When he woke up the next morning, it was still the same. Contrary to what he thought, people had come and gone but life doesn't stop for anybody. He buried his face on his pillow, replaying last night's incident in his mind. And he replayed further than yesterday, further than two days ago, and much further than last week.

Was there any sign of trouble? Kai asked himself, resting his hands below his head, and stared at the ceiling. Looking back, he realized there was none – she kissed the same, spoke the same, and embraced not so differently. She never mentioned death, nor did she tackle the subject of dying.

And so there was never a moment when he could have prepared himself.

At that thought, his phone buzzed from his bedside table. Let's meet at the tea shop. I'll be waiting ^^ This time, Kai decided, he would do anything. He would stare at her without blinking if he has to. "Or maybe I could just tell her the truth," he pondered out loud, then smacked his own forehead afterwards.

It wouldn't be easy. It's not as if he could tell Jinsung not to die. Before he could actually finish his sentence, she would have to make fun of him first, laughing out loud at how silly he acted. Even if he was to burst into tears, the woman would never take him seriously. Without an actual plan in mind, the man dialed for her number and pressed the phone against his ear.

She greeted with a sigh. "You can't come?"

And Kai groaned. They were the exact same words, the exact same tone, the exact same voice. He wanted drastic changes and he wanted them now. "No, it's not that. I want to see you, really, but here in my place. Would you come over, please?" he requested, standing up and walking over to his kitchen.

"But I'm already on my way to the tea shop," she whined. "Wait, are you sick?"

As expected, there they were – the instant noodles and the kettle of lukewarm water. He shoved the phone in between his ear and his shoulder while lighting the stove. "No, I'm not," he replied, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "But if you don't come over, I will be. I just missed you."

With a defeated sigh, Jinsung stopped in the middle of her tracks. "Fine. I'll be there in a few," she stated and hung up. She turned around, retracing steps and barely leaving footprints on the asphalt ground. Hearing he missed her made all the difference – because what was more important than having to walk a few blocks back even though she doesn't even know why he can't walk the short distance from his apartment to the tea shop?

In a few minutes, she was standing in front of his door. Before her fist could even land on the wood, it already opened, and she was greeted with a cheeky grin and open arms. Jinsung scoffed and stepped inside, scanning the room for anything suspicious. "If anyone's here, you can come out now!" she announced loudly to no one in particular.

The rejected man blinked back, realizing he was still holding his arms out to empty air. Jongin looked back at the woman, looking defeated. "Why didn't you embrace me?" he asked, kicking his front door close and collapsing on the couch.

"Eh~ you did something wrong, didn't you? You won't act so differently in front of me if you aren't guilty of something," she protested, sinking on the space beside him.

Yes, I can, he wanted to say. I can act differently in front of you especially because you will die again in just a few hours. You will die again, like how it had been for the past few days. You will die again because I'm always too late. I'm always too late and I can't afford to be. But in the end, Jongin settled for, "I'm not cheating on you, if that's what you're thinking."

Jinsung snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you say so," she replied whimsically while reaching for the remote control.

"Ya," Jongin exclaimed, snatching the remote before she could. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?" His tone menacing, the woman knew where this was headed. She got up from the cushion before he could even get his hands around her. But he had beaten her to it, immediately attacking her ticklish spots and leaving her wildly thrashing around.

Sending weak punches to his chest, Jinsung had her eyes b with tears from laughing too hard. "I hate you, Kim Jongin," she grumbled after he had let her go. And she lay lifeless on the couch as she caught her breath.

The man chuckled, still amused. "I love you too." And he stood up from where he was seated, only to check on the water he had left to boil. When the temperature was up to his standards, he ripped open two instant noodles, immediately pouring water into both. Following the instructions on the packaging and leaving it to cook, he resumed his business of annoying his girl.

He started it off by poking her side. "You know what, you know what, I just made noodles...and I'm not giving you any," Jongin muttered childishly near her ear. She just swatted his hand away from her waist, her forehead creased as she tried to concentrate on the TV show. But the man was insistent. "And I have banana milk in the fridge. But I'm still not giving you any of that."

Still defiant, Jinsung maintained the cold shoulder and ignored him. "Hey, hey," he tried calling out to her again after a few minutes. "I think the noodles are ready to eat, but I'm still not giving you any." And he stuck his tongue out, to which she just laughed.

"Then go eat, babo," Jinsung said, pushing him off the seat. "Stop acting like a five-year-old about it."

Scrambling to get to his feet, Jongin hurried to the refrigerator, taking the milk carton out. Pouring some into a glass, he left it by the table as he tended to the instant noodles. He grabbed one pair of chopsticks before going back to the couch, now towing the food in his hands. "Jinsung-ah, let's play a game," he declared with a smile.

