“Goodnight, Jong-in.”

                I wake up. It’s morning. Morning rays filters in through the blinds, casting dancing shadows and light on the white walls. I’m warm. I can’t tell if it’s cold outside, because I’m warm. So warm.

                “uhhmgm…” I hear a groan from behind. A slight shift in pressure is felt on the mattress

                It’s Jong-In and he’s still asleep.

                The events of last night flood through me. How I told him off, how we tried to sleep, how we couldn’t, how we stayed up for an hour, how he got out of bed, walked over and slipped into mine. I stare at the wall I’m facing, reluctant to turn around. Is he still sleeping? I stay deathly quiet and still so I can hear everything about him. Every movement, every breath, every murmur in his sleep. He snorts. A giggle escapes my lips and I immediately clamp my mouth shut. I do not want to wake up just yet. I slowly turn my body to face Jong-In. I see his back, a patch of skin on his neck, his black hair, his shoulders rising up and down. His cinnamon-rain floods my nose and warms me to the core. I outline his shoulder blades with the light touch of my finger tips. The contact makes my heart bubble and all I do is stare at his waist. I can feel myself gravitate closer towards his body so I can wrap my arms around his waist, but I restrain myself. I feel so weightless lying next to him, like all the burdens and all my pasts are gone, disappearing like tears in the rain*. Feeling a little bit vengeful from yesterday, I decide to do something that’ll definitely make my morning. I decide to kick him.

                “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” I howl in mock anger.

                The poor boy crashes right down on the cold floor. His absence on my bed is duly noted with the cold air seeping through every crevice of my body.

                “Ughh…” he groans in pain. I slip in a smirk, but quickly replace it with an angry expression.

                “What the hell do you think you were doing?!”

                Jong-In struggles to get up, but plumps back down. Is his back aching again? Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked him so hard? Nah, he’s young. He’ll live.

                “Don’t ignore me!” I howl again, lodging my foot into his ribcage. “I said, don’t ignore me!”

                “Go away…” he mumbles.

                “You…” I seethe.

                This time, I plant my foot into his face. He shoots up.

                “What!?”

                “Don’t give me that tone!” He looks all drowsy with sleep inertia. Kinda cute. “You’re the one in the wrong. Don’t you dare act innocent,”

                I know I shouldn’t be messing around with the poor kid…but who gives a damn.

                “I didn’t do anything,” He yawns, rubbing his eyes in the process. He reminds me of a puppy trying to wake up. He eyes squint in my direction and suddenly I wonder if my hair is okay. Is it messy enough for him? In order to hide my creeping blush, I glare at him. I put as much ‘fire’ into my eyes as possible to smoulder him into a pile of ash.

                “Sorry,”

                “Why did you do it?”

                “Because I couldn’t sleep.”

                “Is that so?”

                “No.”

                His response caught me off guard. No. Man... that has to be the most ambiguous reply ever, despite its bluntness. His eyes are open now, staring into mine.

                My bladder starts to act up, and I leave without a word.

                Just like the mornings before, the band members have their head outside their door, peaking out like birds, wondering what the all commotion is about. Kris walks out like a runway model. He’s dressed to impress.

                “Morning,” I greet.

                “So… you had another fit?”

                “A -fit? I don’t have fits, just vocal venting,”

                Kris smirks.

                “Do you think you could be less … vocal?”

                I grin, but don’t reply. And I then I walk off to the bathroom.

                ~

                I pee, brush my teeth, wash my face and try to tame my hair. Of course, the latter proves to be impossible, but it doesn’t matter. Jong-In likes it messy, so I’ll leave it like this. It’s my way of apologising to him for being a jackass this morning. Since when did I care so much about Jong-In? I’ve only met the guy a few days ago. It’s not long enough to form a stable and genuine friendship. But then again, he’s different from the others. Like I said before, something about him irks me to the point where I don’t even know who he is. Maybe Kris can help. He’ll probably know what to do. He’s like a wise old man, who’s younger than me… and taller.

                After freshening up, I go back to my bedroom to find it Kris standing in the door way talking.

                “What are you doing here, Kris?” I sceptically ask.

                “Just came to see what all the commotion is about. Don’t want anyone being murdered,” he jokes.

                “If I was to kill Jong-In, it would be very, very quiet. Preferably in his sleep,” I continue to joke. “Now, both of you get out. I need to change.”

                “Yes, sir!” Kris mockingly replies, before lightly nudging my shoulder as he leaves.

                Jong-In continues to stand there, in his pyjamas looking like a cold puppy. I can’t help but smile.

                “That means you too, Kai.” I tease. It feels so weird calling him ‘Kai’. I think I’m just gonna stick with using his real name, only whipping out his stage name for when I need to put him down, or .

                “Yeah, yeah,”

                “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten what you did to me last night. That was a violation of my personal space.”

