All around him – blinding multi-colored lights flashed, laughter swirled, music boomed and bodies rubbed against one another. But then again, who was he to be so sure? When he looked up from his seat at the counter, all he saw was a kaleidoscope of sleazy colors dancing, falling over one another, swirling together as if in a big pot of rainbow.

“Keeeeeem Keeee Buhhhhhhhhm … you loser …” he slurred, laughing as he slapped the counter top repeatedly. “Why … are you even alive …”

He laughed more forcefully, no longer slapping the counter top but throwing his arms around himself clumsily as he laid his head sideways on it.

“Hahahahaha, ha … ha, ha, ha …” 

He grew silent and closed his eyes, his arms remaining wrapped around his body. Slowly, he started patting himself on his shoulder.

“Shhhh … Ki Bum-ah … it’s oh ... ggggay …” 

But it wasn’t. He started to cry, patting his shoulder sloppily. He turned his head that so his entire right cheek rested on the counter, and his eyes were hidden by his fringe falling over them. His tears ran onto the counter, forming a growing puddle of salty pain, hurt, anger and denial all in one.

“It’s allll … righhhhhhhht … stop … shh …”

He knew very well how pathetic he looked. But why would he give a damn about how he was wearing clothes that hadn’t been washed for at least three days and battered high tops that had dried vomit on it when all he could feel was his heart aching as emotion drained out from its ripped pieces until it filled his body, his entirety. He couldn’t think, talk or breathe properly; his mind, his tongue, his lungs were just overcome with the bleeding ache of his heart.

Maybe he should call her to say he was sorry that he had always put her second, sorry that he had been selfish and forgot her, sorry that she was getting married in four days. He should.

“Hello, Ki Bum?” her voice sounded through the phone.

“Hiiiiiiiiii Amberrrrrr …”

“Ki Bum? Are you drunk? Where are you?”

“Hiiiii Ammmmmberrrrrr … I’m not drunk … I’m nowhere …” He started to laugh, loud laughs that came out nasal due to his blocked nose. 

“Ki Bum …”

“Shuuuut uuuuup. Bye …”

“Ki Bum, where are you?” she paused. “Please … tell me where you are.”

“Why do you care!” he shouted. “Why! Why? Why …”

He sobbed into the phone.

“… I’m sorry … Ammberrrrr … I’m so sorry …” 

“… It’s okay, Ki Bum … I’m okay. Now it’s your turn. Tell me where you are so I can make sure you’re okay.”

“… The Sky.”

“Five minutes.”

And she hung up.

Ki Bum knocked out from the alcohol and exhaustion, dropping his phone on the counter as the swirly rainbow before his eyes turned black.

/ * /

Amber guessed Ki Bum wouldn’t be a pretty (or for that matter, easily identifiable) sight and she was damn right. 

When she (finally) found him, he was out cold on the bar counter, smelling like vomit and smoke and alcohol. His fringe cascaded down his forehead and over his eyes, its dark brown strands tousled and dirty. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jeans, looking so skinny as if with one knock, his body would just break apart into pieces.

“Ki Bum-ah …” She leaned in and tried to wake him by shaking his shoulders. “Wake up …”

His eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened a crack. He groaned.

“Go awaaaaay …” He shrugged her hands off and fell back into unconsciousness.

“At least you’re not dead yet,” Amber mumbled, a little miffed. 

She half-lifted, half-dragged him off his seat and pulled his right arm over her shoulder. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she attempted to walk him forward, but he remained a dead weight that refused to budge.

“You pig, what have you been eating?” she grumbled fondly. She had missed teasing him.

She dragged him back onto his seat, where he then sat with his body crumpled forward. Turning her back against him and bending her knees, she pulled his arms over her shoulders, hooked her arms around his legs and lifted him up. 

The streets were bare as she piggy-backed him to his apartment, considering how it was only a few hours into the new day. Well, she thought. At least no one was around to stare. 

“Ki Bum-ah,” she said, panting a little. “Why are you like this?”

She felt emotion spreading through her in fierce waves, rushing this way and that, knocking hard upon her heart. She blinked the tears away, rubbing her nose with one hand, and began to speak again, this time softer and slower.

“I’m okay, Ki Bum. I want you to be okay.”

She sighed.

“If we’re not meant to be, it’s okay. If we marry different people, it’s okay. Even if we still love each other now, it’s okay. Because someday, we’ll both find that, hey, we don’t love each other anymore. And that’s okay.”

She was crying now, her steps slow and measured. 

Reaching his apartment door, she carefully placed him on the floor to sit. That was when she realized, he was crying. She sat down next to him and looked at his face, eyes running over his features. She realized how much she’d missed when she first saw him at the bar.

His eyes were streaked red above his grey eye bags and there were dried tears all over his gaunt, unshaven face. The glow that she had always seen radiating from his skin was gone and replaced with an unhealthy yellowish tint. 

“Amber …” he began quietly. “Do you still love me now?”

“.. Yes, I do. I still love you now.” 

She gave him a hug, feeling his arms wrap around her waist. When she pulled away, he pulled her back and kissed her.

“I love you too,” he said, voice choked with emotion.

He pulled away, stood up clumsily and dusted himself down.

“Ki Bum …” She stood up. 

“Let me walk in by myself.”

She nodded.

He took out his keys with a dreaded sense of finality, unlocked the door, and stepped in.

He turned to face her. 

“I'm going to miss you badly," he smiled weakly. "But that's okay. I’m okay. Be okay too. When we’re okay, let’s meet again. Okay?” 

“Okay.” She smiled.