There had been times, when I looked at you and I didn’t see what I was supposed to be seeing. Lights where it was supposed to be your eyes, possibilities instead of reassurance smile, or dreams as you spoke things that didn’t really matter. I thought it was because you made me believe in you, but it’s actually because you made me believe in myself. I can’t say that it’s the same right now but there’s familiar feeling pooling in my stomach when you raise your head up to meet my gaze as I re-enter the room.

“Seungri is next,” you say and I turn my eyes to the recording booth, watching Youngbae singing his heart out in it. “You’re the last one.”

I nod and try to walk pass your seat but your fingers delicately touch my wrist where it burns the skin with invisible flame.

“Nervous?” your voice small, afraid of interrupting Jiyong’s concentration. “You look tired.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Just the lack of sleep.”

You squint your eyes as if you’re trying to read me through.

“I need to warm up,” reaching for the sheet I abandoned before I ran out, your grasp comes to an end. “Are you done yet, hyung?”

“No, not yet,” you sigh. The rest of your sentence comes in a low mumble as Youngbae escapes from the booth and Seungri takes a deep breath. “I’ll record some more part after you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Jiyong said we need to do this part together,” you point at the chorus.

I stare mutely at the paper.

“We shouldn’t?”

“Oh, no, it’s just we never got to sing a part together before,” I force a laughter out, still surprised at Jiyong’s decision. “We did it with all of us or just me and Seungri or…just never…”

“Just think about those fans been praying for our collaboration,” a smile breaks upon your face, it steals my next breath away. “We’re about to feed their imagination.”

I look away with a sneer, knowingly deep down that it will feed my very own fantasy too.

Love has no instruction, direction, or precaution but it’s certainly meant to hurt. In whatever degree, it will leave scars; some fades with time, some eventually got healed and move on, the rest bleeds for the rest of one’s life.

“I’m getting married,” she says with a shy smile that reminds me of our first date. “Next week.”

I find myself una