A/N: Hey guys, I've graduated from high school! Hope you enjoy this chapter, though it's a bit anti-climatic, I guess.

Chapter 12

“This is important,” Jongdae speaks icily. Anybody could hear the bitterness laced in his words.

“Don’t you know anything about consent, Kim Jongdae? Cho obviously doesn’t want to talk, so leave her alone. Let’s go,” Minseok bites out and then softly says to the frozen girl in his arms. His limbs loosen but one arm stays wrapped around her shoulders and leads her away. On any other day, Cho would have shaken it off because she’s still not content with Minseok’s current state. But now, she really doesn’t want any confrontations with Jongdae. She’s not strong enough (more like she’s never strong enough for anything).

Cho looks back over her shoulder and sees Jongdae fostering a broken look in his eyes that she can see even in the dark. Pings of regret reverberate through her heart and lungs and she turns back around in a futile attempt to stop the pain. She drops her head on Minseok’s sturdy shoulder, exhausted, as they amble down the street. Inside, she is grateful for Minseok’s appearance, just like any friend would be.

“You’re going to be okay, I promise,” he murmurs and Cho flutters her eyes shut before nodding slowly, the material of his jacket rubbing against the area between her temple and cheek. And though she doesn’t feel anything romantic towards Minseok, she can tell the difference between him and Jongdae.

Jongdae never told her things were going to be okay. All he did was tell her that he was there for her, and while she was thankful for that, she couldn’t let a fairytale taint her realism.

-

They have silently made it to her apartment, Cho having her head rested on his shoulder the entire time on the bus ride home. Minseok had fiddled with her hand and while she should have been bothered, again, she just needed a friend and Minseok was exactly that.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” He inquires again as Cho unlocks her door. She looks back at him and sends him a grateful smile before patting him on the cheek. “I’ll be okay, baozi. Thank you for tonight.”

“What are friends for?” Minseok shrugs and hugs her before stepping back and waving goodbye. She returns the wave and paddles backwards into her apartment, closing the door in front of her when Minseok’s figure has disappeared down the hall and around the corner.

When the door is closed and she’s safe in her humble abode, the only thing she can think of is how much she desires some sleep. The exhaust sinks into her bones as her eyes fight to keep open, long enough for her to stumble her way towards the bedroom and automatically shuts when her shins hit the bedpost. At the contact, she all but collapses onto the comforter.

There are no dreams that night, and Cho is not too sure if she’s entirely thankful for that.

-

Senior year, 2010

“Jongdae, remind me again on how I’m playing mafia** with you?” Cho hisses with a water gun in her hands, cocked and ready to go. Jongdae is calmly driving through the streets, acting blissfully ignorant towards the car that’s been tailing behind them for a good ten minutes.

“Because I hired you as a hitman and nobody would never expect you to be one,” Jongdae replies in a matter-of-fact tone. “I don’t know if I should take that as an offense or not,” Cho grumbles, warily looking in her side mirror. Just a second later, water is projected onto the surface and she flinches back immediately.  She’s smart enough not to roll down her window and stick her head out like another team member who got shot in the face. It doesn’t count, according to the rules, but it was still stupid and idiotic because when it isn’t windy, you’re guaranteed to get hit. Somehow.

“Well, apparently, I’ve been found out and now we’re in a car chase around Katy,” Cho points and cowers into her seat as Jongdae smoothly maneuvers his Lexus through the roads. Two months ago, she would have never believed anyone who told her she’d be in this position.

Jongdae’s mouth falls open as his signature laugh rings through the air. It’s always pricked Cho in the heart a bit. His laugh is the kind of laugh that seems to make all the problems go away, the wind blow gently, the rain fall softly, the sun hide bashfully. Cho forces herself to look away from him and calm her heart while gazing intensely out the window, simultaneously looking out for anyone suspicious.

While she watches them speed by a Wal-mart, a warm and lithe hand falls onto her left knee and she looks at it in shock. Following the arm, stupidly because there could only be one person who has their hand on her knee, she sees that Jongdae is still looking towards the road. But he can undoubtedly feel her gaze on him, probably questioning his sanity and the hand on her knee squeezes briefly before returning to the steering wheel.

