It’s the day after Jiwon cornered Hanbin in his kitchen and Hanbin’s heart rate still spikes when he thinks about the look in Jiwon’s eyes. It’s late, maybe one or so and he and Hayi are both still in the gallery. The lights are off and the moon casts long cold shadows across the arcing ceilings of the room. They perch on the ledge of the glass studio front, it’s just long enough that the two can sit, face to face, backs against the walls of the window seat with their legs comfortably intertwined as they pick at the remains of a late night snack. Hanbin lets his head fall back against the white plaster and watches the empty street outside. Hayi breaks the silence.

“I think there’s somebody I’m in love with.”

Hanbin looks over and raises an eyebrow at her.

“Oh really, the ice queen has finally fallen?”

Hayi glares at him and kicks his leg sharply, the movement unbalances him and he almost falls to the floor before he catches himself.

“Don’t be a jerk Hanbin, I’m baring my soul to you here.”

Hanbin schools his face to an appropriate level of seriousness and sits up straight.

“I’m very sorry, do you want to tell me about this guy?”

She smiles and looks almost bashful, an expression he’s never seen on her face before.

“He’s a painter, a good one. He’s funny and sweet and passionate, he really puts his whole self into everything he does. He’s almost perfect, actually.”

As she speaks her face gentles, sharp features softening into an almost wistful look. It’s the way Jinhwan looks when he talks about Yunhyeong, it’s how all Junhoe’s sarcasm and irony melts when he’s with Soohyun, it’s the way Jiwon used to look at him.

“You really love him, don’t you.”

Hayi nods, no hesitation on her face.

“Have you told him yet?”

“No… And I’m not sure I ever will.”

She looks away, and her face is a little sad. Hayi is always so confident, so sure of herself and now with the shadows cast across her face she looks doubtful for the first time. He reaches across the distance between them and cups her cheeks in his palms, gently turning her face towards him.

“Hayi, he would be crazy to turn you down. You’re smart and dedicated and kind, not to mention successful, you could get any guy you wanted. Trust me on this one.”

She looks at him, moon reflecting in her eyes and whispers,

“Anyone.”

Hanbin nods

 “Anyone.”

And then he flicks her gently on the nose, she pulls back indignantly with a little shocked noise. He smirks at her, leaning back against the wall.

“Payback.”

She huffs and crosses her arms and looks away but she can’t hide the slight curve of her lips.

“So how did you meet Mr. Amazing?”

She doesn’t look at him and her voice is soft when she speaks.

“Actually, he’s somebody I’m working with right now on an exhibition.”

Hanbin gasps in false shock and places a hand on his heart

“You’re working with someone other then me? You wound me, I thought we had something special here.”

She still doesn’t look at him, he can just barely make out her reflection in the polished glass of the window.

“I’m not”

Confused, he asks

“You’re not what?”

But before she can answer the realization hits him and it hits with all the force of a speeding train. His hand falls and all the humor drains from his face. “Oh .” Hayi turns to him and her face is a little desperate, a little wild.

“You said I could get any guy, Hanbin.”

“You can, believe me you can, just not….” His voice trails off as he watches her crumble. She looks down for a moment, hair falling like a curtain in front of her face. When she looks up again her eyes are glassy.

“Just not you?"

Hanbin nods and when he replies his voice is sad.

“Just not me.”

She laughs, and it’s a little wet.

“You know how I said he was almost perfect? He just has one problem. He’s in love with someone else, belongs to someone else.”

Hanbin laughs nervously

“What are you talking about? You know I’m single.”

Even when she’s crying Hayi can still glare like nobody else.

“Oh come on Hanbin, we both know that doesn’t mean you can’t be in love. I’ve seen your sketch book.”

Hanbin swears inwardly and writes a mental note to burn the damn thing. Hayi continues,

“I’ve seen the way you look at those drawings. The way you look when you think of him is the same as when you’re painting. If that’s not love, then I don’t know what is.”

At the end her voice breaks and she bows her head, her shoulders silently shaking. Hanbin’s heart breaks with hers, reaching over he pulls her into a hug and lets her fall apart on his shoulder. Her fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt and he gently rubs her back. He waits until the sobs have quieted a little and then says

“You know, this guy sounds like a bit of a ditzy artist type. I think you dodged a bullet here.”

He hears a muffled laugh against his shoulder and smiles. Hayi sits up, rubbing at her swollen eyes.

“Thank you, Hanbin. And I’m sorry for all this.”

“Don’t be dumb, you have nothing to be sorry for."

Hanbin’s worried, after that night, that things will change between them. Part of it is selfish, but mostly it’s because he doesn’t want to lose Hayi as a friend. Not to this. And for the most part things don’t change, she doesn’t bring it up again and when they meet a few days later to work on the design of the gallery she’s all business and sharp quips as usual. It’s not the same, of course, Hanbin wouldn’t expect that. She doesn’t touch him anymore, keeps her distance whenever they’re together and sometimes she looks sad when she thinks he’s not looking and it breaks Hanbin’s heart but he can still make her smile when he tries. It’s not the same because heartbreak changes you and Hanbin’s no stranger to that, but he knows that heartbreak also heals, with time, and Hayi will heal too.

