The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing the darkened outlines of Jonghyun's penthouse. The familiar furnishings and artwork were cloaked in shadow, the only light was an eerie reddish glow from the building's rooftop sign.

Blinking as her eyes adjusted to her dim surroundings, Seungyeon heard a clicking sound across the polished hardwood and looked down to see Tan and Shiro at her feet. They were staring up at her with her wide, guileless eyes, painting audibly, tails wagging in a furry blur. She smiled as they pressed their damp noses against her palm with a curious snuffling sounds before treating it to a series of enthusiastic .

"Not much of a guard dog, these two are," she thought, gingerly wiping her hand off on her skirt and making a mental note to wash it at the next available opportunity.

When she looked back up, she noticed a silver of light coming from behind the door of Jonghyun's bedroom, outlining its shape in the near-darkness. Swallowing down her nerves, she made her way down the hallway and pushed it open.

But the sight that greeted her made her come to an immediate halt.

The bookshelves were empty, and the tops of the dressers and bedside table were bare. A stack of boxes lined the rear wall, neatly labeled with their contents. She took a few tentative steps forward, stunned, and her gaze panned across the open closet door to her right. It, too, was empty, and the bars were danglling with empty hangers.

Well, he definitely wasn't waisting any time, she thought uneasily. If she'd waited another day to call his "bluff", she might have had to chase him all the way to the military camp. 

She heard the faint sound of the running water behind the closed bathroom door, and calculated she had five minutes, maybe ten at the most, Jonghyn never lingered in the shower unless he had some company.

As she waited, her gaze skittered nervously around the room before returning to the closet... and pauisng on the single item remaining inside. Eyes widening in recognition, she glanced over her shoulder at the bathroom door before walking over to the closet and kneeling down on the plush carpet.

The carved mahogany box sat on the floor against the black wall, nestled beneath the empty shoe rack. She carefully pulled it out and flipped open the lid, tracing her fingers alogn the wooden edge as she looked over its contents.

A few newspaper clippings, articles and photos of them by the paparazzis; a set of photos from places they visited and events they went to, including his niece's 100th day celebration in Busan. 

But there was a lot more in the box than the last time she'd seen it. A pair of gloves and the guitar picks she'd given him. The silk lingerie she wore that took his breath away a few months prior to the start of their relationship. The framed photo of the two of them in their short vacation in Japan that used to sit on his nightstand- they were riding in a rickshaw, and she was smiling at the camera she held out in front of them, a light breeze blowing her curls against her cheek. His head was turned slightly to the side as he wathced her, a little half-smile on his face.

Both of them looked so happy, she thought with a wistful smile.

And the thought of all those memories just being... boxed up and left behind... made her heart ache inside her chest.

Suddenly realizing that the water had stopped, she hastily shoved the box back to its former position an