“Don’t worry,” Jongdae softly comforts, head turning to look at her with a gentle smile on his face. Cho loses what’s left of her breath as her hands clench tightly onto the water gun to keep her sanity in check. “I’m not going to let anyone kill you.”

‘There’s no need,’ Cho thinks to herself. ‘Because I’m already dead.’

If this were some romance action movie, she could imagine being the heroine that leans across the console and kisses him on the lips without a care in the world for the road ahead of them.

But this isn’t a movie. This isn’t a chick flick. This isn’t fanfiction. This is reality.

Cho composes herself and chuckles before scoffing. “Focus on the road, Dae. We’ve got a person to kill and a car to avoid.”

**Mafia is a game for upperclassmen in high school. As weapons, water guns and Sharpies are used. Sharpies are used strictly for assassination and must be a line across the front or back of a person’s neck. Teams are formed (with a Don and Godfather) and outside of school hours, you must “kill” as many people as possible for points. The team with the most points in the end, wins. There are many rules to the game because people constantly find loopholes, but in simpler words, the shot must be visible and the size of a quarter around the body area. The head does not count, hence why the shot mentioned earlier was said to not have counted as a “kill”. Disclaimer: Mafia is not my idea. You can Google it.

-

The October winds chill through the holes of Cho’s sweater as she makes her way to SM. It’s colder than ever before and she curses at the fact she left her beanie at home.

“You look beat, Cho,” Wei says through Skype and she smiles lethargically at the screen. “You can say I’ve had a bit of a crazy past few days,” Cho lilts and Wei can barely hear her speak.

“I think you should take a break. Go home, and I mean back to Texas, home,” he advises, the worry evident. “Are you going back for Thanksgiving? It’s in about a month.”

Cho frowns. “Chuseok was last month--oh, you mean American Thanksgiving. How’d you know? But no, I’m not going back. Your album is set for around Valentine’s Day, and I only have three songs completely done, two in rough draft mode, and one completely untouched. I don’t even know if I’m going back for Christmas and New Year.”

“That’s okay; I’m not going back home either.”

“Your parents live in Busan. You can just take the bus home. Also, why would you celebrate American Thanksgiving?”

“...Right. Sorry, I guess I was trying to make you feel better,” Wei sheepishly murmurs and Cho rolls her eyes. “Thank you for trying, but it’s not a big deal. I never went home for Thanksgiving during college so it’s not a big deal.”

Cho continues to scribble down stray lyrics whilst thinking of a rhythm for the last song. So far, her colleagues have liked her completed three songs and she also has approval from Sooman himself. With the whole Jongdae incident, she spat out the other two songs within a week and a half. Cho’s still hesitant on which song should be Wei’s title song but maybe she’ll let Sooman choose that one.

“How’s life for you, Wei?”

“Honestly...I think I’ve found a girl that I like.”

“Wait seriously?” Cho flies up from her seat. “You better spill or I will murder you through the screen.”

“Whoa whoa, a little hostile there, eh?” Wei exclaims while biting back a laugh. “She’s really pretty, also a good singer. She’s kind of soft, gentle, but she has her brash moments. She’s a mixture of everything and anything and it’s kind of hard to find that in a girl who’s not crazy.” Cho sighs and falls back into her seat with a grin on her face. “Wei, have you tried writing your own lyrics before?”

“Occasionally during high school, but that was high school.”

“I want you to come up with some lyrics and let me see them. I’ll give you until next week to see if they’re okay or not. Sooman might not want a rookie to write his own songs already. Jonghyun’s really good at writing lyrics so I’ll ask him to look over them for me. He’s writing some for his own album and wrote a song for Taemin’s.”

“Do you think I can do it?”

“Wei, sometimes, you talk like an author would write. I think if you put some pure emotion into it, they’ll turn out great. Really.”

“...all right. I’ll get you a rough draft by next week then.”

“It’s just an experiment, so don’t stress over it too much, ok?”

“Got it.”

-

“Has Jongdae tried contacting you?”

“A bit,” Cho murmurs over a mouthful of cake. Minseok’s on the phone with you, for once not by Yeonhee’s side. “I’ve just been kind of curt, which I should feel bad for because he’s been nothing but a sweetheart, but I don’t think he’s the one for me.”

