She gets home and - Surprise! Big sister home for the first time in the last month. Now, isn’t she just so lucky? And she would play along with this happy family act, if her day hasn’t already hit its lowest point. (She doesn’t think she can nosedive into any more heartache.)

“Oh Soojung, you’re back early,” Jessica comments with an air of nonchalance that grates her, “Can you – wait, where are you going? Yah! Jung Soojung! Come over here and take a look at this!”

“At what?” She shouts back, pausing her stomps up the staircase, “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.”

“If you don’t come to the living room right now, I’m going to barge into your bedroom the moment you shut yourself in there.”

With a dramatic groan, she huffs and puffs into the room (not that enjoys acting like a petulant child, but she’s got to get her point across somehow).

Jessica her head. “What got princess in such a bad mood?”

“What do you want?”

“Jimmy Choos want us to be their presenters!” her sister squeals, beaming as she jumps up in glee, “How exciting is that? It’s going to amazing –“

“I’m not doing it.”

Placing a hand on her hip, Jessica asks with that authoritative stance that used to work when she was ten. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Why not?”

She shrugs defensively. “I don’t want to so I’m not going to.”

She can’t tell if her sister is appalled or indignant. All she knows is that she doesn’t care – not today, she doesn’t.



-



She goes running, even if it’s too early (or too late) to hit the pavements of her block.

She expects to get caught; a flash of blinding light from dark corners she strode pass or a car with tinted windows to trail behind, halting whenever she does. She doesn’t know what she thinks will happen if she keeps going but she does for miles.

She’s close to fainting when she finally stops. Panting, she crouches over with her nails digging into her knees for support and when she looks up again, the street is as vacant as it had been when she first took off.

The sun is starting to come up after twenty-four laps (according to her phone), it’s morning now and there’s no paparazzi, no reports, no fans, no cameras.

No one came.



-



She’s got the script rolled up in her hand, listening to the director giving his cues. Honestly, she doesn’t need to hold onto the dialogues anymore. She knows how prepared she is, and this is the most she’s ever been for any project. (Ironic, since it’s only fifteen minutes total in running.)

“The character is not likable,” “Who wants to watch some short film about a spoiled brat?”, “How much are we making off this?” The men in suits and ties with their corporate jobs and moan to the manager so he can summarize that meeting up in much kinder, softer words. Well them, she says, what would they know about well-written and developed characters? All they want is some sugary, oppa-come-rescue-me roles that require her to play stupid to transparent plotlines. (She can do better than this, she knows she can.)

(Rewind back to three years ago, the most frequently asked question for her are either: “What is it like being Girls’ Generation’s Jessica sister?” and “What do you like about your boyfriend?” She gives some well-practiced reply to the first one and to the second one, she had more than one reply to that. Back then, she was declared “too good for that boy” but now, he’s “too good for a girl like you.” And although her standard didn’t really withstand time, her love for him did. She loves Jongin because 1. He sleeps through every movie except the ones he watches with her, 2. He forgets his own birthday but not their anniversaries or valentine days, 3. He laughs at the dumbest, un-funniest things so it makes her laugh too, 4. He holds her hand first when she needed him to but didn’t know she did, 5. He never saw her sister when he looks at her, 6. He knows she could do anything she wanted to and continually reminded her of that, 7. He didn’t ask her to be a better girlfriend when she could have been in so many ways, because there was a time when she was it for him, 8. She is the first to tell him ‘I love you’ but he is the first one to fall in love, 9. He waits for her in the snow for five hours because they wouldn’t let him in for her debut showcase, 10. He taught her that she had to fight for things she wanted, because unlike her, he had been fighting all his life.)

If she can’t win back something she lost, then she’s going to win the battle for something new to fill the void.



-



They drive fast down the highway, the manager steps on the gas pedal and the whole van rocks so violently that her head snaps back, nearly knocking against Qian’s. They exchange a frightful look, both reaching out to grab the armrest and each other’s hands.

(They were late for their own separate’s schedule, but isn’t this a bit much?)

She feels a buzz against her thigh and thinks it might be god or the devil (oh just you know, letting her know he’s coming to collect her corrupted soul now that she’s about to die.) It’s not. It’s Seunghyun.

(It’s a picture of a laid opened copy of Dazed – her issue, her spread, her over. Under it a message: “Don’t you know how to tie shoelaces?”)

She doesn’t realize she has bursts out into a fit of laughter until Victoria asks what she finds so funny. She doesn’t tell her, just smile and turn back to her phone screen because this is something she’d like to think of as their private joke.



Me: It fits the concept better this way.

Seunghyun: Is the concept not doing up your shoelaces?

Me: It’s a nineties-grunge concept. I was going for the messy look.

Seunghyun: Ah…that explains why you posed so weirdly next to the fridge.

