“ off!” he swears loudly then rolls to lie on his side, searching for his phone somewhere on the bed blindingly. “Yes?”

There’s no answer.

“Hello?” he tries again after inhaling deeply. It’s not even daylight yet, too early for a prank call. “Who is this?”

Getting no replies, not even a single beep, he throws his phone carelessly to the floor, getting ready to go back to the dreamland. He’s already halfway when it rings again.

“Yes, hello?”

Again, no reply whatsoever.

“Stop calling me,” he says, full of warning, a voice that demands attention like he usually use for specific purpose only. “Thank you.”

His spine is calling for a good rest and his legs are sore, he doesn’t even want to think about getting up. He would probably order some food and have a three–minute trip to his front door to get it then spend the rest of the day cuddling with his cat under the blanket. IYE would love it and he would love it more than anything.

He, Kwon Jiyong, vows to himself to have a rest he deserves.

When it rings for the third time, he forced his eyes to open the widest, gritting his teeth to suppress the flood of rage flowing through his sleepy–still drunk–exhausted state. Instead of pressing his smartphone against his ear like usual, he screams right at it.

“THE DO YOU WANT?”

Jiyong waits for his heart to slow down, the clock on the screen tells him it’s actually 7 a.m., not 4 a.m. like he think it is. The picture of his cat he had set for his phone wallpaper is staring back at him. Scoffing lightly, he waits for the prank to start again.

Wishes come true, it rings again and this time, Seunghyun’s name is displayed across the screen.

No way.

Jiyong swears in his head that he will chop that man’s head until it’s nothing but pieces and hell, he would take all the artwork collection to be his because Choi Seunghyun, his bestfriend and bandmate for years should’ve known better than to give him prank calls. Seunghyun knows that Jiyong’s time to rest is as mythical as dragon creature itself so not in million years Jiyong would forgive him for buzzing his phone three times without even a single hello. He takes a deep breath, getting ready to spill his anger at his friend.

“Where the hell are you, Jiyong?!”

He blinks in confusion, clearly Seunghyun has the impatient rage too.

“Home?” he feels himself retreating from scolding his friend. Probably Seunghyun had a trouble and could only talk just now. “Why?”

“Whose house?”

Jiyong frowns and looks around him. There is an ashtray on his nightstand, a white pillow on the floor, abandoned dirty right red socks near the door, his black slippers, and finally at his Tom and Jerry bedsheet. “Well, mine?”

“Then why on earth you didn’t answer to the rings?”

Jiyong has to school himself not to fly to Seunghyun’s place and smack that hyung with the best chair he owns. “I’ve answered to it three times, Choi Seunghyun. It’s not funny you know!”

“What?” Seunghyun asks, his tone is mocking. “Maybe in your dream, Jiyong.”

“I wasn’t –”

“You didn’t answer to the rings. So now please do?”

“I –”

The ring blares through his house like bees and Jiyong’s head spins from its sound. He should change his door–ing–bell.

Wait, what? It’s not his phone –

“Kwon Jiyong,” Seunghyun huffs impatiently but still ever so polite. “I swear if you don’t come right now and open this goddamn door of yours, I will be really really mad. For sake, I’ve been ringing the doorbell four times!”

Jiyong smacks himself square on the face before dragging himself to the door, silently wishing his cat to still be sleeping and not witnessing his own stupidity just a while ago.

***

Many years ago, Jiyong couldn’t imagine that he would be a leader of a boyband that would dominate music charts in so many countries. His dream was simple and small, to perform on stage. He was just a boy who loved singing and music so much. He certainly didn’t expect the bond with those bandmates to be as strong as it turned out to be, from someone who had to practice the dance moves together to someone he could not live without. Sure, there were many times he thought about quitting, about making his own way, off and away from them. Not because they’re bad but because he thought he was, and he didn’t want to drag them down. But they knew him better than he knew himself, they never did let him leave, not until now, the present day when their schedules are no longer collided with each other. It will be soon, the president had asked him for another BIGBANG project, a comeback after few years on hiatus. Not entirely a hiatus since they all have their solo projects and career, but he can’t stop feeling giddy and nervous of being on stage again as five. He can’t wait for the surprise; what would Seungri write in his secret MC cards, what would Youngbae do for fanservice, what would be Daesung’s jokes this time, and what Seunghyun…well, the bingu would do.

That’s for later though because what Seunghyun did just now had thrown him over the edge, almost completely.

“You want me to do what?”

“Watch him for a day, I need to go out for a while,” Seunghyun answers him quickly, his eyes are glued to his son. His sleeping son who is now on Jiyong’s couch.

“But why?” Jiyong quickly puts back his scattered magazines on the shelf. “Like…suddenly? Me?”

“Everyone else is busy,” Seunghyun shoves the black duffle back he’s been carrying to Jiyong’s arms. “Everything you need is inside. He doesn’t really need to be constantly under your nose, just make sure he eat something healthy or else Daesung will kill us both. And no ice cream or snacks or any kind of candies because it’s all for Sunday. He doesn’t cry a lot and he would love to call Daesung or me once in a while. I’ve put Daesung’s schedule inside the bag so make sure he won’t run here to save his son, okay?”

Jiyong blinks, still trying to process those words with his fuzzy brain.

“I’m sorry, you’re the only one I have to watch him right now, Jiyong.”

Jiyong smiles. “It’s okay, I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

“Make sure Ken will or Daesung will ban you from our house forever,” Seunghyun pats his shoulder and Jiyong’s smile fades away as he nods obediently.

***

Jiyong has no clue of where to start. On his coffee table lay a notebook, a pen, a champagne glass, and a half–empty bottle of wine. On the sofa, near the feet of Seunghyun’s son, there’s a fashion magazine Jiyong read last night before he drunk himself to sleep. On the carpet, there are dust and ashes fell from his cigarette. He shivers at the sudden memory flashing in his head, about what happened on Seunghyun’s birthday party when Daesung found ashtray with crushed cigarettes on the table. His glare was no joke and Seunghyun, who was behind it had to destroy the evidence as soon as possible before their son came into the room. Seunghyun was also forced to vow in front of them all –Jiyong, Seungri, Youngbae, Daesung, Yeonjun, Seunghyun’s sister and her husband, Daesung’s sister and her family, and both of their parents –that he would never ever again forget to keep those toxic away from the baby.

“Appa?”

Jiyong races to the boy’s side, quickly dusting his carpet so that Ken will not see the grey particles and start to ask question and possibly ruin Jiyong’s entire reputation in Daesung’s eyes. “Hey, it’s me.”

The toddler yawns and rubs his eyes. He is wearing a Spongebob Squarepants sweater that’s too yellow it bores into Jiyong’s skull. “Jiyong–samchon?”

“Right, Ken,” he ruffles the toddler’s hair. “It’s Jiyong–samchon.”

Ken looks around and his very blue Doraemon blanket falls to the carpeted floor as he gets up to sit on the couch. “Seunghyun–appa?”

Jiyong can’t hold himself from smiling. Ken’s expression right now is somehow mirroring Daesung’s whenever he can’t find Seunghyun within his reach. Jiyong wonders if it’s the side effect of having daily life with the clingy Choi Seunghyun. “Seunghyun–appa is busy right now. He brought you here so we can have fun together while he’s…well, busy.”

Ken nods.

Jiyong reaches for the bag Seunghyun had left him, starting to the zipper to find something to help him with the boy. When he turns to the toddler again, he notices that Ken is frowning and a single tear is sliding on his cheek.

 

For the love of his peaceminusone hat, oh .

***