"We need to talk," Sungyeol had said, yet it was he who'd spent the past half hour pacing about, not even looking at me. He'd brought the two of us to a different room in the warehouse, one with a plain mattress, desk, and a half-empty bookcase. I got the feeling that someone used this room quite a bit, almost like their own personal bedroom (I know, I know, even I was amazed. I mean, seriously? A bedroom in a drug hideout?). Glancing around, I saw that there were also a few books, some faded photographs, and a first-aid kit scattered around.

'Who would want to live here?' I wondered, before bringing my attention back to the matter at hand.

Sungyeol.

With an impassive look, I watched my friend continue to pace before me. Occasionally, he'd mutter to himself, but it was in too low of a voice for me to hear. I had to admit, I was starting to get a bit antsy. Should I speak up and get his attention? Wave my hand to let him know I was waiting to talk? There were a thousand questions burning inside of me, and I didn't know how much more of the quiet I could take.

'Nah,' I finally decided, 'Let him be the one to talk first. He's the one who's got the explaining to do.' I shifted a little on the bed I was sitting on. It looked like I would be here for awhile longer, so might as well get myself comfortable for the wait.

My sudden movement caught Sungyeol's eye. Startled, he jerked his heard towards me, as if he'd just remembered I was there.

"Sooyun- Oh, crap! I forgot about your cut!" He grabbed the medical kit off the bookcase. The smooth familiarity of his action gave me the impression that he was used to treating injuries in this room. Perhaps the injuries of his gang members? I wouldn't put it past them to get into fights with their clients.

"How did this happen?" The tall male wet a cloth with some disinfectant. I sat there, silent and unmoving, as he dabbed it on the back of my head. "You didn't get into a fight, did you? How much blood did you lose? We should go to a hospital later. The emergency rooms will be open at this time, but I don't know if they'll consider this a big enough emergency for them. Maybe they will. Remember the time I cut my leg climbing that broken fence? It was bleeding just as much as this, and head injuries are always more serious-"

"Is it hard?" I interrupted his babbling. My tone was mild, but Sungyeol could sense the temper rising to the surface. Biting his lip, he went back to cleaning my wound without another word. I took this as my chance to continue.

"I mean, is taking care of your uncle's dog hard. You know, the one you described to me as a Tasmanian freak on a leash? I'm pretty sure you got to walking it on time today. It didn't give you too much trouble, did it-"

"Stop it." This time, Sungyeol was the one to cut me off. His own tone was low and unreadable, and his eyes were cast on the cloth in his hands. It was hard to tell what exactly he was thinking. Still, I ignored him. I was on a roll. Dismissing his words, I steamed onwards like a bulldozer, determined to get my own thoughts through his thick skull.

"And your uncle, too. My condolences to the ill man. How's everybody coping with that, knowing that a family member who doesn't even exist is sick-"

"I said, stop it!" Sungyeol slammed his fist on the desk. Startled, I fell silent and watched him resume pacing again. However, it was in a much more agitated manner than before. "Just stop it already, Sooyun! I get it! You're mad! You're mad that I lied, you're mad that I sneaked behind your back, and you're freakin' mad that I'm doing this!"

The dark-haired boy threw the bloodied cloth on the desk. With an angry look, he pointed to where his jacket had been tossed, its pockets filled with little bags and rolls of cash. I was stunned. Never before had I seen my friend like this- frustrated, upset, and like everything he had ever known was a lie. But really... As distressed as I was with the situation, a part of me couldn't help but feel resentful. Shouldn't I be the one wearing that look? After all, I was the one who had been lied to, not Sungyeol. I was the one who'd been told my best friend was out dog-sitting, not fooling with drugs like a mafia thug.

Sungyeol had no right to wear that look. It was mine.

I jumped off the bed and glared at him. "Yeah, I'm mad! I'm horrified, disgusted, and absolutely furious that you're doing this! I mean, come on! You're dealing drugs, for God's sake! Have you totally lost it? Lee Sungyeol... I honestly don't know where I should start right now. Do I yell at you for lying to me? Do I try to smack some sense into your head? Or do I just stand here and wonder how the hell my best friend got involved with drugs?" My fists clenched, but loosened again as I exhaled a deep breath of sadness. "Were you ever going to tell me...?"

A few moments passed before Sungyeol answered my question.

"No. I wasn't."

Ouch. Those three little words hit me sharper than any blade in the world ever would. I felt like he had taken my heart and ripped it right down the middle, then crumpled the pieces like the paper balls he used to play classroom basketball with. All in front of me. 'Is this what Wilde meant when he said 'A true friend stabs you in the front'? Because I think that's what Sungyeol's doing to me right now.'

"Why?" My voice came out in a ragged, hoarse whisper.

Sungyeol ignored me, continuing to talk as if I'd never spoken up. "But I might as well tell you now, since you found me out and everything." He fixed his gaze back onto the washcloth.

"You know how six months ago, my brother came home at midnight all bruised and beat up. I told you about his injuries, the broken ribs and knife wound in his chest, and how we had to take him to the hospital. My parents were going crazy with worry, but he refused to tell us anything. So we just assumed that he'd gotten into a fight with bullies, and was too embarrassed to say.

"But what I didn't tell you was that a few days later, he decided to sneak out again. He was still injured, with half his body covered in bandages, but he decided to slip away like some kind of idiot. He used the back kitchen door, but was in too much of a hurry to notice me. It was strange, and I was worried too, so I decided to follow him. I... I didn't know how big the consequences of that would be."

At this point, Sungyeol paused, looking like he was reliving the memory in his head. I didn't dare so much as breathe out loud, in fear of stopping him from talking.

