You were sitting at the end of the couch. I was twenty and laying on my belly on the carpet. TV played a re-run of one sappy drama Jiyong would love if only he had nothing to do tonight. Seungri was out again with his friends and Youngbae already in his dreamland.

“What is that?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see.”

I looked over my shoulder but you’re already beside me, laying on your side.

“Come on, Daesung,” you grinned. “I won’t tell anyone.”

I knew you love secrets. “Promise me you won’t tell Jiyong–hyung?”

“That means I get to tell Youngbae?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I promise,” you scooted closer. “What you’ve been doing?”

I handed out the crumpled paper I’ve been reading. “Reading.”

You retraced the syllables I’ve written with your fingertips. I felt the burnt in my chest and the loud beating of my heart as you whispered out the words slowly. “You’ve been writing?”

“Reading,” I shook my head. “I wrote this…a week ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s nothing,” I tried to snuck away to my room even though our conversation wasn’t ended yet. “Really, hyung.”

“I’ll keep this.”

“What?”

“I’m going to keep this.”

“But it’s mine,” I stutter to give a reason. “And it’s –it’s…”

“Nothing?”

I nodded. “Hyung, why would you need it anyway?”

“Why would I need your writing?”

“You don’t even know what that is, do you?”

You frowned. “Well, this can be anything. I like it.”

“What would you do if I give it to you?” I sneered. Your logic was somehow bizarre and I could not follow. “You wrote a lot by yourself too, you wrote your own part for our songs.”

“I’ll keep it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s from you.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I’ll keep whatever you’re going to give me. So…mine?”

“Fine,” I la