four of twelve

Junmyeon hates plane rides with a passion. It did not matter whether she is cramped in some economy seat in a flight to some god forsaken country, or if she is lounging against the expensive leather seats of her family’s private jet.

Private jet, she scoffs, what an unnecessary luxury.

She hates plane rides. Her borderline claustrophobia makes her sick as hell and she’d rather opt to be confined in some death trap, as long as it is not floating more than fifty thousand feet off land.

It’s a feat, per se, that she has managed to brave a thirteen-hour flight from Seoul to New York. Her vision is still swimming even after landing on a private airstrip in JFK and the first thing she does is hurl her insides at an empty trash bin. She is worried to death about her younger brother and the feeling claws at her.

Jongin is fine, they say it so easily, like her brother did not almost drown, like he is not lying on a hospital bed pale as the sheets covering half of his body.

Junmyeon is sick with worry, she did not even afford the luxury of snapping at her parents for dismissing the incident like it had been nothing.

The thing is, Jongin’s existence is to the key to her sanity. Jongin reminds her that she is not all too alone in such a complex world, suffocated by the tempest that is her own mind. Jongin is family and the mere notion of losing him drives her half insane.

“She is fine, June.”

The female doctor is Irene Bae – one of the few people who Junmyeon considers a friend in this part of the globe – and her smile is placating but unhelpful.

They met in MIT. Both were part of the same Korean community in the university. Irene calls her June, because her Korean has never been good and her pronunciation, stiff. Irene is a good friend, albeit not having seen each other close to five years.

“He doesn’t look like it.” The worry in Junmyeon’s voice is palpable. She approaches Jongin’s still form and gently traces the gaunt lines of his unusually pale skin.

“He will be, he is your brother after all.” Irene tells her, patient, too understanding for her own good. Junmyeon is lucky to have known her. Irene simply takes her into a soft hug. “It’s been years since I last saw you. I feel bad that our reunion had to be like this.”

“I’m sorry.”  

Irene reiterates, “He’ll be fine.” before eventually leaving Junmyeon to her own devices.

Junmyeon exhales, “Please wake up.”

~*~

Jongin comes around a day later, disoriented. He tells Junmyeon his vision is swimming and promptly passes out. Junmyeon has been awake for the last three days and her head, her body…just, everything aches.

When Jongin wakes up for the second time, he is fully conscious – somewhat. Blank eyes volley Junmyeon’s concerned gaze. “Noona?”

Jongin’s voice is raw and hoarse from disuse but Junmyeon is infinitely happy to hear him talk. She approaches Jongin and makes sure she is not walking on egg shells around him. She surmises Jongin could do with the familiarity. “How are you feeling?”

Jongin smiles, and Junmyeon could almost see pieces of himself seeping through the pretend visage. “Like death. Thanks for asking.”

The statement makes Junmyeon chuckle – sadly – she does not know what to say so she hands Jongin a water bottle and prompts him to drink.

“I’ll call your doctor.” It’s an excuse. Junmyeon needs to breathe.

Jongin’s fingers immediately wrap around her wrist, tugging weakly. “Can you please stay, noona?”

And Junmyeon does stay. Jongin struggles to rise and when he does, he simply presses himself against Junmyeon’s shoulder and inhales, fingers finding purchase on Junmyeon’s shirt. When he lets out the breath he had been holding, Jongin cries. Jongin doesn’t simply whimper, he sobs, like a child who’d been abandoned – raw and guttural – and it makes Junmyeon’s chest constrict, knowing that she can’t do anything about it this time. After all, what does Junmyeon know of heartache or the kind of pain that pulls at the heart and shreds it? She knows nothing of it.

Jongin’s gasping in broken sentences, indented with a clear enunciation of Soojung’s name. Junmyeon does not feel too bad when she reaches behind Jongin to press the emergency button for a false code blue.

As the doctors force Jongin back to sleep, something screams at the back of Junmyeon’s mind that maybe, maybe Jongin knows what heartache feels like, the kind of pain that pulls at the heart and tears it to shreds.

~*~

Yifan’s face is a gritty projection when the video call connects. It is 2:15 in the afternoon, Junmyeon is exhausted, her mind a tumultuous chaos.

“Hi?”

Yifan’s projection is shaky, because he is shuffling in bed. Junmyeon suddenly remembers the fourteen hours that lapsed in between them.

“Hi.”  

