Jongin always understood me the best, even when we were kids.

The party was in full swing, and laugher touched even the shadows I clung to as I made my way to Jongin. I didn't think, I wasn't—just knew that I wasn't happy. And that I needed Jongin.

He was in a corner, listening politely to the excited chatter from a wide-eyed, awestruck junior I recognized as Seungwan or Seulgi's friend. Yeri? Yerim? I couldn't remember, but I recognized the brightness in her eyes and the rapt attention in her expression, and I understood, because that had been me, once. Perhaps still.

I shrunk back, not wanting to interrupt, but he glanced up and spotted me, his eyes narrowing as he took in my expression. 

"Arang," he made a gesture, calling me over.

I shook my head, smiling, moving away, but to my dismay, he followed, excusing himself politely. The poor girl watched him go with a crestfallen look, and I heaved an internal sigh as Jongin joined me. 

"Don't ditch her for me."

He shrugged, but caught Jackson who was passing by, and sent him off towards the girl's direction with instructions to keep her company. Jackson nodded amicably, and set off with a friendly grin and a wave at me. I waved back, smiling. I was sure it would be little comfort for the girl, but at least she would have good company. 

"Did you see Sehun anywhere?" Jongin asked offhandedly from beside me. Questioning. 

"He was in the kitchen." I tried to make it sound light, but by the knowing look in his eyes, I wasn't fooling him. 

"Hmm." He stretched, casual. "Do you want to go home?"

I considered it for a moment. "Yes," I finally said, trying to keep my voice steady. Jongin always knew what to do. "I would."

I hugged Seulgi and Seungwan, making sure to pinch Seulgi in the side with a muttered threat that she was going to get it the next time we had some privacy before going to say goodbye to Jinri and Soojung. Soojung looked at me, long and searching, before squeezing my hand silently and telling Jongin to make sure I got home safe. I could feel the weight of her gaze on my back long after we stepped out of the front door. 

The sun had disappeared below the rooftops a long time ago, and the sky was a deep, dark shade of velvety blue streaked with blushes of golden-pink as Jongin shoved his hands in his pockets, guiding me through the long winding streets. 

He was silent, and I was thankful for that.

We took the bus together, and as always, he was seated by the window, and I sat in the seat next to the aisle. 

“You look really tired."

I smiled tiredly. “It was—fun. Soojung’s party.”

Jongin’s voice was soft; the bus was nearly empty. “How was it?”

I knew what he was asking about.

“Fine,” I said tersely before sighing, trying to force all the tension from my body, making myself relax and repeating myself with a smile. “Fine. He was my best friend—our best friend—of course it’s good to have him back.”

He reached out, patting my head gently, and I exhaled again, leaning into his touch. 

“Are you okay?” He asked the question in the heavy, gentle way he tended to ask me when I was upset, like I would fall into pieces any moment. 

“I’m okay,” I replied. I wondered if he would know what to do if I answered him honestly; he asked out of concern, because he loved me and it was, in more ways than one, letting me know that he cared for me. Even the girls asked me that sometimes when I was staring at a returned math test with an awful mark, or when I came to school mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted after a late night hospital visit, but perhaps, Jongin was the only one who knew when I was being honest. And perhaps, Jongin was the only one who would actually know what to do with a real answer. 

This time he pressed. “How are you, really.”

“Really, I'm okay.” I laughed this time, rolling my eyes. “Seriously, Jongin. I just need some sleep.”

“You do,” he said with a sharp glance, presumably at the dark circles under my eyes, “But. Did you fight with Sehun?”

"Something like that." I turned my head away, hoping he would get the hint. Well, he would get it. The question was if he would take it.

“Hey.” His voice was as gentle as his fingers on my hair. “Tell me about it.”

I remained silent, only exhaling a deep sigh that I hoped conveyed the message that I didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Arang.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said finally, trying to make my voice less sharp than it normally would have been. This was Jongin. If anything else, Jongin deserved patience. 

“You guys always fought,” he mused, crossing his arms, and I sighed again, louder and more pointedly but he ignored me anyway. “You two used to fight like cats and dogs even when we were kids. I think you bit him more than once.”

I smiled at that. Grudgingly.

“I always won in the end."

“You would sit on him if you didn’t,” Jongin said wryly, “They were hollow victories at best.”

“Really?” I laughed, amused despite myself. “I don’t remember that.”

“People tend to only remember the good things after awhile." His tone was mild, but the weight of his words pressed down on the air between us.

I looked away from the double meaning in his words. 

“He’s—well, it’s good to have him back,” I repeated lamely. I shrugged. “We didn't really fight. I mean, it was mostly me getting angry at him for not answering my messages or calls for the past three years." I chuckled ruefully, recalling how Sehun had stayed calm even when I raised my voice at him. It had infuriated me then, but now I just felt ashamed of my temper. "I just feel dumb thinking about it now."

"You don't have to feel apologetic for that, you know. Your anger is understandable....for that, at least."

I looked up, surprised. Jongin was always the one who had to urge me to cool off and think about whatever I said or did in a fit of temper. "Well. It’s no big deal. You said it yourself. We used to fight all the time, it’ll be alright after awhile. It always is.”

That was true. I had been friends with Sehun for about thirteen years now and we used to spend more than half of that time fighting about stupid, petty things. Dumb arguments. Some didn’t last an hour, others stretched on for weeks. It was how our friendship, the two of us, worked. Somehow. 

“I can’t believe you fought with him on the very first day you see him after three years.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh, but somehow, I got the sense that he had expected it.

I shrugged again, scratching at the peeling polish on my nail. I would have to remove it soon. School was starting soon. My stomach fell at the thought. I would have to face Sehun every day from now on.

But, no. Why shoul