xxviii. Half-truths Lead To One-sided Wins

The room was quiet as he flipped to the next page, slight trepidation filling him to the brim. Even though he had looked at it tens of times, hundreds of times, thousands of times, it still had this effect on him. It still made him feel as though he were seeing each and every work printed on each and every single, flimsy page for the first time. Flimsy. Fragile. Weak. His feelings could be described with such words. Angry. Determined. Confident. There were those feelings as well.

He wasn’t that pair of eyes that looked back at him from the page in front of him anymore. He wasn’t that pair of deep pools of black and yet, at the same time, he was. Because it wasn’t something he could throw away. It wasn’t something he could forget. It was a past that, even if it remained unknown by many, was still known by him. And even if only he still remembered, it would always be there.

It would always be there to make him weak.

To make him strong.

To make him a living contradiction in and of itself.

As essential as breathing is to stay alive, keeping this memory stuffed in between the cracks, keeping it hidden in the most obvious of places, was necessary. His past is just as important as his future. Who he was is just as important as who he is. He’s always known this. He’s never tried to convince himself otherwise.

Because that would be like lying to himself all over again.

That would be like lying to everyone all over again.

And he didn’t want to do that.

Not anymore.

Would you take it well though? Would you take it well if he simply stopped telling half-truths? He’d still be him, he knew that. Even if he didn’t receive approval, even if the looks in the eyes of each and every person he called friend changed because of it, he’d still be him.

He’d still be Kim Myungsoo.

One opinion wouldn’t change that. His past wouldn’t change that. His future wouldn’t change that, no matter how hard it tried. He’d still be a black hole of never-ending contradictions. He’d still feel fragile and bulletproof at the same time. He’d simply stop lying. He’d simply stop telling half-truths. He’d simply start telling the full truth in all of its entirety.

He’d simply come clean about what he figured you already knew. What the others must have at least had speculations about. Because they must have, as they’ve lived with him, side by side, through the good and the bad, the highs and the lows. Because you must have, due to the scent that hung off of you he could have smelt a mile away. A hundred miles away. A thousand miles away. That’s where the owner of that overpowering scent should have been. Yet, he was here. Here, in Springfield. The male whose surname he once shared. The male whose blood is just as thick as his own.

And Myungsoo hadn’t said anything.

He had kept quiet as the others had – though they must have thought it was his own scent instead. He didn’t want to acknowledge that that which he ran away from followed him to the one place he called “home.” That’s what was easier. That’s what was simpler. But, its not what he wanted. Ignoring it, pushing it to the side, stuffing it deep between the cracks so that it’d never be seen by anyone else but him and him alone, was not what he wanted.

What he wanted and what was best, however, seem to be two different things. Two different things that are failing to line up in his mind, no matter how many sleepless nights he spends trying to make sense of it all. The question of “why” hung in the air like a thick fog on a fall morning.

He didn’t want to lie any longer. He didn’t want to hide any longer. But, what would the truth bring? Would it take him back? Would it deliver him right back to where he ran away from? Would it take him back to where he started? To the beginning of all of this? And if it did, would Sunggyu come back to take him away from that place again?

Uncertainty.

It was another feeling, a newer feeling, he had now as he stared back into the eyes that were like his own and yet, at the same time, not his at all.

 “You’re looking at it.”

Myungsoo jolted from his seat on his bed, forgetting that he had left his door open. Forgetting that he had already so easily let down the first barrier. The person who called him, whose voice rang out a surprised statement rather than an inquiring question, was the only other one who knew everything.

The one who helped him get away from everything in the first place.

Kim Sunggyu.

The male whose last name he presently shared for reasons beyond pure coincidence.

Myungsoo turned around, his fingers thumbing the pages he had flipped through, and those he still had left, of the magazine sized portfolio in his hands. A brochure of sorts. A sneak peek of sorts. A small piece of what he left behind. “Yeah.” He nodded, laying one last, fleeting glance down at it before flipping it closed, “Weird, isn’t it?”

Sunggyu didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have a reaction of any kind right away. He merely stared at Myungsoo, as though the question itself was one that made no sense at all. And he voiced this confusion as he took slow steps over the threshold of Myungsoo’s room, “Why?”

Why was it weird? What was weird in the first place? The door being open was, yes, but what else was weird about this situation? Sunggyu didn’t understand. And, for some reason, based upon the look on Myungsoo’s face, his so dark brown they were almost black eyes narrowing as furrowed brows pressed down upon them, his lips a soft line as his breaths left his lips steadily, rhythmically, as though he were waiting for something, Sunggyu had a feeling Myungsoo didn’t know either.

“It’s not weird. It’s just, well,” Sunggyu paused, thinking over his words carefully, putting as much thought into them as possible. However, when he did that, he came up with a blank slate. There was nothing “right” to say to Myungsoo. What Myungsoo needed more than anything was an honest opinion. The honest to goodness truth. It’s funny, how easily Sunggyu found it to understand him. Would it be like this for the others too once they knew? Yet another wonder for Myungsoo to pounder as Sunggyu continued on, settling on saying what he thought without filtering a single thing, “I didn’t think you’d be still hanging on. It’s not something you can forget easily, not that I’m saying you should, but I didn’t think you’d still have that reminder of it just within an arm’s reach at any time. But, it’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” Was Myungsoo’s immediate response. Where the thoughts he was having now good? Could they somehow cross over with what was best for him? For all of them? “All because she had to ask me about it.” He mumbled to himself, a whisper only meant for his ears. Only directed towards himself. Because it was all because of you.

