The thing about being a leader is that when you’re unsure of what to do, when you’re faced with a situation you’ve never experienced before, you have to figure it out on your own. As a leader, you become the pillar, the foundation, and the guide. Responsibility increased, so did the solitude.

So, when you placed three leaders in the same room and had them face the same new, unknown situation, all that resulted was thoughtful silence. Or, two of the three would choose one to guide them. In this case, Taewoon won out. Though he could hardly consider it winning.

They sat on the living room floor in a loose circle. Energy cackled between Eun Mi and Zico; they both sat with their legs crossed underneath them, their arms pressed tightly across their chests. Taewoon noted that they both leaned away from each other, their noses upturned, a fierce pressure on their lips.

Taewoon rubbed his palms together then pressed his fingers over his knuckles. He kept his eyes on them a moment longer before focusing on the puffy, swirly material of the rug.

He knew he could not let them go. Taewoon had never imagined that he would be the chain that joined two individuals that did not, under any circumstances wish to be linked together.

Eun Mi’s fear had vanished almost inexplicably. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes that he had been gone that had absolutely changed her manner of regarding Zico. She’d appeared fragile before, now she radiated steady, heated defiance that mingled with disdain.

Zico had closed himself off as he often did when faced with a situation he did not want to handle. Taewoon had not seen him reject anything so entirely, forcefully since he’d been a teenager. Occasionally, he would press his finger to the lump on his lips, glaring at the small spot of blood.

For some reason, this reminded Taewoon of the single time that Sungmin and Jongkook had gotten into a massive argument. They say that men solve their differences with their fists, but Taewoon found that to be a load of bull. Sungmin and Jongkook would have killed one another if Taewoon and Yuhwan had not pried them off each other.

The managers had instructed them to leave them be. They really didn’t care whether the members got along or not so long as they pretended to be the best of friends on screen. But the members cared. Taewoon had placed them both in the same room to talk it out.

The problem with Zico and Eun Mi was that they didn’t talk—at all. Eun Mi had stayed clear of him from the very beginning. She would not even bring him up around Taewoon, more for her sake than his.

Zico, on the other hand, had been the one to initiate this absurd lack of communication. For some godforsaken reason, he abhorred Eun Mi just as much as he liked her. It made no sense to Taewoon. He was certain that it made even less sense to Zico.

Taewoon had no way of understanding how this change in his kid brother had come about. Just a few nights ago he had been willing to try and patch things up with Eun Mi. He’d taken a step forward and five back.

“Okay,” Taewoon finally said, rubbing his hands. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You two will talk.”

“I have nothing to—” Zico began.

“That’s a lie,” Taewoon stopped him. Their eyes met. Zico eventually lowered his gaze. Taewoon continued, shifting his gaze to Eun Mi. “You need to talk. There is no way you will clear up whatever misunderstandings you have without talking.”

“I’m not the one that started this,” Eun Mi objected.

“No, but you have kept it going.”

Neither of them liked to be scolded. They were so used to scolding that receiving it felt foreign to them. Eun Mi, especially, seemed to be resisting. She gnawed on her lower lip, her eyes upturned to the ceiling. Taewoon had never seen such petulant attitude from her.

Zico continued to mess with his bruising lip.

“Either you talk or you leave.”

Eun Mi smirked, glaring at Zico. Taewoon winced as he said, “That includes you, too, Eun Mi.”

“What? But why?”

“Stop whining,” Zico snapped. “Your voice grates on my ears.”

Eun Mi whirled around, greatly offended by his words. She opened , a deadly comment clearly aimed at him. Taewoon intervened, fearing that things would reach nuclear levels much too quickly.

He raised his hand. She stopped, turning her wide, hurt and furious eyes at him. Taewoon hated seeing her in such distress. He longed to reach out and touch her, to place his hand on her knee or reach to pull her into his chest.

“If you’re going to do this, you have to be respectful. No cursing, no offensive comments. If you have any objections, the door is right there. Feel free to leave whenever you please.”

