11 days, 264 hours, 15,840 minutes, 15 phone calls and there was still no sign of Jiyong. Seunghyun went to his apartment yesterday. Music vibrated through the door, but with his knock came no answer. Was he standing, forehead against the door, just like Seunghyun? Was he out partying, staying out even past Seunghyun’s last cigarette?

Seunghyun’s frustration continued to grow as time ticked by and calls continued to be left unanswered. He knew he would never get anywhere just staring at this painting, Jiyong’s last sad look half captured in oil. Endless unanswered questions ran through his head. What did he do to upset Jiyong in such a way? Should he have ran after him? Was there anything he could have done? What had so drastically changed from the night on the balcony? What had gone so wrong?

Enough was enough. One more cigarette to clear his mind of questions he knew he couldn’t answer. He stepped out onto his balcony, warm spring wind whipping his hair as he watched the last traces of light disappear beyond the city’s horizon.  He watched as people rushed about their way. Heading home, heading out, blindly shuffling from place to place, expectantly heedless of the world around them. But what Seunghyun didn’t expect within the shuffle was Jiyong. He quickly passed through the large glass doors of his building, dressed to the nines as he always was for his nights out. But his kohl rimmed eyes looked tired, worn. Traces of that same lingering sadness still desperately clung to his very being. Seunghyun dropped his cigarette without so much of a pause and ran out the door.

Even in the relative quiet of the restroom, Jiyong still had to cover his ear as he placed his phone to the other.

“You have, one, saved message. First saved message: *beep* ‘Ji… Jiyong.’” Seunghyun’s voice rang in his ear for what had to be the tenth time since he left the message a week ago. He hated himself for this continuous torture, but he couldn’t bring himself to completely rid himself of that smoky timbre.

“It’s Seunghyun. I know I’ve already called you and you’re obviously mad at me since you’ve ignored me, 5 times now, but call me back. Please. Whatever I did wrong, I want to apologize to you, not your voicemail.’ *beep* End of messages.” Jiyong hung up his phone as he exited the restroom and slipped his way back into the crowd to find the source of his next drink.

Several dances and quite a few drinks later, his lips were locked with a young man in a suit too expensive for him, his tongue tasting of gin and spearmint gum. He was a bit taller than him; he had to crane his neck up to make contact. Wasn’t Seunghyun this tall? Would he have to reach for him or would he bend for Jiyong, perfectly bowed lips meeting his?

His stomach hit him with a violent knot.

He broke the kiss, taking a sip of his whiskey to settle his mind from something other than these asive thoughts of Seunghyun.

The young man seemed to ignore the discomfort that slowly began to build itself on Jiyong’s shoulders, bending down to Jiyong’s ear and began to whisper lowly.

“The club’s too crowded don’t you think? Want to get out of here?”

Jiyong knew exactly what would be in store for him if he said yes, and he wanted nothing more than something to quiet his screaming conscience, but as he was about to answer all he could see was Seunghyun’s sweet smile, all dimples and laugh lines and quiet mirth, and he had to use every force in him from having every one of his whiskey sours spill from his stomach. Jiyong finally looked up to face the man.

“I do, but not with you.” He turned from him without so much as a look back, silently cursing Seunghyun under his breath all the way out.

The late night wind was warmer than Jiyong expected as he lit up a cigarette and exited the cab at the entrance to campus. He walked slowly towards his building, not particularly anticipating to the endless solitude he would find there. More and more, in every moment of silence, every moment of would be peace, was broken with nagging thoughts of Seunghyun. He was the answer to everything, and Jiyong was hopeless. As he passed the neighboring building, he couldn’t help but look up at the balconies, wondering if he would see the dim glow of Seunghyun’s cigarette in the darkness, but there was nothing as usual. It was for the best, he couldn’t help but think. He probably couldn’t even stomach his presence right now anyway.

He reached into his back pocket for one more cigarette to help sober him up before another sleepless night, but the minute he lifted his head to light it he was met with the most sobering thing he could possibly find.

Seunghyun sat on the steps before of him.

“We need to talk. Now.”