It was because of you he didn’t want to walk down the easy path anymore. It was because of you that he was finally set on coming clean. Not because he could feel the pressure building and building inside to the point where the dam would have broken sooner or later – regardless of ever meeting you. Not because he wouldn’t have taken that last step off the edge of the cliff, falling to what may or may not have been his doom, by himself.

Rather, because of you.

It was your fault. You always were the easy one to blame.

For everything. For anything. For all of it. For none of it at all.

It was an addicting contradiction.

And Sunggyu had heard him. Sunggyu took one step closer, his eyes on Myungsoo’s frame as he waited for the clarification he already guessed based off of context alone.

And Myungsoo supplied it to him, clarifying who “she” was, “Hyunjoo, I mean.”

“Good.” Sunggyu nodded his head.

Again, it was good.

Such an enticing contradiction was good. What it was doing to him was good. What it was making him do was good. Sunggyu thought it was. Sunggyu believed it to be true more than anything. But, making Myungsoo believe the same was more difficult. Making him aware that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to fear a single thing that happened in the future, no matter what it may be, no matter how unpredictable or how damaging, because they were together, was much more difficult. But, he knew beyond any and all doubt that their pack would stay together through it all. Myungsoo needed to see this definite truth. This truth that rose above all else. The truth that he had fourteen others ready and willing to stand by his side no matter what.

“That’s good.” Sunggyu said again, his feet taking yet even more steps closer, his finger pointing at the bound pieces of paper Myungsoo now held onto, the ones that he had no reason to be afraid of, “You see, she has this affect on people. She makes them unwilling to sit still. She moves them to action. So, it’s good you’re talking to her about it. It’s really good, Myungsoo.”

Hyunjoo was the best thing for him.

She was the best thing for them.

The epitome of good.

It was almost charming for Myungsoo to see himself in Sunggyu like this. To see his leader’s thoughts which mimicked his own so closely. That paralleled his own so perfectly. Except, whatever destiny awaited him, he wasn’t certain if this would always be the case. If the addicting contradiction would remain good no matter how much time went by.

Still, that someone was there for him, that Sunggyu supported him despite it all, made him feel stronger. Made him feel like his weakness was fading away, disappearing from the night sky just like the waning moon.

Sunggyu spoke then, just before he left Myungsoo’s room, a smile on his face, “Dinner is ready. Come on down.”

And Myungsoo was alone again. Except, this time, it was confidence that he felt pulsing through his veins. What he wanted and what was best, he’d make them line up. He’d make them one in the same, even if they were never meant to be. He’d make sure everything turned out “good” in the end.

This determination itself was good, wasn’t it?

This was good, wasn’t it?

Then why, why even as he took lighter steps down the stairs, that suffocating weight lifted off of his shoulders, that stage curtain but a mere tug away from ripping from its hinges and falling to the ground to never rise again, did he hear it?

Why did he hear that small voice in the back of his head question it?

Question where things would go from here.

According to Sunggyu, it was good.

And yet, the last two words which left his lips on reflex before he exited his room, before he left that portfolio on his bed for all to see, were, “Is it?”

He knew. How? Since when? Why? The answers to those questions didn’t matter. All that mattered is that he knew. Which meant the others knew as well. Still, them knowing wasn’t nearly as bad as him knowing. He wouldn’t let it go. He’d pursue the topic until he got the answer he wanted, whether or not you wanted to tell him didn’t matter. He’d make you say it. He was this way at the hospital that day so long ago last fall. He was this way when it came to most everything he set out to understand. To comprehend. To figure out.

What did he know? Why did you find yourself neck deep in a crisis whose aftereffects you couldn’t even begin to calculate? Perhaps starting from that first interrogating question of his would be better.

That first question of, “How’s school been lately?”

“Lately?” You questioned right back, playing ignorant. Feigning naivety in hopes he’d drop the subject even though you knew he never would.

“Unless you’ve been doing other things lately instead then yes, lately.” He took slow steps towards you. His eagle like eyes seemed to see right through you, nitpicking on each and every falter, every crack, in your otherwise casual expression, “You haven’t been doing other things, have you?”

You had three options at this point. The first was to run as fast as your legs could carry you. To run like a speeding mouse from the hard-headed cat. Or rather, from the highflying eagle. The chances he’d catch you were slim to none. The chance he had many other chances to catch you was a never-ending, infinite number. So then, that ruled out that option. The second was to lie. To blatantly lie to his face that you were handling girl’s business, or you were simply too lazy to get up in the morning. But, to lie to him was to willingly sign your death wish. You might as well just print out the death certificate right here and now. So then, the second option was just as doable as the first.

That’s what made you choose the third of your options.

That’s what made you tell him the honest to goodness truth.

Or at the very least, a version of it.

Though, according to a certain bookworm who seemingly lived within the shelf-lined walls of the library, wasn’t that the same as telling a lie? Technicalities were something you didn’t have time for right now.

Right now, this May 2^nd, as Zico stared you down on the back porch of his pack’s house, not a single other person here to help cover for you.

