When Jaejin sees Hongki's mouth open, Jaejin expects to hear sad words. This always happened in movies, didn't it? The moment of truth. The shocking revelation. The thundering clash of dramatic violin notes and clarinets screaming in the background. This was the of Lee Jaejin's mystery film, and with his hands gripped tightly into sweaty fists, he stares bullet holes into Hongki's skull. Say it already,  his mind screams as the nanoseconds tick by like hours, Tell me the truth, Hongki. Hurt me. Defeat me. Laugh in my face. Tell me he's dead and that he won't ever come back. Tell me that I'll never be able to say the words I've ever wanted to say. Punch it into my face. Stab me with it, so that I'll never be haunted by his porcelain face and throaty voice ever again. I want to get rid of him. I want to get rid of him so bad. HONGKI, GET RID OF HIM. KILL HIM OFF FOR REAL. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. I'M. BEGGING. YOU.

What leaves Hongki's mouth freezes Jaejin's shaking fists.

"We found his cellphone," Hongki says, his voice a dangerous type of calm. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, rectangular device. A cellphone. Jaejin, the genius computers in his mind already whirring and picking themselves back up, glances at the phone. His brain tells him immediately, Samsung. Black. Old model. Three years old. Scratched. Beaten up. Jammed, sticky 0 and 5 keys. Jonghun's. It's Jonghun's.

"It was, of course, dead." Hongki says, "But I think you know why this is so important, right?"

Hongki leans over and wordlessly drops the phone onto the desk. It clatters noisily; plastic hitting wood. Jaejin's eyes tremble as they slowly slide from Hongki's emotionless face to the phone.

"We found it two days ago," Hongki says, "Off some underground black market in Shinjuku. The guy was trying to get rid of it - he kept advocating that it was some expensive old phone model that would someday bring good fortune and riches. The guy was an idiot, of course," Hongki's solemn lips break apart into a bitter smile, "It's a total piece of , but it's Jonghun's. We asked him where he got it - he shrugged his shoulders and said that it's been circulating around between Japan, Taiwan, and China for awhile now. We asked him why nobody has ever just threw it away - he shrugged again and just said that anyone who got their hands on it just felt that it was important. The guy was a total blockhead," Hongki snorts, "We're just lucky that we even found the thing."

Jaejin picks the phone up and slides his thumb over the smooth surface of the screen. His mouth cracks into a small smile as he thumbs the worn keypad, running his finger over the chipped grooves of the numbers. He presses down lightly, and nearly drops the phone out of shock when he sees the monitor light up.

"We charged it." Hongki explains.

Jaejin glances up at him.

"You know why this is so important, right?" Hongki repeats.

Of course Jaejin knows. Anyone who saw Jonghun knew. He was attached with his cell phone. His phone was his life. Jaejin had been comfortable with Jonghun - in fact, more than comfortable - but he had never once looked into his phone. Whenever he tried, Jonghun would pull his arm away and smile kindly, "Jaejin, not this, come on." It was forbidden territory. It was restricted. It was Jonghun's heart, and here it was, resting in Jaejin's hand. Jonghun's dead heart.

"Why are you giving this to me?" Jaejin finally asks, his voice quiet. He's trying not to cry, but his voice is already shuddering. "Knowing you, Hongki, you and your boys would have already pried through its contents. You probably erased everything important, just to around with me. So...why are you giving it to me?"

"Hey," Hongki says, "I don't hate you that much. And besides, we can't do anything with the phone anyways. Press it again."

Jaejin does so. The lit monitor, instead of opening up the home screen of the phone, shows him six empty boxes.

"A password," Jaejin whispers.

"Obviously, Jonghun didn't want anyone prying into his ," Hongki says, "Maybe something about his murder is in there. Maybe there's a connection. But, hey," Hongki smiles dryly, "You're the detective, not me."

"Why?" Jaejin repeats, setting down the phone and glancing up at Hongki. The latter stands up from his chair. He sweeps red hair from his eyes, his smile softening.