Me: I posed next to the fridge because I was hungry.

Seunghyun: If you’re hungry, then we’ll celebrate by going out to eat something nice.



-



She makes a prediction that Jongin will come inside after everyone leaves and go their own way. She had a hunch from the minute the bus parked in front of the building. She wonders if he might as she watches him stepping out with ear buds hanging out of his jean pockets. She thinks he will when he catches her in the act and she turns to face the wall.

Sehun walks right by her as if he can sense that he needs to get lost. She waves at him and he ruffles her hair playfully, missing her scowl as he heads into the elevator.

“Aren’t you used to him doing that?”

She glances over her shoulder to confirm her suspicion that he is, indeed right behind her. “Used to him being a jackass? You’d think I’d be.”

They stand together looking out onto the street and at the hoard of disappointed fans, who missed out on the sighting of their dear, perfect boys. They’d come to understand long ago that a life of an idol is made by the head count of these admirers who often more not is also, the bane of their existence. They will write letters, a daily report on their love (obsession) and dot the ‘I’s with hearts. But they are threats too, aren’t they? (‘Don’t you dare have eyes for someone else that is not me. Remember, you’re mine.’) He’s just another distributed product, at least now they’re on the same shelf.

“I went out and bought a copy today,” he tells carelessly, eagerly even, “So don’t say I didn’t support you.”

She swallows with difficulty. “You’ve always said you’re my biggest supporter. I haven’t forgotten.”

“You should smile more in your shoots. You’re the prettiest when you smile,” he says that and follows it with, “Do you remember that I said that too?”

How could she forget? She levels him with a knowing look because why ask something he knows the answer to?

Jongin doesn't spare a moment's consideration for his next words. “What you said, in the interview, about how you would have chosen differently if you could do it all over. You said you wouldn’t have been an idol.” A wince mars his carefully concealed expression, “We would have never met.”

Stunned, she echoes, “We would have never met…”

Uncertainty must audibly tinge her voice, for he goes on, “I never told you but I don’t think I would have debut if you didn’t.”

“What–what do you mean?”

“There was so many times I wanted to give up. After a while, competing against all these other trainees who had all the set skills that I was missing felt like I was fighting a losing battle.” Jongin’s conflicted expression does not change. But then his back straightens and his arms drop to his side; he seems to grow in courage to finish what he started, “But after you debut, things became more real for me. We would never last if I walk away from the dream we had, it was the same as walking away from you. It made me realize that no matter what; I have to find a way to make it. The sooner that I could stand on the same stage with you, the sooner it felt like I could be with you again.”

She gapes at him with astonishment writ upon her features. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

“It would have eventually.”

“If you wanted to be with me so badly, then why did we break up? Huh?” Unknowingly, she had raised her voice, “I wasn’t the one who called it quit, you were.”

“Yeah, I did. I broke up with a girl I didn’t fall in love with!” He snaps at her harshly, shaking from the force of his fury.

She tries to valiantly recover from that merciless admission. But how do you pretend your whole world didn’t just shatter?

She’s waiting, he must know, she’s waiting for him to take it back so they’ll still stand a chance. Yet all he does is merely stares at her, his cheeks fraught with mortification but not remorse. The revelation that he does not regret the words that had served as a slap to her face only lead to an excruciating revelation that he had spoken nothing but the truth.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she whispers what’s on her mind.

“It doesn’t matter, Soojung,” he says quietly, “You know it doesn’t anymore.”

(All he has to do is tell her ‘how’, because she would do anything to be that girl again.)



-



She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs herself to sleep.

She’s got to keep herself warm somehow.



-



She forgets all about tonight’s plan with Seunghyun (it didn’t slip her mind so per say, more like she has repressed it).

His car arrives when he said it would and she leaves it hanging outside for twenty minutes. She lets herself think it’s because she’s not ready yet (the second coat of her nail polish haven’t fully dried, she needs to moisturize her legs, she can’t choose which perfume to wear or if she’s feeling like heels or flats today) but her sister just couldn’t leave her at peace. (Why does she have to be home of all days?)

“Are you going out?”

“Hmm?” She feigns ignorance, toying with the collar of her shirt.

“Are. You. Going. Out?” Jessica asks more firmly this time, “There’s a car outside waiting for you and it’s been there for like half an hour now.”

She purses her lips. “Has it?”

“Where are you going?” she asks, sighing heavily and she wants Jessica to know that the feeling is mutual – she’s just as over her as she is.

“Out”

“With who?”

“A friend?”

“Which one?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know”

(She deserves to feel left in the dark and out of the loop.)

And besides, she’s running late.



-



It makes no sense that the anxiety is only sinking in now; when she’s already being taken to the private room and it’s too late to cancel. (She should have canceled, she has no business being here – having lunch with him or just hanging around him in general.)