“I missed a few days without meaning to. A friend I made was being annoying.” The words were out on impulse. Thus, you failed to grasp the meaning of them, to question the meaning of them, as Zico proceeded to do.

“A friend?” He inhaled, his eyes looking away as he seemed to scan his mind for the faces of all the friends of yours he had met. Which, now that he thought about it, added up to fifteen and fifteen alone. How was this significant? Because he realized then that he knew not a single friend you held inside of school besides Sunggyu’s pack. The same pack who had noticed your disappearances from school recently. The same pack who had noticed you showed up halfway through third period just this morning.

“Sort of.” You added, though, in hindsight, the comment did nothing to alleviate the gravity of your situation.

He his heel, his expressions out of sight, but that voice of his told you all that you needed to about the kind of mood he was in, “Come on down, Hyunjoo.” He was angry. He wasn’t satisfied with a half-truth. With a mere version of the full truth. And so, he called you to join him off the porch, into the backyard, into his own personal game that – if it had a name – would be called, “Zico Always Wins.”

How does one win? Was the title of the show now obvious? Zico always won.

You followed him down the porch steps, mentally smacking your mouth over and over with both hands, scolding yourself for not being more quick-witted. For not even trying to be clever when it came to answering him. For foolishly thinking that when entering the game show, “Zico Always Wins,” a half-truth would stall his inevitable win.

He was there, feet planted firmly in the ground, intimidating stare boring holes into your head. As though he had permitted the use of lasers on this show of his, you felt your confidence melting away due to that single glance of his. But, no matter how much spilling to him everything, telling him everything now, would help your current predicament, you couldn’t.

You couldn’t tell him about Cha Hakyeon.

The will to protect the ambiguous boy’s identity was greater than your fear of Zico maintaining his winning streak. Because now was not the time. Knowing too much was as harmful as not knowing enough. Before, Tiffany had never clued you in on everything. Before, you weren’t ready to hear what she had to say until reaching a certain, precise, seemingly destined point in time. Before, he time wasn’t right when you wanted it to be.

Now, the time wasn’t right even though Zico wanted it to be.

And at that thought, your wits made an unprecedented comeback.

“What now, Mr. Host?” You gestured to the empty space around the two of you, a smile hitching your lips upwards.

Zico was taken aback by the sudden, heavily sarcastic, rebuttal on your part. But, only for a moment. Only for a moment before his own Oscar winning personality kicked in, “Sass will get you everywhere, you know?”

“Such as?” You questioned, intertwining your hands behind your back as you swayed back and forth on the balm of your heels. Provoking him wasn’t the brightest idea you had today. Provoking him wasn’t the brightest idea you had this entire week. In fact, it was most definitely the worst, horribly undoable idea you had put into action this entire month. A fact that was proven as his stationary, sharp features blurred, the proximity between the two of you closed within the span of a mere second.

He was moving fast. Faster than you could ever hope to. Faster than you could ever dream to. And yet, he didn’t claim victory so easily. Not when you knew what his intent was, that subtle twitch of his left leg right before he disappeared from view giving him away.  You shifted your right let back, causing his blurred frame to come to a stop mere inches in front of you, that left foot of his where your right one had been just milliseconds before. Milliseconds faster than the one second it took him to get to you.

Thus, he had failed in his first attempt. His first attempt to hook his left leg behind your own right. His first attempt to send you falling back onto the soft cushion that was nature’s grassy bed. You shot him that smirk that never failed to insight in him everything but anger. You gave him those eyes that had amusement swirling like raging whirlpools within them. You enjoyed your small victory of Round 1 before he began Round 2.

Before his right leg darted out, hooking around your left in order to send you falling right onto your back, his own, heavy body falling on top of you. You caught the breath that almost broke through your clenched teeth – your grunt of pain no matter how kind nature was on your back. You looked through squinted eyes in order to see exactly what fate awaited.

And when you saw it, you felt like you were suffocating. Suffocating on your own breath, making you wish you had let out that same groan. Suffocating as you felt his black fringe bristle against your forehead. As he remained propped up on his elbows, dark brown eyes almost black as they stared down at you. Just as he had earlier.

So much different from how he had earlier.

“Such as,” he whispered then, his hot, steady breath batting against the mesh of your eyelashes and the tender skin of your cheeks with each syllable he uttered, “on the ground, like this.”

He had forgotten the point of all of this. He had forgotten it as he got lost in your eyes. In the curve of your nose. In the light tint of your lips. He had hesitated once before, but not this time. This time, he’d make sure that smirk was gone for good. He’d make sure to wipe it away with the melting of his own against it. Against that playful, enticing grin that made him crazy. That drove him to insanity.

He leaned closer, his nose touching your own.

And you asked yourself, is this it?

His intentions were obvious, but was it really going to happen like this?

As you told him half-truths. As nothing seemed more complicated than everything and anything you knew to be the truth. As that which you didn’t know haunted your every night, your own tired mind and strength of will the only thing allowing you to sleep once the sun went down?

You didn’t want it to.

Not like this.

Not now.

Again, no matter how much Zico wanted it, no matter how still your body became as his features blurred ever more, now was not the time.

The time wasn’t right.