"Sooyun, if I had known where he was going, I don't know if I would have followed him. Just like you did tonight, I trailed my brother to this place, only thinking about how dead he was when we got back home. I mean, come on. The guy was still hurt, and he wanted to explore abandoned warehouses like Indiana Jones? I didn't think even he was that stupid. But when I saw what exactly he was up to, all thoughts of lecturing him immediately left my head.

"He was kneeling. My brother, who's never bowed to anyone before in his life, was kneeling. Before him were some tough-looking guys, wearing suits and holding guns in their hands. But if that sight didn't scare me, hearing their next words did.

"'We've given you enough chances,' they said, 'More than enough, but you still seem to mess up every time. Perhaps it was our fault for taking you in so young, but even so. You know what we do to failures.'

"But just as they were about to pull the triggers, I ran in, yelling and waving my arms around. I know, it was a stupid idea, but what else could I do? They were going to kill my brother. Surprisingly, they didn't shoot me on the spot. They let him talk to me instead, explaining just how the hell he'd gotten into that situation. Apparently, he'd been a member of that gang (Infinite, they're called) for awhile. Why and how, he didn't say. All he told me was that he didn't want to be involved anymore, and was messing up purposely in hopes of getting kicked out. Obviously, the gangsters didn't like hearing that, because they pointed their guns right at him when he finished. I had an idea, though. Again, it was stupid, but I didn't have any other choice. They were going to kill him."

Sungyeol took a deep breath. "I offered to take his place. To replace my brother as a member of Infinite. You know, they probably wouldn't have accepted and just killed us both, if it weren't for the fact that they needed teenagers. Young people. According to them, police don't suspect kids as much, and we're useful if you want to do undercover work." He faltered, like there was more he wanted to say, but shut his mouth abruptly instead.

There was a silence. Finally, after minutes of repeatedly opening and closing my mouth, I found the strength to speak up.

"But why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked in that same broken voice. "I'm your friend, Sungyeol. Your best friend. You know I wouldn't have judged you or ratted you out. I would have helped. I would have-"

"That's exactly my point," Sungyeol cut me off angrily. "We're friends. Friends are supposed to tell each other everything. Friends are supposed to ask for advice, and give advice in return. Friends are supposed to let each other help out with problems. But since when have you ever done that? Never! Not once have you told me about your fears, your troubles, your worries, nothing!"

I watched, speechless, as he stood up and began pacing once more. "I can see how much it bothers you, Sooyun. You hate being number one at everything, but hate even more how you don't have a choice. Every time someone says how perfect the great Choi Sooyun is, you want to scream, but hide it behind a cool smile that makes me want to scream. It's so annoying, seeing that fake look all the time. Why can't you ever tell me the truth? Have you ever thought that I'd like to help my best friend sometime?"

Then he whirled around and looked me straight in the eyes. "If you were really my friend," he said quietly, hurt and misery taking over his frustration, "You would have trusted me enough to talk about it all."

I didn't know what I could say to that.

Luckily, Sungyeol's phone spared the trouble of answering. Without any warning, it started to ring shrilly in his pocket. I jumped at the noise. Sungyeol didn't even look at me as he dug it out, mechanically bringing it to his ear.

"Sungyeol here." His tone was curt and business-like. I could almost believe that he hadn't been bothered by our conversation... Almost. There was a look in his eyes, a look of pain and sorrow, that reflected very much what I was feeling inside.

"What? You want to talk? Now? But-" He fell silent. A few minutes passed like that, him listening to the caller with a tightened mouth and me simply watching. Finally, not caring that it was probably his boss on the line, I opened my mouth to interrupt. I was tired, I was hurt, and I just wanted to go home already (by myself, though. Not with Sungyeol. I didn't know how I was going to face him on the long journey back).

But before I had the chance to say anything, Sungyeol muttered a terse "Fine" and ended the call. I was quiet as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

"I need to go now," he said. Still not looking at me, he took off the sweater he'd been wearing and tossed it in my direction. "It might take awhile, so I'll ask Dongwoo to take you home. You probably don't want to go with me, anyways. Make sure you stick with him, because it's dangerous for you here. And wear that sweater. There are bloodstains all over your shirt. Your mom would freak out for sure if she saw that."

Automatically, I pulled the garment over my head. It was big, baggy, and at least two sizes too big for me, reaching all the way down to my thighs. But still, it was warm. I wrapped my arms around myself, liking the feel of it. It reminded me of a blanket, engulfing me in a wave of comfort and protection. Sungyeol's comfort and protection.

Sungyeol was about to step through the door when I spoke up a final time.

"And what about us?" I hugged myself even tighter. A voice in the back of my head told me no, not to say anything, but I didn't listen. I just had to ask. I had to know what his thoughts right now were. "What's going to happen to us?"

His voice was tired as he answered my question.

"I don't know, Sooyun. I just don't know."

And with that, he left. Just like I had with my mother, I stayed still for a very long time, not moving until a man named Dongwoo came to take me home.

"Come on," he said, guiding me out the room. I walked beside him as if in a trance. There wasn't anything I was taking in besides my dazed thoughts. I didn't notice the suddenly cold temperature of the warehouse. I didn't hear the raised voices coming from the room down the hall. I didn't make any remarks on Dongwoo's shiny gun, winking at me from its holster on his belt.

But, I did see my dark knight sitting at the table, still in the same position he'd been in when I'd left with Sungyeol.

He raised his head as I was walking past him, face back to the emotionless mask he'd worn before. I told you, his eyes seemed to say. You should have just gone back home.

I turned my head away and pretended I was watching Dongwoo unlock the door. I didn't want him to see the tear that was starting to slip down my face.