The white of his shirt only wished to change to another color as he lazily lay with the glass in his hand tilting it side to side and examining it. He had no idea how he came across pomegranate juice in the hotel room. Maybe because this place was full of luxuries and he was worn out after the banquet he needed something that would get his mind to leave all the thoughts he held in his mind. Yet all the juice did was make him thirsty and it had a bitter taste too.

His dark pink lips formed a straight line as he drowsily looked at the glass feeling his eyes falling shut, and his heart beating a little out of stability. He knew it wasn't a good idea to drink something while laying down, and his mother had always scolded him whenever him or any of his siblings, preferably his brother, ate or drank things laying down.

He felt his whole body heating up and he began to sweat, too lazy to reach for the air conditioner's remote. It wasn't odd for him to sweat since he did all the time when playing soccer. But right now, the heat was different. His eyes roamed around the dimly lit room looking at every fine crafted object placed perfectly at it's spot. This was like every other hotel he'd been to, when his team was out for games, the only difference was that he always got his own room no matter what. 

He may have told everyone that he didn't like sharing and it would become a major problem if he did. Though in reality he only had one reason. He liked being alone when it came to moments like this where something or someone wouldn't leave his mind and he was being bothered by it. 

He knew that right now he should be sleeping in order to be perfectly fit for tomorrow's game, but as soon as he walked in, he grabbed whatever he could find in the mini refrigerator and lazily walked to the bed proving to at least himself that he was trying to sleep. His black dress pants, pure white shirt, and even dress shoes were still on. He had long forgotten his tie and coat at the door. 

There was something about formal dressing that he hated. It reminded him of her. In fact, everything these days reminded him of her. She said that she was a lawyer for a reason, and one that would take great pride in causing divorces. People, including him, often laughed at her for such thoughts, though she didn't mind.

These days, he felt like going to her too. Asking her what she'd think about their own divorce. 

A loud thud could be heard as he harshly placed the glass on top of the night table, groaning when a drop landed on his perfectly white shirt. He looked at the left side of his upper chest to notice a purple drop spread across the area, showing some sort of hatred evident in his heart. He felt ruthless. Even he could see how cruel he was.

He just never knew how to say a word to her. His own thoughts always clouded his mind and he was never stable enough to say anything properly. 

He gripped the front of his shirt and grit his teeth. He was losing his patience and truly couldn't take this any longer. He didn't know what to do. From afar, he was such a good person to her, but he never said a thing to her when she'd be sad. He knew she wasn't okay but he wouldn't even write those words in a simple text.

He didn't know what to do.

He leaned back and let his back hit the bed. He placed the back of his right hand against his eyes, and took a deep sigh. When he closed his eyes, he saw her face, smiling and looking at him. He didn't say a word and just stood in silence.

This was three years ago. 

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling noticing how every design carved in was perfectly planned or else it wouldn't have been this aching to his eyes. He shut his eyes and stopped, seeing her again. She wasn't smiling anymore, and instead she looked at him and simply turned away as they walked beside each other. She mumbled something, but he didn't answer.

He opened his eyes again. He wasn't even listening two years ago when she'd said those words to him. He remembered something though.

He closed his eyes again, seeing her looking down, standing far away from him and staring at her hands folded against her stomach. Was she hungry? He couldn't tell. Then she looked up at him, he instantly opened his eyes, her stare from a year ago burning in his mind. He suddenly realized what she meant but he hadn't said anything. 

He knew it. He really wasn't enough, and that was one thing he didn't like. He should've been everything for her, even after all these years. He sat up and shuffled his hands around the silk sheets until his hand touched the air conditioner's remote. He picked the object up and the machine making sure it was so cold that it would freeze his thoughts in place. 

He didn't want to see more.

Taking in the cool air against his pale skin, he closed his eyes, already feeling the air turning his cheeks cold and into a pink shade from the temperature. He frowned to himself, feeling uncomfortable when he saw a glimpse of her two days before he left. He was at the mall, by himself, and he'd seen her. She wasn't alone. 

She was with him. 

The one person that had a chance of replacing him. It was one thing he realized, she didn't need someone famous that the population of female would drool over. All she needed was someone who'd look her in the eyes and smile at her as if she was the world and as if he was the moon rotating around her. And when she'd look into his eyes, she'd need nothing else because the love would be right there.

It was all like that.

Until she changed, and eventually he lost his patience, changing too.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his shirt. He moved his right hand to the top of the row of buttons and ed the first three. He pulled at one side and sighed, feeling relieved when he felt the cold air against his pale skin. He moved the same hand to his hair and ran his hand through it. He felt like taking a shower, and wanted so badly to feel the cold water against his skin. But he was also tired and he wanted to sleep, but he knew that if he closed his eyes, he'd see things he didn't want to, again.

