Hongki liked to think his heart was impenetrable.

 

He liked to imagine that he'd become immune to everything that made people weak underneath the burning gaze of love and longing. He liked to believe that he could control his feelings, that he had locked away his heart and buried it so far underground that no one could ever, ever hope to find it. He lived his life separated from his heart, denying that he still felt, denying that he still longed for the crimson threads of love to show him he was still human, that he was connected to the heart of another.

 

It was days like these when Hongki was reminded of the aching hole in his heart, the one that grew from the darkness and left him reeling in a void of loneliness. The heart that used to dream, the heart that had loved, it felt so far away. Hongki couldn't even remember what it was like to be in love, to feel whole, to be driven solely by the desire to see that special person and know, without a single shade of doubt, they were it—the only one.

 

It was days like these when Hongki woke up alone and inexplicably cold. It didn't matter how hot the shower ran, or how long the scalding water trickled down his back and reddened his skin, he still felt cold inside. His heart ached, drowning in suppressed loneliness. Even now, years later, there was still that pain, the persistent ache, the feeling of emptiness. A shadow had been cast over Hongki's heart, and he didn't know how to get rid of it.

 

The bathroom was hot, hotter than it ever should be, and humid from steam. It was suffocating, like being smothered in a thick smog without oxygen. Hongki ran a hand across the foggy mirror, finding his cheeks flushed, his skin red, and dark circles under his eyes. Running his fingers through his long locks, he nearly allowed a pitiful attempt at a smile.

 

He could pretend he didn't feel pain, that his heart didn't cry out in loneliness every night. He could lie to everyone, put on a brave face, and make everyone believe he was nothing more than a cheeky punk with a peculiar knack for back-sass. It was such an automatic response, to sass anyone and everyone.

 

It was almost involuntary, pretending that he was okay, that he was strong, that he was indestructible.

 

The mask rarely came off, even in the privacy of his own apartment, but there was still a part of him that hoped, that craved for someone to look past all the back-talk and sarcasm and realize that he was just a person who had forgotten how to be happy.

 

Because even if Hongki didn't want to admit it, he knew he wasn't indestructible. He knew his heart wasn't impenetrable. He knew that one day, someone would try to unearth the heart he had hidden so well, but why, oh why was it Jonghun's name that kept echoing so distantly in the back of his mind?

 

 

 

><><><><

 

 

 

Minhwan watched as Jonghun paced back and forth in the practice room, pausing in his steps every so often only to mumble himself, run his hands through his hair and continue pacing, occasionally kicking the various objects that got in his way. Minhwan, of course, chose to stay in his little corner, safely hidden behind his drum set as he waited for either Seunghyun to come back from his suspiciously long adventure to the restroom, or for Jonghun to calm down.

 

Whichever would happen first, Minhwan wasn't quite sure. Right now, he was thinking he could probably swim to China and back before any of them finally got around to practicing. They hadn't even played through one song, causing the drummer to wonder if it was a lost cause. He definitely could have slept in this morning, he thought to himself longingly.

 

Jaejin, on the other hand, remained calmly sitting on the floor, bass in hand, as his gaze followed Jonghun's figure across the room. Sighing, Jaejin then tuned to Minhwan and asked, “How long has he been like this?”

 

Minhwan shrugged. “Since last night.”

 

“Did he even sleep?”

 

“I don't know,” Minhwan murmured, pursing his lips in thought. “If he did, it wasn't for very long. I went to bed around 2, and he was still up then, so...”

 

The words trailed off, and Minhwan could only shrug at Jaejin before looking back at Jonghun. He'd stopped pacing, only now he had fallen into a crouch, paper in hand as he ripped it to shreds. Over and over, he ripped it until the tiny pieces lay scattered in front of him like a pile of hamster bedding, a sneer on his face as he continued grumbling under his breath.

 

Minhwan looked at him pitifully. Seeing his leader like this, it was almost embarrassing. A small, bright pink bandage was stuck across the bridge of his nose, a comical sight, but Minhwan could only worry for the well being of Jonghun's sanity—if he still had any, Minhwan wasn't quite sure. If this kept up for much longer, Minhwan was going to start considering looking up all the city's therapists.

 

Jonghun wasn't always this crazy, was he?

 

Minhwan certainly didn't imagine all those times the band had returned late at night to an empty fridge at their dorm, only to wake up in the morning and find it fully stocked with everyone's favorites. Minhwan certainly wasn't dreaming when, after Seunghyun's amp broke and was thrown out of the practice room, it magically showed up outside his bedroom door, good as new.

