Her pale, pale skin. Those ruby red lips that have faded into the colour of pale beige. Her paper-ash white face, and long jet-black eyelashes hiding her brown-black eyes-- he could never truly tell which colour they were... 

His hand reaches out on its own, caressing her face. His fingers find themself entangling in her still soft hair. Even on the sterilzed bed and clinical smell of the enviroment, they still smell of lemon, the shampoo she used nowadays. 

Swiping at his eyes, the tears fall anyway. Like crystals, only to be soaked up by the ever so clean blanket. His fingers catch hers even tighter, refusing to let go. 

The hospital staff leave him with words of comfort and condolenses, as he crumples to the floor. The bed was being wheeled away- it disappeared around the bed- and it was gone. 

Broken sobs rack up in his throat- and he visualises his fingers entwinned in her long hair, before cancer took them away, just like how it stole the years of her life. 

He wants to tangle his fingers in her hair, but the silky strands no longer let him. 

Goodbye, Dara. 

Jiyong's a ing piece of . He knows it, but it doesn't mean a damn to him.

He smokes joints, fiddles around with a guitar, gets more tattoos inked in his skin, knocks back shots... Kwon Ji Yong has become bad. 

And yet, no-one can truly argue with him that this change was for the worse. 

He gets more tattoos, but he goes to chruch. He smokes joints, knocks back shots, but he hasn't gotten his damn detained or gotten in trouble with the police yet.  He fiddles around with a ratty guitar, but he still faithfully dons his workclothes to report to work, sitting behind a half-assed slow computer typing report and proposals one after another. 

And everyone knows it, too... subconsiciously. 

He's just too good a damn actor. He's just waiting for the day he finally had had enough and cuts loose. 

He hadn't meant for it to happen. He just clapped eyes on her- and- 

Dara would like her. 

She dressed in the bright funky colours that mismatched and blended with each other, toned down by a straight cut black work jacket. Her heels towered at 3 and a half inches, black heels that dangerously teethered between the fine line of workshoes and plain unacceptable. 

Her eyes curved in the beautiful eyesmile that his heart remembers, and her skin just a touch darker than Dara's. Her hair was long, permed with a little curl at the end, brought up in a high ponytail. Her lips were the cherry-ruby red he remembered, the long fingers tapered a little different. 

They look completely different, yet they look so much the same. 

"Jiyong, this is the new creative manager, Lee Chaerin-sshi." 

It's good to see you again, Dara. I knew you wouldn't leave me behind.