Sometimes Jinyoung likes to trick himself into thinking that nothing has changed. He buries his nose in a book and gets lost in a make-believe world that bleeds into his own, and soon reality and fantasy have become so intertwined that he doesn't even know he's tangled in it. He likes to pretend that Suzy still cares - clinging onto every minuscule glance she throws in his direction, every scrap of familiarity, every twinge of a smile's shadow.

There's not much chance to see her nowadays. The last time they were in the same room was when they were preparing for the JYP Nation concert, and even then, the majority of the time she was hanging off of Junho's arm. Jinyoung had tried not to focus on the flirtatious glint in her eyes, but ended up being lost in them anyway, although they were not intended for him.

Jinyoung has a way of being possessive of what's not his, Jaebum had remarked one day over a bottle of soju. Jinyoung actually doesn't like drinking, but Suzy does – alcohol drowning out her worries and freeing her of the shackles of stardom that Jinyoung still needs to get used to – and when he drinks, he's reminded of the times she used to call him up in the middle of the night. She seemed to only call him when she was desperate, and he doesn't know whether to feel flattered that she thinks he could save her or disappointed that he's the last option, that she wouldn't go to him for the normal things.

"You know, Suzy," he said one night, shivering in the cold. "Let's celebrate something together one day."

She had looked at him quizzically, bloodshot eyes slightly out of focus. "What do you mean?"

He couldn't really answer. Sometimes, he just wishes that for once, instead of calling him out to be a shoulder to cry on, she would share with him the joys of life, too.

So when his caller ID flashes her name at 2am in the morning, Jinyoung has to do a double-take. They hadn't talked for months, a dry spell so dry that he forgets what it's like to be thirsty. Only when the fourth ring resounds through the room does the numbness in his heart subside, replaced by a painful aching to which he'd grown immune. It comes back to full-force now as he wills his hands not to shake when he picks up the phone.

"Hello?"

All he registers is sobbing on the other side, disorderly breaths reflecting the state of disarray in which she's entangled herself. She's always like this, Jinyoung thinks sadly to himself. "Where are you?"

"Could you come over?" is all he hears, her voice so raspy it's almost unrecognizable.

He knows that she knows that the answer is yes; the answer is always yes when it comes to Suzy and he can't help himself. He throws on a jacket and grabs his keys and sneaks out of the dorm. By the time he arrives, she's got herself curled up in a ball and he just silently sits next to her. Doesn't even say hi, doesn't even try to break the ice with something like "we haven't talked in a while, how have you been?" because the answer is always the same, always a different side to the same coin, different renditions of the same story. They're caught up in a cycle, and Jinyoung willingly succumbs to it even though each time he leaves with part of his heart chipped away by the saltwater of her tears.

Tonight it is obvious the Suzy doesn't feel like voicing her thoughts aloud, so Jinyoung just stares into the night sky from her rooftop hideaway. He thinks about the stars and how beautiful they are and yet if you were to get too close to one, you'd probably melt into smithereens. He looks at Suzy and thinks that if this is what a star looks like up close, then this type of beauty is a special kind of tragic. Jinyoung feels her scooting closer to him to lean her head on his shoulder, and he almost doesn't mind that she's getting snot all over his jacket. He finds himself yearning to gather her up in his arms: each sore limb, each strand of unkempt hair, every insecurity and every pride, and just cradle her so that she's safe. But she's not, and he can't possibly promise her that, so he doesn't.

Not until she cries herself dry and she takes his face between her hands and stares at him – searching him, imploring him – "hug me," she begs, and she places his arms around her torso and presses her face into his chest. She's warm, so very warm, and Jinyoung only now realizes that tears have been silently streaming down his face this whole time. His arms tighten around her, wondering whether she could hear how fast his heart is beating. There's no way she doesn't know, and yet she never says anything about it, only asks for what she knows that he'll give.

Jinyoung is the type to analyze a situation and know how to make it most beneficial for him. He's a manipulative mastermind, as Mark describes him, and yet the tables always turn when he's with Suzy. He's appalled that he doesn't mind when she gives him a taste of intimacy in her darkest moments only to dispose of him later.

An hour later, Suzy is fast asleep in his arms, so Jinyoung carries her back down to her apartment and tucks her into bed. She's only half awake when she grabs his wrist just as he's about to leave. "Don't go," she murmurs.

Jinyoung gulps. He carefully takes her hand and removes it from his wrist. "I have to," he whispers, but he allows himself to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. In slow motion, breathing in her scent, etching this moment into his memory. "Good night."

And as he stumbles back home into the comfort of his own bed, his bones aching from holding her, he wonders to himself how long he's going to believe in this fantasy, if he'll ever move on from the girl who stole his heart so many years ago. He wishes he weren't so stubborn. He wishes the next time she calls it'll be to celebrate her birthday or eat at a restaurant together or watch movies over popcorn. He wishes a lot of things.

Most of all, he wishes that one day he'd have the courage to let go, to finally admit to himself that maybe Suzy was just a coincidence that looked like destiny. But for now, he knows that the next time she calls, it'll be the same thing all over again, and he'll still be believing that she cares about him as more than just a crutch to lean on. She'll still be crying, and he'll still be pretending that she's his.