Author’s Note: This story is set in an alternate universe, in an imaginary town and country, and during an ambiguous time period.

“Are you still mad at me?” Bryan asked, kicking him under the table.

Jaejoong snapped out of his reverie and smiled at his friend that was peering at him with a frown on his face. They were, supposedly, studying at a local coffee store on campus, Café-au-Lait. However, Jaejoong had been doing more overthinking and stressing than any studying. 

After getting Jung Yunho’s message, which had taken away any hope he had of focusing and studying, he had called Byran fifteen minutes after getting off the phone with him, telling him he needed to get out of his dorm but didn’t want to be alone. His best friend heard his plea and skipped his last class of the day and told him to meet him at Café-au-Lait. And there they were. Jaejoong sat across from him silently eyeing his phone, wondering if he should open the text message or not. His expensive drink, the cozy interior of the store, and his friend’s loving presence did nothing to take away the thoughts he was having.

He wanted to get back at Jung Yunho.

He knew he was being immature thinking that, and it disgusted him, because that simply was not him. And he had done so much work to become better, to start healing, to be stronger. He was different from them. He was different from him. He was not a monster. He would not use Jung Yunho’s uality to punish him, not like he and his friends had. He was better. He was a good person.

Staring blankly at Bryan, he wondered if he could ever find the words to vocalize his feelings to his friend. His caring, sweet friend. The confusion he felt. The anger he felt. The hurt. And the pathetic embarrassment. He was…No, he had been attracted to A.aime. To Jung Yunho. He had started to have feelings for him! He had dreamed of…He had wanted…he had pictures…Oh gosh!

He was disgusting.

He audibly whimpered.

Bryan’s eyes widened and he quickly reached over and grabbed his hands on the table and gave it a squeeze.

“, I am so ty for even suggesting that you read his message.”

“No.” He pulled his hand free and gripped the edge of the table. “It’s not that.” He shook his head. Reaching for his drink he took a sip and cleared his throat. “It’s not you. I am just…” he sighed and shrugged, as if that was a proper explanation. As if that was all he needed to do for Bryan to understand him.

His friend humored him. He nodded. “Hey, you have every right to be angry.”

Jaejoong shook his head. He felt more than just that.

“And hurt! And still have…feelings.”

Jaejoong jerked up straight in his chair. “What?” He felt his cheeks growing hot and taut.

Bryan nodded sympathetically. “I know you thought…”

“No! He is…Jung Yunho is not that cute.”

 “I know you don’t like the real him, babe. I am talking about who you thought he was.” Bryan leaned closer and whispered. “A.aime.”

“Bryan!”

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “I know you’re trying to help, but I…Can we just drop the subject?”

He nodded dutifully. “Of course. Anything you need, babe.”

“Thank you.”

And he picked up his white pad pen and tried to act like he was adding to his notes on his ipad.

He wasn’t. He was still on Yunho and that bloody message.

He was still torturing him.

—---

Later that night, after he had showered and had gotten in bed, he couldn’t help himself, so he opened the facebook app and went to his messages and stared at his little round profile picture. His bright, innocent smile taunted him.

That dark little thought returned. He had the perfect chance to make Yunho feel petrified. He didn’t have to reveal his identity to everyone back home or get back at him, but he could play with his feelings for a little bit. Psychologically torture him for a bit he would deserve it, and he was practically asking for it.

However, he knew he wouldn’t. He would not do , because that was against his moral code. And most importantly, he was better than Yung Yunho and his bigoted, hateful, brainless friends.

And there he lay on his bed, pumping himself up to do the unthinkable. 

His curiosity was getting the better of him. Saying a quick sorry to the universe, he threw all reason and logic to the wind and opened the message box. The message was not recent, in fact. He wrote to him three weeks ago, the day of their unfortunate encounter, and three more times, the latest being three days ago.

He wanted to get his attention and get in contact with him. Why?

With his hands trembling he clicked directly on his message box and started reading.

Bitting his bottom lip as he read what he sent him, Jaejoong tried not to combust. He had to read his messages about five times. Bryan had been right. He apologized. A lot  of beautiful excuses. He tried to be heartfelt, genuine, remorseful. It did not touch Jaejoong’s cold heart. Not at all. It was a lot of woe-be-me. I didn’t know. It was never meant to turn like this. Please believe me. I want us to connect. I’m so sorry. 

Lies!

And even if they were not, his words could do. Nothing could get rid of what he did to Jaejoong. This was damage he would have to unpack over many years to come.

When it concerned Yunho, he couldn’t help but hate him. He had tried not to, but it was hard. It was hard to believe he was being genuine.

“Why are people so evil?” he mumbled into his pillow, his heart rate still fast.

When I saw you and I made the connection that you were Kim Jaejoong, I wanted to run away. I did, in fact. I even drove away, but I turned my car around and drove back to Lilly’s. All I knew was that I could not keep you waiting or act as if I did not know it was you that I was talking to. I did not want to mislead you. Not more than I already have–by error, of course! 

Jaejoong read that text bubble about three times and was still reading it when a text bubble appeared and then a message.

Jaejoong freaked out. He screamed, but he read the message.

You’re online. Finally. I am so freaking sorry, Jaejoong. I promise you, everything I wrote is the truth.

He was frozen, not knowing if he should reply or get off the app.

Don’t ignore me. Please.

He blinked at the black letters on his lit phone’s screen.

I know this is shameless of me, but can we meet? I just want to apologize to you in person. 

I want to make up for this. 

I want to explain everything to you in person. I promise, I am a horrible person, I know; I am so sorry for our ty past, but I would never do this to you.

Pressing his lips together, he tried to stop his hands from quivering. He was not successful.

This Friday or Saturday evening, at Lily’s, we can meet there. Please. We really need to talk.

I need to talk to you.

I am sorry.

Closing his phone, shoving it under his pillow, he flipped on his belly, pretzeled his arms on his pillow, and he tucked his head in his elbow. 

Repeating softly, only for his ears, he said over and over, “You are safe. No one can hurt you. Never again. You have the power.”

He had the power now.