 

The thought made Minhwan smile a little.

 

Jonghun, always so stubborn, so full of pride. He always did those kinds of things secretly, and then denied having anything to do with it. He'd always been like that, taking care of them when no one was looking, giving them what they wanted only when their backs were turned.

 

Indeed, Minhwan knew him too well.

 

Jonghun, as prickly and difficult to please as he was, looked after the band in his own strange ways. It didn't matter how much the people around them hated Jonghun, or how often they called him spoiled and heartless, Minhwan knew that Jonghun wasn't as bad as people made him out to be. Not really, in any case.

 

“Hyung,” Jaejin called when Jonghun found yet another paper to rip apart. “You should just apologize to him.”

 

Jonghun's dark gaze settled on Jaejin's face. "Apologize? Why should I apologize? I didn't do anything wrong!” The words were accompanied with a dramatic toss of the shredded paper in his hands, causing the little pieces to flit around his head like artificial snowflakes before they fell downward—some falling to his shoulder, and others sticking to his hair.

 

Jaejin shot him a meaningful look. “The way you've been pacing, muttering to yourself, and generally acting crazy says otherwise. Just apologize to him. He'll probably forgive you. Maybe,” he added as an afterthought, to which Jonghun replied by narrowing his eyes.

 

“I'm not apologizing,” Jonghun said stubbornly, this time as he stood to his feet and placed a theatrical hand over his chest as though he'd been wronged. “He's the one who provoked me.”

 

Jaejin sighed. “Your pride will be the death of you.”

 

Jonghun made a face but didn't respond to the comment, opting only to turn around and rummage through a cardboard box full of sheet music. Whether he was looking for more paper to shred or an old song they'd long since forgotten about, Minhwan couldn't tell. Still, there was one thing that bothered the drummer. Brow furrowing in thought, Minhwan turned to Jaejin.

 

“Jaejin, what exactly did Jonghun do?”

 

“Oh, you didn't hear?” Jaejin replied, before looking back at Jonghun loudly proclaiming, “Apparently our leader thinks Hongki is a dirty who sleeps with people for money.”

 

Minhwan's eyes widened. “Hyung!” he nearly whined at Jonghun. “You called him a e? No wonder he was so mad yesterday.”

 

Jonghun spun around, his gaze blazing with fire. “I did not! Stop twisting the story!” Running a hand through his hair, he then let out a growl of frustration. “Where the hell is Seunghyun? He said he was going to the bathroom half an hour ago! That brat just wants to skip practice.”

 

Minhwan shrugged. “Knowing him, he's probably looking for more gossip to spread.”

 

“That brat!” Jonghun exploded. “I'll kill him!”

 

He stormed out of the practice room, slamming the door shut behind him. Jaejin sighed and shook his head, his gaze flicking up to Minhwan's face. “You know, sometimes I think you say things just to watch Jonghun explode. You secretly like creating mischief, don't you?”

 

“Maybe a little,” Minhwan admitted, though his mischievous smile faded a bit as a thought occurred to him a brief moment later. “But, you know, it's weird.”

 

Jaejin looked at him oddly. “What is?”

 

“Hongki. He really drives Jonghun crazy, doesn't he?”

 

“Jonghun's already crazy,” the bassist pointed out.

 

“True. But Hongki makes him extra crazy, don't you think?”

 

Jaejin's brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

 

“Nothing,” Minhwan murmured, sighing a little as he glanced at the door. “I just thought it was weird.” Jaejin merely shrugged at him, and Minhwan could only frown in thought as he looked down as his drums.

 

He knew he wasn't crazy; there was definitely something very weird about the way Hongki and Jonghun interacted with one another. Minhwan couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something odd about the way Jonghun looked at him, a strange spark that formed in his dark gaze whenever someone so much as mentioned Hongki. What was it? What emotion was it that stirred such a strange response in Minhwan's chest?

 

The thought spun around his head for a moment, before he came to a shocking realization.

 

Jonghun couldn't have—

 

Minhwan shook his head, pushing away the thought.

 

No, that was a silly thing to imagine. Jonghun didn't see Hongki like that. He didn't like him in that way. He couldn't.

 

...Could he?

 

 

 

><><><><

 

 

 

Out in the hall, Jonghun's footsteps angrily pattered against the floor. He opened every door he could find, sticking his head inside and searching for that skinny string bean. Every time, he found neither hide nor hair of that far too playful guitarist, prompting Jonghun to scowl and slam the doors shut so hard they echoed in the corridors.