Everything is out of her control from here on; she could never think rationally around him. He looks up at his phone and at her, the door closes and they’re alone – she’s been here at least five times but it still feels new every single time.

She makes a move to sit down and in turn, he makes a move to pull the chair out for her.

What comes next, she’d go on claiming for the rest of her life to be a combined result of unbearable despondency and the intoxicating knowledge that he had waited for her over an hour. She leaps into his arms and holds him so close to her that his scent soaks into her skin. She buries her face into his chest as she murmurs ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ all at once.

It’s a little too late for that now but the enormity of what she had done knocks enough sense into her to back away from him.

“Oh my god,” she stumbles back, “I –I don’t know why I did that – I –“

But he doesn’t let her finish and hauls her in back into him.

She tries to justify the way she barreled into him like she did, panicking that she might have crossed an unspoken line between them. It’s only when his arms snake around her and tugs her even closer that all her doubts dispel.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me.”

She’s so stupid – so, so stupid.



-



They have Italian for lunch. She considers the salad but can tell Seunghyun is dying to order for her by the way he’s biting his lips and tapping his foot, so she puts aside the menu and lets him take care of it. (He’s got good taste, she’s got to give him credit for that.)

She’s midway through her story about her short film for W magazine when a heap of plates are piled on their table.

“This all looks so yummy but I don’t think I can finish everything.” She declares a matter of factly, taking in the selection of pasta dishes to pizza to risotto to lasagne.

Averting her gaze, he attempts to mask the look of uncertainty. “I was unsure of what you’d like. I ordered all the best dishes, so you can have a bit of everything.”

(And easy like that, her diet plan is out the window.)

Despite it having been a month since, Seunghyun floods her with endless questions about the cover. (“Do you like jazz too?” “Ella Fitzgerald? Duke Ellington? Chet Baker?” “Have you seen Coppola’s new film from last year - Her?” “What’s your opinion of Warhol?”) She’s too busy chatting and too distracted by his jokes that she doesn’t notice the calories he’s building up on her plate. Even after all that food, he insists on a glass of wine and cannoli. (To celebrate, is his argument and she is taken by it completely.)

“I heard Big Bang is having a comeback next month,” is the first inquiry she’s gotten in this afternoon.

“I’m not trying to promote my album, really but, I co-wrote most of the songs on this album. So what I’m saying is,” he fails to control his amusement, letting out an ill-suppressed laugh, “You should buy the album when it comes out.”

“Isn’t it enough that your fans will run out to buy them?” She berates him in jest, “You should give me a free copy with all five autographs on it.”

“Hmm…” he hums, pretending to be pondering what to say next, then, “I think it will be better if you go buy it yourself. Then I’ll sign it.”

She shakes his head, taking a forkful of the cream into . It’s hard to believe they’re years apart when he can be even more playful than her when he wants to be.

“You never gave me a copy of any of your albums.”

“I didn’t?”

Seunghyun nods. “I had to go buy them.“

“You did?” She half-shouts, nearly jumping out of her seat.

His voice is surprisingly steady, considering his nervous expression. “Do you find it weird,” he chuckles sheepishly, “That I bought every single one of f(x)’s albums after I saw you in Tokyo?”

She can feel a grin blossoming on her face and she doesn’t know how she is supposed to hide it from him. “Oh,” is the dumbest thing she can say after what he had told her, “No, I – “ She’s coloring a shade of red, she can already tell, “I don’t find that weird, at all. Flattered, more like it. I hope you like our music, because I’m actually really proud of all our releases so far.”

Taking in the elation on her face, Seunghyun flashes her a shy smile that mirrors her own, “I like that song, the one you mentioned in the interview. I listen to it in the morning.”

(Now if only she wouldn’t go cold at the thought of what had gone on in the making of that song.)



-



They’ve around her neighborhood twice already; she’s starting to feel bad for making his driver go in circles. (Seunghyun does this thing where he’ll tell a joke and falters, expecting her to miss the punch line. She never does – he’s got a dry sense of humor that is so uniquely his that some may reproach. That’s never been her. They get along well – too well to be a good thing, she reckons.)

In the midst of her recovery from his wacky interpretation of his group’s old dance moves (more like arms flailing), she nearly omits the ticking time bomb on the back of her mind.

“I should go,” she hates how strained her voice is, “I’ve already taken up so much of your time today.”

He meets her eyes only for a split second. “I think it’s the other way around.”

She has no idea why he is the way he is or how he can remain as so – the poster boy for magnetism who grapples for affirmations he held in his hand all along.

“Earlier when I hugged you, I did it because I’ve been sad and upset and I knew I’d feel better after,” this dreaded confession comes trickling out all at once, setting herself free of the tightening around her chest, “And I did – I do now. I feel a lot better after today, with you.”