Yifan’s voice is hoarse, smiling blandly as he reaches for his glasses on the night stand.

“I’m sorry.” Junmyeon chuckles, “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s 4am Myeon, what do you expect me to say?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to see your face.”

Yifan just stares at her and Junmyeon badly wishes that there’s no whole ocean separating them.

She falls over her bed. The soft sheets are cold and unfamiliar though the beddings are the same in all the places she owns – the most expensive Egyptian cotton money can buy. The New York flat is like a hotel more than a personal abode, empty and impeccably spotless just like her penthouse in London or her expensive apartment in Tokyo. It’s all the same to her, and they all make her feel like she is isolated inside some expensive prison cell.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” She tells him, “Tired, I guess.”

“Tell me about it. I was doing my rounds in the ER today, it was insane.”

She wants Yifan to hold her, and maybe forget the whole damn world for a while.

Junmyeon quits listening to whatever he is saying as the realization dawns on her. It is ominous and unwanted but she craves it, she needs it.

“You don’t seem fine.”

The question brings her back to the present. Junmyeon likes that about him, his honesty is refreshing and peculiarly endearing.

“Correct. I just didn’t want to be alone.”

She feels bad for holding him up and stealing his precious sleeping time.

“I hope I can do something about it.”

His voice, hindered by static and bad connection, drips with concern. Junmyeon’s pathetic heart betrays her as it skips a beat.

“You’re doing just fine by answering the call.”

Yifan’s eyelids are dropping and there is a small half-awake smile on his face.

“I might fall asleep on you though.”

“It’s okay. Can you…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, good night…I guess?”

“Hmm. Good night.”

Yifan does not drop the call and for what seemed like hours, Junmyeon watched him sleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his breathing calm her.

It’s like being in an illusion that she is not so alone in this frigid flat. She runs a finger across the gritty projection on her phone screen and whispers, “Good night.”

It’s better this way, at least she did not have to tell Yifan that her brother might have possibly intended to drown himself.

Despite the exhaustion, she does not fall asleep. She thinks about Jongin.

Jongin is such a transparent entity. He wears his heart on his sleeve proudly. He is so easy to read, and it makes him vulnerable because he is too optimistic and somewhat naïve.

Junmyeon knew enough about Jongin and Soojung.

They are – were? Junmyeon is not sure – best friends. She used to be envious of what they have: a relationship which centered around companionship and platonic affections.

Unlike her, Jongin was born normal. He is inherently brilliant too but without the unnecessary genius that Junmyeon harbored like a curse. Unlike her, Jongin is a social creature. He forged good relationships, friendships that last, and he never had Junmyeon’s messy phases with their parents.

The perfect son, per se, a son which every parent would be blessed to have.

Jongin met Soojung through familial business allegiances. She is the only daughter of a banking magnate and he is the only son of Asia’s most prolific business conglomerate.

They are the perfect match. Junmyeon used to think their parents would have thrown them into an arranged marriage for money. Surprisingly they did not.

The two, they did not fall in love, as far as Junmyeon is concerned. For the longest time, they are best friends but something more. They had this vague relationship that danced in between friends and lovers and it was perfect. Junmyeon envied it.

But then again, Junmyeon is merely a spectator watching in the sidelines. She had been unaware that there is no vague line between friendship and romantic love. You choose one and the other burns.

Junmyeon was unware that Jongin had long crossed the line and Soojung met him halfway.

But things just don’t work out perfectly for everyone or as much as Jongin’s misery convey. Even the most perfect match cannot be so perfect after all.

No one would have guessed that it is going to end here though, with Jongin chalky against hospital sheets crying out Soojung’s name like he’d been destroyed.

Junmyeon continues to stare at Yifan’s sleeping face and the ominous need for him to be near is startling. Junmyeon does not want to address such feelings because she is afraid.

Unlike Jongin, Junmyeon is the complete opposite. She is far too complicated with too much emotional baggage and years’ worth of self-misgivings she had conveniently swept under the rug of pretense. She is cracked in so many places, fissures too deep, even she cannot delve into.

Junmyeon is afraid because even someone like Jongin – Jongin who is kind and almost perfect – is torn into pieces after subjecting himself to such an abstract idea as love.

She cannot let these feelings bait her into love. Love is not for her, because she’s damaged and far too fragile for something so dangerous.

