Two months.

That's how long it's been since the accident took place. Jiyong's mom is recovering well, Seungri and Dami's injuries have healed, and although Deukkie's gash has left a silver-pink line etched across his forehead, the accident is now a fading nightmare.

During their mom's stay in the hospital, I would visit the family everyday; driving them to visit their mom (as their car had been damaged beyond repair), and watching the kids while Jiyong was at work. I wasn't sure what to expect between Jiyong and my interaction with one another; was it to be comfortable and filled with easy-flowing words, as it had been before, or would it be tense and awkward?

It contained equal bouts of both. This was, however, only when we were alone, which was not for very long, as the kids were always with us and we'd talk amongst them, instead of having our own private conversation. But even when we did find ourselves solely in each other's company, we seemed fixed in an ambience of tension and nerves. I got the impression he wanted to say something; when I'd notice his stare from the corner of my eye, or the way his brow would sometimes furrow, as if he were having some internal debate within himself. But he never did.

Eventually my visits grew less frequent, and they needed me less and less until their mom finally joined them back home. College then began, and any communication, for the most part, ceased between us. There are still curt nods when in passing, however, and the brief update on his family; sometimes delivered on his own accord, or after my own query as to their well-being.

I'm sitting in class right now, absently listening to Mr. Yang outlining our next assignment. My eyes lingered on Jiyong's dark form. He's sitting a row in front of me, a couple of seats to my right. He's scribbling down notes profusely, most likely in that illegible scrawl only he can translate. I'd never seen him so committed, as I had the last three months, to learning. I thought his hard-core studying might subside after his re-sit exam came out exceptionally high, but it hasn't, overall. I still catch him scampering out the library just before closing time.

God, I miss him. I miss the banter, his stupid smirk, and the words that could flow so easily between us. I miss the silent conversations we could have through a protracted look; we would always be on the same wavelength. But there's now a missed communication, and I can no longer discern what he's thinking and feeling.

My thoughts then flitted to Seunghyun and how he'd approached me a couple of weeks ago, asking me whether I wanted to go out; see a movie and grab some dinner. I'd declined, however, telling him I was busy – which I was, as I had arranged to visit some of Jungmin's relatives with him – and that I'd prefer us to remain friends.

It was silly, really, my whole evasion to having a relationship with a nice, caring guy. But I knew I'd never fully commit and most likely end up hurting him. I'm still waiting for Jiyong, as stupid as it sounds, to profess a love I know he doesn't requite.

"Class dismissed." Mr. Yang's voice snapped me from my reverie. The girl beside me – Yoona?– still remained in her seat, however, while the rest of the class rushed out the door. Her head was bent over a book, and she didn't appear to have heard the professor's dismissal.

"Um," I began, "you know class has finished, right?"

She didn't stir, showing no sign of having heard me. "Yoona?"

No response.

Gently, I gave her a poke. Her head snapped up then, and there were tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "You okay?" I asked. My voice is tinged with surprise and concern.

She sniffed and ran a hand across her eyes. "I'm fine," she sobbed, "I'm just happy."

Really?

Some blonde hair slipped into her vision, which she tugged back, fixing it into one of the many clips that holds her hair up in its intricate twist.

"I've just finished reading Ambiguity," she said. "Oh, Dara, it's just wonderful. Did you cry at the end, too?"

I bit my lip. "I haven't actually finished reading it yet," I confessed, and fish out my own copy from my bag.

She gasped. And then snatching the copy from out my grasp, she rifled through the pages until she's reached the turned down page I'd left to indicate my place. Her hand flew to , her eyes still a little red and b with moisture.

I'll admit that it's very unusual for me to not have concluded a novel, as I always have. But, for whatever reason, I haven't been able to bring myself to finish this one - there's just something about it that's left me too nervy to turn the next page.

"WHAT?" she screeched, furiously waving the book at me. "Don't you know how it ends yet?"

I'm in the music room alone. The majority of those majoring in music are at a concert, having been encouraged by their professors to watch this esteemed pianist while he's still in town. I'd known this before I'd arrived here, but had sought some solitude and sat myself in front of one of their many pianos, playing whatever came to mind. The light is dim, as only one of the main beams have been switched on. The room is windowless, allowing the walls to be plastered in posters of musicians and theatre productions, partially obscuring the room's dark walls.

I played just a couple of bars of music before the door whams shut, indicating someone else has just entered the room. I didn't turn round, just expecting it to be a returning music student.

"You play beautifully. Did I ever tell you that?"

I froze, and my hands still atop the keys.

"Don't stop playing." Jiyong's voice was soft, his tread barely distinguishable as he walked towards me. "I've missed hearing you play."

I didn't continue my rendition. My thoughts were too focused on why he's here, and why, after all these weeks, he's decided to indulge me with a few flattering words.

He's beside me now. I didn't need to look at him to know there's a frown fixed on his face; confusion as to why I've said nothing.

He took a seat beside me. The piano stool was only meant to accommodate one person, and so his leg touches my leg, and his arm touches my arm. My breathing quickened.

He pressed a couple of notes on the piano.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprise and anxiety sending my voice a little higher.

Then without even casting a sideways glance at me, he halted his playing and delved into his bag, pulling out a copy of Ambiguity. He placed it atop the piano. "You left this in the classroom," he explained. "Yoonatold me to give it to you."