And the reality of the situation was that you turned your head away. The reality of the situation that went unseen by Zico is that you silently screamed to both him and yourself, “Not Now” with that one tilt of your head. That one gesture. The reason it went unseen?

A female werewolf with flowing black locks had appeared then. In hindsight she made the decision harder in the long run. She made everything more complicated for you in the long run.

Jiyeon tackled Zico, the two fumbling onto the grass a few feet away from you. It ended just like that, Zico’s game show. Zico’s questions. Zico’s hanging gesture. Your own responding gesture. All of it would remain unanswered. All of it would remain as ambiguous and dubious as the win Jiyeon then proclaimed she seized from Zico, his shock allowing her to turn the tables on him. His shock allowing her to be the one pinning him down instead.

“I win.” She grinned widely, socking him in the chest with a final, teeth-clenching punch. She turned back to you, her grin growing ever wider, as though she knew something you didn’t. As though nothing was complicated in her eyes.

Taeil came out then, seeing the scuffle from the living room window just moments earlier. “Are you okay?” He asked you, checking you over before shooting the same question to Zico. You didn’t answer. You merely forced a smile, your heart still pounding in your chest. Your eyelashes fluttering as the aftereffects of Zico’s warm breath remained, small, yet still there, like scattered cinders after a forest fire. Your lips quivering beneath their upward curve.

With the mere mention of dinner being cooked, you followed Taeil inside. Jiyeon followed after, helping Zico up with a single lift of his arms before catching up to you quickly. You didn’t want to look back, you didn’t plan to look back. But, you did. You attempted to. You wanted to, only to be stopped halfway through your gesture by Jiyeon once more, her arm throwing itself over your shoulder as she grinned your way again. Resigning to her was now the only option you had as you walked inside, not looking back once.

Zico stayed behind, watching as you disappeared into the house along with Jiyeon and Taeil. Watching as his fingers clenched, his hands balling into fists within the dark blue depths of his pockets. Again. Again, he had challenged the game and lost. He had challenged the insurmountable game show you produced and directed all on your own and lost.

As it turns out, you were wrong.

It was never Zico’s game.

Zico never felt like he won.

Not before.

Now not.

Not once.

“I want to see that.” You announced, curling your toes as you tightly held your knees to your chest. The television blurred on in the background, flashing images of blue and green and white staining your skin with its hues. Only a single lamp in the corner of the room remained on, casting a faded yellow light across the wall that failed to reach where you sat on the couch. On the couch, where a ridiculously silly, cartoon pajama pants wearing U-kwon sat by your side.

“Pacific Rim?” He questioned, only having been paying half-attention to the television you two were watching together for the past hour now – dinner having long since ended. He turned to you, his head tilting to the right as he tried to sneak a peek at your face, not satisfied with the side-profile view he had of your current expression, “Why?”

You shrugged, fingers interlocking on top of your knees, “I’ve always liked that kind of stuff. Giant Robots. Kaijus. Jeagers. Godzilla.” U-kwon seemed taken aback by your answer, not a single word leaving him in response to your declaration. This caused you to turn to him, giving him the view he had desired without even realizing it, “When I was little, I played with transformer toys. Bionicles. Build your own robot sets. Barbie didn’t even look half as interesting.”

“You’re weird.” Was all U-kwon could manage to say, a large smile lighting up his face.

“The Pokémon theme song? I know it backwards and forwards like the back of my hand. I’m a certified Pokémon master, you know? I’ve got the game cartridges to prove it. Don’t even get me started on Digimon.” You added, just to gain that laugh from him. Just to see his head bob as he tried to contain his amusement with you. It was fun, making U-kwon laugh. It was satisfying. It left you feeling like you could do anything.

“You’re weird,” he said again, laughter coating his voice, “and I love it.”

That’s when the world fell silent. The sentence itself was innocent. Safe. Natural. The insinuations behind it were what caused U-kwon’s eyes to lose focus, his gaze casting off into the distance, the flashing lights from the television dancing somberly across his face. He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t meant to say it that way. That way that made his heart beat faster. That way that caused his smile to seem never-ending before he realized what he had said. The gravity of such a statement, the genuine way with which he spoke it, there was no denying it now. He gave himself away.

He was painfully obvious.

He had always been obvious about his feelings. When he was little, he always told it like it was. He never held back. Whether it’d be the multiple times he’d mock Zico for his nose. Whether it’d be the cheesy comments he would always spew to his pack members. Whether he was weak. Whether he was strong. Whether he knew what he was or not. He knew he was obvious, he knew his words, his actions, and his expressions gave him away. So then, there was no reason to ever try to hide from the truth.

But, right at this moment, he felt like running away. Fear of what came next was building up in him to the point where he would have done just that. He would have done just that if it weren’t you. If it weren’t you he’d be running away from.

Honestly, liking you was never his original intention. It was fun messing with you. It was interesting to have you hang around him. In the past, if something – if anything – would allow him to see you act openly around them, he’d do it. Maybe that’s when it started. When he began to feel like he’d do anything. Anything for that smile. Anything for that laugh. Anything for the simplicity of your presence even if you weren’t smiling. Even if you weren’t laughing. Even if you weren’t saying a single word.

And he went and said it, just now. He said that which he so obviously shouted to the world through every single thing he did. Through his shoeless feet. Through his cartoon pajama pants. Through the picture that was his phone’s wallpaper; the one Woohyun had taken that day you successfully challenged Kyung and Jaehyo along with Jiyeon and won.