He'd probably see her with him again. He knew it wasn't a good thing to overreact because the man was only her cousin. But a cousin was still a cousin, especially when he had the same exact name as your husband.

He never liked anyone who was in his way. Even this so called cousin. He often found himself jealous, even though he was her husband and no one else. It's just that after a couple of years, being with her was like a game for him. It was strange and uneasy. He'd find himself jealous too often for no reason, and something like anger became a part of it. He was never someone to get angry easily, but things changed him a lot. He isn't the same anymore, and sometimes he regrets being so in love. He's too kind, too caring, too loving, that it takes over him and hurts himself.

And her.

He never wanted to hurt her. He doesn't even want to hurt her, but he can't help it. Things are changing and one day he's going to get really tired of himself and even her. He wasn't a bad person and he tried to tell himself, yet it was no use.

He turned his head to look at the pillow that was still untouched. He was so exhausted that he didn't even want to change his clothes, but a sort of sanity in him pushed him to at least discard his shoes, socks, belt, and shirt, before placing his head on the soft silky pillow. The feeling of the golden brown pillows bugged him. What was this supposed to be? Something romantic for a soccer player who came to play in their city?

He rubbed his eyes and yawned before finally closing them and not seeing her face. He sunk deeper into the bed hating the feeling of the sheets against the side of his bare arm and chest. He was likely to feel weird because there was silk, and once he thought  of it, the room had a really cheeky vibe to it. Almost disgustingly romantic. They must've given him the wrong sweet. Because in the state he was in right now, he probably needed a room with gray walls and plain cotton sheets. Not decorative carvings in the walls, scents of candles, and silk bed sheets.

It was disgusting to him. He never liked this type of stuff that's why he didn't want to get married, and the more he though of it, he really needed to find a divorce lawyer. He didn't need to be married any longer, she didn't either. He should just go back to her and tell her he's sorry.

-

If it wasn't for that certain ringtone he had to know a family member, or in this case, his mother was calling, he wouldn't have awoken. He hated the sound but he knew he had to get up. It wasn't just anyone. It was his mother.

With a groan he lifted his head, feeling the blanket lined with yet another uncomfortable yard of silk, fall off of his chest. He rubbed his  eyes while facing the bed. He then turned his head to look at the night table to see the glass of pomegranate juice and his phone. He took a glimpse of the time finding it too early and slid the green bar answering the phone and laying back on his stomach, tired from not even getting enough sleep.

"Hello," he mumbled like a child, the same way he used to in the past. He could hear his mother chuckle from the other end, and all he could think was about when she'd hand up.

"Haneul, my angel, how are you?"

He rolled his eyes, knowing all to well why she even named him Haneul. It meant he was heavenly, he wondered what she'd think of him right now. "Yes? I mean, I'm good."

It was as if she smiled on the other end. Today of all days she sounded so happy. "I'm waiting for your return my boy. It's very exciting."

He raised his eyebrows, his brown eyes a little confused. "Why? I leave all the time. Why are you so excited this time?"

"Wait, is that Haneul? Give me the phone, I want to tell him."

He could hear his younger sister begging their mother for the phone while she told her to wait until he came back. He sat up in confusion propping up the silk pillow, glaring at it before leaning his against it. He had a game to play in a couple of hours and he couldn't keep up with these two any more, their argument was becoming too much for his slow brain to understand. "What is it? I'd like it if one of you would just blurt it out."

"No it's okay. We'll tell you when we come." His mother tried to tell him.

He groaned, pulling at the excuse of a blanket since he felt cold with the air conditioner still on. "No tell me."

"I will!" His sister blurted from the other side of the phone, "once again Haneul, I'm going to be an aunty."

There was a moment of silence as he could hear his sister run away laughing and his mother scolding her for saying it. His lips parted in surprise and he had difficulty finding words. There was still in a sliver of hope, maybe he could get to the divorce lawyer before it was too late. "M-Mom," he mumbled.

"Yes?" She questioned. He motherly voice almost made him tear up. "Aren't you happy? I just love babies and so does your sister-in-law."

"I...yeah. But hyung is becoming a father again? Right? Or is it noona?" He felt his heartbeat stop not knowing what to expect. He was scared and afraid, something he had will to admit, but right now, he couldn't breathe as his mother answered the question. This relationship was only supposed to have two heartbeats. Not three.

...

A/N: Hi!! This is the little too 4th cut! It's by my sister infinexx, I was too lazy so I asked her to write a really detailed cut. And she went a overboard, haha it's k tho. ( : Anyways, to write this one, it has to be a oneshot, and you can't change the names(the name of the main guy is ovbviously Hanuel, and the girl that he's talking about and getting all frusterated about, her names Seonhui), anyhow. What you have to do with this is choose if he's becoming a father, if his sister's having a child, or his hyung's becoming a father. And what happens next? This ones pretty tricky. But goodluck!