I fumble with the keys in my hand and struggle to press the unlock button with frigid, stiff fingers. The car unlocks with a beep that is barely audible under the pouring rain and I slowly inch my way to the car, having little to no energy after being kicked out of my very own home.

When I finally make it inside of my car and shut the door, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement is muted and instead, the sound of the rain hitting the windshield fills my ears. It’s not as loud as it is outside, but nonetheless, still harsh, reminding me that I can't fully escape from the harshness that is reality. With shaky, rain soaked hands I turn the key in the ignition and start the car, setting the heater on full blast in attempt to thaw my frozen limbs.

I grab a tissue from the glove box and wipe away the mixture of rain drops and tears from my face and take in a deep, shaky breath. My breathing seems to roar in my ears despite the sounds of the rain and I turn on the car stereo and turn the volume knob aggressively in attempt to drown out the sounds of my sad breathing. I never even knew breathing could be sad.

Perhaps turning on the stereo was a mistake because I failed to realize that my iPod remained plugged into the console. The playlist currently playing is none other than a set of songs Jongin and I had chosen to play at our wedding. Before lyrics of the song “Open Arms” can reverberate through the speakers, I quickly jab at the ‘AUX’ button and switch to the radio. A song called “Stay the Night” is on and I almost want to laugh at the irony of the situation. I shuffle through stations and settle on a classical one because every song nowadays is about love and I can’t handle such lyrics being shoved into my ear, forcing me to apply cookie cutter, pop songs to my life.

My mind is still in a jumble by the time I finally release the parking brake and shift my car into reverse. It doesn’t seem real. Being kicked out of my house was never something I’d ever think Jongin would do. I’d always try and predict the consequences of Baekhyun and sure something like this had crossed my mind, but I’d never think Jongin was the type to actually do it. He’s always been so kind and sweet, even when he’s mad, and to this very moment I still can’t believe that I am the one in the pouring rain this time.

I take a deep breath and let my foot off the break, finally driving away from Jongin. Tears inevitably come down my face as a calm piece of light strings and a delicate piano verse plays on the radio. I don’t change the station this time or even think of turning off the radio. I’d much rather be cathartic to instruments rather than cheesy, overplayed lyrics or, even worse, the sounds of my own mind.

I don’t even need to think about where I’m going. My hands naturally turn the wheel at the proper intersections and in five minutes time I’m in front of my best friend’s house. I notice a second car in front of her town house. It’s a black Dodge Camaro. Himchan is here.

I contemplate whether or not going inside is a good idea. I can wait for him to leave, I think. But what if he never leaves? I heave a sigh but it comes out as a breathy hiccup, a common side effect of crying.

I try to think of other places I can go and I almost want to slap myself as Baekhyun comes across my mind. Going to him right now would basically mean I’ve chosen him. And I still don’t know if it’s he that I have chosen. I shake it off and am thankful he threw his phone out into the street because there is no possible way of finding out where he is anyway. (Although if I had to guess, it would be the ‘W’ hotel a few minutes away. Not only was it close, but the company we work for is partnered with that hotel, so we get a sizeable discount.) I flush the thought away, knowing that seeing him would only do more damage to both parties.

I cringe. It sounds like Jongin and Baekhyun are at war. Two men that were almost complete strangers before tonight are in a theoretical ‘war’. Did that mean that I was the prize of the victor?

Of course not, I tell myself. They were never fighting for me in the first place. Baekhyun, maybe. But this war, if a war at all, is fought by me and me only. It’s merely a civil war within myself, in which third parties happen to also get hurt in the process.

I groan at my over analysis of the situation but what other can a girl do with a situation like this. Girls over analyze the simplest of things, so naturally something as complex as this must be analyzed by a microscope. It’s not choosing between black heels or red heels. It’s choosing between two people. People with actual lives to be lived and feelings to be felt. I couldn’t keep beating around the bush.  

…But if we were to put this into such a simplistic decision, Jongin being the black heels and Baekhyun being the more daring red pumps, what would I choose? The black pair isn’t too high and I can easily walk steadily. I can wear them with anything and they’re clearly the perfect, staple pair of shoes. But the red pair is a daring pop of color and has me standing taller than any other shoe, even if they take a bit of wear to get used to. They’re not as versatile as the black, but there is nothing wrong with being a little loud.
 