He was painfully obvious.

But, he remained rooted in his seat. He remained because if he didn’t say it now, he never would. If he didn’t voice his obvious feelings, they’d never be heard.

“I like you.”

There was something funny about it, too. Saying it just once wasn’t enough. Saying it just once left him feeling courageous enough to say it again.

“I like you, Hyunjoo.”

And he turned to you then, the lights blaring in front of the two of you drowned your eyes in blue. Your wide-open eyes. He received all of your attention. And he thought, this is it. This really was his now or never. This was the beginning of the end. The end of a new beginning.

“I don’t know when I started. I don’t know if I realized it too late. I don’t know if I had felt this way before I looked in the mirror one day and saw it right here,” he lifted his hands, running his fingers down his cheeks, “just smeared all over me like lotion I can’t get enough of. Just another part of me that I can’t shut out. No matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore it. When you’re gone, I miss you. When you’re here, I have so many regrets I stopped keeping count. I like you. I like you like crazy. And it’s so easy to. It’s so easy to like you. That’s why you’re so unfair. That’s why I love how unfair you are. I like you, Hyunjoo. I like you.”

He was rambling.

He was spewing his feelings like hot coals exploding from the fire building in his chest. Hot. Searing. Painful. And yet, at the same time, pleasant. Warm. Addicting.  A feeling that had him clenching his fingers into the pillow that had made its way onto his lap. A feeling that had his toes clenching, the carpet pressing against the balms of his feet.

And when you called his name, his muscles relaxed, his shoulders he hadn’t known to be squared fell into their usual shrug. A sweet taste spread across his palate, chilling and thrilling his senses at the same time. Because, from the way you said it, he knew. He knew you weren’t calling the nickname you had always called. Even if they sounded the same, he knew you were calling his real name.

“Yukwon.”

And he decided then that you’d always be unfair. Despite your next words, what he felt now would never go away. No matter who he met. No matter where he went. Always. And Forever.

“Thank you.”

Thank you.

The beginning of the end. The end of a new beginning.

The start of a new, pleasantly addicting reality.

With those two words, you ended his pursuits towards you. With those two words, you stopped what the two of you could have been just as it started. With those two words, he could finally feel himself relax.

Because it was out there. The feelings. The answers. The finalities.

And he never thought it’d feel so good. That his body would feel so light. That he’d actually be able to smile in the face of a two worded rejection that held in it more than two words. More than ten. More than a hundred. More than a thousand. 

Thank you.

Thank you for liking me. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for always smiling with me. Thank you for your cartoon pants, for your bed head, for your shoeless feet, and for your joking ways. Thank you for existing.

Just a sample of the meaning behind your two words. Just a sample that he had felt, that he had heard, when you said it. The magnitude of it all couldn’t be comprehended by anyone but him. So, he felt special. He felt special and spoiled beyond belief. So, he decided to indulge himself in the sweet, addicting, candy-like feeling for a little longer.

Just a little bit longer.

Just a little bit closer.

Without hesitation, he nudged closer to you with one, swift slide, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into the crook of his neck, leaving the couch pillow behind. You didn’t even mutter a single protest. You didn’t even try to get away. You stayed still as he exhaled softly, his chest falling. You focused your eyes on the television, though your mind was focused entirely on the boy who just confessed his feelings for you. The boy who held you close to him as though this were the first and the last time he would do so.

You were still trying to process all of this.

You were still trying to store this currently ongoing memory into your head. Filing it under reality seemed too unreasonable. Filing it under reality seemed too big-headed. Filing it under reality made your heart pound against your chest, each beat audible to your ears above the sound of the television in front of you.

Rejection.

You had just rejected U-kwon.

And yet, you never felt closer to him than you did now. Maybe that’s why he said it. Maybe because he wanted to be closer. Maybe because he didn’t want the barrier that was his own precious feeling to stop him from getting closer. Maybes. You only had maybes. You could only think of maybes.

Because, even now, you couldn’t help but be jealous.

You couldn’t help but be jealous of the feelings that he felt for you. You couldn’t help but feel jealous at that fact that you had yet to feel such sweet feelings. Such bitter feelings. Such feelings that looked so beautiful from afar. That looked even more beautiful up close.

You were lost in your maybes, you were lost in your admiration of U-kwon, to the point that you flinched as his fingers shifted at your side. His hair was tickling at your forehead and his fingers were tickling at your side.

“Quit it.” You mumbled, wiggling in his grip. You could feel jaw tighten, his lips spreading across his face as that smile lit up his features all over again. More brilliant than the lights flashing from the television. Sweeter than the taste of candy. The kind of bitter that melts on your tongue as you bite into a piece of dark chocolate.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” He rose an eyebrow, nuzzling into you, unceasing in the squirming of his fingers against the soft spot just above your pelvic bone.

“I’m not.” You denied, laughter bubbling from your throat despite your attempts to keep it down. It was your body’s natural reaction to something it wasn’t sure how to react to. That’s what laughter was, essentially. And, due to the sound, it was normal, natural, for him to think you were ticklish.

But, you weren’t lying.

But, you were never able to disprove his conclusion to him as someone caught sight of the two of you.