But Yifan…somehow, Junmyeon wants to make him an exception. For a while, she wonders just how crazy that is but then she remembers the feel of his soft lips against the side of , a feeling that was barely there and yet she could not take it off her mind.

Falling in love with Yifan is a crazy idea…Junmyeon wants to try it.

~*~

Soojung is still pretty despite looking visibly exhausted. Her eyes are red rimmed, as if she had not slept in days.

“Can I see him?”

Junmyeon surprises herself by feeling not too hostile about the whole ordeal. Last night had given her the much-needed clarity to think about things and she admits she has no say in this one. It’s all between Jongin and Soojung.

Junmyeon tries to smile, “I think you should be the one answering that.”

Soojung looks stricken. “I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have – I’m so sorry unnie.”  

The poor girl is in hysterics, Junmyeon can’t think of anything to say that would have placated her.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Soojung.”

“I really ruined it for us, huh? I’m pathetic.”

Junmyeon looks at her and sighs, “Look, I don’t know what the hell happened between you two. I’m here because Jongin had been hurt and I’m just doing what an older sister is supposed to be doing. But your issues, those aren’t mine to tread on. Now, I only ask you one thing, are you ready to see him?”

“I’ll never be ready but I need to, he’s still my best friend after all.”

Later, when Junmyeon asks Jongin to come back to Korea with her, he refuses.

“I still have classes. Professor Benin already hates me far too much, it wouldn’t do me any good if I skip more.”

 It’s so typical of him, to stand up after being shoved so low. So Junmyeon acquiesces and personally drives him back to his apartment in Boston. Jongin looks empty and he doesn’t mention anything regarding his talk with Soojung nor whatever it is that had caused the situation in the first place. Junmyeon does not prod.

“Go on a vacation sometime, okay?”

Jongin does not promise her that he would but he does admit that he’ll be fine.

“Maybe not now.” Jongin says, “I’ll be okay, noona. I promise.”

Junmyeon believes him.

~*~

Seoul weather is great.

“You seem happy.”

The night is balmy and quiet. Junmyeon’s pajama clad thigh brushes with Yifan’s and it really can’t be more perfect than this.

Junmyeon nods. “I am. The problem this month is great, challenging. I liked it.”

“You sure did.”

“Did something happen?”

Yifan does not answer for the longest time. Junmyeon’s already idly plucking the blades of grass from where they’re sitting at. Yifan sags against her with a long sigh.

It’s in a quiet voice that he answers, “Someone passed away in the hospice today.”

“Oh.”

Yifan shrugs, “I did not expect it to hit me this hard, all this after clearing your misconceptions about the hospice. It turned out that they’re pretty accurate.”

Junmyeon taps him in the shoulder so Yifan reclines and looks at her.

“I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon tugs at his shirt and gestures towards her extended legs, particularly on her covered thighs. Yifan laughs.

“What? I’m trying to be a good friend. A friend who’ll offer you some peace and quiet and a nice head scratch.”

“Alright, alright.”

Yifan lies down with his head on top of Junmyeon’s thighs. Junmyeon stares at him and she’s thankful that the quad lights have been dimmed and Yifan can’t see her flushed face. This is a bad idea. But she likes it anyhow. She slowly rakes her fingers on Yifan’s messy hair; they stay quiet.

“Were you close?” Junmyeon asks, “To that patient?”

“I call her Min-ah. She was eighty-five but she didn’t know. She was passionate about flowers – Tulips –  the yellow ones.”

“I guess she was wonderful.”

Yifan chuckles, “She was. It’s nice to have been there and see her final years. She was brilliant, Junmyeon. I’ve learned a lot from her.” 

Junmyeon has ceased running her fingers against the man’s hair but she has been unknowingly caressing his cheek, idly studying the perfect planes of his handsome face.

“Aren’t you too sad? You know if you wanna drink I’m game.”

“I’m fine.” Yifan chuckles, “It’s too late to get drunk. Anyway, how was your brother?”

“He was okay. He spent a couple of days in the hospital and jumped back to his classes.”

“Do you mind telling me what happened to him?”

“I don’t know, Fan. I’ll tell you he was sad, very sad. It’s scary because he was in love with his best friend and I guess things just went to hell.”

Yifan is quiet.

“I’ve never been in love.” He tells her. “I don’t know what love feels like but I am under the impression it makes people happy.”