I wish I could somehow just take both. I obviously can’t wear a black heel on the left and a red on the right. Fashion doesn’t work that way. Although they both go on my feet, it would just never work out. The red one is taller than the black and would prove to be quite difficult to walk in and who in their right mind wears two different colored shoes?

The of the current classical arrangement pulls me out of my thoughts and I shake my head at how foolish I was being. Comparing real, live people to shoes. If only life were as easy as shoes…
 

I glance at the clock on the dashboard and “11:29” glows at me in the darkness. If I want any chance to talk to my best friend, I’d have to go now before her and Himchan do God knows what and can’t hear my knock at the door.

I shut the car off, the classical music cutting off, and revealing the sound of the heavy rain pounding on the windshield again. Pocketing the keys in my sweater, I open the car door and invite the louder sounds of rain into my ears as I lift my hood above my head in a poor attempt to keep dripping wet hair out of Hyosung’s house.

I walk up the familiar, plain walkway to Hyosung’s door and firmly knock three times using the bronze door knocker, hoping it’s loud enough for them to hear. There is no awning above her porch, so I remain in the rain as I wait for the door to be opened. I can feel water start to seep through my hood when the door cracks open. I recognize Himchan’s eyes through the slit of the open door (who thankfully is fully clothed) and I assume he recognizes me because he opens the door wide and turns back to Hyosung, who is reclined on the couch reading a magazine.
 

Her head slowly snaps up towards me and she immediately runs around the couch and to the door. “Oh my god, sweetie, get inside,” she says, almost in a motherly tone. She sends Himchan a look as I kick off my soggy slippers in the foyer. He understands right away and grabs his keys before patting me gently on the shoulder. He tells her he’ll call her tomorrow as he walks out the door. As the door closes, the sound of pouring rain is finally gone from my hearing and I almost feel myself relax.

Hyosung gazes sympathetically at me for a moment then grabs my cold hand and drags me upstairs to her bedroom. As she goes into her closet I pull of my damp sweater and hang it on a hook on the back of her bedroom door knowing that she’s fetching me one of her own. “Your ’s dry right?” I hear her say from the closet.

“Yeah.”

“Well at least you’re not soaked…” she says as she emerges from the closet and hands me a blue sweater. I put it on as she climbs onto her bed, sits cross legged, and pats the space in front of her. “Just like in high school,” she says referring to our younger years when we’d always have things to talk about be it family, school, and of course, boys. Things have since changed and our lives have almost fallen into a routine. No new occurrences or reasons to have these kinds of talks. At least not as serious as this one’s about to be.

“So how’d he find out?” she asks knowingly as I place myself in front of her, mirroring her position.

“In the worst way possible,” I reply and I notice her eyes increase a little in size. “Ok, no, not the worse, he didn’t catch us in the act or anything.” Her eyes return back to normal size in relief. “But he heard Baekhyun say these vows to me.”

“Vows?”

“Okay, well this is stupid, but we were talking about wedding vows and how I didn’t think I could write my own and he offered to help.”

“You were going to take help from him for vows for Jongin?”

“Yeah, I told you. Stupid. But anyways, he goes on saying these beautiful things and-”

“Wait, why is Baekhyun at your house in the first place? I thought you two were over?”

“We were.” I pause, realizing what I was implying with the word ‘were’. “I mean we are,” I correct. “Oh this story gets even worse, Hyo. So Baek shows up at my door earlier tonight, drenched in rain and cold-”

“Your weakness,” she adds.

“Oh that’s not even it. He tells me that Minkyung cheated on her,” her eyes widen almost the same way they did earlier. “With Chanyeol.”

“Smiley Chanyeol from the first floor?” I nod. “That’s like his best friend!”

“And get this: They said themselves that they’ve been wanting to do it for a while.”

“No!” she gasps. 

I sigh. “Yeah, and he came to me of all people for consolation. I mean, I guess I understand. No one knew he was cheating on Minkyung other than Chanyeol himself. He couldn’t just go to another friend and slam that information on them. I’m the only other person that knows, besides you of course, and I didn’t know what else to do besides take him in.”

“Okay, okay, so I get it. You’re housing him while he recovers from his own sins being reciprocated onto himself.”

“You don’t need to word it like that…”

“Sorry, okay continue, you were talking about vows,” she presses.

