He was standing by the ceiling tall window inside one of the tens of conference rooms the company he was working for had in its building. Watching the city lights steadily raising in number as the dying sunset was taking the bloody redness with it.   The knot of his tie was undone for quite some time now - since the meeting had ended - and the documents he had been working on for the past month were carelessly sprawled on the round table.   Even when the last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon of endless cement-and-steel tops, the man didn't rise to turn on the cold, artificial light bulbs. Only a sad smile formed on his lips, silently mourning (or welcoming?) the loss of the red glow.                                                                          That bloody red glow.   He sighed.       "It's about time you move your off that corner."       The man pressed his lips tightly. The calmness his mind had found by looking at the last minutes of the day, turned and twisted, eventually gone.   He didn't face behind him as he softly replied, fearing not to further disturb anything.       "What for?"       A laugh and his chest tightened.       "It's Friday. It's boys night out."       Cheery. The voice. It didn't fit. Nothing did. Except the feel of the cold glass against his ever aching head.       "Go then..." he murmured.       Footsteps, another unfitting sound. And then an arm around his shoulders.   His eyes closed, relief washing away the tight grip in his chest. He knew that arm and yet he didn't. It wasn't hers, that he knew. And still, could there exist anything that wasn't?       "Of course. Let's go..."       Quiet words. Of a familiar-but-yet-not voice. Go? Yes, he would, if it was going with that voice. The voice that wasn't hers.     That arm, strong and masculine.   That voice, kind and soothing.     Yes, he would go. He would trust the owner of these familiar-but-yet-not features.   A gentle tug and the coldness of the window was left behind.    

 

  The day had given its place to night but the lights surrounding him were trying hard to undo that. His eyes casted on the ground, the only place those shining devils weren't rooted.                                                                     Yet.       "Jungsoo, finally! A little more and I would have gone in by myself!"       Another cheery voice but that one bordered idiocy. The slapping sound of the pat-on-shoulder greeting and the exchange of the usual how-are-yous.       "What's up with him?"   "Like hell I would know!"       They were murmuring about him again. There, in the lobby of a high class whorehouse. Or late night lounge as their (and his) lot liked sugar-coating the reality.       "Hyukjae..." and then came his share of brotherly shoulder pat.   "You need to let go man. Shut down your brain and let everything else work."       And that would be Junsu's daily piece of advice. He couldn't really tell their voices apart, not now, when a deafening headache was torturing him. But just by the seer simplicity of the words, he had that feeling. And he was right. Facing the man, he tried giving a reassuring smile, certainly not up for explaining to his friend the amount of wrong in his last sentence.   Another pat and a booming laughter, the trio gaining weird side-glances from all the other business-suit dressed monkeys occupying the fine leather sofas.       "That's ma boy!"       Hyukjae was roughly pulled forward by his arm, the worried expression of the third man briefly making him feel better.       "Jungsoo, come on!" Junsu urged, his stare doing little next to nothing to avoid the supposed receptionist's gifted form.   "Come on, pick one!" he said with overflowing enthusiasm, his eyes hungrily roaming over the woman's cleavage.       Quickly finding his lost spirit, the blonde man skimmed the list of names and photos, picking a small girl with long and wavy brown hair. He might be more of an alcohol type when it came down on outings like this, but Junsu could surely affect him.     Not that he had significant objections anyway...     Hyukjae's features melted to the previous silent pained expression as his co-worker disappeared down a long corridor.The heavy dark green carpet swallowed him, the thick wooden door labeled with the number 25 closing him in. Junsu had already gone with a curvy red-head goddess and now Hyukjae was alone, his headache quickly intensifying.   His hand trembled as he raised it to his forehead, finding only a second of relief when the cold skin touched the burning one. The colours had taken a sharp edge, the saturation levels raising and raising, till his eyes pulsated angrily to the same rhythm as his brain.     His vision was suddenly filled by strands of messy black hair and a thin arm was wrapped around his waist.       "Let's go sweetie," a smoo