 

“That brat, where is he?” He grumbled to himself, making his way down the hall. He paused once he reached the company break room, wondering if Seunghyun had perhaps decided to sneak himself some coffee—as if he even needed caffeine, that hyperactive dope—but Jonghun immediately turned around and made a face when he found only a handful of people, but no Seunghyun.

 

“You know, I still can't believe that Lee Hongki works here,” were the words that made Jonghun stop dead in his tracks. Spinning around, he slunk close to the wall, peeking around the doorway and narrowing his eyes at who had spoken—Lee Jonghyun. So he was back from Japan, was he?

 

“It's weird, isn't it?” Yonghwa replied, casually sipping at his coffee. “Us and Hongstar under the same company. It doesn't quite add up, does it?”

 

Jonghun's brow furrowed at the words.

 

Not Hongki, but Hongstar? Is that what he let his friends call him? And hold on, how did he know Jonghyun anyway? Were they childhood friends? Did they all go to the same school or something? Nothing made sense anymore.

 

Jonghyun chuckled fondly. “I still remember the time he drop-kicked you for running off with his ginger cookies. He chased you all around the school until you hit a dead end.”

 

Yonghwa smiled, somewhat painfully. “Yeah, and then he sat on me and ate every single one of those cookies.”

 

“Ah, classic Hongki. He was so small, but damn could he fly,” Jonghyun laughed, before shaking his head. “It always was more fun with him around, you know. Is it true that you're the one who pulled the strings to get him a job here?”

 

“That's only partially true,” Yonghwa sighed. “The CEO had his eye on him years ago, but the timing wasn't right. And you know how Hongki was back then. He never went anywhere without Wonbin, and the company only wanted Hongki.”

 

The words made Jonghun scowl. The company only wanted Hongki? What was that supposed to mean? Jonghun already had a feeling there was something fishy about Hongki's employment here, but this just confirmed it. What did the CEO want with Hongki? More importantly, who was Wonbin?

 

“Wonbin,” Jonghyun murmured. “It was horrible, what happened to him.”

 

Yonghwa hummed his agreement, and then sighed a little. “Hongki's never been the same. I look at him, and it's like his soul has been ripped right out of him.”

 

“He was there, wasn't he? When it happened?” Yonghwa nodded, and Jonghyun blew a puff of air through his lips. “Wow, I can't imagine what that must have been like for him.”

 

“He doesn't talk about it.”

 

“Can you blame him?” Jonghyun shot back. “I wouldn't want to talk about it either. Hell, I think about it, and it just makes me so furious. Wonbin didn't deserve to die like that. No one deserves to die like that.”

 

Yonghwa sighed again. “I'm worried about him, Jonghyun.

 

“Why? He's been okay, right? I mean, I'm sure he talks to you about it. You've always been closer with him than I have.”

 

“He won't share those things with me,” Yonghwa murmured, somewhat dejectedly. “I don't think he shares it with anyone. Wonbin was the only one he ever really opened up to, but now that he's gone, Hongki's just—”

 

“Alone?” Jonghyun offered.

 

Yonghwa sighed. “I guess he feels that without Wonbin, he has no one.”

 

“I wouldn't worry too much,” said Jonghyun, this time as he offered a smile. “Hongki's strong, he'll get through it.”

 

“I sure hope so.”

 

With that, the conversation drifted, and suddenly a silence had fallen upon the room. Jonghun merely stood there for a moment, dramatically pressed against the wall like a secret agent. His head spun with all this new information, but he found himself unable to move. So the CEO had an agenda behind hiring Hongki, though Jonghun hadn't the slightest idea what. The man wanted something from him, that much was certain, and it filled Jonghun with rage.

 

More than that, it was the mention of Wonbin, and the way Yonghwa spoke of him and Hongki that made Jonghun inexplicably angry. “It's like his soul has been ripped right out of him.” Those words, they echoed in the back of his head. Was that why Hongki never smiled? Why he never laughed? Was that person, Wonbin, who had left this world, the reason why Hongki was always so unhappy?

 

Was he the one who took away Hongki's smile?

 

Jonghun suddenly found himself in a frenzy. Yonghwa talked so easily about Hongki, about his personal life, but hadn't done a single thing to help him. And Yonghwa called himself a friend? He was just gossiping! How dare he have the nerve to say he was worried about Hongki. If he really worried about him, he'd do something about it.

 

Jonghun pushed himself off the wall.

