Seungri’s hand is half a second from turning his shower on when his phone rings. His hand twitches over the faucet, sweaty body itching to step under the hot water. But then he recognises the little jump in his heart as the reflex reaction to hearing that ringtone. He hastily steps out of the shower and makes a beeline to his phone on the bed, snatching it up immediately.

“Hyung.” Seungri tries not to sound too flustered. He also tries to ignore the fact that he is still unclothed, not that he can be seen over the phone anyway.

“Seungri-yah.” Jiyong’s thick voice unfurls sluggishly, dragging out each syllable. Seungri automatically concludes that he has been drinking.

“Yeah?” Seungri’s voice is a little too timid, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yes, hyung.”

“Can you translate some Japanese for me?” The sound of Jiyong’s ragged breathing fills the otherwise silent moment, before a heavy sigh spills through the line. “What does it mean when someone says…”

It’s a sentence so vulgar that Seungri’d rather not even think about the meaning. Jiyong speaks the Japanese in a monotone, as if the meaning of the words can’t interest him any less. A lump forms and grows in Seungri’s throat, and it drops to his stomach when Jiyong finishes reciting his sentence.

“What does it mean…?” Seungri throws Jiyong’s question back at him and chews on his lower lip, stalling with hopes of completely evading his task. He has a feeling that Jiyong already knows the meaning behind those words anyway.

“Yeah.” Jiyong’s voice is breathy now, and it sends a shiver down Seungri’s spine. “What does it mean when your girlfriend shouts that at you and storms out of the house, slamming the door?”

Seungri squeezes his eyes shut, mimicking the squeezing of his heart. “It means… It means…” Seungri doesn’t have any words to offer.

“Kiraidesu. Kirai. It means she hates me.” He pauses for a moment. “And I tell myself that I hate her too, but I don’t think it would hurt this much if I really did.”

“Hyung. Where are you? Are you at home?” Seungri is already tugging on the pants that previously lay discarded on the ground as he presses the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“I’m in hell… burning from inside out as a punishment for my sins…” Seungri hears Jiyong gulp, presumably taking a swig of his alcohol.

Seungri stifles a sigh and glances at the time. 1:27AM. “Hyung…”

“It’s not fair. How can there be a hell when there clearly is no heaven?” Jiyong laughs a lifeless laugh. “I guess this hell was specially created for me.”

“Hyung,” Seungri says firmly, grabbing his car keys and making his way to the garage.

Jiyong heaves a sigh colossal enough to rattle Seungri’s bones. “Yes, I’m at home.”

“I’ll see you in twenty.” Seungri hangs up, already speeding down the road to Jiyong’s house.

~

Seungri keys in Jiyong’s passcode at the door and lets himself into his house. Darkness greets him from all around and he blinks twice to adjust his eyes. He pads through the house far too large for one and gingerly opens the bedroom door.

He smells the alcohol and smoke before he sees them. Jiyong is sitting on the floor, surrounded by broken bottles, discarded cigarette butts and crumpled pieces of paper. It’s like a hurricane had swept through his room and left this, and a soulless Jiyong, in its wake.

Jiyong keeps his vacant eyes trained forward and waves a lazy hand, cigarette dangling between fingers, which Seungri interprets as a gesture for him to come in. The dim city lights leaking through the windows and the soft amber glow of the lit cigarette are the only things that illuminate the room.

“Hi,” Jiyong says, and the word tumbles out along with a cloud of smoke.

“Hey.” Scrunching his nose, Seungri coughs and manoeuvres through the clutter on the floor to open a window.

“Don’t,” Jiyong tells him. “If you open the window, something else might escape again and leave me.”

“You need fresh air,” Seungri says, but closes the window anyway, deciding to bear with the stench for Jiyong’s sake. “And what’s the reason for no light?” 

“It’s better in the dark because I don’t want to keep seeing her everywhere and in everything.”

Seungri grits his teeth and swallows painfully. He clears some space on the floor and takes a seat next to Jiyong, close enough for their sides to press together.

Jiyong extinguishes his cig between his thumb and index finger and carelessly tosses it to the floor. “You know, after the initial anger, a few bottles of soju and some cigarettes… It doesn’t really hurt that much anymore. Maybe I’m just so used to this endless cycle of fighting and making up that I’ve gone numb.”

Jiyong’s words settle in the air, where it mingles with the smell of corruption. Seungri absentmindedly picks up a piece of paper off the floor and unfolds it. The page is stained in layers of black, inky scribbles, as if the words behind had been slaughtered and drowned in their own blood.

“Lyrics,” Jiyong explains calmly. “I wrote them earlier. But I don’t want anyone to ever see them. Not even myself.” 

Seungri nods and scrunches the paper up again in a fist. Seungri may not know Jiyong fully (though not even Jiyong knows himself fully), but Seungri had been there during some of Jiyong’s worsts. Looking inside Jiyong’s mind for even a second would be enough to scare anyone away. But, Seungri thinks, not him. Never Seungri.

“Hyung.” Seungri looks down at his hands and fiddles with them. “It’s not really up to me but I think… You shouldn’t see her. Ever again.”

Jiyong finally turns to look at him and Seungri notes his bloodshot eyes. “I can’t let go... We’ve been together for too long. Even if we might not love each other anymore, our lives would be so strange if we break up for good because we’re so used to being with each other. It’s like all the time we spent together is a waste if I just give up.” His sentences sound somewhat like a rehearsed speech.

“Maybe strange will be good. It’s unhealthy to stay with someone you don’t love. And it definitely