“What are you two doing?” Came a deep, rasping voice from the entrance of the living room. You turned, looking over U-kwon’s shoulder in order to get a look at the person who just called out to the two of you – even though you already knew who it was based on voice alone. U-kwon himself mumbled a small complaint about how the taller, younger werewolf just had to in at a time like this before he turned as well.

“What? Is something fun happening?” A distinctively female, yet just as throaty, voice questioned from behind P.O, “If so, why am I not a part of it?” And there was that tan skinned, black haired, orange tinted lipped Jiyeon peaking over his shoulder, one of her hands pressing down against his exposed shoulder; her index and middle finger curling underneath the fabric of his tank top, playing with the black piece of cotton. Why you focused on that single action, you didn’t know. Not right away, anyway.

P.O looked back at her, undeterred by her naughty hand, her open flirting. He parted his lips to answer her when his voice stuck in his throat. A frown etched itself across his face and from his mouth came a sentence that had both you and U-kwon holding back laughter, “Will you please put on some pants?”

Jiyeon let her hand fall from his shoulder, sliding down his bare forearm as she steadied herself, checking the lower half of her body as though she had no inkling as to what he was referring to. She did notice it, however, her own bareness below except for the orange fabric of her boy shorts – her underwear. Though, as this was her usual sleeping attire, a t-shirt and boy shorts, she found nothing off about it. She shrugged, pursing her lips, “It’s dark. No one cares.”

Yet, what was barely noticed orange fabric to Jiyeon was a bright, neon orange warning sign for P.O that happened to frame a pair of nicely toned, tanned legs, “I care.”

Jiyeon looked up, meeting his eyes, not caring in the least about the fun that may or may not have been occurring without notifying her first, “What? What’s that you just said?” P.O shook his head, grumbling to himself as he sauntered off into the kitchen, her hand sliding off of him in the process. And that same hand reached out, curling into that black cotton once more as she said, teasingly, “Say what you just said again, Jihoon. I didn’t hear you.” 

“You know how I knew?” U-kwon suddenly spoke up as they disappeared from sight, the ensuing sounds from the kitchen telling you that Jiyeon was aptly taking advantage of the P.O’s lowered guard. You turned away from the empty doorway, waiting for him to continue, “You know how I knew you didn’t like me back?” He casted a fleeting glance towards where the two lovebirds just were, before his eyes made their way back to your own, “In the time I’ve spent with those two, they’ve become, beyond any and all doubt, no matter how unbelievable it may seem, the image of what a loving couple is in my mind. And the way Jiyeon looks at P.O, it’s not the same.” He paused again, that smile of his spreading across his face again, this time for a different reason, “It’s not the same way you look at me.”

If only you could see what he meant.

If only the mirror you looked into could speak back to you as it did to him instead of silently reflecting in it that same face every morning. That same, incomplete face. As though a piece of the puzzle was missing. As though it were lost amidst the darkness that resided beneath the couch.

Jiyeon came rushing out from the kitchen then, a bottle of water in her hand, before she ran up the stairs right after. P.O tagged along after her, his feet dragging, a frown on his face. She had won again, it seemed. She had won and yet it seemed as though they both had won.

U-kwon was right.

Looking at them made you feel like the one thousand piece puzzle of clouds was easy. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Yukwon,” you turned to him, taking in the square curve of his jaw, his stout chin, his pouting lips, his upturned nose, his naturally narrowed eyes, and that mess of a bed head that never failed to put a smile on your face. That didn’t fail to put a smile on your face right at that very moment, “let’s go see Pacific Rim together. This weekend, okay?”

His chest fell again, a light laugh leaving him as his hair came falling down onto your own, his temple resting against the top of your head, “Sounds good.” And you almost fell asleep like that, wrapped up in his embrace that bristled at your nerve endings. That left you wiggling in his hands that cooling spring night.

You hadn’t lied.

You weren’t ticklish.

But, maybe, his candy-like feelings left you susceptible to his touch. Left you sensitive, for only that point in time. Left you wishing you were ticklish. Wishing you could feel that which you had never felt before.

Maybe.

“Hyunjoo.”

You breathed in deeply, your muscles humming as low vibrations traveled down your spine. Your heard your name again, the voice that called it drumming against your ears. You mumbled something incoherent, something akin to, “Quit it, five more minutes.” Though what it was exactly, even you didn’t know. All you knew is that you wanted to remain in the curled up, fetal position you were currently maintaining.

Couldn’t he drive around the block a few more times?

The passenger seat never felt so good.

“Hyunjoo.”

Apparently, he was having none of it. None of your attempts to ignore him. None of your attempts to sleep in your own car. Not when he had gone through the trouble of driving you home, insisting that staying at their place wasn’t something you could so easily do anymore. Because it was dangerous now. Because who knew when the hunters would strike?

Strike at who? Strike where?

At the used-to-be hunter’s home. The home of B-bomb and his six pack members. B-bomb, the one who drove you home before you fell asleep with U-kwon on the couch. B-bomb, the one who was coaxing you out of your peaceful slumber whether you wanted to wake up or not.

“Wake up.” He ordered, though his voice was soft, a mere whisper.

“No.” You replied back, grumbling to yourself as you buried your head deeper into the curves of the leather seat.