 

“Jung Yonghwa!” He barked as he angrily strode up to him in the break room, watching as the young manager jumped and spun around, coffee mug in hand as his hands reflexively reached up to protect his face.

 

“It was an accident, I swear!” he cried out, coffee sloshing in every direction, to which Jonghun responded by making a face.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Sorry,” Yonghwa cleared his throat and lowered his hands, smiling sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Knee jerk reaction. Wait, why is your face like that?”

 

“That's not important,” Jonghun brushed off, before leant close to Yonghwa and narrowed his eyes in accusation. “You're really chummy with Hongki, right?”

 

“Um, yes?” Yonghwa asked more than stated, inching backward as though he were afraid Jonghun might hit him. “I mean, we've known each other for years, and even though we weren't really friends at first, we—”

 

“Never mind that!” hissed Jonghun, this time as he grabbed Yonghwa by his shirt collar. Yonghwa's eyes widened as he struggled against Jonghun's grip, but Jonghun merely held him tighter. “What does he like?”

 

Yonghwa blinked at him, and suddenly he stopped struggling. “Eh?”

 

“What does Lee Hongki like?” Jonghun repeated impatiently, shaking Yonghwa a little. He really didn't have the patience to play guessing games, and he was certain Yonghwa was playing stupid on purpose.

 

Yonghwa's brow knit together. “That is a really broad question, can you be a little more specific?”

 

“What. Does. He. Like.” Jonghun said through clenched teeth, his gaze flaring.

 

“Oh, yes, that's much clearer, thank you,” Yonghwa said weakly, clearing his throat as he shrunk back a little. “Um, well, Hongki likes a lot of things. Food, animals, music, nail art is a big one, as is fashion. If you're looking for something a little less obvious, he really likes strawberry cheesecake, and shopping, and going to the beach—”

 

Jonghun grimaced. “What is he, a girl?”

 

“Don't be fooled. Hongki has his, uh, shall we say, femininities, but he's still a man, and he's not delicate. Treat him like a princess and he'll probably beat you up for it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He has this thing about people taking care of him,” Yonghwa sighed. “I don't really understand it. It's like he's been programmed against accepting help form other people. Him and his damn pride. But, Jonghun,” Yonghwa cocked his head to the side, looking curiously at Jonghun. “Why are you so curious about Hongki?”

 

“I'm not!” Jonghun hissed, perhaps a bit too defensively.

 

“Then why are you asking so many Hongki questions?”

 

“Isn't it obvious?” sang a far too cheerful voice, and immediately a pair of arms found their way around Jonghun's shoulders. “Hyung likes Hongki.”

 

“Don't spread around baseless nonsense!” Jonghun hissed at Seunghyun, releasing his hold on Yonghwa and shrugging out of Seunghyun's grasp. Jonghun narrowed his eyes at the tall boy. “Where the hell have you been anyway?”

 

“It's not baseless,” Seunghyun shrugged, completely ignoring the question. “The only thing you seem to talk about these days is Hongki. Always complaining about him, muttering to yourself, glaring at people who get close to him. He's really rustled your jimmies, hasn't he?”

 

“That's... That's just...” Jonghun struggled for his words for a moment, before he scowled at Seunghyun. “Who says things like that? That's just stupid!”

 

“Is it?” Seunghyun challenged, though the smile didn't fade. “Then what about you declaring on television that Hongki is yours? Were you not so overwrought with jealousy that you just couldn't stand to see other people talking to him? Or, I guess in this case, about him.”

 

“I was being funny!” Jonghun shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

 

Seunghyun grinned mischievously. “You sounded serious to me.”

 

“Don't you have something more productive to do with your time?” Jonghun barked, to which Seunghyun responded with that ever mischievous grin of his.

 

“Maybe, but this is so much more fun. Which reminds me,” Seunghyun's eyes danced with a playful gleam. “I heard something really interesting on my way to the bathroom, and I need to tell someone before I explode.”

 

“Nobody cares about your obsessive need to gossip about every little thing. We're leaving.” Jonghun grabbed Seunghyun's arm, fully intending to drag him all the way back to the practice room.

 

“But hyung,” he whined. “It's about Hongki.”

 

Jonghun paused mid-step, spinning around to face Seunghyun. “What did you hear?”

 

Seunghyun's smile became smug, and he knew he had successfully pushed Jonghun's buttons. “I hear the big boss man wants to use him as a vocal guide. I heard him talking to the witch—I mean Director Kim, and he was very insistent about getting him to record some guide tracks.”

