The next few days came in a blur. Her body was tired and her mind was so sluggish. She was one big jumbled mess. She was constantly tired. Her body was exhausted and heavy. Her mind was so cloudy. She could barely stay awake for half an hour without her vision being clouded by the sluggishness she felt. She couldn’t remember much of what happened, only pieces of the huge jumbled mess inside. She was constantly shutting down.

She watched and sensed people come and go. Her body constantly shut down and her mind was so sluggish and in her semi-conscious state, she resisted the urge to blank out so urgently. The urge was huge, so alluring and seemingly comfortable. But she just woke up from her near-death state and blanking out wasn’t something she would like to feel again. In her semi-conscious state, she was helpless but still very resistant.

Her semi-conscious state left her in the dark of so many things. She woke up in the middle of something and dozed off the next minute. She had so many puzzle pieces in hand, something she was eager to solve once she felt better. She hated being so helpless and weak, so vulnerable to everything. She felt bare, as if she was stripped off her clothes. When she woke up alone in the hospital bed, the effect was twice worse on her.

Sometimes, she woke up with visitors asking how she was feeling. The next thing she knew everything was blurry and she could barely make out their words. She felt tired almost immediately after waking up and sleep would wash over her so quickly. When she woke up again, often different people came by or they were already bawling their eyes out. Sometimes, when they didn’t cry, they were peeling an apple or falling asleep next to her bed. The greatest feeling she ever felt when waking up was when she was cradled in a person’s arm, so lovingly, so caringly. That was her greatest comfort so far.

She hyperventilated twice and her attacks shut her down twice, also she passed out so often. Her sluggish mind played an illusion on her. Her nightmares were different from usual. Her mind flashed tiny little details about the tragedy, the tiny little details that supposedly weren’t there, but somehow she picked them up. Little details were scary; how bloody it was, the piercing screams calling out her name, and those dying eyes…

She was put under sedatives later on. So, her mind was too sluggish to make out anything and her system constantly shut down. The sleepiness was a side-effect, she learnt later on. She struggled in her sleep and her doctor wanted her to rest a lot, so the sedatives were the only instant option for now. She felt like a dog at first, being drugged here and there, but she got used to it quick enough. Sleep washed through her so easily and her mind was drifting off so often, she didn’t have time to resist or play an illusion. There were no nightmare afterwards; just exhausted and sluggish.

Yet, even in her semi-conscious state, she could make out his presence so easily. He was constantly there, keeping a certain distance between them – watching and waiting from a far. He always stood there, somewhere in front of her door, wary. Before sleep washed through her, she would resist for a moment to feel his presence, then dozed off to nothingness. He was still as comforting as ever.

And yes. Oh God, yes, she loved him.

Sometimes, she wished they could pretend for a moment and a moment longer, so he could come in and put on a brave front and cradle her in his arms. Byun Baekhyun had come twice in a row, cradling her in his arms as a best friend would. Her manager came and cradled her as how an older brother would. She felt safe and warm, but Kim Jongin’s hold was so much better. She wished she could snuggle in his arms once more and he would cradle her once more.

But, there he stood, keeping a certain distance. Lee Ji Eun was sure; she’d have given him another chance if he asked. She was willing to try again and again, to give him another chance and another. She was so willing, while he wasn’t. He was her once-in-a-lifetime and she was his one-and-only. And then, everything went downfall. She’d like to try again, but her brain wouldn’t let her.

They both couldn’t afford getting hurt and hurting each other.

So, she’d salvage what was left between them.

***

She was still a little bit too pale for his liking. She looked too tired to be wheeled out of the hospital. Her brown irises constantly lost focus and dozed off somewhere. She looked half-alive and Luhan wasn’t sure if he could take her home. With her IV being pulled out of her system earlier, she looked twice horrible. The exhaustion was clearer than usual, worse. With her sluggish mind coming to a wake, she could feel the pain better. Clearly, the toll of losing a nasty amount of blood was still there.

She was still one huge jumbled mess. As they drove along the road, she was staring out of the window. Her gaze was bland and a little too blank to be healthy. Her doctor constantly convinced him that she was okay. She’d need a good rest at home to recover. Her recovery rate was rather slow, but nothing compared to the blood she lost. He was still traumatized by it, despite the huge grin he flashed her all the time.