"You know, Jaejin, no matter how many men's noses I've bashed in, I still have a conscience." Hongki begins, "I'm doing this for a friend."

"A friend, huh?" Jaejin asks, his voice now dreamlike. He steals another glance at the phone.

"Thanks, Hongki."

Hongki pauses at the threshold and laughs, but his laugh is empty and sad and hurt, "Jaejin, you may be the police, and I may be the criminal, but that doesn't really matter when Jonghun is dead, huh?"

"It doesn't matter at all." There's a hint of a smile laced around Jaejin's words.

"Yeah, well," Hongki chokes in reply, "I'm glad you're my friend, . And I'm glad you were his best one." He leaves.

The door closes with a clack. Jaejin leans back in his chair, the phone once again held gently between his fingers. He stares at the lit monitor wordlessly, and his eyes are droopy and half-closed, but his mind is already pedaling and rifling through every number combination possible.

Jonghun, Jaejin thinks, I don't want to get rid of you after all. Wait for me. Wait for me, just for a little longer.

---

"You think you can do that? Just for a little longer?" His voice is sleepy and muffled, but that's how Jaejin likes to hear it.

"Of course," Jaejin replies easily, "Waiting is no big deal. Patience is a virtue that I proudly wield."

Jonghun laughs, his voice still muffled by Jaejin's skin. Jonghun's head is nestled into Jaejin's neck, and his face isn't exactly touching Jaejin's skin, but it's near enough for Jonghun to count every speck that dotted the younger's complexion.

"You have beautiful skin, Jaejinnie." He mumbles.

Jaejin chuckles, "That's extremely heteroual of you, Jonghun."

Jonghun laughs as well. They both fall into a comfortable, welcome silence. 

"Jaejin," Jonghun suddenly speaks, several minutes later.

"Yeah?" His voice is now the sleepy one.

"Let's go to the park."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"It's ing freezing outside, Jonghun. And I have a test tomorrow."

Jonghun rolls his eyes, even though Jaejin can't see, and shoves the other lightly. "So? It's not like you're the smartest kid in all of the Korean Peninsula or anything, nope."

"I still prefer to sleep on exam nights, though." Jaejin cheekily replies, "And I am not the smartest. I'm just good at observing."

"You're the smartest guy in the world to me." Jonghun whispers.

"There you go again."

"What? It's true."

"Right."

Another silence.

"Jaejin?"

"What now?"

"Graduate already, you idiot. So that we can go places. I want to go to America. Canada. France. Australia. Taiwan. Malaysia. South Africa. I want to go everywhere with you."

"Is this a love confession or something?" Jaejin jokes. He expects Jonghun to laugh like he always does. Jonghun doesn't. 

Jaejin pauses and glances over at his side. He can't see Jonghun's face from this angle.

"Let's go to the park, Jaejinnie." His voice is serious.

Jaejin finds himself nodding this time. "Okay." He says, "Let's go to the park."

Jaejin wraps himself up in his winter jacket and scarf. Jonghun does so as well. The latter grips his cellphone tightly in his hands.

"Are you ever going to let that thing go?" Jaejin asks exasperatedly.

"Only when I get a newer model," Jonghun replies; it's his turn to be cheeky. The two leave Jonghun's apartment, and their footsteps crunch snow as they run down the sidewalk.

"Oy, where are you going, Jonghun? The park is this way!"

"I want to go to a different one," Jonghun says, "I want to go to a small one - a one that nobody knows or goes to - and then make it ours."

"And you say that I'm the one always spewing sentimental ," Jaejin rolls his eyes but follows his best friend anyways. They arrive at a park. It's definitely small - it's basically just a patch of grass, a couple of trees, and a tiny playground. Jaejin wordlessly follows Jonghun to the swingset.

They swing for awhile. Jaejin's pretty sure that it's one in the morning, but he doesn't feel tired at all.

Jonghun gets off the swing and leans down in the snow. 