"Oh."

"She looked a little upset."

I smiled and shook my head in disbelief. "She's just really happy; she'd just finished reading the book."

Jiyong's lips tugged upwards into his signature half-smile. My heart gave a tight squeeze; an indicator that I needed to get up and leave because pining after this guy will just result in more hurt. But then his head tilted to the side and he fixed me with dark, intense eyes. "And what did you think of the ending?"

I shrugged, trying to ignore the nerves bunching in my stomach. "Haven't finished it."

"Don't you want to know how it ends?" His gaze flitted towards the book before snapping back to mine. "I could tell you, if you like."

I shook my head and stood up, maneuvering myself to the other side of the piano, resting my arms on top, while he remained on the piano stool. I wanted the space, because in that too-close proximity, I was bound to blush or stumble over my words.

"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I kinda like the idea of having my own ideal ending."

He studied me for a moment. I blushed, uncomfortable under his gaze.

"How would you have it end?" Jiyong asked, standing up, plucking the book from off the piano. His eyes never left mine as he came to stand beside me.

"How would I like it to end?" I murmured, repeating his words. "Well," I began, "I'd have Naomi explain to Ace why she felt so compelled to lie to him; to tell him why she 'led him on'."

"Isn't it obvious?" he whispered.

"Not to Ace," I snapped. "We're not all mind readers, Jiyong."

At this his shoulders slumped, his head bowed, and he took a deep breath. But when he brought his head up, resignation has been displaced by determination.

"Can I read you something?" he asked. He flipped through the pages of Ambiguity, eventually stopping, having found his desired page, and awaited my approval to go ahead.

I nodded and he cleared his throat. He read:

Naomi needed Ace by her side; teasing her and laughing with her, supporting her and loving her. There was no way she could let him go a second time; the first time had been to protect him, ensuring his life wouldn't be hindered by hers. She saw now, however, that she'd been wrong.

She needed him and he needed her.

So why should she subject them both to the pain of rejection and loneliness by keeping them apart any longer?

It was a chance, yes, but one worth taking, because she loved him unconditionally and would, surely, forever.

Jiyong closed the book, took a few tentative steps forward, and gently placed it in my hands. He didn't retreat back, remaining close by, right in front of me, his eyes watchful and filled with...

His brow furrowed slightly, probably at the abject confusion alighting on my face. I placed the book on the stool behind me.

"Please understand," Jiyong whispered, "that I never 'led you on'; I meant every gesture and every word. But at the time, what with everything going on, you'd have done better to stay out of my family's mess. It was already screwing up my life; I couldn't let it do the same to yours."

Hope flooded through me like a cool, freezing solution: stilling my breath and slowing my thoughts.

And then his hands, warm and familiar, settled on my shoulders. They slid slowly down my arms, capturing my hands with his, entwining our fingers together.

His touch sparked a jolt of realization, and suddenly his words hit me hard; he never rejected me, he was just trying to protect me. I felt my mouth drop open; stuck for words. And then rising excitement and hope take me over.

"Don't push me away again," I ordered. "It's my choice as to whether I put up with your annoying self, okay? Not the other way around."

He's grinning as he gently tugged me closer, resting his forehead against mine. He murmured, "Don't think I could again."

My heartbeat quickened.

I'm struggling to catch my breath.

And then he whispered, "I love you, Dara. So much." His lips twitched upwards. "Always have; even when we were kids, and I'd tell you how much of a pain you were."

I narrowed my eyes, gracing him with a mock scowl. But it's futile when my lips were forming a slow smile, so I slightly shuffled back, impacting with the stool. Something smacksed against the floor – the book? – but was soon forgotten when his lips swoop down to meet mine.

He kissed me sweetly, and I winded my arms around his neck, bringing us closer, eliciting a more passionate kiss.

After several moments, we parted, but kept our arms locked in place around the other; my hands remained linked behind his neck, while his remained placed on my back, rubbing slow, soothing circles in between my shoulder blades.

His face shone openly with elation and exhilaration, stretching my goofy grin even wider. A hand slipped from behind my back to remove a stray strand of hair that had slipped in front of my face. He positioned it behind my ear and fleetingly rested his palm against my cheek. His forehead lightly touched mine as he whispered, "You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that." And then his lips were once again on mine.

Eventually our kisses slow, halted, and I placed my head in the crook of his neck. This feels right; to be in his arms, feeling safe and loved.

And since I'm done with ambiguity, I told him, "I love you, too."

An extract from the final chapter of Ambiguity

Naomi lies on Ace's browbeaten couch, her head resting against his chest, his arm encircling her waist. A blanket stretches over them both, warding off the mild chill that shrouds the apartment. She listens intently to the thud-thud of his heartbeat and his steady, rhythmic breathing.

Sleep won't come, as her mind is still a whir of thought and contemplations. Her mother's death still weighs heavily on her; the painful hole it had torn still achingly fresh. But with time, Ace and Jake would heal that. The mention of her younger brother sparks a jolt of panic to run through her at the thought of planning the funeral and a new home and…

His arm unconsciously tightens around her, dulling her rising alarm. Because with Ace by her side, Naomi felt a little more prepared to deal with whatever fate had to throw her way.

F-I-N-A-L-L-Y!

The end? Hahahaha

Epilogue next chapter. Not much though. ^^