(Then there is this long, empty nothingness that passes over them. He doesn’t say anything, not even a noise and she feels like smashing her head against the headboard over and over again until she can’t remember a thing – )

“I’m relieved when I hear that,” he chuckles dryly, “When you didn’t show after twenty minutes, I was sure you weren’t going to come.”

(But he waited anyway)

She casts a disbelieving look in his way; he’s got his head turned to the window, giving her a glimpse of his dimple. She too, can’t help but chuckle along. This is just silly.

“Seriously,” he stresses, his hand hovering above hers but never touching, “I thought I scared you off with how upfront I was about wanting to see you.”

Well, one of them has to be.



-



She’s multi-tasking between doing her papers on methodical acting (her choice being Tilda Swinton) and texting Seunghyun. He’s not big on messaging, so he has told her while typing up another response.

They’re busy people, naturally the conversation is on and off. It’s only when he tells her he has to go (for real – as in, “Filming a music video. Talk to you after.”) that she gets this feeling – like she should be telling someone about this.

Oh right, Jinri. That’s who she usually goes to for girls talk; about boys. (She is generally right about this sort of stuff, calls it an instinct or whatever.)

According to the best friend’s code, she is obliged to indulge the other half of the duo with cute details and allow her to read too much into insignificant gestures.

There’s just one problem – she’s not on speaking terms with her best friend.

(And he doesn’t fit into that category anyway.)





-





There’s a patronizing ‘tsk-ing’ sound coming from behind her, then, “I should tell on you for slacking off.”

She can’t choose to smile or smirk or rather; she can’t recall which one he prefers on her. “I’ll never talk to you ever again if you snitch on me.”

He laughs, tilting up her chin to get a better look at her, then giving it a fond, harmless pinch. “How many times have you used that one on me?”

“Still works every time.”

Choi Minho reminds her of a lot of things (even if most of them are blurry, anything that came before Jongin tends to be that way.) He is what she envisions whenever she takes a trip down memory lane of the simpler days. The girls used to giggle over his uncanny resemblance to the “dream” guy in a classic chick flick. That one was her movie; he had the top billing.

“Have you be in hiding?” He teases, pulling her into a hug that lasted a beat too long to be just friendly, “You’re hard to track down these days.”

She doesn’t mean to be coy, it just comes out that way. “Have you been looking?”

“You know I’m always looking for you.”

Minho is her first boyfriend, not her first love. She is his first girlfriend, his first love.





-



Fact: She’s never missed a single performance of his.

Another fact: She is his biggest fan and those girls who spend their lunch money on buying CDs for a full collection of photo cards don’t even come close.

Even from the very first stage, he knew what to do – which camera to look at and at what moment, which movement to exaggerate and when to be subtler so there is room for others to shine. Their dance instructor named him the “perfect performer,” he makes it hard to look away.

Whenever the music comes on, he looks so alive that it makes her bitter that she can’t, for the life of her, feel a fraction of the same rush of joy and adrenaline that he does.



-



The thing with Jinri still looms over the back of her mind like a dark cloud (zapping her conscience with lightning bolt in a shape of a girlish beam).

It’s not like she can openly talk to Luna, Amber or Qian about this. (“Oh, by the way, I just wanted to let you know I turned up at Jinri’s house the other day and I almost pulled her hair out but I didn’t – felt too bad for the new extensions she’s got in.”) After all the fighting – the pushing and pulling of ‘stay and don’t stray’, it has left the four of them with an unbreakable bond but it has also left a closed wound that none of them dare to open again with the utterance of "Jinri”

He’s preparing for a comeback so he doesn’t have time. Well, too bad, he’s going to make time for this.

He’s already waiting at their spot (not really just theirs, Jinri and Jongin had a lot to do with finding this place), grumbling, no doubt about having to be waiting around for her and at all places – an abandoned shed behind the boy’s changing room. (Hmm…the smell has not changed one bit, a delightful combination of dirty socks and fungus.)

“What’s the emergency?” Taemin asks in a rush, walking up to her in an instant.

“Okay, so you might not think this is an emergency but…”

He narrows his eyes.

“You know how we made that pact about keeping our distance,” she huffs a conflicted sigh, “From Jinri.”

Again, he narrows his eyes.

She falters imperceptibly. “Okay, don’t be mad,” she begins, “But I happened to drive pass her place and I couldn’t help myself.”

Taemin studies her for an agonizing minute. “Did you see her?”

She nods, guilt stricken.

“Okay”

“Huh?” She gapes, dumbfounded, “Okay? That’s it?”

He runs a hand through his tousled bangs, throwing his arms in the air in indifference. “I don’t know? What do you want me to say to that?”

“Aren’t you going to ask how it went? Or what we talked about?”

“Why?”

She states at him blankly? (Why? What do you think, you idiot? How could you even ask that – why? Are you being serious right now?)