They couldn’t leave. Eun Mi refused to leave; she had come here for Taewoon, she would stay for Taewoon. Zico would really much rather be as far away from her as possible. Leaving meant conceding to Eun Mi; he could not do that.

“Do we have an agreement?”

Eun Mi pursed her lips, nodding. Zico scoffed but remained seated.

Taewoon exhaled gently, crossing his arms, resting his back against the sofa. He had gotten them to agree, he could not begin the conversation for them. One of them had to be the bigger person.

Taewoon suspected that Eun Mi would be the first to talk. She might be fragile, but she scraped up courage from the depths of her being to face the problems she feared the most. And God only knew how afraid she had been of Zico.

Taewoon waited. No one spoke.

Eun Mi hated this situation. She hated having to be forced to talk to Zico because she knew that there would be no talking to Zico. He had a nasty temper, a nastier mouth.

But Taewoon was waiting.

She could not begin to imagine what Taewoon could be feeling. Having his little brother and his girlfriend at each other’s throats could not be anything but unpleasant. If he were forced to choose between Zico and Eun Mi—she couldn’t think of that. She could not allow that to happen. She would lose.

Eun Mi swallowed. Once. Twice. “Why do you hate me?”

The question hung in the air like ice stalactites, threatening to crack, to mortally wound.

See, the thing about hate is that it’s not really as complicated as appears to be. There are two kinds of hatred: 1) the kind that begins to cauterize a wound, and 2) the one that just is.

The first kind is more of a self-defense mechanism than anything else. Someone you loved or trusted eventually did something that you never expected them to do. It hurts, but instead of letting anyone else know that they hurt you, you hide behind ill feelings. You hope that karma will get them, that they will regret it, that you will be vindicated by some sort of divine justice. At least, that is what you tell yourself and others. All the while you really don’t mean it. You’re just hoping that they will apologize for hurting you. Eventually, with time, you do forgive them and you do forget.

The second kind really has no sort of explanation. A lot of people will say that you don’t really hate someone when, in fact, you actually really do. It’s simple: you see that person, you’re filled with this unbearable feeling of anger. It’s poisonous to you but there is no way for you to get rid of it. Your stomach hurts from the sheer force of the emotion and while you may try to not wish them any serious harm, you do genuinely hope that they will get the away from you. Some say that what you hate in someone is what you hate about yourself, but honestly, that’s just a bunch of bull. You just flat out hate them without there being any good reason to.

Hate really isn’t all that complicated. Until you experience it because, just like any other human emotion, it twined and conjoined, grew and decayed, spread and put down roots. Still, despite these complications, it was a extremely recognizable feeling.

Inside a confused heart like Zico’s, however, a muddled and clouded sentiment could very easily be mistaken for hatred. As was the case with his feelings towards Song Eun Mi.

Did Zico hate Eun Mi?

Yes.

No.

He wasn’t sure.

“Why do you hate me?”

Zico faced Eun Mi, staring right into those wide eyes of hers. Without any make up on, he could see the soft beauty mark on her left cheekbone, not quite underneath her eye but not too far off. He’d never noticed it before.

“Because.”

His answer really didn’t answer anything.

“Fair enough.”

Eun Mi turned away, taking her hair in her hands, combing her fingers through it. Her body language told him—actually, it screamed at him—that she was absolutely and utterly done with his behavior.

“Fair enough? Fair enough? How is any of this fair at all?”

“You don’t have to have a reason to hate me.”

She said it as if she were used to it. Zico wondered if she had been truly hated before. He also wondered if she’d told Taewoon about it, maybe during one of their late night phone calls.

“But I do have a reason to hate you. I have a very valid reason to hate people like you.”

Was he grasping at straws? He could be wrong. Maybe. Was his memory faulty? Zico couldn’t tell.

“Please, do share with the classroom Mr. ZI-A-CO.”

