

“Oh,” I didn’t know what to say, I forgot completely what I was supposed to say. The ability to render me speechless had been yours for as long as I knew. “Congratulations.”

You nodded and the smoke lingered between us as protection walls. “She’s sweet.”

You said the same about cigarette and wine. A celebration of life you couldn’t quit.

“Then it’s good,” I told you, I convinced myself. “I’m happy for you, hyung.”

“I want to be happy too, Daesung.”

You’re wearing the sleepiest smile of us all and Youngbae leads the conversation to special treat of coffee –and tea for Youngbae himself –before Jiyong could commit any murder. Seungri is stuck in the traffic because he had to go somewhere that, if what he said was true, about two hours away from our recording room.

“Youngbae, get inside,” Jiyong uses his leader voice. Youngbae keeps his face straight as he gets into the recording booth, warming up his vocal to record another version he did one last night because apparently after we left, Jiyong found dissatisfaction of it. I’ve been told that