“…and ‘send’.”

Hanna spoke quietly to herself as she sent off her final email reply.  She checked the clock at the bottom right-hand corner of her desktop and blinked.  Almost half an hour had passed since their arrival.  Furrowing her eyebrows, Hanna looked away from the monitor and listened, straining her ear towards the office door that she left ajar.

Silence.

“Mimi?” Hanna called out.

No answer.

Surely Amina must have finished browsing by now.  Hanna powered down the computer and swung her purse strap high against her shoulder.  Shutting off the light to her office, she rounded the corner and started walking down the empty corridor.  There was light shining underneath the door of her uncle’s executive suite.  Hanna’s footsteps sank into the plush burgundy-colored carpeted hallway as she steadily made her way over.

“Mimi… Hey, are you ready?”  Hanna reached the office and rapped her knuckles hard on the heavy door panel.  She tried the door knob.

It was locked.

“Mimi?” Hanna called out once more.  When she didn’t receive an immediate response, a feeling of uneasiness and foreboding swept over her.  Hanna pressed her ear to the door and could faintly hear someone rustling inside… followed by the heartbreaking sound of Amina’s soft cries. 

Hanna panicked.

“Mimi!” she exclaimed, jiggling the door knob.  “Open the door!”  Her breathing became erratic as her heartbeat doubled up in rhythm.  “Dongsaeng, open the door!” Hanna pleaded, pounding the door hard against the bottom of her palm.

“God, oh god, oh god,” Hanna rambled to herself as she backed away.  She ran over to Mrs. Byun’s desk nearby and shoved open the top drawer, looking for the spare key to her uncle’s office.  Mrs. Byun had been his secretary for over the past two decades and usually kept everything in order.  But she was given a reprieve when her employer passed away and self-declared early retirement.

“!” Hanna clenched her teeth.  Every drawer she pulled out was empty.  She glanced around wildly, searching for anything that would house the spare key to the room.  But every file cabinet, every bookcase nook… everything was cleaned out.

Hanna whole body began to tremble as she walked swiftly back to the office.  She tried once more, calling out Amina’s name and resumed her desperate pleas.  “Please… open the door!”  Hanna yelled.  She could hear Amina’s cries shift from soft weeps to raging outbursts of anguish.  Her own throat clogged up as hot tears began to prick the back of her eyes.  Completely helpless, Hanna could only listen in vain.

She could hear Amina pacing frantically inside.  Drawers were being opened and slammed back with heated force.  A loud bang came from inside the room, which was later followed by heavy thuds of weighty objects toppling onto the floor.

“Mimi?” Hanna wailed.

Something slammed hard against the wall and the sound of glass shattering into a million pieces echoed throughout the office.

More angry sobs.

“Mimi! Stop!”  Hanna cried out, her face crumpling up in pain.  She banged her fists on the thick oak paneled door while trails of tears streamed down her pale stricken face.  But it was no use.  Amina was beyond unreachable. 

After several more tries, Hanna’s body convulsed violently and her knees gave way.  She sank to the ground, sagging heavily against the door frame.  She sobbed pathetically to herself, the back of her fist pressed against .

The broken sobs inside the room seemed to never end.     

Desperately, Hanna reached inside her purse and grabbed her phone.  Her hands shook as she cradled the device inside her palm and turned it on.  Somehow, she managed to control the tremors long enough for her fingers to swipe and dial.  The sound of dial-tone settled her nerves briefly as it drowned out the grief-stricken moans on the other side of the door. 

She prayed he would pick up.

Youngbae shifted restlessly.

He slouched down low in his seat and kept his arms folded across his chest.  Resting his nape on the back of the chair, he slowly rolled the kinks out of his neck. It had been almost five hours since the meeting ended and they were still in President Yang’s office, neither one of them willing to strike up conversation.  Thank goodness YG had the foresight to install a bathroom in his office!  Otherwise, he would have broken down a long time ago.  But no, he didn’t want to give Jiyong the satisfaction of extending the olive branch first. 

He’d be damned if he made the first move. 

Jiyong owed him an apology, not the other way around.  It was inexcusable.  That’s just how he saw it.  Where in the hell did Ji get off saying that he couldn’t take care of Amina?  And why the did it matter to him anyways?  It wasn’t like those two were long time friends.  Unless she was with him, he knew that Amina and Jiyong rarely spoke to one another.  No, they weren’t close… definitely not over-ten-years-of-friendship close.   

ing Jiyong.

He twisted his lips bitterly.

Except for a brief basketball scuffle when they were in eighth grade, they never fought.  Never once succumbed to heated arguments in the past decade.  Their personalities were complete opposites, allowing them to feed off each other’s strengths and weaknesses that left them both a stronger and better person in the end.  That’s why they had bonded so well in the beginning.  Why they had connected on the spot.  He saw vulnerability in Jiyong and noticed the same insecurities inside himself.  They were both striving for the same dream… the same passion in life. 

