SEVENTEEN

- Be my drinking buddy tonight.

After exactly two days, this is the first text message I got. He has called me before that, but I had been working, and I never heard it. I never had the time to call him back either.

People have started commenting on my behaviour already.

“You seem different somehow. Something happened?”

“Hikari’s really something, isn’t she? She looks like she’s making you happy. That’s good.”

“Stop being so whimsical, Daesung. Either you’re happy, or you’re not. Don’t switch between both emotions so quickly. It’s confusing.”

Confusing. I hate it when they use that word with me. As if I don’t know what it means. Of course I know what it means; I haven’t felt anything but confusion ever since I saw him again.

I hate that after all these years, he’s still able to shake me up like this. This shouldn’t be happening right now, and I shouldn’t be allowing it.

Why am I though?

Someone hands me a glass of water, pats me on the shoulder and congratulates me on another amazing performance. It takes me a while to pull myself out of my thoughts and come to the realisation someone’s talked to me. So by the time that I do, he’s already gone.

I look at the glass, and slowly swirl it around. As a small whirlpool starts forming in the water, I sigh.

I wonder how things got to where they are right now. I wonder when things started to feel so wrong, and why. I wonder if this is a phase, and if it is, if it’s going to pass soon. I wonder if this is just me slowly letting go of the past. I wonder if this is me moving on. Really moving on this time, not burying it somewhere deep down inside and hoping it will never surface again.

I lower the glass and set it aside, I don’t even bother waiting until the whirlpool stops. My fingers move swiftly over the screen. I take one deep and hesitant breath before pressing ‘send’.

- Text me the address.

*******

The doorbell rings. I wait a couple seconds before I open the door I’ve been standing right behind for over half an hour already, fidgeting nervously, knowing he might arrive any minute now. Of course I don’t want him to know that, so I slowly count to five, then pull open the door.

“Daesung,” I let out.

I sound excited, and I’m not even trying to hide it. I’m so glad he came, and I’m secretly wishing he’d come more often from now on.

He only smiles in response, gives a soft nod, and patiently waits for me to let him in.

“Please,” I say as I pull the door open even wider, and beckon him inside.

As I guide him to the living room, he obviously notices how tensed I am. He’s not used to my behaving this way, still, he doesn’t comment on it. He simply reassuringly smiles at me while taking a seat in the white leather couch.

“Is red wine okay?” I ask, he nods.

It’s hard to stop the nerves from shaking my hand, but I do my best to steady the bottle so I don’t spill.

“That’s enough,” he says, holding out one hand flat in order to stop me from pouring in more.

He doesn’t wait for me to hand him the glass; he just takes it and starts drinking. I wonder if he’s nervous, too.

It takes a while before either one of us musters up enough courage to start talking. To be more precise; it takes exactly four and a half glasses of a fairly good seven-year old red wine.

“You so were drunk!” He laughs as he gulps down the rest of his fifth glass.

“I wasn’t! I was only feeling it a little!” I’m laughing, too.

I lean a little closer to him as I refill his glass. We almost finished our second bottle and I’m seriously considering standing up to go fetch another, but I don’t feel like leaving his side. This is too much fun.

“You were feeling it, all right,” he mumbles.

His cheeks redden a bit, and so do mine. We both know what he’s referring to, but we’re both drunk enough to not care about what kind of topic this