Life with Saja and Jongin settles into a comfortable routine over the next few weeks. With my new furry friend for company, a new door system and the locks on my door changed; I’m finally able to try and get comfortable with my apartment again.

It isn’t without any difficulties though.

It happens mainly in the middle of the night. I wake up so sure I can hear noises in my apartment and I grab Saja and run whimpering to Jongin’s apartment. He always open the door, rubbing his eyes sleepily and then makes himself stay awake until I collapse exhausted on his sofa.

I know this cannot go on forever but even with Saja the memories still crowd my head. At college I would often see Jongin sitting with the rest of his friends amidst all their laughter with his cap pulled low of his eyes, arms folded; pouty lips and cheeks telling me he was falling asleep.

In the evenings he knocks on my door and gently ties on Saja’s leash while I put away my homework, before stepping out into the twilight to walk around the neighbourhood, just talking and laughing together. He mainly entertains me with stories of his friends and their silly pranks. I love the way his face lights up with each story and how he laughs so hard he barely makes it to the punch line. I think these times are my favourite, casually strolling along with Jongin while Saja pounces on rocks and brings sticks to us with an expectant look in his eyes.

One evening my head is buried on the papers that litter my desk. I have no motivation to write this essay, and I feel like this motivation will never appear. It’s meant to be on 19^th century literature compared with modern literature and although I’ve done the research, I just can’t be bothered to formulate the chunk of information into an essay.

“Oh screw you man,” I whine, banging my fist on my desk and sending papers cascading to the floor. There’s a rustle and when I glance down, I see Saja’s holding some of them up in his mouth to give back to me.

“You should be called Mandu not Saja,” I say fondly, picking him up and cuddling him, “Since you’re like a fluffy dumpling, not a fierce lion.”

There’s a knock at the door. Frowning, I look at my watch. Normally the three of us go for a walk at eight o clock after I’ve finished my work but now it’s only six thirty.

“Who is it?” I say, still holding Saja to my chest.

“Er…it’s me,” Jongin says.

“You don’t sound very sure,” I joke. I slide the newly fitted chain across, turn the key and open the door.

And there stands Jongin.

And five other boys.

“Oo nice apartment,” Chanyeol says as he strides past me,

“I must agree,” Baekhyun says, ruffling my hair.

“Look at the puppy,” Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide and I get no greeting as he lifts Saja out of my arms.

Sehun’s next and before I can even say anything, he holds up a camera and flash.

“Sehun! Delete it, I’m not photogenic in the slightest,” I beg, “I’ve probably cracked the bloody camera screen.”

Sehun’s shoulders shake with laughter,

“Relax silly,” He says.

Suho holds up what must be seven boxes of large pizzas.

“We brought our own food,” He grins.

“Seven boxes?” I say in utter disbelief.

“You obviously forget we have a giant in the house,” Suho says as Chanyeol rubs his hands excitedly, “And you obviously underestimate the rest of us.”

Last but not least is Jongin, who looks just as confused as I am.

“I’m guessing there will be no walk today,” He says ruefully as he steps inside.

I look around. The boys have settled themselves on the floor of my living room with all the boxes of pizza spread out in front of them. Saja is having a field day as he leaps around, his little pink tongue hanging out, keen brown eyes watching every mouthful of pizza.

“I guess not,” I laugh, shutting the door behind me.

“Do you have any cups?” Suho asks, holding up the bottle of coke they’ve brought.

“Should have some plastic ones,” I mumble. I’m wearing an oversized t-shirt and white shorts and as I bend down to open the cupboards to check, I hear a hasty whisper: “Sehun I’ll give you 30,000 won if you snap a picture of her legs,”

This boy. Someone give me the tools to kill him.

“I dare you Sehun, take the picture,” I say, standing up and looking at him with a straight face. “Go on. Take it.” It seems to do the trick because he lowers the camera looking quite frankly scared.

“And as for you Kim Jongin,” I turn to glare at him, “Try another stunt like that and I’ll snap your erted pretty little neck,”

He has the grace to shrink in on himself and hold his hands up in surrender, smiling sheepishly.

“At least she called you pretty-” Chanyeol begins.

I silence him with a look.

“Sit down and have some pizza,” Suho laughs, patting the space beside him. Just as I’m about to dunk a huge slice in my mouth, a phone rings.

Everyone begins to pat their pockets and look at each other in confusion until finally Suho pulls out his phone and frowns at the screen.

“It’s Tao,” He says quietly.

Tao? It’s Tao. But why? We spoke to them yesterday, I hear the boys confused whispers rustle around the room.

Suho puts the call on loud speaker and holds it out in the middle of the room.

“Tao?” He says hesitantly, “Is everything okay?”

There’s silence. And then the unmistakable sound of sobbing crackles down the phone line.

“Are you there?” Are you guys there?” The person on the phone asks in a voice full of grief. All at once the boys are huddled around Suho’s phone voicing their reassurances I’m here Tao, we’re here, we’re all here. All their heads are dipped down and focused on the phone. I’m sure that even if the battery ran out, the intensity of their stares would keep it charged.

