Something about the situation made his skin crawl, as if his heart wanted to escape his body. He felt disgusted with himself, for what he just did. It was the heat of the moment; years of suppressed bitterness spilling out of his lips before he could stop himself. What he hated the most was that Junhee did not fight back.

The Choi Junhee he remembered always fought back. She’d always have something to say, she would make sure to have a say in everything that concerned the two of them. Junhong had expected Junhee to retaliate, to obnoxiously look for a way to run, to find a way to blame him, yell at him, tell him it was his fault, not hers.

Junhong expected Junhee to mention the promises he had broken, to call him names, to hate him with a passion so strong that it would make his life so much easier.

Because then, there would be no choice but to hate her back.

Now, Junhong wasn’t even sure that the earth beneath him was stable. This wasn’t how he remembered her at all, and now he wasn’t sure whether this was real or not. Sweat seeped from his forehead, as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto the inside of the cupboard. There was not much space, but enough to house him for the moment.

He’d panicked when he heard voices. He didn’t want to be caught, because it was more than likely that things would get twisted and he would land into trouble again. So, he had done the only thing that made sense to him. He hid.

Inside the darn closet; it was dark and he didn’t know what to think. He heard the door open and the voices that slipped past the panels to where he was hiding.

“The floor is all wet!” the voice was complaining. Junhong slowly blinked open his eyes, and resumed staring at the inside of the closet door. His breaths had recovered, and he was trying hard to be patient. He would wait ‘til they leave, then he would leave without one charity glance at Choi Junhee.

“…wet wench hogging the sofa! Ugh, pathetic.”

Junhong chuckled darkly at the voices, as they thought the ‘wet wench’ was asleep. Why was she wet anyway? he absently wondered, slowly lifting his right hand to trace the inside of the door. He paused.

“Minah, I told you hosing her with water was a bad idea!”

The bassist blinked languidly at the can of soda in his hand. His head tiredly processed the conversation outside the cupboard. It still didn’t click. He was exhausted.

“…know-it-all, saying, ‘He doesn’t like people who play with his heart.’ She knows nothing, and if I’d known–”

Oh? 

Junhee was the one who left him the soda. The boy inside the cupboard blinked at the drink. She must’ve escaped to the lounge and–

His stomach dropped.

“…not my fault her clothes are ugly. I had to throw them away…”

His gripped tightened on the can without knowing. They threw her clothes away too?

“The nation’s sweetheart? More like the nation’s retard–”

His muscles tensed on instinct. Flashes of the past flickered through his mind. Junhong felt sick as he recalled the name-callings both of them went through in high school. He remembered the bullying. He remembered the vile word spray painted blood-red on Junhee’s locker. Junhong remembered being furious for her, and then at her when he found out Junhee had known who the culprits were all along.

“What does she know about boys, anyway? Always singing songs about a guy she can’t have,” a girly voice nipped. Junhong’s heart quickened, as he carefully leaned forward, peeking through the gap in the middle. “…about stupid love that can’t ever last–”

He couldn’t see anything. So he slightly pushed the left panel, just enough for him to peek through. Blinking at the bright light, he squinted until his eyes were accustomed.

A girl in a red dress was the first thing he saw. She was examining herself in the mirror. Junhong’s eyes flickered towards the sofa. Junhee was still there, and he was sure that she was crying under the blanket. Junhong pursed his lips into one mute line, averting his eyes back to the other girl as guilt simmered through him.

“Let’s just get out of here,” the girl by the mirror said. Junhong almost backed away when she turned to face the closet. She didn’t seem to notice anything, so he kept watching. She looked familiar.

“We went to greet them but the hottest one wasn’t there. This is a nightmare,” the girl whined, stalking to the other side of the room where he couldn’t see her.

Oh, now he remembered, she was that girl who asked–

Junhong let out a scoff and leaned back against the cupboard again, an amuse smirk grazing his lips.

“At least you got to talk to him while we did the dirty work.”

‘…the hottest one wasn’t there.’ He chuckled coldly as the words repeated in his head. He his lips and spun the can of soda absently in his hand. What was her name, again? Zelo couldn’t quite recall. So they wanted him? He snorted at the thought.

Then something else flitted through his head. ‘He doesn’t like people who play with his heart.’ His smirk froze, as his brows slowly knitted. Did they hose Junhee for saying that?

Girls, Zelo rolled his eyes. She deserved to be hosed, he thought hotly. She’d always liked to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, he tried to convince himself. Troubles had always been like flies when it came to Choi Junhee. Her fault.

But Junhong’s skin crawled for blaming her.

A moment passed; the bassist was not sure if he had fallen asleep or had just been staring at the door, but now everything was quiet. Did they leave?

He peeked past the gap and blinked in surprise as he watched Junhee slowly unravel herself from the blanket, that was by now, drenched. Her hair was a mess, and he couldn’t see her face properly. She warily sat up, her shoulders trembling. A kind of numbness struck Junhong, and he felt his chest ache in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. He continued to watch as the girl he once knew pulled her knees to her chest, and curled herself up into a ball.

She was crying.

He had once wanted her to suffer as he did. He wanted to cause her that pain, and now that he did, he realised he didn’t like it at all. They said revenge was sweet, but why did it taste so bitter in his mouth? He could barely recall the words he said to her, but he was sure that they had hurt.

And even as dead as Junhong’s heart had been, it was starting to beat once again. He scrunched his eyes shut, telling himself to please remain dead. When that didn’t work, he merely shoved the fact away so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He would hate to think that, after all that had happened, he was still in love with her.

‘Oh, are you crying?’ He flinched at the way he had mocked her. ‘…you’d crawl all over me… beg me to kiss you back