“Why?” He sighs, a sorrowful, hopeless sigh that hurts her too, “Why would I want to hear what she’s got to say? Why would I go back there?”

“What are you on about –“

“I’m talking about her lying right to our faces,” His explanation is so simple that it frustrates her further, “She says one thing and she does the other, she makes up her mind then she hasn’t– that’s who she is, Soojung, that’s what she does.”

“Then what you saying?” She pushes on fiercely, “That this is it? We cut ties with her – easy like that?”

“This is it,” he concludes with a hollow shrug, “She walked out of my life and I’m letting her stay there. What you do, that’s up to you.”

At this, he has to turn away from her. This is their shared pain, she wants to remind him. How can we let our girl go, Taemin?



-



(Even now, she still believes that only the truly, blessed ones are given a taste of unconditional love.

While the rest of them keep on craving, Jinri had six-year worth of that same taste. Love at the first sight is not an uncommon sentiment but love at the last sight is. If anything, Taemin showed them all that. It should be a local legend: ‘There was once a boy who handed all of him to a girl who discovered too much too late that she’d rather have half of someone else.”

She just hopes Jinri knows she’s only got one shot at it and ruined it now – among other things)



-



“Yo Krystal!” Amber beckons her over (or annoys her, that’s the same thing with that girl), “Check out this new Big Bang’s new song. It’s awesomest thing you’ll see all day.”

Awesomest? Is that even a word? She rolls her eyes, but sits down on the floor next to Amber, allowing her to shove the iPad screen into her face. (Overpriced production – check, Jiyoung oppa in an insane looking…what is that even? – check, Caucasian models – checked, Youngbae sunbae riding a horse – weird – Oh my god, Seunghyun’s hair and what is that thing he’s spraying supposed to be – oh, right, that.)

“The music video is really creative,” is Amber’s choice of adjective, “Seungri totally ripped off my hairdo! Dude, what is this?!”

This is so dirty, she shakes her head even if she is unable to control her growing excitement. (Ugh, he can be so weird when he wants to be. What are those face expressions he’s making? Still hot, though.)

“Don’t they look so cool?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “Yeah, he does.”



-



“Aren’t we running late?”

“You asked me that a minute ago.”

“But it starts at half past nine, it’s now forty five past and I still can’t see the club from where we are!”

“Why do our Soojungie worry so much?” Jonghyun teases, pinching at her cheek painfully, “You must really be as innocent as you say you are. How do you not know that no one shows up on time?”

“How do you not know it stops being fashionably late and just late if you’re the last one to show up?”

“You need to relax,” he coaxes and loops an arm around her shoulder, “Donghae hyung told me he’s coming at eleven. So, us,” he points at her then back to himself, “We’re fashionably late.”

“You better be right” She grumbles under her breath.

The car does a U-turn, entering some dark alley (dodgy much?) then emerges again onto the middle of a completely different street.

Leaning closer, she whispers, “You really weren’t kidding when you said the driver knows his routes.”

“Next time you should have more faith in your oppa,” he patronizes, “Wait, I never asked. Who invited you?”

“Jiyoung oppa,” she lies, quick and resolute.



-



Try as she might, she couldn’t play it off cool.

In the end, she has to hold onto the belt of Jonghyun’s belt to not be a victim to the vicious waves of party people. (SM doesn’t throw parties like this ever – to Sehun’s dismay.) It baffles her how she could turn away from a moment but when she looks back, there will be at least ten more people crowding around that same area. The bass can cause permanent damage to her ears and as a singer, but what other choice does she have other than to shout? (“Who organized this?” “Seungri” – and that would explain the overflow.)

“This is insane,” she declares once they reach the coat checker, handing her trench over to the lady.

Jonghyun smirks. “This must be your first YG party.”

“It’s always this bad?”

“You mean this good,” Jonghyun wiggles his eyebrows, rocking his hips to some EDM track.

She bursts out in a fit of laughter. “You expect to reel girls in with that kind of dance moves?”

“Oh this?” He does some more (atrocious) body rolls, inching closer to her until she jumps away with a squeal. “Come on, let’s go bust some moves on the dance floors.”

He grins like a Cheshire cat, snatching her hand into his and begin to drag her against her will, “Oh no, no, no, there’s no way you’re making me grind to a club banger with you.”

“Ew, !” Jonghyun exclaims, bringing them further and further into the throng of people.

Despite her protest, she know it’s feeble when Jonghyun lifts her up off her feet. The music is noisy, the crowd is overwhelming, everything is pure sweat and heat. But this is fun, she decides. She is young and wild and free and most of all, she is happy.

(She sings along to an American pop song she pretends to not find infectious, holding hands with Jonghyun as they jump up and down to the beat. His English pronunciation makes him sound like he’s already drunk and it only makes her laugh harder and sings louder, the sound overriding her tiresome mind until it empties itself out.)