"What are you doing?" Jaejin asks, frowning as he lifts himself out of the swing and goes to join Jonghun's side. Jonghun is holding a pocket knife, and he's denting away at the metal pole of the swingset.

"There's no way you're going to be able to cut that with a pocket knife," Jaejin says.

"No, look," Jonghun says, rubbing his fingers over a certain spot, "The metal here is sort of weaker. You can make tiny dents."

"What are you writing, then?"

"You'll see."

Jaejin groans; he doesn't exactly have all the time in the world, but he stays there by Jonghun's side anyways. It's warm wherever Jonghun is.

"It's done," Jonghun says after several more minutes. "Come take a look." Jaejin squats over and peers at the markings in the darkness. He runs his fingers over it.

"JH + JJ 2005? Are you a thirteen year old teenage girl, Choi Jonghun?!"

Jonghun laughs his throaty laugh immediately, clapping his hands together.

"This isn't funny," Jaejin pouts, "This really isn't. This makes it seem as if we're boyfriend and...boyfriend or something."

"Does it?" Jonghun asks jokingly, "Does it really?"

Jaejin doesn't answer and instead gives Jonghun a light punch in the shoulder. "Why are you even doing this?"

"Because, my dear friend Sherlock Holmes, today is your birthday. It's been your birthday for an hour. I was waiting for you to say something, but I guess you forgot."

Jaejin stares incredulously.

"December 17, 2005. Jaejinnie's eighteenth birthday. Happy birthday, idiot."

"You brought me out...at one in the morning...in ing below freezing weather...to wish me happy birthday?" Jaejin seethes.

"I'm known to be quite a romantic," Jonghun replies sarcastically, and Jaejin chases Jonghun back to his own apartment, where they end up laying down side by side once again.

This time, it's Jaejin who snuggles up to Jonghun. He lays there, with his best friend, and he isn't quite sure if Jonghun's just his best friend anymore, but it's two in the morning and even a genius like Lee Jaejin doesn't want to think at such an ungodly hour.

"You are order. I am chaos." He mumbles after several minutes of silence, his voice a sleepy whisper.

"Are you really sure about that?" Jonghun whispers back, a teasing smile hinting at the corners of his lips.

"Yes," He replies breathily, "That's why we get along so well. We're like yin and yang, you know."

Jonghun laughs and shakes his head slightly. He's used to such sentimental nonsense. "Just shut up and go to sleep, Jaejin. Don't you have a test tomorrow?"

"You're the one who kept me awake," Jaejin replies snarkily, before falling asleep.

When he wakes up five hours later, it's cold. Jaejin blinks open his eyes groggily to see that Jonghun is no longer by his side. He stands up and stumbles over towards the kitchen table, where he sees a note. He picks it up and shakes his entire head of hair in his sleepiness before he brings it close.

I'm going to run some errands. Have a good day at school, Jaejin. I hope you have a good birthday, too.

Jaejin, I know this sort of sounds weird on paper, but I want to celebrate your next birthday too. I want to celebrate your next five birthdays. I want to celebrate all of your birthdays.

Is that too selfish of me?

I still don't know.

But I do know that I want to be with you. I want to be your friend until the end.

I hope that, maybe, we can even die together. 

That's how much I treasure you, Jaejin.

Have a good day,

Jonghun.

---

Jaejin's eyes flutter open.

He is at his desk. In his office. The afternoon light that had been filtering in through the window blinds are now orange and yellow.

He leans back, runs his free hand through his tousled black hair, and returns his focus on the phone in his fingers.

With his fingers trembling, he types in a six digit code slowly and carefully.

051217.

The phone beeps after several long moments.

Welcome back, Jonghun. Text scrolls across the home page, It's been 705 days since your last visit.

A choked sob manages to escape Jaejin's throat as the phone slips from his grip and clatters to his desk.

"Wait for me," Jaejin whispers, burying his face into his arms, "You think you can do that, Jonghun? Wait for me. Just for a little longer."