“You’re home.” He announced, as though it weren’t already obvious. You didn’t say a single thing, already feeling sleep begin to take over again. Your senses began to dull, your eyes drooping closed as the yellow lights that glowed from the street faded into the background along with B-bomb’s voice of reason. And, like he had read your mind, as though he refused to fade away so easily, he said, “I drove around the block four times already. Wake up or I’ll wake you up."

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. You could, but what was the use? Being forcibly dragged out of your car wasn’t something your tired body was willing to subject itself to – because B-bomb wouldn’t hesitate to make the experience as troublesome for you as it would be for him. Because he knew you like the back of his hand, and even though you were stubborn, he knew how to get around it. Around the barriers that made up your hard-headedness.

“I’m up.” You shot up in your seat, though your vision remained hazed, though your head spun as though you had just been dropped from the peak of a roller coaster. You turned to him, squinting in order to make out his features, smiling coyly all the while, “I’m up.” You said again, reaffirming your statement.

He stifled a laugh as he turned off the car, unbuckling himself and getting out before you could even finish stretching your limbs. You yawned widely, your head rolling to the driver’s side, your eyes blinking slowly, and yet still, you saw it. You saw it and immediately, you froze. “What?” You questioned yourself before reaching over and correcting the problem you had spotted. You got out afterwards, finding B-bomb to be leaning against the driver’s side door with the keys to your car in his hand.

“B-bomb,” you called out to him, leaning against the top of the car with both hands. When he turned, he seemed to have no idea what he had done, “you didn’t turn on the parking break.” You knew he was leaving you and your car here and walking back home. He told you he would, one of the reasons you didn’t want him to drive you in the first place, but he still insisted to the point where your drowsy mind eventually agreed. Which meant, he should have turned it on.

He should have.

B-bomb leaned over, looking inside of the car so as to find out exactly where said parking break was. When he found it, he nodded, “My bad. I forgot.”

You hummed to yourself in contemplation, rounding the front of the car slowly, “Where did you learn how to drive anyway?”

“I’m self-taught.” He held your keys out to you, the metal clanking as he balanced the ring on his index finger. You stared at him, long and hard, wondering if you next question made sense. If it were even possible. B-bomb, as well versed in all things involving you as he was, knew exactly what you were insinuating. And he saw no reason to deny it. “And no, I don’t have a driver’s license.”

You snatched your keys from him as fast as lightning followed thunder during a storm. “No more driving for you.” You shook your finger in front of him disapprovingly. You trusted him enough to drive your car but what if the two of you got stopped by a police officer? You weren’t looking forward to that hypothetical situation.

“You’d be surprised by how much the police in this town seemingly don’t care.” He laughed, hands in his pockets, body still slouching against the driver’s side of your car.

“Either way, it’s the co-pilot seat for you from now on.” You took steps backwards, approaching the front porch while still keeping your eyes on him. Because he was waiting. He was waiting for you to go inside. You could tell as much from his posture.

“You got it, ma’am.” He raised one of his hands from the depths of his jean pocket, saluting to you mockingly. And you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling right back at him. You spun on your heel, your foot taking that first squeaking wooden step upwards, when you were stopped. “Hyunjoo.”

You turned to him, eyelashes fluttering slowly as you focused on his frame that was drowned by the shadows casted from the street, slanting downwards across his features. You couldn’t see him properly. So, you decided you’d get closer. You backtracked, only to be stopped once more.

“Sleep well.” He suddenly blurted.

And it sounded off. And you wished you could have seen the face he was making when he said it. But, you couldn’t. But, even if you tried to, he’d ward you off again, wouldn’t he? He’d stop you for the third time. You’d leave him to it then. You’d leave him to tell it to you, whatever statement was supposed to proceed that outburst of “sleep well,” another day. At another time. In another place.

Because the time wasn’t right for those unsaid words of his to be spoken aloud.

“I will.” You answered him, resolutely. As though the act of sleeping could be done well if you tried. As though it were possible to affect it with the sheer strength of one’s will. Because that’s exactly what you had been doing lately.

He leaned off of your car then, turning to leave as you reached your front door. Silhouette drowned in darkness. The sound of footsteps being drowned in the silence that engulfed your street. And you were the one who stopped him then.

“Minhyuk.”

He turned. And the darkness disappeared for a moment. You could see him properly for that single moment.

You had called out his real name for the first time without even realizing it, managing a smile despite it all, despite all of the worries, the fears, and the anxiousness that was bundled tightly at the pit of your stomach. That lodged itself into your throat, causing your voice to shake to the point where you thought your next words wouldn’t make it out.

But, they did.

Strong and clear, they did.

“Stay safe.”

Lee Sungjong had changed his hair. That’s the first thing she noticed about him. At least, after the fact that he was there. There at the entrance of the classroom. Here. Here, when the one person he would come looking for, already left for the day. Which either meant, one, that he hadn’t realized that yet. Or more likely, two, she was about to receive another earful of his creative curse words that she was beginning to question whether or not even existed in the human language. So, she prepped herself, steadying her backpack on her shoulders, squaring her jaw just in case it came down to fists.

She’d fight back if he’d attack her.