Three songs later, the bodies around her disperse and it's when she’s done bending over her stomach from guffawing over Jonghyun’s impersonation of Michael Jackson’s footwork that she sees him, looking for someone.

She dismisses the notion as easily as it comes to her: she hopes it’s her he’s searching for? (Why can’t it ever be her?)



-



It’s quickly becoming an unintentional game of hide and seek. She thinks she sees Seunghyun somewhere, but he’s nowhere to be found when she gets there. It’s laughable how hard it is to get a hold of him when he’s the main event (one of the five) of this bash.

(Props to Seungri for finding this place, there’s a never-ending vast, open space to walk into. Let’s play, how many unnecessary room can you in one club, shall we?) She just came out of the tenth private bar and about to wander in (and straight out of) the third smoking lounge when:

““You reckon the lyrics still apply?”

“For Seunghyun?” The shorter of the two men scoffs, “He wrote it so there’s got to be some truth in it. You know how it’s been after that woman; he hasn’t been the same since.”

“Man, it’s been years,” his company wipes a hand over his face, “Lucky for him, I guess. ‘Cause he’s theChoi Seunghyun, girls don’t get turned off when they hear commitment issues – adds to the whole ‘cold city guy’ image he’s got going on. If it was anyone else? They’d run for the hills.”

Nosiness is not something she is accustomed to; in fact it is a personality trait she thinks lowly of. Yet here she is – her back against the wall, just around the corner of a discovery she didn’t mean to make. She’s eavesdropping, that’s what she’s doing.

Not wanting to expose herself to anymore of this tell-all session about Seunghyun’s private life, she whirls around with the intention to get away as far as possible.

One problem: she has to get pass the man himself first.

“You look pale,” he rasps, stamping out the barely lit cigarette with his heel.

She swallows, feeling the glass of champagne from earlier on coming back up. Seunghyun stays rooted in his spot, his eyes downcast so as not to seem as though he minds that she has learn of his past (still current?) emotional turmoil.

Sounding troubled, Seunghyun says, “You can leave now if you want. I’d understand.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

(Don’t make me leave)

He meets her gaze directly, surprised by her question. “No, of course not. But I thought you might want to leave after what you’ve just heard. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to stay for courtesy’s sake, Soojung.”

Certainty replaces the unease in her voice: “I’m not staying to be polite. I promise, I’m not.”

"Okay," he accepts with a slight inclination of his head. Then he falls silent and she realizes with a startle that this is the most guarded he’s ever been with her.

“I don’t care to hear what anyone has got to say about you, unless it comes from you yourself.” With a reluctance of her own, she shifts closer and offers earnestly, “If a whole bunch of so-called attitude problems don’t make you think any less of me, then I can’t let a couple of gossips get to me. You’ve been good to me – more than good actually. I think that’s all that should matter.”

He visibly relaxes and it has the same effect on her. For him, maybe it is the knowledge that she is not so easily swayed but for her, it is the knowledge that that her trust for him can remain unbroken.

She hopes it will last.



-



Her: Are you having fun?

Him: Why do I feel like that’s a trick question? I’ve said once or twice to you before that parties aren’t really my things.

Her: Oh, no, I know how much you like being a loner. I can tell from listening to the song.

Him: I think you’re the only one who’d find that joke funny. The song is probably not your taste, is it? But I’m curious so I have to ask.

Her: I like the song, it’s relatable for everyone. The MV…not so much. Are you going to murder me too if I touch your furniture?

Him: I’ll let you touch my furniture if you stop making unfunny jokes.

Her: Then why are you laughing?

Him: Because it’s you.



-



They’re standing (hiding) behind the neon sign next to bar, finishing off their talk about the last exhibition he went to in Singapore and are about to move onto a discussion about the newly opened gallery in Seoul’s business district. He has to lean in for her to hear his invite (“There’s a private showing next weekend – if you’re not too busy, I can set up a time.”), she has to lean in to accept. It is all so innocent but she could see how it would look otherwise.

“You told me to they were just rumors. Guess not.”

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the jealous ex-boyfriend act, especially when it comes from a not-ex-boyfriend – point in case, Junmyeon.

“Soojung?” Sehun joins the circle like some inessential onlooker in a bad melodrama, scampering after Junmyeon, “Oh …”

She can’t decide who to start explaining this to first – the heavily intoxicated and (apparently) angry Junmyeon or scandalized Sehun or Seunghyun (which she’d rather not know how he is perceiving the situation at hand.)

There is a ‘thud’ that is only loud between the four of them. There would have been a much louder, discernible one if Sehun hadn’t been instantaneous at catching Junmyeon’s arm and pulling him upright.