He remembered how hyped up he was when they first met.  Finally! he thought to himself. Someone around his age that was undergoing the same struggles and pain as him!  They were barely teenagers… twelve, to be exact.  They were different, yet the same – like two sides of the same coin.  They were both quiet and introverted to some degree.  He kept up a façade of being loud and overconfident, while Jiyong naturally overcame his shyness when his leadership qualities shown through.  He remembered a period of time in their lives where they switched personalities… his changes more radical and severe than Jiyong’s.  Even when they grew apart briefly when they went about their own projects, it was always comfortable between them.  They always reconnected without hesitation.  He remembered the private conversations they had throughout the years that finally pulled him out of his brief bout of depression.  Jiyong evened him out, brought him back to where he is now. 

For the first time in a long time, he was happy.  Happy to let go.  Happy to just be himself.  And as a best friend, Jiyong was there by his side which made the ride that much sweeter.  They had started from the bottom to the top – together.  They endured hardships as trainees together, experienced the stress of stardom together, and persevered through scandals together.  They became more than just friends.  They were brothers. 

Bromance - a true match made in heaven. 

You can’t make this up.

They kept the other person in check - scolded one another out of love.  When one fell, the other picked the other person back up.  They both understood each other.  Knew each other probably better than they knew themselves.  They had grown up together.  Shared the same tastes in fashion, shared the same appreciation for black culture and hip-hop, and even shared the same interest in exotic women.

It was the last bit that irked him still.  Not that Amina was extremely exotic by any means.  But she wasn't fully Korean and maintained exotic facial features – with her large expressive brown eyes and plump lush lips.  It was what attracted him to her the first time they met.  Yet, he couldn’t imagine Jiyong having a thing for Amina. Especially since Jiyong knew how much he still loved her and all the agony he went through the first time around when he lost her. 

But that little stint that Jiyong pulled… while effective in being his wake-up call, it did little to quiet the uneasy thoughts he still harbored inside.  It made him hate himself to think ill of his best friend in such a manner.  But the lingering tension between them only heightened the jealousy he felt inside, rearing its ugly head to spite him.

If it wasn’t that… then, what else could it be?  Apparently Jiyong still thought he wasn’t doing his part enough in taking care of Amina.  But he couldn’t think of anything more that he could do.  He was trying to make things right with her, work things out one day at a time.  He knew his work was getting in the way of how much faster they could be progressing, but Amina understood.  At least, that’s what she kept telling him.  And if she was willing to be patient, then so was he.

He released a deep sigh of frustration. 

A persistent vibration buzzed through the air.

Youngbae glanced briefly over to where Jiyong laid sprawled on the sectional in the back of the room.  He looked half asleep and appeared in no apparent hurry to pick up his phone. 

The phone continued to vibrate.

After the third ring, Jiyong finally opened his eyes and reached inside his front pant pocket to pull out his phone.  He glanced uninterestedly at the caller id before sliding his thumb across to connect the call.

“Yobose-“

Jiyong visibly snapped out of his relaxed pose and sat up, his face full of masked concern.  “Calm down, calm down…” he urged the other person on the line.

Youngbae listened with half an ear.  He could hear the other caller frantically speaking rapidly, their tone urgent and adamant. 

“Where are you at?”

Youngbae sat up in his chair and turned towards Jiyong, watching his friend hunched low over the phone.  Jiyong’s posture was rigid and tension seemed to radiate off his body in waves.  Youngbae felt adrenaline kick in as he waited to hear more.

“She’s what?” Jiyong’s voice grew alarmed, his eyebrows knitting with worry.  “Are you sure there isn’t a key… Neh, neh I’ll come over.”  He stood up and started walking around the table.  “Just make sure Mimi doesn’t do anything else.”

At the sound of Amina’s name, Youngbae shot out of the chair.  A million thoughts ran through his mind as he charged over and ripped the phone out of Jiyong’s hand.

“Just keep talking to her-“

“Hanna!” Youngbae spoke into the phone, his hand shaking badly.  “Hanna, what’s going on?”  The sound of Hanna’s sobs chilled him to the bone.  His heart felt like it had dropped inside the pit of his stomach as he waited for her response.

“S-she…” Hanna gasped as another sob choked off her breathing.  “She won’t open the door…” she wailed.  “Please, come quick.  I don’t know if she’s hurting herself or not.”

His eyes were wild with pain as he looked towards Jiyong for confirmation.  A mutual understanding passed through them as they started making their way towards the office door.  “Neh,” he rapidly fired into the phone.  “We’re on our way.”