She knew she’d lose but that didn’t mean she’d just sit there and let him take a swing at her. She had more self-respect than that. She had gained more self-respect than that over time. Thanks to her situation. Thanks to her experiences – most of them less than favorable. Thanks to Yura. And, even she couldn’t deny it, thanks to the girl named Song Hyunjoo. Thanks to you.

She clenched her slim fingers around the straps of her bag, taking slow paced steps towards the entrance of the classroom. She wouldn’t avoid him by exiting out of the other door. No, if he had something to say he’d track her down and say it anyway. The pretty male was tenacious like that. The pretty male was stubborn like that. So, she wouldn’t prolong this all by avoiding him.

She’d get it over with.

That’s why she approached him that May 17^th. That Wednesday afternoon. Only one month left until graduation day. Only one month left to enjoy the calm before the storm.

And just like she knew he would, he called out to her as soon as she was within five steps of him.

“Hey, Bang.”

Bang? She furrowed her brow at the nickname. It was a nickname, wasn’t it? He didn’t have to even say her last name at all – a simple “Hey, you!” would have sufficed – and yet, he did. Which meant, essentially, she would have to get used to him calling her that from now on. For what reason did he choose that name over all else? Over all other words in the dictionary? Over all other curse words? She wouldn’t find out why then but when she did, she wouldn’t be just mildly upset about it. She’d be the one attacking him the day he tells her the meaning of such a name. Now, however, she only looked on at him in suspicion.

Because even though he had called out to her, he didn’t sound upset. He didn’t sound like he was about to spew any and all kinds of that which struck her to her core and left her sore for days. He sounded normal, if that was even possible. He sounded casual, as though he were making light conversation. So then, her confusion, her apprehension of the situation, was understandable.

“What is it?” She sighed, shifting on her feet, uncomfortable with the sudden comfortable nature of their relationship. They weren’t friends. Not even acquaintances in her book. He hated her and she could have cared less anymore.

“How’ve you been lately?”

What? Wait, what? How has she been lately? Why is he taking up the role of the one who cares? Was he trying to be nice? Was he bringing her up with pleasantries just to enjoy shooting her down and watching her hit the ground twice as hard afterward? She couldn’t help these questions that rushed through her mind, sarcasm laced through every single one. But, if there’s one thing she was sure would always be true, no matter how much time passed, no matter the destiny that awaited the young, pretty boy in front of her, when he talked to her, everything led back to one person and one person alone.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Minah dismissed his question easily before posing a question of her own, “Now exactly what is it that you really want to ask me?”

“That was it.” Sungjong shrugged, impassivity etching itself on his face. And Minah had seen it countless times. Minah had seen it on the face of the one she admired to the point of insanity so many times that she knew it was fake.

“Really?” Minah rose an eyebrow, eyeing him up and down slowly before saying with another sigh escaping her lips, “Then, can I go now? You’re blocking the exit.”  

And just like she knew he would, he spoke up before she could even begin to move another foot forward. At least she could count on him to be predictable, even if he hadn’t cursed her name to hell even once today. “Lately,” he started slowly, unsure of himself, a side of him she rarely saw, “has Hyunjoo been different?”

Minah stared at him, deadpan.

He clenched his teeth, too used to leading the situation to let himself allow her to shrink his confidence with a single look. He started again, more force, a deep vibrato, running through his tone, “Has something been going on with Hyunjoo lately?”

“Why don’t you try asking her about it?"

Sungjong rolled his eyes. Of course he had thought about that. He’d be an idiot if he hadn’t. He argued back with a tired, “She won’t tell me even if I do.”

“Well, have you tried yet?” Minah retorted, still staring into his eyes. It unnerved him. It unsettled him to the point where she had to ask again before she received an answer from him, “Have you?”

He shook his head, his anger fleeting, the ability to grasp on any single one emotion all but nonexistent. He was blank faced, his mind drawing a blank, his lips drawing a blank, no words but that single syllable producing itself from his throat, “No.”

Minah nodded her head, as though she knew that would be his answer. And that, that was the epitome of annoying. “You have to try first before you can deem your efforts as failures.”

“Why are you so annoying?” Was his immediate response. Because she was right. Because Bang Minah was right and it was annoying, it was unnerving, it was unsettling, and it didn’t make any sense.

It didn’t make any sense why it bothered him so much.

Minah shrugged, her big brown eyes lingering on him for only a moment longer before she slipped passed him, disappearing amidst the bodies of their fellow students. Before she was out of his range of sight once more, just a supporting character to it all.

All of the conflict. All of the es. All of the resolutions.

Nothing more. Nothing less. 

A/N:

It's over 9000 (words)! I tweeted that this chapter would be shorter. I lied. It was going to be. It really was. But, originally, there wasn't going to be any Infinite in it at all. Just the Zico/Hyunjoo fighting scene all the way up to the ending scene with U-kwon and Hyunjoo. That was supposed to be the chapter. But, then, well, Infinite came back, don't ya know? So, I had to put them in there somewhere. Since I've outlined all the chapters already (something I haven't done in a long while!), I figured why not add half of the next chapter to this one at the end and put in an extra Sunggyu/Myungsoo originally unplanned scene in the beginning? So, I did. So, once more you all have a chapter that's as long as bunny bun buns. I hope you enjoyed it.

You may be wondering how I feel about Infinite's Comeback.

Thank you Woollim. Thank you.

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