“What’s happened?” Suho asks urgently. I look over at Jongin’s and he is tense, a muscle clicking in his jaw. Even Chanyeol’s eyebrows are drawn into a worried frown.

The sobbing on the phone is heartbreaking; it’s filled with fear and desperation.

And then:

“There’s been a car accident,” Tao says, “Luhan and Kris...”

Watching the colour drain off five normally happy faces is a sight you can never forget. Even Jongin’s normally golden skin seems to go several skin shades lighter and Sehun’s face goes positively transparent. Kyungsoo can’t even look up from the phone; he’s just staring at it in horror. Baekhyun’s opening and closing his mouth but words seem to be failing him. The look on Suho’s face is one of growing horror as he stares at his phone like it’s something repulsive that’s been into his hands. Chanyeol’s looking around all the faces, looking for something close to reassurance, something, anything he can grab onto, but seeing none, he buries his face into his hands, shaking his head. The atmosphere is so thick I feel like if I reached out, I would be able to catch the sadness in the palm of my hand.

“Kris and Luhan are what Tao?” The tortured words barely make it past Baekhyun’s lips. I find myself holding my breath waiting to hear the fate of two people I don’t even know.

“They’re in hospital,” Tao finishes, trying to control his breathing. “Kris has a broken arm and broken ribs and the doctors say he’ll be fine. But Luhan…” He’s losing it again, raw anguish. “Luhan won’t wake up Suho. I don’t know what to do.”

Sehun stands up and opens the door so hard it bounces off the wall before leaving the apartment and storming into the hallway. Suho and Jongin exchange a look before Jongin goes after him.

I go over to Chanyeol, kneel next to him and put my arms around him. His head leans into to rest on my neck

His hands are still over his face. I try to tug them away but he resists. Even now he doesn’t want anyone to see that he’s not smiling.

After gathering more information, Suho has to hang up so Tao doesn’t pay too much for the calling fee. The boys sit in silence, looking around at each other, devastated.

“Ara can you go and get Kai and Sehun please,” Suho says quietly. His face seems to have aged years in such a short space of time.

I leave Chanyeol and go out into the hall way. Jongin’s standing opposite Sehun with his arms resting on his shoulder. Sehun has an arm over his eyes and all I can hear is Jongin’s steady voice,

“He’s alive Sehun. Come on don’t give up hope already. Be strong for him. Our Luhan will never give up.”

Back in the living room I sit down next to Suho and he tells me the story of how twelve friends became six.

“We all grew up together, in the same neighbourhood. Luhan, Tao and Lay moved over here from China when they were young.” Suho began, looking down as he played with his fingers, “Then Kris came from Canada. We were all inseparable. People called us best friends but that’s not right. That term’s too weak to describe the bond we have. We were brothers. We are brothers. We all have different personalities, different interests and goals but we still click with each other. We describe ourselves as being ‘one’; all our different personalities are linked through our love for each other to make up one person, one being.” A smile ghosts his lips.” Standing on stage all together was a common goal we shared. We used to create music together and even split into groups to busk on the street. We even signed with an agency and I swear at that moment we were so close to our dream, it felt like all we had to do was reach and grab it. But then the trouble started. The agency exploited us. Kai was always getting injured from being overworked, so was Lay and Tao. We managed to grab maybe three hours of sleep at night and an hour’s break during the day and the rest was training. Just a little bit further, we pushed and we pushed our bodies to deliver each and every day until it finally became too much. One day four of our members passed out during dance training. I couldn’t do it any longer. I couldn’t lead this group to their deaths for this, not after having met their parents promising to take care of them. I couldn’t I really just couldn’t do that. So we left the agency. We left our dream hanging there. It was just a little bit further then we could manage.” Chanyeol’s sitting with his head resting on Baekhyun’s shoulder, his eyes staring at nothing.  “We were devastated. But as long as we could stay together, nothing was too tough for us. Then Kris started to have visa problems, Tao’s parents fell ill and Lay had to go home and support his Mother after his Father’s death. Jongdae and Minseok decided to go with them. Kris thought that maybe the six of them would have a better chance with a Chinese agency, and so they all left. And so twelve became six. And now-”

Unable to continue, Suho gets up and walks over to the window. I see his shoulders softly shaking.

Jongin sits down next to me,

“Luhan is his best friend,” He says, staring at Sehun, who looks as though life has betrayed him.

“When’s the last time you guys saw them,” I ask. Jongin shakes his head,

“Not for ages. We’ve been able to see Jongdae and Minseok more since they have family over here but even that’s not enough. As for the Chinese boys. Rarely. We just can’t afford for us all to fly over there or for them all to come here.” Jongin sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “But I suppose that’s life right.”

But as I look around I refuse to accept that this is life. I refuse to accept that twelve boys who have grown up together must grow through life apart, split right down the middle.

And so as I look around the six distraught faces that cared about me so much when I was hurt, I vow to myself that I will make sure six become twelve again.