 

“Can that brat even sing?” Jonghun grimaced, before snapping his head over at Yonghwa, who had started laughing to himself. “What? Why are you laughing?”

 

“Can Hongki sing?” Yonghwa echoed, shaking his head as he smiled a little. “Jonghun, you have no idea. Lee Hongki is... He's kind of brilliant, actually.”

 

Jonghun scoffed. “Brilliant? I don't believe that.”

 

“If you ever heard him sing, you'd understand,” murmured Yonghwa, and Jonghun could only stare at him. “You hear his voice, and it's like the entire world just stops. You sit there, and you can't help but wonder who is this? Where is this voice coming from? Then, the more you listen, the more your heart hurts. Hongki has this effect on people. He'll make you smile, he'll make you cry. He'll make you feel everything he feels.”

 

Jonghun made a face. “That is the corniest thing I have ever heard.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose it is really corny,” admitted Yonghwa, though his smile still remained. “But it doesn't make it any less true. Hongki has a gift. But he gave up that gift, and now he refuses to sing at all.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don't know, because... reasons? I know a big part has to do with—Ah, I really shouldn't say anything to you. He'll kill me for bringing it up again.”

 

“You already brought it up, so spit it out!” Jonghun snapped.

 

“I can't!” Yonghwa insisted, before a look of realization flashed across his face. “Wait, don't you two have practice?”

 

 

 

><><><><

 

 

 

It was sometime after 9 o'clock that night when Jonghun collapsed in an angry huff on a chair inside FT Triple's personal practice room. A vast array of sheet music lay scattered across the floor, music stands knocked over, cables yanked out and strewn in every direction. Running a hand through his hair, he threw his head against the back of the chair and let out a noise of frustration, scowling up at the ceiling.

 

Truthfully, this happened quite often.

 

Whenever Jonghun was left alone. Whenever the silence engulfed him, it left him with nothing to drown out the nagging voice in the back of his head. The voice that constantly pestered him, the voice that seemed to appear every time he picked up a guitar. It was the voice that wondered if any of this was worth it. The voice that wondered if Jonghun was worth it, if this life he'd chosen was worth all the he swam through just to be here.

 

He'd built up so many walls, burnt so many bridges.

 

Was it really worth it in the end?

 

Was it really worth turning his back on his family, chasing after a dream he wasn't even sure he had anymore? He'd been ambitious, so foolishly ambitious. He wanted to be on top of the world, but now that he was there, he still wasn't happy.

 

Why?

 

Why did he still feel so empty? This was his world, so why didn't he feel the slightest bit happy with it?

 

More than that, why did he feel especially miserable today? All day, he'd been restless, antsy, unable to sit still for even a moment's time. He could lie and say it had nothing to do with Hongki, but he knew, somewhere deep down, it had everything to do with him. Jonghun hadn't heard from him all day. He hadn't even seen him since he stormed out of the bathroom the previous day.

 

Jonghun groaned and ran his rands over his face.

 

Damn it.

 

Why wouldn't it stop nagging at him?

 

Why couldn't he get Hongki out of his head? Of all the people in the world, why was it Hongki that tugged at his frozen heart? Watching people fawn over him, watching them smile at the mere mention of his name, reminiscing about the good old days, and Yonghwa... Jonghun couldn't stand it.

 

“Hyung likes Hongki.”

 

Seunghyun's previous words suddenly echoed in the back of his mind, and Jonghun immediately shook his head, shooing away the thought. No, he didn't like Hongki. He couldn't. Anyone but him. Jonghun would accept anyone but him.

 

Someone like Hongki...

 

Why should Jonghun like someone as mouthy as Hongki?

 

It was impossible. A ridiculous thought.

 

And yet, the nagging was still there, tugging at his heart, pulling at his innermost thoughts. Denial chanted its obnoxious tune in the depths of his heart, echoing in his chest, dancing all the way to his head. It infuriated him, the thought of Hongki being elsewhere, somewhere that wasn't with him. The idea of him laughing with someone else, smiling at someone else, spending his time with everyone that wasn't Jonghun, it all sent his blood boiling.

 

Jonghun abruptly stood to his feet, his chair falling over at the sudden movement.

 

No.

 

He wouldn't allow it.

 

Lee Hongki was his stylist.

 

Jonghun didn't share anything with anyone, and he most certainly wasn't going to share Hongki either. Hongki was his, and he was damn well going to make sure that he and everyone else in the world knew that Lee Hongki was off limits.

 

The only question was...

 

Where could he find some strawberry cheesecake?