He tried picking up conversations along the road. Sometimes, she mumbled something incoherent. Sometimes, she was dozed off. She was constantly shutting down and sleeping. He didn’t like that. It worried him to no end. At a point when she woke up, she would be listening to his obnoxious mumble about lunch time. At a point when she woke up again (after everything became another huge jumbled mess), he was talking about her new house. She kept her promise about moving in and he decided not to pester it.

“So… where should I put this?” he asked, carrying a box with another label on top of it. She was still sitting on the couch, holding up her head. “Are you… okay?”

“I’m a bit dizzy but I’ll survive,” she massaged her temples and stared at him. “What did I wrote on top of it?”

“Shoes,” he read. “I think I’ll let you unpack another day on your own. You need to rest,” he put down the boxes in the corner and stack them up nicely. He stared at her worriedly. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“The sedatives… must be taking its toll on me. I’ll be fine.” She replied back sharply. She had been quite weak these few days, but she was still as harsh as ever. With the sedatives flushed out of her system, her sluggish mind was chased away. “But I’ll unpack on my own later.”

“There’s two bedrooms upstairs… two guestroom down here… and the bathroom is right in the corner… I have a library upstairs. It’s nice and cool. I think you could use it. And… a small music studio back there…” he pointed in every directions. “The kitchen is ready to use and there’s some food in the fridge. I put your meds in the cabinet and… what else is there…?”

“Are you… sure about this?” she suddenly spoke in softer tone. Her brown irises were focused on him. As much as he marveled the intriguing colors they had, he was suddenly nervous. But there was something about her eyes, softer and gentler than usual. “You… I can destroy your career and you could destroy mine. But we’re different. I could survive ten blows at once, but you…”

“I’m sure,” he cut her off and stared back at her. “I’m not going to live here all the time either. I’m going to work and sleep at the dorm and sometimes I’ll stay at my other home downtown. I’ll check up on you sometimes… it’s not like I’ll hang around with you.” He elaborated and she was so thankful at him for understanding. “I know you need your space.” And she was sure he was a kind man, a good man.

“Okay…” she whispered and she quickly winced in pain at the sudden pounding in her head. He quickly moved to her side, so worried, and so paranoid. If the pain weren’t so draining, she’d have laughed at him. Recently, she’s been thankful to him. “I’m fine, Luhan-ssi. I’m fine. I’ll just go take a nap later.” She spoke before he could freak out again.

“You could take any of the room if you want. The master bedroom is full of my things right now, but I’ll move it out if you want.”

“I’ll just take the room downstairs.” She flashed him a heart-warming smile and he wondered if she was slowly opening up. “It’s easier since I lived in an apartment before.”

“Okay… so… I think I’ll leave you now…”

“Okay.” She lied down on the couch. “And I think the couch seems perfect to take a nap on.” He quickly wrapped her in a blanket and she was intrigued by the sincerity in those eyes once more.

Those eyes were so similar to hers. They shared the same shade of brown irises, yet so different at the same time. His looked so full and beautiful, they looked so lively and kind and lovely. They sparkled and shone brightly. She wished hers could be as beautiful. Hers looked so dull and dead. They looked sad and bland, so dark and lost, so tired and broken. She had never seen eyes as beautiful as his, as full as his, as kind as his. And he intrigued her by a lot.

Sometimes… they were so full of emotion, it tugged her heartstrings. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.” He pleaded. “Take care of yourself and just don’t… I’m begging you don’t ever do that again.” His eyes looked so sad and worried and guilty. Guilt suddenly washed through her for breaking something as beautiful as him. She was tainted and he was so pure.

Slowly, she stood before him. She had never stood so close to him before. Now that there was only a mere inch left, she realized their skin tone was almost the same. He had pouty red lips, endless shade of sparkly brown irises, a nicely sculpted nose, and those puffy cheeks she’d like to poke. He was only half a head taller than her. Quietly, she wrapped her arms around his broader figure and leaned against him.

“Thank you, Luhan-ssi.”

***

He never came home and she never waited.

She spent her days in his house. She liked reading in his big library. The endless rows of English classics were amusing, she spent hours reading them. On days where it rains, a cup of coffee accompanied her bitter being. Her pink guitar case sat at the corner of the living room, still untouched. A month after moving in, she enjoyed reading so much. She has used his office too. Paper scattered everywhere and pencils rolled on the ground. The books she read have been helpful. She wrote a handful of lyrics.