“Eun Mi,” Taewoon warned, cautioning her against her rising voice and snarky remark. She huffed, crossing her arms once more, sulking.

Zico watched them, sensed the tranquil aura that surrounded Taewoon and Eun Mi. It, in no way, did it compare to the shaky, tremulous heat that existed between them. They were always fighting. Why were they always fighting? Why did she have to be in this place? Why did she have to ruin everything before he got the chance to apologize?

“What are you even doing here?” he snapped.

“I’m here for Taewoon.”

“Sure you are.”

Eun Mi turned around so fast, Zico flinched. Taewoon didn’t move an inch. He sat with his hands clasped on his lap, a deep furrow on his brow.

“You keep Taewoon out of this,” Eun Mi said.

“You’re the one that brought him into this first. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you’re here for Taewoon?”

He was losing ground. Jiho retreated, hiding. Zico emerged, hackles raised, looking for a fight, and ready for it.

“Would I be here for you?”

“Of course.”

Eun Mi’s jaw dropped. She could not believe what she was hearing. She knew it would be difficult to have any sort of civil conversation with Zico. The tiniest shred of hope she’d managed to hold onto until now vanished.

“What a load of bull crap! I don’t even like you! You’re annoying and presumptuous. Just because you made some sort of headway as a rapper you think you’re so great! You’re drunk on fame. You’re a pathetic narcissist.”

Taewoon didn’t call her out on her insults. Jiho winced, whimpered. Zico’s anger grew and grew and grew.

“What reason would you have to get close to my brother? None. You’re only sticking around him because he’s my hyung. Stop playing with him. It’s disgusting to see you try so hard to approach me.”

She recoiled, shocked.

Jiho was losing.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Eun Mi said after a pause, her voice soft. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Shouldn’t say what? The truth? We all know those were your real intentions.”

“Stop.”

“Are you afraid that he will find out just what kind of person you really are? Afraid that he’ll realize how you’ve used him only to get to Zico?”

“Woo Jiho!”

Jiho wasn’t there. Jiho was gone.

“No one pays attention to my brother! He’s so dense and insecure that he can’t even succeed in getting people to remember his name! Who is Woo Taewoon? Zico’s hyung, that’s who! It’s what he’s known as. It’s who he is. Why should I believe that you know him as anything else? It’s the stupidest thing I have ever—”

Zico stopped. The look of inhuman pain on Taewoon’s face made him realize what a horrible mistake he had just made.

Jiho lost. Zico destroyed.

Ever since they had been children, Zico and Taewoon had been the best of rivals. Taewoon could not remember a time when they were not competing for or over something whether of great consequence or not. Brotherly competition was fun. They learned, grew, all for the sake of being the best. Sibling rivalry could accomplish great things.

But Taewoon was tired.

Tired of having to swim against the current that was Zico. Tired of having to prove his worth by somehow becoming better than him. Tired of living in a shadow. Tired of trying to claw his way out.

They were brothers. They were alike while being different. They were each other while being themselves. They were warped images of one another, reflecting mirrors. Watching and listening to Zico, Taewoon came to realize that he was acting as just that, a mirror.

Zico—and the entire world for that matter—believed him to be less because Taewoon himself believed he was less.

He saw himself as lacking talent, luck, strength, support. What he really lacked what solid, true confidence.

It was Taewoon that believed he lacked talent. Taewoon who shriveled up and doubted himself. Taewoon, Taewoon, Taewoon. He was the reason everyone saw him as a nobody. It was all Taewoon.

The world only saw him as a loser because Taewoon saw himself that way.

Zico sat with his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, terrified. “H-hyung, I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up,” Eun Mi said.

She didn’t snap at him. She said it in her smooth, gem-like voice, which made it all the worse.

“Hyung,” Zico begged.

Taewoon said nothing. What could he say?

Eun Mi watched as Taewoon’s strength faded away. The last of his reserves had built a flimsy tower that was now collapsing quickly. His eyes began to lose their playful, innocent shine.