Junmyeon shrugs and when she looks down, Yifan is staring at her. He reaches up to tuck the wayward strands of her long blonde hair behind her ear. Junmyeon cannot describe the feeling.

“Me too. Maybe it’s not like that for everyone.”

“If I fall in love I don’t want to be constantly miserable about it. I want to be happy.” Yifan says, smiling gently. His finger idly twirling a section of Junmyeon’s blonde hair and he is still staring at her. “I want to find a person who’ll make me relinquish control.”

“I don’t know.” is Junmyeon’s answer. For some reason, she does not feel like her blood pressure is skyrocketing nor her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest. It is perfect to be in this moment despite all the confusion simmering at the back of her head. “Do you think such person exists?”

“She exists.” Yifan answers. “I believe she exists.”

Maybe this is the reason why she is far too good at Mathematics. It is not complex, problems may have differing solutions but they always end in the same answers. Human emotions are far too complicated without constant variables. Emotions are inconclusive, and there could be so many answers to one fleeting feeling.

“It makes me wonder if you’re brave enough to actually fall on your knees and relinquish control when you’re such a freak about it.” Junmyeon laughs, “Aren’t you afraid to lose so much of yourself? I don’t think it’s a fair bargain.”

“Nothing’s fair in love. I think people is confused by it. It’s not easy to fall in love with a person and not just the idea of love. Because love is faultless and it’s so easy to be entitled to think that when falling in love, the person on the receiving end should be faultless, should be perfect too. But no one’s perfect Junmyeon. If I find a person who’s capable to fall in love and stay in love despite imperfections, that’s it. If I ever reach that point, I’ll gladly fall on my knees then.”

His words effectively put a stopper to Junmyeon’s further teasing. “Do you think you’ll fall in love with someone who’s so imperfect, with someone who’s just a whole goddamned mess, and manage to be happy?”

“I do. I look at people like the color spectrum. No one’s just black or white, we’re all standing in that colorful area in between.”

“That’s incredibly poetic.” Her erratic heartbeat is hidden with a chuckle. “Are you normally this wise when it’s like the crack of dawn?”

“I don’t know. You bring out the poetic sap in me, so you answer that question.”

Junmyeon laughs.

“Are you happy?”

“I am Fan, I guess I am happy.”

She does not want to admit that he is the reason of a good portion of her happiness.

~*~

Kim Junmyeon, mathematical prodigy, conglomerate heiress and the black sheep of the Kim Family.

From the beginning, Junmyeon didn’t foster much love for her parents. She respects them a lot for being such good moneymaking capitalist but never harbored even the fondest feelings for the people who had apparently brought her into this world.

Frankly, she was a mistake, born out of an arranged marriage to people who did not give much of a about each other until Jongin was born.

She spent nine years with them, and never recalled anything that equated into something worth remembering. She was well provided though, with material things. Lavish presents on birthdays she spent with Jongin and the household workers inside a lonely mansion, endless holidays that brought forth more loneliness than bliss.

The only time she even felt remotely happy was a Chuseok holiday when she was seven. It was the first time she’d been to Busan after begging her nanny, a woman she called auntie Lee, to take her. Her parents were away, doing business in Italy with three-year-old Jongin in tow. Junmyeon was alone and lonely, her nanny could not say no. 

 Auntie Lee had a small house but it was warm. Warm in a way that gave her excitement and happiness.

Her nanny had a great family too and there were other children that played with Junmyeon. People were laughing and they all look so happy.

Junmyeon wondered why she can’t be happy like them.

When they got back to Seoul her parents had been alerted and it was the last time Junmyeon had seen auntie Lee ever again.

Seven-year-old Junmyeon began to resent her parents after that. She resented them even more when they sent her to the UK effectively separating her from her younger brother.

At the present, twenty-three-year-old Junmyeon stares at her reflection, chuckling darkly. She is clad in a black, figure hugging dress, that bared an ample amount of cleavage and that probably cost a couple hundred million won. The dress is accessorized with a gleaming Harry Winston necklace around her neck.

She looks like the heiress she hates to be. Junmyeon loved luxury but she loathed excesses, no matter how contradictory that sounded.

And this whole getup for a simple company event is the very definition of excess. Jongin would have scoffed at the sight of her, he hated unnecessary wasting of money.

Her blonde hair is nowhere to be found. After her mother had conveniently asked her to get rid of it, she did, by replacing it with a shock of red hair. Her mother was not explicit about what color it should be so Junmyeon took matters into her own hands.