His home was different, bigger and warmer but still lonely. Her breakfast was always simple – toast and milk. The toaster sat near the kitchen counter. There was no dining room, just a simple kitchen counter for one’s lonely self to eat. Sometimes, she wondered if he spent his days as lonely as she did. He’d seen so wonderful, so bright and sincere – untainted. Could someone like him be lonely? The room smelt of fresh air and toast. In the morning, it smelt of freshly cut grass and dampness. At the corner of the living room was another set of speakers and radio. She’d play them in the afternoon or evening. His collection of music CDs were beautiful – some which she hated, some which she loved so much.

She’d met them twice at a broadcast station. He never came home and she never waited –she understood. She’d seen his eyes – almond brown doe eyes – his love and sincerity, and another thing she’d never seen on him before: lust and greed. She’d known he was trying to put a little distance between them, so his little greed would die down and his lust would disappear. She knew – on the day she wrapped her tiny arms around him and let him felt her fragile self a bit openly – he had fallen for her a little more. But she wasn’t ready and he knew that. He was a man she’d be forever grateful to.

They’d nod at each other when they met. For a brief moment if their eyes met, she’d marveled at his beauty. Then, she’d quickly faked a smile and he’d quickly forced one. In a blink of an eye, he’d disappear behind her back and she’d disappear somewhere in the corner. And at the brief moment when they looked at each other and felt each other warmth before disappearing, her heart would feel heavy. His keys in her pocket felt twice heavy. She thought she deserved less and he thought she deserved more. She didn’t think she deserved being treated so nicely by him. And he thought he shouldn’t ask for more and she thought he deserved more.

But they knew they weren’t ready just yet.

Her skin was no longer pale. It was creamy white, soft and smooth. He liked the way she smiled or the way her eyes sparkled once more. He believed he had helped. He found less hidden behind her façade and he’d been happy (because she looked so happy). The distance he abruptly decided to put between them hurt him a lot, but enough to put an end to all the confusion. The day she let him held her, everything had been amazing yet scary. His fingertips tingled. The urged to touch her was so big, to keep her a little longer in his arms. When she pulled away, it took his whole being not to pull her back. And it took him one rational thought to start marching to the door and ran. That day, he ran.

He still remembered her scent, sometimes a cinnamon, sometimes vanilla. When she snuggled under her blankets, she’d smell of baby powder and soft glow of sunshine. She had lived in his house for two weeks and he wondered if her scent was in the air inside. He wished her alluring smell won’t disappear. He was slowly coming to better terms with his feeling. All along he had known, he had been falling for her and maybe he’d always be falling endlessly. To fall endlessly would be a privilege. And all along he had known he couldn’t possess her. And now, he understood. It wasn’t all about knowing but understanding.

Two cups of scotch and one extra round of martini, a pounding loud music in the background, and the slight high-octave singing Baekhyun in a bar downtown. He’d been needy of something strong and snappy. So he could quickly snap away from reality or snap from one mood to another. The image of a bloody Lee Ji Eun – desperate, in pain, and confused – was drawn clearly in his eyes. He hoped he wouldn’t have to see her breaking down to pieces anymore. He had dreamt of being her prince charming or her knight in shining armor, but he never considered the consequences before. Fairy tales made them looked so simple and beautiful, yet being her prince charming came with consequences of breaking apart with her. And he couldn’t afford that.

The popping music made him feel lightheaded. He wanted to stand up and spun his heels and danced. He wanted to grind his hips and flirt around with some woman. But when a man plopped down next to him and he could no longer make out Baekhyun high-octave singing in the background, he quickly snapped out. His view was blurry. Baekhyun looked like a mushroom with his brown hair and squinted eyes. The younger put his hand on his shoulder. Baekhyun was a little drunk too. He gulped down two shots of martini and his head spun real quick, his alcohol tolerance was famous for being terrible.

“She looked so happy being with you,” the mushroom-looking guy spoke and Luhan almost laughed if not for his serious tone. After all, mushrooms aren’t supposed to be talking, are they? “She has never looked so alive, so willing, and so… happy.” And this mushroom was going to add a new drop of confusion to his drink – something he was desperately trying to run away from.