“Do you think he likes you in that sense?”

“Honestly, there were times where I thought he did, but then his past reminds me that he’s like that with everyone. Maybe he’s changed, or maybe he hasn’t. It’d be dangerous to find out, no?” Cho asks while positioning the phone between her ear and shoulder as she cleans up her plates from the coffee table. She turns on the water to a medium level so she can still Minseok over the sound of the running faucet and picks up the detergent bottle to squeeze out a small dollop onto the sponge.

“If he’s worth taking the risk, then I’d say go for it.”

“Yah, when’d you get so philosophical?” Cho chuckles and lathers her plate and fork with soap suds, sponge scrubbing over the porcelain and steel surfaces. “Has Yeonhee made you this way?”

“Shut up, Cho.”

“You know you’ll never live this down, right?” Cho teases as she runs the dishes under the faucet, almost hissing when she feels how hot the water’s gotten. It only spurs her to finish the chore faster. Once the plate and fork are clean, she sets them outside for it to dry overnight and wets her dishcloth before wringing it and ambling back over to the coffee table.

“What should I do? About Yeonhee, I mean.”

“I already told you,” she reminds him as she wipes down the coffee table and walks back to the sink to wash the dishcloth again. Once it’s wringed as much as it possibly can, she spreads it out and folds it into a neat square before setting it on the edge of the sink. Her hands are dried on a different, much drier cloth, and the right hand catches the phone as it slips from under her ear. “Learn how to say no, focus on class, and stop obeying her every beck and call.”

“But that’s so hard,” Minseok childishly whines and Cho huffs, annoyed by what seems like a very easy alternative. “Oh, by the way, Mom wants you to come over for Christmas. You’re not going home, right?”

“Yeah,” Cho confirms sullenly. She just asked about it yesterday after Wei agreed to try writing lyrics. “I don’t have enough break to go home this year, but they’ll give me time off  once Wei’s album is complete and he’s debuted.”

“Yeah, so come over for dinner. Mom’s making tiramisu, too.”

Cho makes garbling noises and groans because Minseok is completely aware of how weak she is for his mother’s homemade tiramisu. Christmas is approximately two months away and Cho would like tiramisu now. Cake is always for whenever and wherever.

“Please don’t eat all of it before I get there,” Cho pleads imploringly.

“Tch,” Minseok scoffs. “As if Mom would let me.”

She thinks he’s getting better.

-

Jongdae isn’t used to chasing after the girl.

He’s so used to girls chasing after him, lingering around him in hopes that he might feel something more than friendship for them. It sounds arrogant and conceited, but he’s never really had to work hard before. Many things have been handed to him on a silver platter, and somehow, he’s made it through the worst parts of life.

It’s frustrating, really, to get in contact with Cho. She never picks up his phone calls anymore and her texts are very brief. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong or why she’s obviously avoiding him. A blind and deaf man could tell that she was doing everything she could to stay away from him.

In other words, he’s really close to just storming up to the SM building, rake through every floor until he finds her and demand an answer. He’s aggravated and irritated because this is the first time that a girl he’s really liked is not always finding an excuse to be near him.

Jongdae’s blood boils as he remembers the way Minseok protectively held an arm around her body that fateful night outside the bar. Minseok’s eyes gave everything away, and so did his probably. Minseok looked as if he’d go to the ends of hell to keep Cho away from him, and Jongdae wanted to do everything to keep her away from Minseok. He was the one that threw Cho away first, and Jongdae was there to catch her.

He’s never forgiven Minseok for the turmoil he put Cho through. Cho may be forgiving, but she was emotionally scarred after everything Minseok had done. Why she let Minseok protect her from him puzzled him greatly. Wasn’t she mad at him just last week? Did they make up? She never mentioned anything, but then again, she never really spoke to him after she left his apartment while he was showering.

Jongdae growls slightly and ruffles his hair before falling back into the sofa, right hand tossing the pen away onto the coffee table. He watches and hears it clatter against the silver surface, completely at loss of what to do. The blank pages of his journal glare at him mockingly, almost questioning his ability to do his old hobbies.

Poetry, lyrics, things that used to come so easily to him, are now taken away from him because of one thing. Or one person he should say.

And that person goes by the name Jung Cho.

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