 

 

 

><><><><

 

 

 

When Hongki returned home that night, he was more than ready to crawl into bed and fall into dream world for the next few years. The entire day had been a total drag, the hours crawling at a snail's pace. Hongki nearly caught himself wishing for Jonghun's presence, and for one of those idiotic shenanigans he always seemed to have up his sleeve. It seemed so odd, working without having Jonghun around to bother him.

 

As quickly as this thought appeared, however, Hongki pushed it out of his mind completely. Maybe Hongki was the crazy one, for wishing Jonghun was normal. For hoping that for one split second, Jonghun wouldn't act as though he'd been completely consumed by insanity. He was so vain, so short tempered, and Hongki mentally cursed himself for letting Jonghun get into his head like this.

 

Hongki had just climbed the stairs to his apartment when he found someone in front of his apartment again. Gritting his teeth, Hongki stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his bag. He was getting real tired of this. Hadn't he run off enough weirdos already? How many more were going to come meandering up to his doorstep?

 

Bracing himself against the wall, Hongki removed one of his shoes and immediately chucked it down the hall. He watched as it hit the dark haired stranger in the head, quite satisfied with himself, and promptly removed his other shoe. Had Hongki been paying more attention, perhaps he would have recognized the man before hitting him with his shoes.

 

“Ow! What the hell, Hongki?” He hissed as he rubbed his head, the voice not quite registering until Hongki was in the midst of throwing his second shoe. “Did you just throw your shoes at me?!”

 

“Jonghun?” Hongki blinked at him, arm poised to throw, but immediately grimaced as he took in the sight of his attire. He wore a surgical mask and medical gloves, causing Hongki to wonder just the what hell he was up to, creeping around his apartment like this. “Are you handling toxic waste? What's with that getup?”

 

Jonghun said nothing, his dark gaze focused intently on Hongki's face as he held out a little cardboard box.

 

Hongki stared at him. “What's this?”

 

“For you.”

 

“You expect me to take something from you when you look like you just got back from examining a crime scene?” Hongki sputtered, before he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I'm not playing this game anymore.”

 

“Just shut up and take it, will you?!” Jonghun hissed.

 

Hongki made a face. “Why should I?”

 

“I said take it!” He shoved the box into Hongki's hands, his dark gaze burning with fire, before he stormed right past Hongki and disappeared down the hall. For a moment, Hongki merely stood and stared in the direction Jonghun had left, the mysterious box in his hands, before he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

 

“Why is he so weird?” Hongki mumbled to himself, his gaze flicking down to the box. Pursing his lips, he carefully examined the box for anything suspicious, narrowing his eyes in question as he held it up to one of his ears, listening for any unwanted ticking. It wasn't going to explode, right?

 

Jonghun wasn't that much of a psycho, was he?

 

Sighing, Hongki gingerly opened the box anyway, expecting another manifestation of Jonghun's shenanigans. What he found instead, however, surprised him far more than any scheme Jonghun could have ever concocted. Inside was a single piece of cheesecake. Strawberry cheesecake.

 

Hongki could only stare at it for a moment, wondering if he was perhaps hallucinating. This certainly didn't seem like the kind of thing Jonghun would do, and as Hongki's eyes caught sight of a little note stuck to the inside of the lid, he found himself reaching for it without really thinking about it.

 

Sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean what I said.

 

“Idiot,” Hongki grumbled. “He won't even say it to my face.”

 

Still, Hongki couldn't help but feel the slightest bit touched. It was such a small thing to be swayed by, so silly and insignificant, but as Hongki looked from the note in his hand, and to the cake in the box, he couldn't help but smile a little.

 

Maybe Jonghun had a conscience after all.

 

However, as Hongki turned the note over, he found there was something written on the back as well.

 

Lee Hongki. You're mine now.

 

“You've got to be kidding me,” Hongki scoffed as he crumpled the note in the palm of his hand and stepped inside his apartment. The smile faded, and Hongki suddenly felt like an idiot for thinking Jonghun was sincere enough to trek all the way to Hongki's apartment just to apologize.

 

Conscience or not, Jonghun was still Jonghun.

 

Hongki looked down at the cake.

 

It wasn't poisoned, was it?

 

 

 

><><><><

 

 

I apologize for the late update.
I meant to have this up last week, but I've been sick and unable to do much except sleep.


Next chapter is already about half done, so I'm hoping for a quick update. :)
Thank you all so much for the support you've shown. This fic is receiving so much love, and it really makes my day to know you're enjoyng my stories. So thank you :)