Hanbin gets home from work and throws his bag onto the floor, shedding his damp jacket and shoes before collapsing onto his couch. Despite the crappy weather it had been a busy day at work, a nearly constant stream of customers had started at the beginning of his shift and were still coming when Taehyun had arrived to relieve him and his feet ache. He lies there for a few minutes, savoring the feeling of doing absolutely nothing. Eventually though he pulls himself up, sighing a little as his body protests. He needs to work on some new ideas and looks around for his sketchbook, forehead creasing when it’s nowhere to be seen. He digs through his bag with no luck and sits back on his heels, trying to remember to remember the last time he’s seen it. Jiwon’s apartment flashes his mind, dark eyes and searching hands and the look on his Jiwon’s face and he swears, falling back against the couch. Of course, it has to be Jiwon’s apartment he’s left his sketch book in. They still haven’t talked since that moment in Jiwon’s kitchen, to awkward and to afraid too. Hanbin seriously considers just not going up but then he pulls himself together and forces himself to slip on his shoes and walk up the stairs.

He knocks on Jiwon’s door, biting the inside of his lip hard. It’s ridiculous to be this nervous but he can’t help it, can’t help but remember the look in Jiwon’s eyes, the way his body felt so close to his. There’s no response so he knocks again a little harder, Jiwon’s a bit of a heavy sleeper but there’s still nothing. He sighs, rubbing his forehead. This just keeps getting better and better. He waits for a few minutes to see if Jiwon will appear from somewhere but he remains obstinately missing. Just when he’s about to give up and go back to his place a though flashes through his head.

Hanbin can’t help but smile when he looks in the well of the lamp on the wall outside the apartment and finds their (Jiwon’s, he corrects himself) spare key still hidden in the same place it was a year ago. Some things never change.

Fishing the key out he lets himself in with a soft click and steps into the dark apartment. Reaching over he flicks on the light and looks around the room for his sketchbook. With a sigh he starts to carefully sift through the mess that covers nearly every surface in Jiwon’s apartment. He’s so focused he doesn’t even hear the door creak open, doesn’t hear the sound of heavy footsteps, doesn’t look up till he hears a raspy voice sharp and angry

“Who the are you?”

He looks up to see a man framed in the small doorway, arms crossed and a distinctly unfriendly look on his face. He swallows, standing, and tries to ignore the feeling of unease in his stomach. The man is bigger and taller then him, and has this look to him. A look that’s a little rough, a little desperate, a little dangerous. Unconsciously he takes a step back, putting space between him and the intruder.  

“Who are you, how did you get in?”

The man doesn’t move, arms still crossed, eyes still staring at Hanbin.

“Shouldn’t leave the door unlocked you know, it’s a safety hazard. Now, since I asked first, answer my question.”

Hanbin shrugs

“I’m just… I’m just a friend of Jiwon’s.”

(the truth is he doesn’t really know what he is to Jiwon, or what Jiwon is to him)

The man turns around and shuts the door before moving towards Hanbin. Hanbin takes another step back.

“Okay, just a friend. You know where Kim is?”

Hanbin shakes his head, and feels his hands start to sweat.

“Well, I have a message for him. Since he’s not here right now I’ll give it to you instead. And y’know what? I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

And he’s starting towards towards him, around the side of the coffee table and suddenly Hanbin needs to run but there’s nowhere to go. His brain goes to overdrive and he’s calculating seconds, how long it would take to pull his phone out of his pocket and dial 1-1-9, how long it would take to get to the bathroom and lock the door, but then the seconds run out and there’s a fist driving into his cheekbone like a hammer and seconds slip from his mind, all he can think about is the pain blossoming through his face. He tries to fight back, tries to throw a punch of his own but the guy probably has five inches and 30 pounds on him and Hanbin’s always been an artist not a fighter.

Next thing he knows he’s on the floor, cheek pressed against cool wood. It’s not like Hanbin’s never been punched before. There had been the occasional bully in middle school who’d find him after class and pin him up against the concrete because he liked to draw pictures instead of play kickball, he’d roughhoused with his friends in high school, once he even got into a bar fight to his never ending humiliation and Junhoe’s glee. So yes, he’s been in fights but he’s never experienced this impersonal detached administration of pain. There’s no emotion, no alcohol induced courage, no personality behind this beating. This is just a job and Hanbin was unfortunate enough to be the task of the day. And Hanbin knows he’s not going to die, but the logical voice telling him that is being pushed aside by the larger part of his brain saying that he is going to die with some random s foot buried three inches too deep in his gut (tells him he’s going to die for a man he barely even knows anymore). After what feels like hours but is probably only a minute or two the man draws back, and from his position lying on the floor Hanbin can vaguely see him wiping blood (his blood) off of his knuckles. The image is strangely amusing, and Hanbin has to stifle a slightly hysterical giggle at the sight. He crouches down next to Hanbin, and his voice is low and dangerous

“Tell Kim to get me what he owes, or next time it’ll be him I’m putting in the hospital.”

And with that he stands and leaves Hanbin alone with the slam of a door. He lies on the floor for a while. Forcing air in and out of his bruised lungs and waiting for the aching of his face and ribs to recede a little. After a few minutes he turns his head and sees his sketchbook, kicked back under the coffee table. He isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. When he finally feels ready he pushes himself carefully to his feet, wincing as bruises stretch and bones pop. He feels a little fuzzy, the world sounds like he’s hearing it through cotton balls and he wonders vaguely if he’s concussed. Reaching up he rubs his hand across his face and when he pulls his fingers away the tips are smeared red. Fumbling in his pocket he pulls out his phone and dials Jinhwan’s number and tries not cry. Because things had been going so well, so goddamn well and now everything's changed, the ground's shifted under Hanbin's feet and he doesn't know where he's standing anymore.