One week passed. One entire week without a sight of Sehun or Jongin. It was not that they both avoided me because of my cowardly actions. But rather, I traveled to and fro work alone in my car. The time not spent at my office or my job was spent in my apartment, where I refused to answer the callings of any visitor on the opposite side of my wooden door. But I think my avoidance of them both - Sehun in particular - was optimal for them, since I did not part with either of them on the best of terms.

    But with the showcase’s date crawling closer, I had no other option but to give up on my excuses and return to practice. After hearing what Sehun said that night, I was further confused. A part of me was somehow angry at him for saying those words, yet the other - greater - part of me was elated upon hearing his order.

    That night, I tried to reply him.

    “Sehun, I don’t…” I hesitated. But perhaps I shouldn’t have. If I was more direct, would the outcome have been any different? Would we be simply friends still?

    “I don’t,” I tried to force what was left of my tattered voice to continue, but before I could, Sehun was already at the door, walking out and disappearing from that chapter of our story, “...know.”

    Maybe he already anticipated the remaining of my response, so he rather spare himself the disappointment.

    There he stood, shining as brightly as ever, as he allowed his body to move freely with the beat of the music. It was such a beautiful sight, and of course, it reminded me of the simmering emotions in my heart.

    “Jen,” he called; his voice was still so sweet, so velvety, so boyish. It was the voice that awoken all the nerves within me.

    I finally retained enough courage to close the distance between us. “Jongin.”

    Undoubtedly, I witnessed from the corner of my eye an uncanny sight: Sehun was staring right at us - his eyes completely unreadable. I had failed to realize that he was standing right there when I met with Jongin. My reasoning told me that I had nothing to apologetic for to Sehun, because friends simply needed not to explain their relationship drama to one another. Yet, I felt as though I had already sinned in the deepest, darkest pits of hell simply by greeting Jongin.

    Perhaps it was just my imagination.

    Oblivious to Sehun’s glares, Jongin simply grinned innocently and pulled me into an embrace - one that was so familiar yet so foreign. So familiar was his warmth and form. So foreign was the feeling of being in his arms. We no longer fit like puzzle pieces, like we used to years back. As the years past, we molded to fit the arms of others.

    “I tried contacting you,” he said when he pulled away. Of course, all those visits were from him, whom I less expected to come pounding on my door and demanding to see me.

    “Sorry,” I faked an apology. My mind was elsewhere when I was still with him, but that was a fact I completely disregarded. “I’ve been really tired and stressed out from work.” What a lame excuse.

    His expression only faltered for a millisecond before he recomposed himself. He’s changed. Before, Jongin was never able to conceal his emotions so effectively. If I had not known him so well, I probably would not have noticed the momentary disappointment. We’ve changed.

    “It’s okay. Are you free after practice? Can I take you out to dinner? To make up for last week?”

    “Sure, I guess.” I didn’t even know why I agreed to having dinner with my ex. Was our situation not awkward enough still? What did we have left to say? I could not think of anything other than continuing our conversation from that day, which I had thrown in the deep ocean the minute it ended with my departure.

    “We have to practice,” a monotonous voice interrupted my incoherent train of thoughts. I naturally tilted my head upwards and sideways to meet the face of the voice’s owner. Sehun seemed so tired and worn out; the dark circles under his eyes contrasted starkly with his milky pale skin. His blonde hair was not styled up today, but rather its owner had left it flowing freely from its roots, adding a younger feel to his look. His shoulders were hunched over and his lips met in a thin line, signs that he was stressed and annoyed.

    For some reason, all I wanted to do at that moment was disregard everything and run my hands through his hair and poke his cheeks to form a smile that brightened my own day.

    But I restrained myself by all means, because that was oh-so inappropriate.

    Sehun laced his hand with mine and began harshly dragging me across the studio to the wall opposite from where we originally stood. Usually I lashed out at him playfully from manhandling me, but at this moment in time I did not mind at all. After a week of ignoring each other, his touch felt greatly comforting. I didn’t even realize myself staring at his side profile until we stopped and he looked straight into my eyes.

    “What were you doing?” It didn’t sound like a question at all. It was, again, a hostile accusation.

    “I-”

    He raked his bony fingers through his already disheveled hair and sighed deeply before lowering to my level and almost hissing at me. “Do you not at all care about-you know what, never mind. Let’s practice.”

    As he the music for our dance, I remained rooted in my spot as his behavior dazed me. Why was he acting so contentious suddenly?

    No need to say, our routine that day was so emotionless, so meaningless. Every time I saw our reflections in the mirror, all I observed were two lifeless souls attempting to mimic the originally flawless dance moves to the fogged beat of the song. We were no longer a lyrical composition of movements. Our dance was no longer an alluring piece of poetry.

Sehun did not say another word to me that day. Even when practice ended, he never spared me a second glance. An uncomfortable feeling that I failed to label even after three hours in the studio bloomed within me. The only interaction that I had with him was the contentious glower that I received when Jongin began approaching me.