A good choice, she notes, as she watches waves of bright scarlet fall down her back. She is probably going to give her mother a heart attack after this.

~*~

The gala is held at a private function hall away from the general bustle of the city. There are tons of wealthy people prancing around the guarded estate, Junmyeon inwardly scoffs at everyone.

Women secretly appraise it each other, judging looks creatively hidden behind amicable civility. Junmyeon sees through it, after all she is at the receiving end of most stares. She does not really care, the balls of her feet hurt so she lets the diamonds around her neck do the talking.

The event is generally about boasting. The Kim Mixed industries has recently acquired far too many properties here and around the globe in the recent year. The function is held to gather interested businessmen to work for the company.

Junmyeon looks at each one of these old liars and wonders if she’d bring hell upon them when she sits as CEO. Jongin has two more years of college and Junmyeon is probably going to hold office once their father becomes chairman – or the master puppeteer as what Junmyeon calls the position.

What a concept. Junmyeon is probably going to raze the company to the ground if they ever force this hellhole upon her.

The whole thing is mind numbing until she hears talks about Green Meadows – the hospice Yifan works at.

They’re going to destroy it for another building that would eventually hold the conglomerate’s archives. The truth horrifies Junmyeon.

“Why does it have to be that building?” Junmyeon questioned tersely as the old man stared down at her.

“Why do you care?”

“Just answer the question father.”

“Come with me.”

She follows her father to a secluded area away from the ballroom. “We need that building to cover a tax evasion case. I am afraid we will be under federal investigation soon if I do not do anything about it. We could cover up the case by purchasing small buildings around the business center to hide the bigger proceedings.”

“Tax evasion? Are you crazy?”

“Do not talk to me like that, Kim Junmyeon. Do you think our family did nothing and just magically emerged on top of the food chain? I am sorry to burst your naïve bubble, child.”

Junmyeon knew, of course. But she is oblivious regarding the inner workings, not to mention the illegal proceedings. This cannot be happening.

“But what if Jongin takes over your position and this whole mess blows out of proportions by that time. Are you that heartless?”

The old man’s stare sent a warning chill down Junmyeon’s spine.

“That is why I am trying as much as I can to cover up the cases. If it gets to it, I assume Jongin will know what to do. He is not weak, unlike you. I suggest you lay off.”

That is not the first time Junmyeon had ever heard those words. She has been compared to her younger brother since forever. It barely makes her feel anything.

Junmyeon does not say anything as she watches her father turn his back on her. The conversation is forgotten.

~*~

It’s raining again.

The designer dress is uncomfortable as much as it’s stifling. Her heels have also been discarded on the floor of the limousine. She cradles her head in her palms as the rain pelts harshly against the heavily tinted windows. She cannot stop thinking about her old man’s words.

Junmyeon is one hundred percent sure that the conglomerate is going to face massive cases soon. It will only take a short time to let a single discrepancy seep through the cracks of their seemingly legal business proceedings. Her father will mess up, she can feel it. It’s also for certain that the board has been left in the dark about the whole ordeal. The older Kim would never let something like this mar his reputation – getting a subpoena will effectively cost him his position.

It does not make her feel bad but when she realizes that Jongin will soon be taking over the conglomerate, a new wave of worry washes over her like a tsunami. There’s a big possibility that her father will land himself in jail if this continues and she cannot let Jongin handle the ensuing chaos.

Her head aches.

“.” Junmyeon murmurs harshly, more to herself than anyone. “They’ve really backed me up against a wall this time huh?”

Junmyeon screws her eyes shut, wanting to calm herself while her whole being is shaking with barely suppressed panic. There is an overwhelming need to see Yifan. She presses a button on the side of her seat.

“Hey, Jung.”

“Yes, Miss Kim?”

“Do you think you can do a detour for me. I really don’t wanna go home. Is it okay if you could drive me to the dorms near SNU?”

“Oh, of course Miss Kim. Anything else?”

“That’s all. Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s alright.”

It’s around two in the morning when Jung drops her off, in front of the dimly illuminated building where Yifan resides. She is purely exhausted and does not even bother to wait for the chauffer to open the door for her. Junmyeon is thoroughly drenched the moment she steps outside. Uncaring and barefoot, Junmyeon dismisses the chauffer’s panicked voice.

“It’s okay, just go.”