“Jongin, I could have overlooked!” Junmyeon slurs, “I knew what I was getting myself into with that one. But this – him,” he points accusingly at Seunghyun (or intended to anyway), “My bad, I must be even more boring than I thought if you had to run to a pot-smoking womanizer to keep you entertained. You must be really desperate though – Jongin was never going to take you back –“

(Jongin – oh god, is he here too?)

“Hyung!” Sehun exclaims sharply, horrified (at what, she couldn’t tell – her ashen face? Junmyeon’s cruelty? Seunghyun being there?), “Leave him to me. You don’t need to deal with this –“

“Shut up, Sehun,” Junmyeon growls, shoving him off, “Everyone’s running around, “dealing” with her problems for her. How about you let princess here deal with something on her own for once?”

It’s the alcohol talking, she repeats to herself as a mantra as she moves to steady Junmyeon and ushers him away from prying eyes. This could have been handled elsewhere – somewhere more private, where they could have covered their tracks but Seunghyun no longer felt that silence suits him.

“Your friend’s right,” Seunghyun aims at her, “You don’t have to deal with this. He's not your problem.”

Junmyeon glares at them. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here.”

Seunghyun appraises him calmly but emotionlessly. “It’s unfair of you to put Soojung and your colleague in this position –“

“No, oppa, it’s fine,” she protests.

“Whether you’re doing this to get her attention or punish her for something you think she did,” Seunghyun continues as if he hasn’t heard her, “You shouldn’t make her take responsibility for problems that are of your own doing,”

There is a look that both Sehun and her know to have only made an appearance once ever before – a reddened face, fiery flash of the eye and clenched jaw to match with clenched fists. Their eyes meet fearfully – she has an uncanny feeling that neither of them is disposed to handle this.

“Seunghyun hyung!”

Seungri to the rescue, is not a sentiment she thought she’d ever hold – but that went the same for Suho as the biggest dickhead of the year, and yet here they are.

“Seunghyun hyung!” Seungri pounces on him, all smiles and sprightly, “Aha! So this is where you’ve been hiding all this time! And…keeping Soojung all to yourself, you sly ahjusshi!”

(Never mind, she takes that back and her firm belief that this night couldn’t get any worse.)

“Oh hey! You guys are from EXO, aren’t you? Glad you took up my invitation.”

Oblivious to the stirring tension that could be cut with a knife, Seungri sticks his hand out for an introductory handshake. She waits expectantly for Junmyeon to last out any minute now but comes close to hurling on her shoes when Seunghyun nudges the younger one’s hand away.

“They’re just on their way out,” Seunghyun announces, clearing his throat and impelling Seungri to walk away.

“But hyung, the party has only started!” Seungri whines and then, calls over his shoulder, “Then what about Soojung? I didn’t even know she was here until now…wait, oh hyung, come on!”

He looks back over at her in query (or plea) but she shakes her head vehemently, already turning away. He has found out too much (the chaos she wreaks, her cowardice, her selfishness, Jongin), he too, will learn of her true value and she is not enough - not for him, not for herself, not for anyone or anything.

“Not gonna run after your boyfriend?” Junmyeon gloats once they are out of sight, “Isn’t he too old for you with that serious talk – “

“You are drunk!” she loses it, lunging at him with full force and god, how she wants to hit him. (She can’t, if not for Jongin then for Sehun.) Pushing aside the growing pit of fury within her, she pulls Junmyeon into a more secluded corner, hissing, “Right now you’re only making an embarrassment out of yourself, but if you keep this up, the humiliation will be for the whole team. It’s not going to be Kim Junmyeon’s name in that headline but EXO’s Suho. So sober up, and do your job as a leader and lead!”

She douses a glass of ice water onto his head, not feeling her anger dissipate in the least as the liquid trickles down his chin and onto his bomber jacket.

(Not you too, Junmyeon, don’t hate me too.)



-



Sehun drives like they’re on the run. And if they are, he and she, they’re running from different things.

She hears him but like a buzzing of an insect or the scratching of a blank vinyl – easy to ignore and might as well be quietude.

“Hey,” he persists anyway, removing one hand off the steering wheel to hold hers a little too tightly, “I asked you a question.”

She is looking directly at him but somehow; his form is blending into the neon streetlights outside the window. “Sorry, what – what was your question again?”

He mutters something that flies by her completely; she suspects it wasn’t that wasn’t for her but the car that had cut in front of them. “It was a stupid thing to ask. You’re obviously not okay.”

“No, no,” she waves him off, “I’m fine. You should worry about Junmyeon oppa, he’s…“

“A jackass,” Sehun finishes for her, “He is off his face, completely, but that’s not an excuse to roast you with a hate speech that didn’t match up for most of it.”

He honks noisily at the same aggressive driver from the last traffic stop before zooming pass the green light. The jerky brake must have been too much for Junmyeon because his whimper could be heard all the way from the backseat as he rolls over onto his back.