“She almost died because of me,” almond eyes stared back at squinted eyes. Again, Luhan thought of mushroom and if mushroom could be a nice companion to alcoholic drinks. “She could have died. She would have.”

“She would have died without you,” Baekhyun said deeply. His voice was so manly and Luhan wondered if he was imagining things. “I think you healed her.” Luhan refused to believe it. “If it was Kai, she wouldn’t attempt a suicide. But if it wasn’t you, she’d never live. I think… the only reason why she lived after arrested twice is you.”

“Mushroom shouldn’t be lecturing people, you know.” Luhan protested. He refused to drink his extra round of martinis, when a single drop of confusion was put into it.

“You’re a good man, Luhan.” Was he a good man? “Take care of her. I trust you.” And Luhan drank his extra round of martini with extra drop of confusion so quickly that his throat burnt. There was no running away from this.

Another day, she didn’t wait and he came back home.

She’d been asleep in his library. It was a cold day with the constant rain dripping from the greyish sky. A half-empty cup of coffee was next to her; black and bitter with no sugar as always. He knew she liked it warm and he noted how it has turned cold by now. She was wearing a thin sweater; light-colored baby blue looked so nice on her skin. The hallway smelt of her and the library was overwhelmed by the scent of rosewood and baby powder and her soft cinnamon scent. He closed the book in front of her. It was one of the Chinese literature, something she shouldn’t be able to read yet succeeded to the third page before collapsing on (perhaps) brain overdrive.

The black circles under her eyes were fading away. A month in his place provided her the much-needed sleep. She was probably too tired and the meds she was taking constantly lulled her to sleep. The anti-depressant kept her mood so calm and often sleepy. He’d been told by the doctor how much her body will shut down on its down, right before being pushed to the limit. So, when he saw her sleeping so peacefully – something he knew she would not find luxurious for long – he pulled a chair next to her and wrapped her in maroon red blanket.

But he’s been gone for far too long to realize how much he had been wrong.

***

Her body was fully healed a week later. He was coming home often by then and she started to wait for him, just sometimes, when she thought it was the least she could do for him. She was still insistent on deserving less and he’d prove her she deserved more. She stopped taking her meds soon after. And it was taking its toll on her. Nightmare struck when she was at her fullest – when her brain weren’t cloudy and sluggish, when she could see so clearly, when her body wasn’t so tired. It struck and there was no comfort.

She started to blank out so often. On daylight, she’d disappear between his endless rows of bookshelf. She’d disappear before the sun rise at six in the morning. Sitting at a different corner each morning, but always in front of one of those huge windows he built. He thought she enjoyed warm sun rays kissing her pale skin. In her hands, always one of the classics, eyes glued to the broke-white paper. But he had known better than that. Her mind was elsewhere and each time she looked up to the clouds, her eyes were glassy and shining with tears. A drop or two, he’d watched her shed.

And when nights came, she’d be sleeping in before twelve o’clock. Around eight or maybe nine in the evening, she’d exit his library and locked herself inside the small studio he had. The soft hummed of guitar strings echoed through his house for quite a while, then pure silence. After an hour or maybe more, she’d be sitting in his living room clicking on the remote control. She’d watch all the tragedy a movie offered and drown under the sadness of it. But he’d never seen her cry over one, not even close. Her eyes looked so lifeless.

While she entered her room, he’d climbed up the stairs to sleep in his own bed. And he’d woke up later around two in the morning – he’d wake up with a jump, an immediate response to her desperate cries – and fell asleep after she calmed down. He never came running to her. He silently listened – to her wary and cries, to her desperation, to her fragileness – and when she stopped, he stopped too. But he knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep until four in the morning. And she’d wake up with swollen eyes and pinkish cheek right before dawn. And the cycle restarted.

He fought the urge to run up to her and hold her close. He’d like to ask if she’s okay, but it’d sound so ridiculous. She was not okay, perhaps never will be. He would watch her from a far – the way she blanked out and the way she cried; her desperate screams and cries – and let something tug his chest. That certain something, he noticed, constricted and twisted his chest and squeezed out his heart and lungs. At times like this, he realized the burden of Byun Baekhyun’s word.