                He hangs his head low and walks out without another word. Feeling satisfied with messing around with him, I slam the door.

                Using this rare chance of being alone, I grab my journal from underneath my pillow and write. I didn’t have the chance to write an entry last night, too many things happened and everything was a blur. I try to recount as much as possible, but my pen doesn’t scribe my thoughts into any coherent pattern. All my hand does is manage to write what happened last night, right before bed. I read over it. The whole entry is a blur, except the last part, where Jong-In and I are in bed. That last part is so detailed. I note down his entire sleeping pattern. I think I know more about how he sleeps than his personality.

                My stomach rumbles. I’m in desperate need of breakfast. Walking out of the bedroom, I hear the television on. Someone’s watching TV. And then a face pops out of a door. It’s Chan Yeol.

                “Hyung!” he’s so damn chipper, even in the morning. It’s kind of refreshing. “Help me and Kris build this…” He turns around and asks “uhh… What is it?”

                “A bedside table,” Kris’s voice seeps from behind. “Can’t you tell?”

                “Pssh, whatever. Come, come!”

                It’s not like I have a choice. Chan Yeol grabs me and pulls me in. Kris and him are roommates, I presume. Their bedroom has much more character than mine and Jong-In’s. Posters of bands litter one side of the wall and charcoal sketching on the other.

                “Whose sketches?” I ask, mesmerised by the accurate detail and quality of it.

                “Kris’. Good, huh?” Chan Yeol replies.

                All the works ranged from still-life of flowers, bowls of fruits, tree branches, chairs, to portraits of people.

                “Stop ogling. I can give you one if you want,” Kris’ voice breaks me out of my revere.

                “No. I’m not much of an art-person,”

                “Suit yourself. Now help us out. I can’t understand the diagrams,”

                “God, you two are hopeless. You owe me food. I’m starving.”

~

                It didn’t take long for the three of us to assemble the bedside table. The instructions could not be simpler enough. All you had to do was place a few bolts and screws in the right place, and bam, bedside table.

                “Thanks, hyung!” says Chan Yeol, but he doesn’t even look at me. He’s way too warped up in getting everything sorted out with the drawers. So is Kris’. All he did was nod at me as a ‘thank you’. Rude.

                “Where’s my food?” I demand, crossing my arms and tapping my foot.

                They ignore me. Instead they negotiate who gets which drawer, and how much room they have. I walk out. My help is obviously not needed anymore.

                I walk out into the corridor and notice that the television is off. My tummy groans, reminding me that if I don’t get food, it’ll decide to eat itself. Using the last ounce of my energy, I manage to reach the kitchen. I see the back of Jong-In. He’s washing up. His back reminds me of earlier this morning. How everything seemed so lightweight. I wouldn’t mind going back in time, back to the morning, back to being in bed with him.

                “Kaiii,” I tease using his stupid stage name. “Make me breakfast. Thanks”

                “DON’T CALL ME KAI!” His shout scares me to the point where my eyes water. “Don’t you ever call me that!”

                He smashes the bowl he was washing up into the sink. It breaks, cracking right through middle. It silences the whole room. Hands still wet, he stomps out of the kitchen, knocking me over in the process. The sink tap runs and the cracks remain.

                “W-what—“

                “Shut up!”

                He doesn’t look back.

                I stand there frozen, my mouth agape and my eyes wide. At first, I’m calm out of shock. Then I get confused. Then I get scared. What did I do? I’ve never seen him burst like this. Why is he so angry? It’s my fault. It must be. My breath gets shallow. I can’t breathe. The bathroom door slams shut and jolts me out from my catatonic state. Someone runs over to me, grabs my shoulders and shakes me.

                “What happened?!” It’s Kris. I don’t say anything. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. Everything is moving way to fast. “Did he hit you?!”

                “N-no,” I defend immediately, slightly out of breath. Why would he hit me? Jong-In is not the type to get violent. “Of course he didn’t—“

                BANG, BANG, BANG. It’s from the bathroom. Fists pounding away at a wall. Jong-In. I force Kris out of my way and run to the bathroom.

                “Jong-In!” I use his real name this time. “Are you okay?! Let me in!”

                He ignores me.

                “Oi,” I shout even louder and bang even harder. “Jong-In!”

                The door suddenly opens. I see him stand there, looking drained and ghostly. His fists are red and bloody.

“Hey—“He pushes past me like I was a ghost and heads to our bedroom. I continue to stare into the empty bathroom where Jong-In stood. The outline of his body remains burned onto my eyes. I’m frozen in the river of stars and skies.