“!”  Youngbae exclaimed, breaking down in pain.  He strode towards the exit and forcefully swung the door wide open, causing it to bounce back against the wall.

“Calm down!” Jiyong reiterated, practically running after Youngbae as they made their way towards the elevators.  Youngbae paced in front of the steel doors while they waited for the lift.  “Hanna said Mimi’s been in her dad’s office for awhile now but is still moving around.”

Youngbae’s face crumpled at the news.  His eyes were full of torment as he looked at Jiyong.  “Why the did Hanna even take her there?”  

“I don’t know,” Jiyong heatedly replied.  His nerves were scraped raw as well.

Youngbae’s face grew red and his breathing became hitched.  He bit his lip to still the angry tears from spilling out.  “!” he choked off bitterly.  He punched the wall next to him in frustration.

“Yah!’ Jiyong exclaimed, pulling on Youngbae’s shoulders.  “Don’t draw attention to yourself.  You need to calm down and prepare yourself.”  The elevator doors opened.  “Let’s go!”  He shoved an aggrieved Youngbae inside and punched the button for the first floor.

The lights inside the tall skyscraper building glowed like a beacon in the night as they weaved in and out of traffic through the busy streets of Gangnam-gu.  Youngbae didn’t even wait for Jiyong to park the car on the side of the road.  As soon as they slowed down enough, he unbuckled his seat belt and took off like a mad man, with the stinging trail of Jiyong’s curse words pursuing hot on his heels. 

The security guard was expecting them.  Youngbae barely acknowledge the old man as he scrambled towards the row of gold gilded elevators up ahead.  He punched his fist hard against the call button and suffered in excruciating silence for the ancient lift to arrive.

He waited.

He died a slow painful death with every flight of floors the elevator car bypassed.  He fisted his hands stiffly against his sides to keep them still and clenched his teeth tightly to ward off the angry words he wanted to berate out loud.  Why was this happening?  And to his girl, of all people!  He couldn’t look at the damn elevator sensors anymore.  The numbers ticked by too slowly for his tortured soul.

He paced. 

His feet made long angry strides across the marble tiled hallway while Fear got the best of him.  She was a mean , Fear was.  He’d never been so terrified in his life for what awaited him several stories above.  On the whole car ride over, Youngbae couldn’t stop replaying Hanna’s response in his mind.  He tried to imagine all the possible things that Amina might do to herself, just so he could prepare for the worst.  But every time he conjured up an image, her achingly beautiful face always got in the way.  She wouldn’t do such a thing, right?  No, she wouldn’t hurt herself intentionally; wouldn’t commit a crime against her person out of anguish!  He shouted it over and over inside his mind, hoping it would sink in and desperately prayed that it was true.  Because deep down inside, he knew.  He knew with a grave heart that he was about to come face-to-face with the real truth.  It was a simple truth.  The truth that she had been right all along.

He really didn’t know her.

He didn’t know Amina well enough to be certain that she wouldn’t hurt herself.  Didn’t know her well enough to reassure him of her safety tonight.  Because if he did, he wouldn’t be panicking right now.  He wouldn’t be tormenting himself with trickery images that wrecked havoc on his mind and obliterated his heart.  He couldn’t even soothe himself with the comforting knowledge that she wasn’t that type of person.  No, not even that, because he’d never seen her shut him out before.  Even when they went through the whole ordeal with her parents, Amina had let him in.  Allowed him to comfort her and be the one to lean on.  But since her return, he could tell that she was holding back more.  Keeping more things locked up inside her, shouldering more burdens on her own.

Something had changed.  Perhaps something had caused her to change the way she dealt with stress in her life now.  Mayhap something had caused her to change how she thought of him.  Or maybe this was just a onetime occurrence – a cry out for help.  That was all fine by him.  He would take all of that over what he refused to believe – refused to accept. 

He refused to accept the fact that she had always been like this from the start.  Someone who holds onto grudges and can’t let go.  Someone who bottles up all of their emotions inside.  Someone who is unwilling to place their trust in others.  He wanted to avoid this notion at all costs because these weren’t traits or qualities he associated with her.  He didn’t want to reach the conclusion that she was all these things and more and that he was just finding out now.  Because the damning knowledge would only serve to prove one thing.  That she was right, once again.

He really didn’t know her.

“Tell me you love me.  Tell me you’re in love with me.

Me.  The person in front of you… and not the girl you met two years ago.  Tell me you love me for who I am now.  With all my flaws and mistakes… because you know me so well.  Because you know all the difficulties and challenges I continue to face when I’m awake and the fears that haunt me when I go to sleep at night.

Tell me.”

Her words cut deep inside his heart, causing his feet to stumble over themselves on the marble floor.  He quickly recovered and slowed enough to turn around, watching numbly