The car pulls up in a nearly empty parking lot. There were very few cars in sight, but that didn’t come as a surprise to Jongin, seeing as the apartment Kyungsoo lived in looked rather small.

            As Kyungsoo locks his car, Jongin stands awkwardly on his own as he waits for the singer. When he’s done, Kyungsoo shoves his car keys in his back pocket and gestures at Jongin to follow him. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about his apartment building but what intrigued Jongin was the fact that it had been located in a fairly secluded area of Seoul, but that was a matter of Kyungsoo’s personal preference, he supposes.

            They climb up the stairs to get to his apartment, since the building currently did not have an operating elevator. (Kyungsoo had apologized for this, in which Jongin responded with a simple smile, reassuring that that he didn’t mind walking the up stairs. Much to the dismay of Jongin’s legs, Kyungsoo’s apartment was four floors up). The walk there was deadly silent, as expected. Jongin keeps a safe distance between him and Kyungsoo, always following him from behind as Kyungsoo leads the way.

            Just as they were entering his apartment, Kyungsoo turns to look at him. “Just a bit of a heads up, my place really isn’t very interesting. I like to keep the clutter at a minimal and I’m not very materialistic, so I don’t have a lot of stuff lying around.”

            Jongin refused to believe him at first, because most of the houses he’s seen, houses inhabited by people Kyungsoo’s age, were filled with a variety of things. Apparently he was wrong to generalize.  

            As his eyes travelled from each corner of the apartment, he took notice of how the singer’s apartment looked so spotless. And yet so barren. So vacant.

            The few things Kyungsoo had in his living room was a coffee table made of a dark wood, a dark blue couch and a carpet with and a painting of a lady tinted in gold hanging from the wall. He immediately reconigzes it as a work of Klimt, but he doesn't say a word. “You have a nice place,” Jongin’s compliment doesn’t sound very genuine when it left his mouth, causing his cheeks to grow red.

            “I can give you a brief tour, if you’d like. I have sort of recording studio where I write and record my music. Want me to show you?”

            Feeling a little out of words, Jongin simply nods in reply, his eyes lingering on the doe-eyed Kyungsoo. He then turns his back to walk towards the narrow hallway and Jongin instinctively follows from behind before they reach a cramped, dimly lit room. A computer sat on the wooden desk, along with a number of recording equipment, most of them Jongin was unfamiliar with. A keyboard and a guitar rests on the other side of the room and single picture of who Jongin assumes to be Kyungsoo’s family is pinned up on the wall.

            “I know, you can barely call it a studio, but still—“

            “It’s nice,” Jongin’s eyes return to Kyungsoo’s after exploring every inch of the room. “Really.”

            If it weren’t for Jongin turning his head around to glance at the two doors parallel to the recording studio, he would have caught the redness spreading across Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

            Shaking his head, Kyungsoo snaps back into reality and shuts off the recording studio door, avoiding Jongin’s gaze. “I’ll show you your room and how to shower and then I’m off to bed,” He leads Jongin to the bedroom next to his own, the bedroom once owned by his old roommate.

            He tries his very best to avoid Jongin’s wide smiles and tender eyes throughout the rest of the night.

            The whispers in Kyungsoo’s head clamors in his head as he tosses and turns in between the disheveled bed sheets.

            He can’t mend your heart. 

            The others couldn't.

            What makes him so different? 

            "Everything," he sighs and drifts off to sleep, thoughts of Jongin abuzz in his head.