“Yah, Seungriyah, thanks for agreeing to this, I really do appreciate it. I know you’ve done so much for us already whilst having to keep it a secret, but we really do need your help on this one. It’d seriously mess things up if the public found out unofficially. Seulgi can’t even wear her ring until we announce.” Jiyong shakes his head sorrowfully, clearly upset at the fact that he can’t show off his eternal connection with his jagiya until the end of next month.

“N-No problem, hyung.” I also shake my head, before returning to pretending to focus on dragging my bags through the front door, pretending my hands are shaking from the strain of the weight, pretending I’m not about to begin a life living a never-ending nightmare right at the very core of all the horror itself, all thanks to my sheer stupidity. That stupidity being Seunghyun-hyung, naturally.

“Not been working out hard enough, panda?” Jiyong’s voice snaps me back to reality, and I look up to see him looking down at my trembling hands. Surprised, I blink, once, twice, before scowling, and in turn, he laughs in my face. “Lemme help you out. I guess I can spare some kindness if my slave is particularly lacking today.” He smirks, referring back to when we shared an apartment in Japan a few years ago, and publically declared me his slave on YG TV.

“I guess not, but I’m still ten times more built than you with less than half the effort.” I sigh, as I turn to Jiyong with an oh-so-apologetic smile plastered all over my face. Instead of releasing a torrent of verbal attacks back at me in retaliation, his Cheshire cat grin remains fixed in place on his face as he shakes his head again.

“I wouldn’t bet on that, maknae.” He warns in his annoying sing-song voice whenever he knows something I don’t, but will eventually also wish to be informed, no thanks to my ever unfailing curiosity. “I’ve had to tone up for the new album, y’know. Been putting secret time in the gym when you’re not there, on your treadmill.”

“Which is always.” I remind him. Not that he forgets. How can he?  Trainer Hwang Ssabu is constantly uploading pictures of either me or Youngbae working out, or, sometimes, both me and Youngbae walking in place on the same treadmills, scoring, as Jiyong himself would say, a double combo for the YG trainer’s Instagram updates.

“You may think you’re always walking on that tread 24/7, but you forget that I’m G-Dragon, and I can use my magical powers to sneak around the gym when you’re there.” Jiyong drops the handles of the bag he’s currently holding to throw his hands in the air and wave them around, as if summoning the superpowers he wished to have when we were interviewed for MTV Seoul Sunday. Or something. We were answering and Jiyong was reading the questions in English, so I hadn’t really understood much, but I’m pretty sure it was something to that extent.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!”

“Sure.”
 

“Really!”

“How can it be?”

“Because I-”

“How can it be true when both you and I are spending all our damn time with your freaking jagiya?!”

My bags clatter to the floor as I clap my hands over my stupid, blabbering mouth. I can’t help but look to Jiyong, whose eyes are just as wide and shocked as mine.

“Seungri…” is all he says. My name lingers in the humid, suffocating summer air that’s stealthily snuck in from the open doorway.

I’ve got to fix this. I’ve come so far, I can’t give up now. There is no chance to back out anymore. Sometimes, life , and I’ve just got to accept that’s how things are. Like Jiyong becoming a married man. I almost want to laugh, the bitter sound gathering air from my lungs. Me and Jiyong. Married. It wouldn’t even be possible. It wouldn’t ever be possible. It was as ridiculous as all my other stupid delusions about me and him. I choke down my sorrow, and take a deep breath, preparing to smooth over my mistake.

“Hy-Hyung,” I begin uneasily, trying to figure out what I’m going to say. “It’s not-it’s just that I-” I attempt to continue, but a sharp frown cuts into Jiyong’s forehead and consequently cuts me off. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops. After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks.

“Is this…” He stops just as suddenly as he begun, sighing heavily as he looks down. “Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?” Jiyong asks gently, looking back up at me as our gazes lock.

I’ve done this all summer, and I can do it for one more month. I just have to hold out, and then it’ll be all over, I try to tell myself, but then another, dreaded voice creeps into my mind.

‘It won’t be over. It’ll be just the beginning of your eternal misery,’ it hisses, and I almost shudder, before remembering Jiyong’s right in front of me and I have to get this over with.  

“It’s fine, fine!” I try to smile, but it’s beyond strained. “Sorry, hyung! I just…haven’t really been getting enough sleep lately because of my schedule, you know how it is, I mean, you spend so much time in the studio, well, you did, I mean, for your new album, er, mini-album, yeah, so you get, that, well, so, I’m just a little cranky, is all! Didn’t mean to snap at you back there, it was a total accident I totally didn’t mean to do! No, it’s great, really great, amazing, I don’t mind helping you at all! No problem at all! Awesome! Buririanto!”

Oh God. Here I am, babbling at the speed of light, completely unable to stop myself.

Jiyong doesn’t say anything. He keeps looking down at the ground whilst his teeth clench his lower lip, his hair obscuring his eyes so I can’t read his face. Just as I take a deep breath to launch into another persuasion speech, I suddenly feel his toothpick arms latching onto me, as I’m pulled forward and locked into a surprisingly strong hug, the whole combination of my sudden lack of breath and being tightly squeezed by Jiyong leaving me winded.

“I need you, Seungri.” I hear him murmur, his voice muffled and so weak in comparison to its usual confident and cheerful tone, it’s almost unrecognisable. “I really do need you.” Jiyong buries his head even further into my right shoulder. It’s a perfect fit at our respective heights, and for a few seconds, I’m stunned and confused, momentarily forgetting that I’m taller than Jiyong now. Yet another thing that’s changed about us.

I can’t speak, but it doesn’t even matter: Jiyong needs me. All this time, my hope has been riding on this one belief, and now that the words have actually come from his mouth – there’s no doubt about it. I can do it. I will do it.

Before I can even voice my approval, without warning, Jiyong gasps and wrenches his body away from mine, throwing us apart as his arms snap back to his sides, and a dazed look overcomes his face, as though he’d just woken up. I blink in surprise, as Jiyong looks up, and our gazes swerve and crash into each other, lost and shocked for the second time that morning.

“Well, we don’t have all day, let’s keep going; you’ve got more bags to come, right?” Jiyong laughs shakily as he quickly turns on his heel and bends down to pick up a bag in each hand, and then, without another word or even waiting for me to respond, he marches out the door, leaving me speechless. I stare at the empty space where he stood seconds ago, replaying the last few moments in my head over and over, sighing and clutching my face tighter and tighter as the memories come quicker and quicker before it all becomes a rapid blur that doesn’t even make sense anymore. I heave out a deep sigh, before deciding to follow Jiyong. I kneel down to pick up the bags I’d dropped, only to see that Jiyong had just taken them with him.

Yet another possession of mine he’s taken without me even realising.