She tilted her head to look at him, obviously taken by surprise. "Does this involve tickling, daring, or anything erted?" Jinsung pressed, her eyebrow arched questioningly. Jongin shook his head no after pondering for a while, already setting the food up in front of them. Sitting much more comfortably, "Then I'm in," she responded.

"Okay." Jongin smiled, rubbing his palms together as everything was going as planned.

"What's this game called again?" she asked curiously.

"Um..." The man, clearly caught off guard, scratched his head. "I-it's called...um...End of the World!!" he said a little too loudly, taking her by surprise.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. It's called End of the World. Taemin and I have played this before. It's a game wherein we act like tomorrow is the end of the world." He had his fingers crossed that his best friend wouldn't be mad if he was pulled into one of the lies he fabricated.

Jinsung covered , threatening to laugh, but Jongin had already cut her off. "I know, I know, the name sounds silly. But it's fun. See, when Taemin and I played this before, I discovered he would shield me from asteroids that would fall on us," he explained, amazed at how the lies came fluidly flowing from his mouth. "Should we start?"

When she nodded, he took the chopsticks and began stirring the noodles while blowing on it. Jinsung was perplexed. "It's the end of the world tomorrow and you want to feed me?"

Jongin nodded innocently. "You don't want to die with an empty stomach, do you?" he asked, to which she nodded with open wide. He fed her with much enthusiasm, happy that she still hadn't suspected anything. And he was equally trying hard to blink back his tears, knowing that sooner or later, she would be gone again.

After feeding her, Jongin handed Jinsung the glass of milk. "I thought Jonginnie doesn't want to give me some of his milk~?" she asked in an awfully teasing tone, which earned her a pinch on her cheek. She drank graciously, never missing a drop. Wiping with the back of her hand, "So, what now?" the woman inquired.

The man was one step ahead of her. "You just watch TV while I eat," he stated, taking his own food from the table. As planned, Jinsung sat with her knees close to her chest while she flipped through channels and Jongin ate, occasionally glancing towards her direction. There was no silence that stretched on even after he finished.

There was only the giggles that erupted from her lips once in a while, the slurping noises he made as he wolfed down the noodles, and the statements she grumbled as she commented on how noisy he eats, then the clattering by the sink while he dumps the used glasses and the splashing of the running water as he rinses his hands.

Following those, there was no more. Jongin settled down on the cushion, pressing himself against her in the closest way possible. And she lay down, letting him do whatever he wants. The television was still switched on and she still had her shoes on. But there was a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love something greater than yourself.

And there was a specific kind of pain in letting go. But he had suffered too much, and he was afraid of more to come. And Jongin wanted to cry. He loved her. He always had. He loved too much of her and nothing of himself that it was a hundred times more horrifying than the monster underneath the bed. The fact that she had no idea was what made it easier – or more difficult.

If he had the choice, he would keep her for himself and for himself only – like a buried treasure, or the recipe for the potion of immortality. She, in turn, clawed on his shirt, clinging to him tightly. In the past years, it had not been what he loves about her – it had been why. It had not been when he loves her – it had been how.

The first day she had met him, she had not been worthy, and being as equally perfect as he is needed hardwork and time. He had lots of time for waiting. She, however, had less than enough. On the second day, she was surprised when he already knew how she likes her coffee without telling him for the second time.

In the days that went by, Jongin had explained that it was because of her blinking. He told her how it was because of the way she walks, or the way she knits her eyebrows when she's confused. It was those little things, he explained, that gives her away. Everything she does is a self-portrait. And she wasn't sure if he only said that to make her feel bad because she didn't know what his last name was at first.

And now Jinsung does. Not only does she know his last name, but she also wanted it. She wanted to write her name with his last just as much as Jongin wanted to kiss her. And she let him, because his lips were soft, just like they always were. When they parted, she stared at him staring back at her.

"Go sleep now," he ordered, wounding his arm around her waist. She nods and closes her eyes. It had never rained on the two of them – with the exception of drizzles once in a while, when Jongin's temper was at its limits and her patience was already drained. But it was nothing a good umbrella could keep off. They were not perfect, but they were good enough.

Running his fingers through her hair, "Can't sleep?" Jongin asked. When she nodded, he sighed. "Me either. Let's can't sleep together," he announced with a smile, interlacing their fingers together.

If she gets up and untangles herself from his limbs, it would have been better – for Jongin, that is. She didn't deserve this – how he acts as if he would die for her even though he doesn't say it, how he tends to her first before he could tend to himself, and how he loves her wholly and completely.

He closed his eyes when she closed her eyes and yawned when she yawned and smiled when she did and he would follow her doggedly as far, as long, as time-consuming as it may take to be with her and he loved her just like that. And he loved her like his favorite movie and she's drowning. It had not been what he loves about her – it had been why. It had not been when he loves her – it had been how.