“But Miss Kim.”

“I’m okay. Go.”

She is cold and wet, knocking at Yifan’s door in such an ungodly hour, when she realizes how entirely stupid her situation is. It’s too late to back out because Yifan readily opens the door at third knock, all bleary eyed.

“Hi.” Junmyeon feebly says.

“Junmyeon why are you drenched?” Yifan says, “Your hair?”

Typical of him. It’s the first thing he notices and not her clothes, or the glittering rocks adorning her neck. Junmyeon really likes him.

“Come inside.”

“I’m sorry. I keep being a bother to you at such terrible hours. You must have been jinxed.”

Yifan leads her into his bedroom, grabbing a spare towel for her in the cabinet between the hallway.

“It’s okay. I’m kind of used to it. The bathroom is inside, there’s a spare toothbrush behind the mirror. Are you okay with using my clothes?”

Junmyeon just wants him to stop talking so she does by pressing her towel clad self against his broad frame. She wants a hug, because she is too tired to even think of other things. Almost as if he’d been surprised, Yifan returns the embrace, squeezing her softly as he undoes the little pins on her hair. “Are you okay?”

Junmyeon’s answer gets smothered by his shirt.

“Change out of these clothes and I’ll get you hot chocolate. Hmm?”

“Okay.”

~*~

Later, Junmyeon’s face is devoid of makeup, her red hair is damp and up in a loose bun. The Valentino dress she wore is stuffed inside Yifan’s dryer and her one-million-dollar diamond wreath necklace is haphazardly tossed on Yifan’s side table, like it’s plastic jewelry. Junmyeon hardly cares.

She’s wearing Yifan’s boxers and a hoodie that practically engulfed her frame. Her lack of upper undergarment hardly deterred her from walking into the living room.

Yifan’s slumped over an array of thick books and only looks up when she’s near. “Hey.” He smiles.

He’s so attractive, with a genial smile lighting up his tired face. “Here’s your hot chocolate.”

Junmyeon gladly receives the cup and notes the same cartoon mug she liked. She sits beside Yifan, and folds her legs against her chest.

“That’s a crapload of information to take in.”

“It’s my life, unfortunately.”

She appreciates that Yifan does not ask questions. For a while they bask in silence until Yifan’s roommates, both drunk beyond recognition, stumble into the doorway with their clothes half on. Junmyeon does not recognize them so she is slightly shocked when one of them brackets the other against the closed door and promptly kiss.

“I don’t think we should be seeing this.” Junmyeon finds herself chuckling.

“Me too, I wasn’t aware they’re hooking up.”

Yifan shouts, effectively putting a stopper to what will eventually become a full on make-out session against the door. The two separate, gasping.

“What the ?” Yifan enunciates, “Since when did this start?”

“Like a few minutes ago,” the man had lips that curled at the corners, looking very much cat-like and slightly sly. “I w-was about – “

“Let’s take this upstairs, shall we?” the other man cuts in and grabs the cat-like guy.

“That’s my mug.” Sly smile comments, pointing at Junmyeon’s hot chocolate before getting dragged up.

“Interesting.” Junmyeon laughs.

“I hope they don’t actually start ing soon. Jongdae’s pretty loud.”

“Wouldn’t bet on that. They’re drunk, everything happens when people are drunk.”

Yifan shrugs, “They’ve been in this push and pull relationship for god knows how long. I’m glad that I’ve been officially designated as the third wheel.”

Junmyeon finishes her hot chocolate in peace. The rhythmic tapping of Yifan’s pencil almost lulling her to sleep. She is barely awake when she feels her body being raised from the sofa. Yifan is warm and she may or may not have pressed her face against his chest, inhaling.

Yifan gently puts her on his bed and when he is about to leave, Junmyeon holds him by the wrist. She whispers, “Stay. Hold me.”

Yifan does. She curls into his chest and lets his wide palms draw circles on her back. She probably owes Yifan an explanation and the truth as to who she really is, before whatever feelings she harbors for him go completely out of control.  

But this is perfect, she is utterly content to be in this moment.

Junmyeon feels Yifan’s lips on her neck before sleep takes over her conscious.

She knows what she will have to do, and it didn’t involve sacrificing the hospice to her parents’ greed. Enough is enough.

the incident with jongin was mentioned in STTR (and no junmyeon was incorrect, it wasnt attempted suicide) pls comment!