It was hot. Way too hot. And he was sweating. In the end, it was uncomfortable. He fought his way out of his many blankets and stood up. The act exhausted him. Breathing heavily from the strain, he stared out into the air, thinking of nothing, feeling nothing.

It was still too hot though.

Getting into motion, he went out of his room and headed towards the bathroom. As soon as he had locked the door behind him, he stripped his clothes off. Going over to the shower, he turned it on and stepped in.

The water was cold as ice, but it was a welcomed contrast to his sweaty skin. He stood there under the stream of water as it turned warmer and warmer. Thinking of nothing, feeling nothing but emptiness.

After who knows how long, he finally reached for the soap and started washing himself. The effort of scrubbing his skin left him breathing heavily. The damp air didn't help either. But he kept on scrubbing and scrubbing, as if trying to scrub away the events of last night.

When he started breaking a sweat he stopped scrubbing and turned the water to cold again. Soon he was shivering under the water. He washed away all the soap in the cold water and then ended up just standing there. Thinking of nothing, feeling nothing.

A sneeze exploded from him in the small shower stall and he decided it was time to get out. As if in a trance, he dried himself and put on a pair of clean underwear. If he put on more, then he would sweat underneath all his blankets.

Heading out of the bathroom, he went into the kitchen and went to his cupboard. He pulled out several bags of chips and packs of chocolate. From the fridge he stole a carton of milk and went back to his room. Stocking everything where it had had its place the past weeks, he went back into his bed and covered himself with his blankets. He was cold and exhausted.

Lying there, he waited for sleep to take hold of him, while examining the emptiness he felt. It didn't last long before his conscience slipped into a peaceful sleep, far away from the emptiness that filled his head and heart.

Yongguk woke up, as every afternoon, to the shrill sound of his alarm clock. And though the wish to stay in bed forever was overwhelming, he somehow still got up. Tiredly he went through his “morning” routine, trying not to think of last night and Himchan. He had decided he wouldn't help the other anymore.

Yet somehow he found himself in front of his roommate's door, fist help up, ready to knock.

He stopped himself. He had decided not to help anymore.

So he turned around and walked away from the door and back to the kitchen where he ate his breakfast.

He knew it wasn't completely fair. Himchan had been tired and had just met Jongup, against all chances. There was only a ten minute walk to the club, but somehow they had still met the boy. But he couldn't help but feel like he wasn't appreciated. Like all he had done for the other was a waste of time, when the other wouldn't even for a second feel thankful.

And Yongguk hated feeling like what he was doing was a waste of time. So pushing Himchan out of his mind, he went to work.

Himchan was in his bed. Sweating. But every time he took of his blankets, he started shivering from the cold. So he had decided he would sweat instead. And occasionally take showers.

But right now he was munching on a plate of chocolate while staring into the thin air.

His upper body was cold as it was outside the warmth of his blankets, while his lower body was sweating from the warmth of the blankets. But he didn't think of it. He was concentrating on the feeling of biting into the slightly soft chocolate. The way his tongue was swimming in the taste of chocolate. It was as i