That was what was written. But what was behind those words, will never be understood. Because it must remain a secret.

Ji

That’s how I call him: Ji. Two letters that are a sudden outburst of light among the constant darkness in which I am constantly submerged.

Ji is the name of the glittering shadow in front of me. The name of the extended hand towards me, or the assuring voice that whispers, “I trust you” in my dreams.

It is the name of the delicate, smooth body that rolls over the bed next to my trembling body. The arms that caught me in a strong embrace during my nightmares. Or the voice that whispers “I’m sorry”, like a plea, at my back.

It is the name of the tears that fall from his hazel eyes every time he sees me, falling into darkness. As well as the name of my own tears, every time I see him chocking from painful agony and regrets.

It is the name of my torment and my beloved torturer. Ji is everything: from the worst to the best. My everything is Ji.

Chose

I buried the word deep inside a place I would never find. “I chose”, that was what he said. He didn't use the words want, nor desire, nor like, nor believe, but chose.

Strange, omnipotent forces act as chains that restrain us and push us into unwanted choices. The answers might be there, right in front of your chained hands, but you have not the possibility nor the opportunity. So you have to choose the door already open, even if those are not the ones you desire to walk into.

“I choose”, he said, walking away from our room, his tie well knot and his dressed in a tailor-made suit. And I choose to allow him. Allowed my eyes to stare at his back walking away from the grasp of my hands.

And so he walked away. He chose.

Kiko

I don’t hate that name. I embrace it with something akin to appreciation. She makes him happy, she allows him to know what is freedom. She provides him with smiles and love.

I can not hate her. Not even when I see both of them all over the internet. Their joined hands following me, stabbing me, reminding me what “impossible” means. I can’t hate her.

I would like to be the one, sat next to him. Or the one smiling between his arms, the one with the word “scandal” next to Jiyong’s name. But I’m not. Kiko is. And I can’t hate her. Because she allows him to be with me.

And

When “and” comes after saying something it means there is something not told, that some unknown detail remains undisclosed. What can be the “and” in this sad story of mine? Why must certain things remain untold?

I found the person I wanted to share my life with, and I decided would try my best. He decided to try his best too and gave me the best love I could ever ask for. But even when we had each other, even when we fought, we tried, we hold, it all ended up turning into a bittersweet something.

And then? After reaching that endpoint? What could be done? What could be added? And then came Kiko, and then they were there together, and then… there I was: the “and” of the whole situation. I turned myself into an undisclosed “and”.

I

I, is the agonizing heartbeat that cringes upon watching his white hand moving slowly over my chest and leaving white trails all over my bared skin.

I, is the one who watches in fascination those pink lips moving slowly lower and lower, to intimate places.

I, is the one who waits every night, staring at the door, waiting for him to come through it and smile at me.

I, is the one who loves with strength at the in front of me. The owner of those tightened lips; the ones that refuse to let out sounds, while I run a hand over his collarbone to the back of his neck.

I, is the one normally forgotten, casually ignored and constantly present.

I, is the “and” after Jiyong’s name, the unrecognized one.

I, is what I want to be forever, only known by him and me.

I, is Ri, his Ri.

Think

Thinkers surround us. There are tons and tons of thinkers always around us. All of them with all kind of thoughts: believes, judgments, regards, ponders, rumors, imaginations. And we solely rely on those thoughts.

Every move, breath, smile we force upon our lips, turn into a fountain of thoughts. We can ruin everything. We can alter the functioning of those thoughts, by adding fuel to those thinkers, by motivating the working of those heads.

We must be careful: we think about the thoughts our thinkers may have about what we are thinking. That’s the truth. What we are is shadows left behind, buried behind the pretentions.

When we read over the papers, “I think he said”, “I think he wanted”, “I think he did”, we cringe: because what comes next can determine where we are going to be the next day. So, we can’t think anything but what our thinkers think about our thoughts.

So we thought: we can’t be together.

We

The five of us will be brothers until the time comes to separate our ways. The five of us will be artists, always reminded by our music.

The both of us will be lovers until the time comes to separate our ways. The both of us will be souls, always reminded by our music.

Ji and I will always be prisoners until the time comes to unite our ways again. The both of us