To Byun Baekhyun, Lee Ji Eun was a good friend. Luhan knew he loved her. He loved her more than a man should love his best female friend. He loved her more than a man loves his lover. Yet, Byun Baekhyun possessed her less than a man possesses his lover but more than a man possesses his best friend. To Byun Baekhyun, Lee Ji Eun was more precious. To Byun Baekhyun, Lee Ji Eun was the most precious person in his life. Because in this world – Xi Luhan realized – there has been nothing more beautiful than their relationship: more than a friend, less than a lover. To Byun Baekhyun, Lee Ji Eun wasn’t a trophy to be won. She wasn’t anything he’d like to possess or anything like a lover. He gave up on those long ago. So, for him to hand Lee Ji Eun over to someone like Xi Luhan… it was a great honor.

But the burden in his chest and each time the twisted feeling of lust and abandonment possessed him made him afraid. Perhaps, he was not the right man.

And one day… one day… he watched her break all over again.

The smell of toast in the morning always remained him of her existence in his house. It was beautiful and calming, yet dreadful and terrifying. It reminded him of how beautiful she was but how far broken too – how all beautiful thing origins from tragedy. And the sound of footsteps in his library painted a beautiful picture of her in his mind – how she tugged her hair behind as she read. In the evening, the soft melody of her pink guitar calmed his nerve. Yet by night, all he could remember was her echoing cries and desperate screams.

Two weeks after spring finally began and the snow in his lawn finally melted away (he remembered the first pink flower that bloomed across his land), he woke up early enough to watch her danced around his kitchen. Her movements were always swift and the smell of soup was amazing. He always wondered what she put inside. Soup was a rare breakfast menu. There was a sense of pride inside him; he managed to keep her in his house for so long and how she stopped drinking.

She looked beautiful with her darker long hair pulled up into a bun. Some locks fell to her shoulder, framing her small face, giving a lighter shade of skin. He wondered if one day she could become his and he could finally sneak up on her and held her close as she cooks. If one day… he could kiss her good morning.  He could imagine the laughter and her beautiful smile – he’d be so content and happy. And he wondered if it was bad, if his lust over her was something to be killed… and if it was okay to ask for a little more. She was so… alluring. But for today and until the day she finally healed and reassembled all her broken pieces, he would keep all those thoughts inside and waited. He wouldn’t kiss her good morning and held her close. He would come up to her with a brilliant smile and honey voice, sincerity and a bit of lust in his eyes, as he greeted her good morning. And he hoped… for a brilliant smile in return.

Her brilliant smiles were rare, perhaps it was what made it so brilliant. It was so beautiful with her honey eyes staring back at him with so much sparkle and sincerity and the way her pale pink lips curled upward was so soft and brilliant. Sometimes, she’d greet him back with her honey voice. Her voice was sweet and nice and her overwhelming scent of baby powder and her disheveled hair always made him marveled a bit more about her. The more humane she looked, the more he fell. And he wondered if she was his beautiful fall or his dreadful cliff.

That day, she had flashed him the brilliant smile. A smile to melt many men’s heart. There was something about her smile that day – something more beautiful and sincere, so alluring yet so much façade. It should have melted him the way it had melted him a thousand times more. But he stood there, staring back at her beautiful honey orbs in horror. She had a wound, three inch long gash across her arms and many almost-healed scars around it. It wasn’t deep but enough for blood to bleed and for pain to hit. It brought him back to the day he found her sprawled in the kitchen corner with blood pouring out from her wrist. The scar, so faint yet so clear.

He watched her, a little closer the next day and the days followed. Sometimes, it’d be a flash of brilliant smile or a cold ignorant gesture. Sometimes, there would be so much façade or pure desperation in her eyes. But it was there… a new wound, always three inch long but never deep enough – just enough for blood to bleed and pain to hit. And scars… so many scars on her arm. The days followed and changed, her endless cycle never changed, and one day he couldn’t stand it. There was no alcohol, but so much more pain. He started to wonder if her shushed sobs in the middle of the night were hushed by hurting herself.

And he was proven right.

So, once again, he asked. No, he told her – so straight, clear, and demanding.

“You need help. Come with me,” he said.

Author Note

Writing has been a struggle -sigh-. I can't believe I got stuck five times and it took me three weeks to finish this. Someone help me and my writierblock.