It's been said that humans have an average of fifty to seventy thousand thoughts a day. 

Today Luhan is one of them. It's fleeting, momentary, almost too quick to register before it's buried by other things - groceries running low, the growing pile of work on his desk, a mental note to pick up dry cleaning on Tuesday, did I remember to lock the door before leaving the apartment? But that's all he is. A split second reverie, an incomplete thought, a wisp in the wind, intangible, out of reach.

Jongin is at a company party on a Friday night after work, celebrating the recent successful merger. The house is full of drunk laughter and clinking glasses sloshing with expensive champagne. Jongin finds himself in a corner, uninterested with the empty banter between his colleagues. He gazes into the empty glass in his hands, as if it might refill itself if he stares hard enough. Or maybe he’s just pretending not to notice the riveted look his boss’ secretary is giving him from across the living room. Either way, he needs another drink. 

Jongin has been single for a long time now. Alone, yes. But lonely? Perhaps, save for the occasional one-night stand. Jongin knows he isn’t completely repulsive. He’s tall, broad, exuding with conviction and eloquence, sharp-witted, posture always fixed in a self-assured poise. He knows all the right things to say, to keep you hanging on to every word. It was understandable that there were at least five people on his floor of the company building alone that were actively pining for his attention. 

It’s no surprise, of course. Because although Jongin is great at doing his job, he’s even better with people. And yet, the people he surrounds himself with are only resources to give him the upperhand in his line of work – nothing more, nothing less. Nobody ever gets too close, Jongin always sure to keep his relationships strictly about business, anything but personal. He had climbed the ranks this way, utilizing his intelligence and youthful charisma, successfully securing a five-figure paycheck at the end of every month. He often left people wondering how had he achieved so much in such a short time. 

The secret is, Kim Jongin is a man who knows what he wants. And right now, he wants to go home. 

He sets his empty glass on the counter, exchanging brief goodbyes with his colleagues. He makes his way to the coat rack by the door, making sure to stop to smile and shake hands with the right people in thanks for the wonderful evening, apologizing for his premature leave, and good night, have a great weekend.

On the way home, he digs out the old cassette player from the bottom of his suitcase, plugging in his earphones and murmuring the familiar lyrics under his breath.