And she didn't know how to pay him back.

In fact, she didn't know a lot of things. But she knew what he was, what he is, and what he will be – because a man who loves in the most terrifying way is a dead man, unless he changes his mind. And knowing Jongin, he was determined to finish whatever he starts. And so the game will end, even if the world really does come to an end the next day. The game will end.

And as he lay beside her, he wondered if the thought of death ever scared her. As he knew, people only invented the idea of religion to dissipate their fear of the unknown, of the life after death. People couldn't bear the thought of being one with the soil that buries them, and so the idea of heaven and hell came about. Was she afraid?

Jongin sighed, pressing his lips on her forehead. Had she known that in a few more hours, she would be leaving? Had she felt her end nearing as she rode the elevator up to his house? Had she known before she headed to the tea shop? Before she sent him a message? Before the first bite from the noodles?

There was no warning sign, as far as he could tell. Lying with him was a woman as equally clueless as he is. The beginnings differed, but the end is always the same.

As planned, he had stayed awake. Awake and wide-eyed. Right now, Jongin knew he couldn't give in to the temptation of sleep. The game went on, as it had been from the moment she arrived, and continued even after she had woken up from the long slumber. It had been a good few hours, leaving her to feel well-rested.

She woke up to the sound of his voice, much like the way she wanted to wake up every morning.

With his back turned to her, Jongin held the remote in one hand and his phone on the other. "I've been fine, mom," he spoke against the phone's receiver. "Jinsung's well, too. She's sleeping, but maybe I could bring her with me when I visit you soon." And he himself doubted when 'soon' would be. "I'll tell her you said hi."

"Oh, and omma?" he immediately said after his mother threatened to hang up. He took a deep breath and realized he had chosen this. He didn't know chances were this many, but he sure was making the most out of what he has. "I guess I didn't say this a lot before and I'm sorry about that, but thank you for everything," he stated, swallowing the forming lump in his throat.

He might have sounded like a person told he had only a few hours to live, but that wasn't the matter at hand. "And I love you, omma. I'm still your little Jonginnie, right?" he said with a chuckle, trying hard to uplift the mood. "Take care of yourself always," he bid last before hanging up. His lower lip quivered, and he immediately felt a hand running up and down his back.

"Is something wrong?" Jinsung asked, worried.

The man just shook his head, not wanting her to grow suspicious of anything. "Ani," he quickly retorted. "I guess I just miss the folks back at home. I haven't seen them in so long." And he stood, holding his hand out to help her up. "Let's go out."

And go out they did, running past food stalls and bumping against strangers heading the opposite direction. With wide grins across their faces, the two went on with the game. They were in their own world – the world that would end the next day. But what he didn't know was that it would be sooner than tomorrow.

It would be that night.

He took her hand, lifting it above her head, and spun her around. She laughed as she twirled, especially after being pressed tight against his body afterwards. And she stayed in his embrace for a while, absorbing the warmth emanating from his skin. "Jongin, I have to go home," Jinsung muttered faintly, noticing how the sky was growing dark.

Jongin stills, realizing how this was it. Nonetheless, he held her tighter, not caring that they were in front of the intersection and people were starting to stare. He closed his eyes, letting a tear drop escape. Gulping down, he opened his eyes again, only to find the woman staring at him. As quickly as that, the curious onlookers were gone and the streets were empty.

The darkness takes control of her and the oblivion pulls her in, leaving only a knowing glimmer in her eyes. Jinsung's lips upturned ever so slightly, just like how Jongin had imagined her to look like inside the morgue. And she leaned closer, only to capture his lips briefly.

How long was an instant? he asked himself, observing as she peeled herself away from him. And she stepped back, walking backwards until she was standing in the middle of the crossing. From afar, the sound of a revving engine and screeching tires grew louder. The vehicle swerved along the road relentlessly, taking all of Jongin's attention.

"Jongin, can I ask you something?" Jinsung said out loud, her gaze intent on him. The man, having snapped out of the distraction, turned to look at her. There she stood in the in between, in the middle of crossroads. "Would you die for me?" she asked finally.

The tears were hot against his cheeks. "Can't you stay by my side?" he asked back, now realizing there was no other choice.

She shook her head, the smile still there across her lips. "The beginnings differed but the ending is still the same." And Jinsung turned to her right, just in time as the swerving car neared her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the hit, which never came. As the vehicle came to an ear-screeching halt in the middle of the crossing, Jongin lay face down on the asphalt.

He coughed and more blood trickled down his chin. As expected, passersby stopped and crowded around him. His eyes growing heavier and heavier by the second, Jongin closed his eyes. "I would die for you."