(A/N): I decided to just seperate this into two part because I'm really lazy and use a week typing a single page into my computer. It's not even that long, lol. So, have part one ^^ (Oh, and I just thought I should say that Ilhoons hair looks like it did in g.na's music video "oops" without the sprakly star thing-ies)

One.

 

Hyunsik had this habit of kicking rocks as he walked.  The action was simple and boring but it made the familiar walk from school at least a little more exciting, if anything.  Thoughts were racing though his head, leaving his mind clustered and difficult to sort out.  Even though worries such as exams and family stress was there, the only thing he could really focus on was the fact that Ilhoon didn’t show up at school. It was pretty usual for him to show up late (ever since he moved out on his own he didn’t really care much about school) and he often spent nights or parts of his day in prison.  Ilhoon wasn’t the kind to kill someone, at least Hyunsik liked to imagine he wasn’t, but he was often caught tagging at the street walls or stealing cigarette packs at the local store. Never anything that made a big deal really. But Ilhoon didn’t show up at school. There were no careless, horrible excuses given. There wasn’t even a sight of his presence during lunch (“Why would I skip free lunch?” as Ilhoon always said, jokingly).

Turning on his heels, he made his decision. Worry made him sick to the stomach, and he really wasn’t going to let anything happen to Ilhoon again. He picked up his phone and called the prisons service office, just to make sure he wasn’t sitting temporarily in a cell. The dull voice that answered was anything but unfamiliar, “Please state your questions, our service will do the best to answer” they never said anything else. “It’s Lim Hyunsik” the answer was short, and somewhat strange “Ah, Ilhoon isn’t here anymore, he was just let out” it was the only thing he ever asked so the reply was familiar. “Oh, thank you, goodbye” Hyunsik hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.  By the time he reached Ilhoons house he was panting and gasping for air. In other words: he’d run for just about 10 minutes. He tried to even out his breath before knocking on the door; another habit. He knew he didn’t have to. Ilhoon had told him so. The action was as useless as kicking rocks, because he didn’t get a reply.  He found himself missing a certain hoarse voice and decided to just enter the house. 

The house was a ing mess. Hyunsik had never seen anything like it. Wherever he looked there was words, and sentences written in a messy handwriting. It was all over the walls, on every piece of furniture (though there wasn’t really much furniture), on the floor and even at the table. ‘It’s all fake’, ‘you’re worthless Ilhoon’, ‘sadness is difficult to run from and impossible to escape’. Where ever he laid his eyes, the shortest of poems was written. But there were no signs of a certain boy. Of the boy with the messy, red and curly hair that reached just below his ears. He silently walked over to the door that led to Ilhoons room. Everything was quiet. Ilhoons house smelled like strong coffee, smoke and blood, nothing unusual.  He read the letters written on the door; “I always wait for the words that’ll change my world. They won’t come.” Towards the end, the letters seemed do fade a little, as if the pen was running out of ink.

A song was playing and Hyunsik silently opened the door. Ilhoon looked the same as always. His skinny frame was thrown on the bed, his hair fell in red, messy curls that reached just below his ears, and his skin was so pale that Hyunsik had started referring to it as blue. His faded t-shirt did absolutely nothing to hide the scars that marred his arms, and there were lot of them. As usual, small amounts of blood were seeping out of the fresh ones. Hyunsik’s heart physically hurt at the sight. It didn’t seem like Ilhoon had noticed him yet, so he found himself staring at Ilhoon again. His skinny fingers, nail fainted with black, carelessly held a cigarette and Ilhoons gaze was fixated on the ceiling.  Small ash bits crumbled and fell from the cigarette, onto papers that was filled with the same messy handwriting that Hyunsik had seen all over the apartment.

The first movement was made by Ilhoon. He lifted his mouth to his mouth and took a drag of the cigarette. He held the gasses in his lungs for a while; self-destruction.  When he blew the smoke out, a small cloud of smoke hovered in the air before fading away. It would be beautiful to look at, Hyunsik thought, if only it didn’t destroy him.  The song that played ended, and after holding his breath for a while he concluded that there probably wasn’t another one starting. “I’ve already noticed you, you know?” Ilhoon’s voice wasn’t exactly deep, but it was rather raspy and sounded casual, yet tired, and honestly it was the most beautiful thing Hyunsik had ever heard.