~

                “How you holding up?” Asks Kris as we wait for our order. I choose not to answer. “Come on. You have to say something,”

                After Jong-In ran into our bedroom, all the members crowded around me, asking me what happened. I couldn’t answer them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t say a word. My vocal cords were ripped out of my throat, and I was left mute. Fortunately, Kris grabbed me and dragged me out of the apartment, otherwise I’d still be standing in front of the bathroom door, staring. He asked whether not I was still up for food. I nodded. I didn’t want to go back. We walked in silence, wandering around for a good place to eat. We found a small café nearby and decided to settle there.

                Our order comes. Well, Kris’ does. I didn’t want to order, so Kris got double what he got. Eggs, rashes of bacon and coffee. Average stuff. I try and stomach down the food, but it feels like coming back up, so I run into the restroom and let it all out. Kris pats me on the back while I’m on my knees on the restroom tiles, head over the toilet bowl. It stinks like urine and vomit.

                “I think you need a doctor,”

                I wipe my mouth clean of the vomit using my sleeve.

                “I’m –I’m fine,” I sound weak and out of breath. The air in my lungs seems to have been puked out with the vomit and bile from before. My legs can’t move. My body is so heavy, I can’t get up.

                Kris lifts me up, flushes the vomit down the toilet, and helps me clean myself up.

                “I don’t need your help,”

                “You obviously do. You can’t even walk properly,”

                “Get lost,”

                “I won’t.”

                He leads me out, propping me on the bench outside the café, before returning back in to pay the bill. I sit there, watching people walk past doing their own business. Heading to work, to school, to dates with their significant other. They walk around in life like nothing is wrong. But everyone does that, don’t they? No matter how depressed they are, or how much hate they have, people always walk around like nothing is wrong. Walks are so deceiving.

                Kris returns, links my arms with his and guides me back to the apartment. His toned arms ground me to reality.

                “I don’t want to go back,”

                “We have to. We have dance practice,”

                “Just leave me,”

                “I won’t.”

                Kris cares for me so much and I don’t know why. He needs to stop. No one is allowed to care for me. They can’t. They always demand something in return, something that I cannot possible give.

                We walk down a few blocks in silence, until I decide to confess to Kris something that would takes ages to get out of me, and even longer for me to accept.

                “I’m gay,”

                He doesn’t pause, nor does he let go of my arm. He simple looks forward and smiles.

                “I know,”

                “W-What!? How?”

                “Just had a gut feeling,”

                Was I that obvious? Was my ‘gayness’ that obvious to everyone? Do the other band mates suspect it? Would they even accept me?

                “You don’t mind?”

                “Of course not,” Kris scoffs.

                I feel the need to thank him, but I don’t. It feels good to tell someone. I’m not afraid of being gay. I willingly embraced it. I haven’t told many people. I’m not hiding it. I just don’t see the point of having to tell someone. My uality has nothing to do with the likes of others. I’m glad Kris is fine with it, but then he decides to ask something that breaks everything.

                “Do you like Jong-In?”

                “W-what—“

                I choke on air. Kris doesn’t pat me on the back this time. He just continues to drag me towards the apartment. I scoot closer towards him, feeling his warmth emanate from his body.

                “You like him..." he pauses for what seems to be forever. "Don’t you?”

                “N-no!” My voice is harsh with phlegm.

                “Okay.” Kris sounds resigned, like his voice became muffled under water.

                Once we arrive at the lobby, most of the group is here. Our manager stands there impatiently waiting for me and Kris to arrive. I try to sneak a search for Jong-In, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I can’t see Chan Yeol either.

                “Where were you?” our manager demands.

                “We went out to eat and got a little distracted. Sorry, hyung.” Kris politely apologises on both our behalves.

                The manager looks disappointed, until he takes a glance at me. A worried look flashes on his face, but he looks away.

                Eventually, Chan Yeol and Jong-In arrive a few minutes later. I hide behind Kris. Kris seems to notice and does his best to conceal me from his view. Thank, Kris.

                “Did something happen?” The late-pair shake their heads.

                Our manager then proceeds to instruct us. I zone out. I can’t seem to think straight. All I do is stare into Kris’s back, concealing my presence from the world as much as possible.

                “The rest of you have dance practice,” And so we do.

~

                I’m glad Jong-In wasn’t in practice with us. I don’t think I can deal with him right now. I heard he’s busy filming a teaser. Good.
                I did my best to keep up, but I couldn’t stand it. I felt like fainting numerous times. The instructor let me sit this practice out, thinking I was just exhausted from a lack of sleep. That’s wrong, though. I slept perfectly fine last night. I slept fine with Jong-In. Every time I think of him, my heart aches. It yearns for his warmth, his cinnamon-rain. Maybe I do like him.

                After practice we all decide to buy a few groceries and have a home-cooked dinner. Apparently, Baek Hyun is a great cook, so everyone is looking forward to his food. I guess I am too, somewhat hungry. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything all day. Once we arrive home, we get a small surprise in the form of a puppy.