“Serves you right,” she hears him mumble, then to her, “Well, he’s got perfect timing, alright. Our comeback is a week after Big Bang, so backstage is going to be fun times.”

This is really not helping, she swallows apprehensively. “About Seunghyun –“

“You don’t have say anything, Soojung,” Sehun interrupts, “You cleared up the rumors last year, I know you weren’t lying. You wouldn’t do that to Jongin.”

“Me to Jongin?!” She interjects, her temper flaring, “We broke up months before all that happened! He made it perfectly clear that whatever or whoever I involved myself with was no longer his concern.”

“I’m not saying you would have been wrong if you were dating that guy,” he rationalizes, raising his hands defensively, “ Sorry, if it came out like I was making you out to be some cheating, girlfriend! I’m just saying it wouldn’t have made sense when we both know you were still trying to captain that capsized ship.”

She sighs in frustration. Her heads throbbing from the events of the past hour – she is beyond screwed up, this is a whole new level of ed-up-ness.

“This is going to piss you off so bad but I’m going to ask anyway,” Sehun says, unease a he checks left and right for incoming vehicles, “Are you dating him now?”

She looks away, as if guilt stricken (now who’s contradictory). “No, we’re friends.”

“Closer friends than last year?” he implores.

“Yes,” she replies begrudgingly, “What’s your point?”

“I’m your friend. I’m worried about you. I’m a nosy piece of ,” Sehun says, a touch impatient, “And yes, this is between us. No, I’m not going to tell Jongin. Happy?”

She scrunches up her nose. “No but thanks,” she acknowledges glumly, “It’s not like he’ll care.”

He gives her a look of pure skepticism. “And here I thought, you know Jongin better than I did.”



-



By the time they get there, she’s not sure who’s more ready to throw up – her or Junmyeon. He smells like two gallons of soju and another two of beer, she thought she’d smelt the worst that one time when Jongin and Taemin went out for a drinks at twelve in the afternoon and called for ‘help’ at nine.

She’s standing in the living room, out of place and out of her mind as she busies herself with calibrating a master plan for a ride home (Who does she call? Not her sister, she’ll hold this her head for the next decade for sure.) The lights are off and she doesn’t expect Sehun to come back anytime soon after having taken Suho out of her hands (the warmth of him lingers, searing into her skin like a dishonorable mark: This is all your fault.) She doesn’t expect anything anymore.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” is a dialogue that takes place closeby and is only approaching closer by the second, “You’re lucky manager hyung went home – What? What do you mean she was there? I – , is she okay? What do you mean hyung went off at her? He said ‘stuff’ – what ‘stuff’? I don’t give a , Sehun, I’ll go wake him up right now if you don’t tell me what he said to her –“

He’s in the middle of his threat when he tramps into her view, Sehun is hot on his heel and nearly face plants into his backside when his steps subside. (When is it going to get old? When is he going to stop stealing her breath away?)

He ignores Sehun’s attempt to string together an explanation and throws him the damp towel when suddenly he barrels into her.

“I’m sorry,” he says frantically, crushing her to his chest and planting barely there kisses to her mussed hair, “I’m sorry. I’m here now. I’m so, so sorry.”

She knows she should maintain the last of her dignity and pretend she hasn’t been waiting for him, that she has destroyed that part of her that needs him. But it’s always come to this – going home to him and him coming home to her.

She has to tread carefully here, if she gives in so easily he will think her to have no resistance against him. The thing is, she never did, not even after everything that’s happened between them.

“It’s okay,” she clings onto him as he does to her, “Shh…it’s not your fault. Everything’s going to be okay.”’

She is, in his arms, she knows she’s going to be okay.

And then he kisses her, hungry and desperate. It is not sweet nor is it gentle, but it is losing to a year-long battle of longing to be hers again. It is him saying farewell to banishing her touch, so she doesn’t let him stop because she is too afraid the moment he does he will second-guess this – he will second-guess them.

But he does anyway, he pulls away from her almost as if it pains him to. His hands cup her face within but his eyes glaze over her in tumult, it’s easy to tell that he’s struggling to not crush his lips to hers and that he needs this as much as she does.

“That question you asked me,” Jongin pants between each words, “Do you remember when you asked me what my happiest moment was?”

She doesn’t know what he’s getting at so she nods jerkily.

“I lied. It wasn’t when we won first place,” he admits honestly, “The happiest moment in my life was at my first SMTOWN concert, standing on that stage with you and holding your hand.”

This is their turning point, she realizes. From here on is what will determine the rest of their lives and it is everything she’s been dreaming of at night. They can continue where they have left of now, he just has to say the words.

“That girl – that’s my Soojung,” he says urgently, her cheek with his thumb like he used to, “Come back to me. Please come back to me.”