I side eye her for a moment. Hyosung was always one to hit below the belt when it came to words, and she was always so good at changing the subject after as if it never even happened. I wish I had her talent. “Uh, yeah, anyways, he says these beautiful vows and it’s not until he finishes where I realize that these vows aren’t for me to Jongin. They were from him to me.” I let the info set in before continuing. “Then he goes on about how he was going to tell me them once I’d finally fallen in love with him had he succeeded and then-”

“Jongin’s at the door?” Hyosung asks almost a little too eagerly. As if my life was some stupid drama where every scene was excruciatingly predictable. Was that all my “thrilling adventures” had amounted to? A lame, predictable drama?

I sigh. “Yeah, he found a flight home and heard the whole thing.” She sadly nods. “So Baekhyun tells him that of course I’m not in love with him-”

“Are you?” she interrupts. I stare firmly at her because she keeps interrupting me, but also because I don’t like answering that question. Sure, I know the answer, but it wasn’t something I liked admitting. “Sorry, go on,” she mumbles.

“Okay, well Baek leaves and I swear Jongin was going to punch him in the face or something, but they just kind of stare at each other for a little and Baek walks away.” Hyosung shifts her position, knowing that obviously the stories about to get more intense. “So I thought Jongin would pelt me with questions because that’s what Minkyung did to Baekhyun when she found out, but he was calmer than I had expected. He asked how long and how far we went and he just broke down further and further with every question.”

Tears started to prick at my eyes again and Hyosung placed her hand on top of mine.

“He cried. A lot. And you know he doesn’t do that very often. I made Jongin cry,” I say almost in a daze. “I’ve never done that before… But, um, he asks me if he’s not good enough for me and of course he is and he wonders what he did to deserve this and he did nothing. He did nothing to deserve this. So of course he asks why; why I would do this to him if he was good enough for me and if he didn’t deserve this and I couldn’t- I couldn’t answer him.”

“Because you don’t know.”

“Because I don’t know," I confirm. "And that made him mad. And he pushed me out of the house.”
 

“Wait, Jongin, the sweetest guy in the world kicked you out? You didn’t leave voluntarily so that he wouldn’t have to?” 

I shake my head. “He didn’t know what else to do. But I mean, he gave me my phone and my keys so it’s not like he was completely heartless throwing me out into the rain. Although he did pull the house key off before giving them to me. I don’t know if it means we’re entirely over or if he just needs his own time to think over this whole thing.”

“Well, you know you’re welcome here for as long as you’d like. Even if it’s permanent,” she says with a small, sad smile.

I start to think out loud. “Why couldn’t I just stick to one pair of shoes…?” 

“Wait, what?”

“The red ones were just so nice. Why didn’t I just leave them in the shop?”

“Hold on, why are we talking about shoes all of a sudden?”

“Because I’ve been wearing two different shoes this whole time…”

“I’m not following where you’re going with this. You’re barefoot.”

“Exactly.”
 

Hyosung is looking lost as ever, but now that I have put it into such perspective; I am that crazy person wearing two different shoes. Me. I have been wearing two different shoes this whole time and I’ve finally lost my balance. These kinds of things don’t work in a simple world either. I have to choose.

And going barefoot may be my only answer.

Happy Chinese New Year Everyone! :D 

Anyways, what the hell kind of metaphor is that I know but I literally just read ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ today and a character in the book loves metaphors and why not ok BTW YOU SHOULD TOTALLY READ THAT BOOK IF YOU HAVEN’T. THE MOVIE COMES OUT IN JUNE YOU HAVE TIME OK. AND I READ IT IN A DAY SO YEAH YOU REALLY DO HAVE TIME.

But anyways, I love writing conversations between friends. No sappy lines or angsty confessions, just plain, comfortable dialogue you know? Doesn’t happen often in my fics really OTL

Sorry for taking forever as usual and I really do need to get this fic over and done with before school starts since it looks like I may be taking on a heavy load of classes… But you and I both know I am not physically capable of finishing a fic within a week (which is when school starts) so hopefully you can bear with these pauses in between updates ;~; But I'll do my best to get in as many chapters as I can c:

and just a quick side question... ARE ANY OF YOU AS INTO GOT7 AS I AM BECAUSE WOW I AM FALLING HARD FOR THOSE BOYS (COUGH MARK) seriously considering writing a one shot about him because he's too perfect to not be written about