                “Oh my god! It’s so cute!” squeals Chan Yeol. “Who’s is it?”

                “It’s Jong-In’s,” says our assistant manager. “We thought the little guy will help bring the group together. Don’t know his name, though. Gotta wait for Jong-In to come back,”

                While all the members play around with the small pup, Baek Hyun makes dinner. I help him out as much as I can.

                “You know how to cook?” asks Baek Hyun

                “I lived on my own for a while, so I know the basics,”

                “Is that so?”

                I’m glad he didn’t question why I was alone. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.

                The dinner was simple enough. Some spicy kimchi, bulgogi and other Korean dishes I haven’t heard of. Baek Hyun really is a good cook. He helped me out with the things I didn’t know and even gave me tips.

                “I’ll teach you how to cook one day,”

                “I’d like that.

                I really do. I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook properly and I guess it’ll help me feel grounded.

                Once we cleaned up the dishes, everyone ended up watching television with Jong-In’s puppy running around. Somehow, he ends up in my lap and buries itself in my arms. I smile creeps up on my lips. The pup reminded me of home, my old home. The times where I could live in peace, not haunted by the ghosts that pile on my shoulders. I scratch the pup’s ears, belly and chin. He growls in delight.

                “He seems to really like you,” notes Kris.

                I nod.

                And then, the door opens. Everyone crowded around me blocks my view. I can’t see who enters, but I already know who it is. Jong-In.

                The pup barks.

                “Mongu?” comes a voice from afar. The pup barks in reply. The crowd gets pushed away and Jong-In squeezes into view. He takes one look in my eyes before looking away and down onto the pup. I let Mongu squirm out of my embrace and jump onto Jong-In. “What are you doing here? God, I’ve missed you.”

                He hugs Mongu. Ruffles his brown fur. Kisses his nose. I take my leave, slipping past all the band members who are too engorged with the reunion of Mongu and his owner. I head to the bathroom, unsure whether I should let the salt in my eyes run.

                I softly close and lock the bathroom door when I reach it. I don’t bother looking myself in the mirror and walk towards the window. I stare outside and watch the city lights dance along the night-scape. It calms me knowing that there are other people in the world that are living and breathing.

                I hear a light knock on the door.

                “Hyung…” It’s Jong-In. “Hyung, can I speak to you?”

                I don’t reply. He tries to turn the knob, but it’s locked.

                “Please, Hyung,” he pleas.

                I don’t know what to do. I don’t think he’s angry at me anymore. I should talk to him. Let him know what I feel and how I feel about him. I gravitate towards the door and click to unlock the door. I pause for a moment, straining my ears to hear what’s happening on the other side of the door. I give up and return to my position on the window. He eventually walks in, closing the door behind him. We stay quiet for a bit, silent and waiting. Waiting for what the other will do next.

                “You have a nice dog,” I start.

                “Y-yeah…”

                I can see his face in the reflection of the window. His downcast expression tells me nothing. He walks closer.

                “What do you want?” I snap. He freezes and then proceeds to speak.

                “I’m sorry. Sorry for shouting at you. I am. I really am. I can’t say why I did it. I’m not sure of it myself. I’m sorry for being so stupid and cold. I’m sorry for sleeping with you yesterday. I’m sorry for calling you cute. I’m sorry for liking you hair messy. I’m sorry for crying on you. I’m sorry for being such an . I’m sorry –“

                His voice cracks. He starts crying. I have to do something.

                “H-hey. It’s okay—“

                “I’m sorry for liking you,” I stop breathing. “I’m sorry for almost kissing you. I’m sorry for watching you sleep, wanting to touch your face, your hair and you. You. I’m sorry.”

                What did he say? I don’t know anymore. I don’t trust my hearing or myself for that matter. I don’t know what to do. And then I hear Jong-In sobbing. He’s trying his best to supress it, but it’s not working. Tears and snot are dribbling out. His head is glued to his chest.

                I walk up to him.

                He looks up.

                His eyes are trained on me.

                I stop right in front of him.

                I look into his almond eyes. He looks into mine.

                We face each other, with nothing but empty space between us...

                And then I fill that empty space with words.

                “I can’t… I’m—I’m sorry.”

____________________________________________

BAM.

this is the final part for this two-part chapter.
hmm, i'm not too sure if im going to be able to update for another two-three weeks. My exams are seriously a few days away, and i've done nothing to prepare. 

NOTES:

* this is a direct reference to the movie Blade Runner. It's a movie I have to study for one of my modules at school. It's from one of the last scenes of the movie, and the most poetic. I love it.

Anyway, if this is going to be the last chapter before my hiatus, i'd like to say a few words:

Thank you to all of you who have commented, subscribed, read and enjoyed my fanfiction. It seriously means the world to me. Especially since this is my first ever attempt at a fanfiction. I love all of you.