Fear swirled around her, suffocating her. Something in Taewoon was dying. She could not let that happen.

She didn’t know quite what to do, life hadn’t exactly prepared her for this kind of situation, so she did the only thing she could think of: she climbed onto his lap, held his face in her hands, looked straight in his eyes, and told him all the reasons why she loved him.

Eun Mi was speaking Spanish.

It took Taewoon quite a long time to realize that was why he could not understand her. Whatever she was telling him, clearly Korean failed to convey it. He could not decipher her words, but he could feel their urgency, their sincerity and truth.

They made his skin prickle; had the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

She caressed his cheeks, pressed her forehead against his. Her lips moved frantically. Sometimes, they were close enough to his to brush them softly. Her words ate him, swallowed him whole. They drew him in, hypnotized him.

They built him up.

He didn’t know Spanish, but he could still decode her message.

Taewoon I love you. Taewoon you’re the most amazing, kindest man I know. Taewoon, Woo Taewoon listen only to me. What I say, what I think, that is the only thing that matters. Taewoon, Woo Taewoon, you’re the one I want to be with. I love you. I love you.

What she saw him him—no, how she saw him, differentiated so much from what the rest of the world believed. Song Eun Mi had made up her own opinion of him and she would stick by it no matter what happened.

Zico was his mirror. Eun Mi had seen through the looking glass.

He had to build himself up. He had to stand. He had to.

It hurt. It hurt terribly, but it lacked bitterness. With Eun Mi gazing at him so intently, her eyes desperate, frightened, full of profound emotions, and her hands ever so gently on his cheeks, Taewoon found it easier to let the hurt slip right through him. 

It left a sting. It wasn’t a bitter sting, just an ache.

The fierce, upbeat sound of SHINee’s Sherlock startled them all out of their bodies. Zico’s skin broke out in gooseflesh. Eun Mi yelped. Taewoon’s heart rate increased.

For a moment, the tension between them dissipated as they exchanged looks and shaky laughs. Eun Mi untangled herself from Taewoon’s arms as she said, “That’s Manager Jo.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Taewoon said.

Eun Mi answered as Taewoon gathered up her things. They settled into a smooth rhythm, communicating with slight gestures and their eyes. Zico watched them carefully, amazed.

Eun Mi couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. That wasn’t the kind of person she was. She also couldn’t be perky or happy around him either. Dealing with Zico had become a lot harder in just a couple of hours.

“Be nice to Taewoon,” she ended up saying. Zico could interpret it as he pleased; as a threat or a command or as a farewell. Eun Mi really didn’t quite care which so long as he listened. He nodded. She didn’t see, Taewoon had blocked her view.

At the door, he took her face in his hands, kissing her ever so gently, ever so deeply. He combed her hair with his fingers, taking her in, admiring and loving her.

“Be safe out there.”

“Be safe in here.”

Taewoon smiled ruefully. “He’s my kid brother. What harm could he do?”

Eun Mi knew Zico could cause a lot of harm if he set his mind to it. She also knew that she and Zico still had unresolved business. Taewoon knew it too.

He opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and kissed her one last time. “Go. I’ll text you later.”

Eun Mi bit her lip, nodded. She hugged him tightly then disappeared with the sturdy shut of the door.

Taewoon inhaled. Held it. Exhaled.

“Be strong, Woo Taewoon,” he whispered. “Be strong. Be wise. Be kind.”

He turned.

Zico sat right where they had left him. His head hung low, his hands were clasped loosely on his lap. When he raised his head, Taewoon didn’t see Block B’s charismatic leader or hip hop’s great Zico. He saw his little brother, Jiho.

“Hyung.”

Taewoon’s heart lurched.

“Hyung.”

He sat beside him, placing a protective arm around him. “It’s alright, Jiho. Hyung’s here.”

Zico let his head fall on Taewoon’s shoulder, his body trembling. Tears dripped onto his thigh, creating tiny, wet circles.

“Hyung’s here.”

Zico sobbed harder.