It is Sunday, and Jongin decides to wake up extra early today, of all days. He decides to get out of bed at exactly 5 am, giving him five more minutes to lie down and stare at the blank ceiling with two protruding lightbulbs, powered by two different switches. He debates whether or not he should get it fixed, given that he turns off the lights when he goes to sleep. The striped blankets cover his body but he leaves one of his legs sticking out of the covers to gague how cold or hot it was going to be. His pillowcase left soft crease marks on his tanned face and the dreamcatcher placed over the headboard warded off nightmares. Well, except one. 

At exactly five o'clock his alarm chimes softly on the bedside table, then louder. He turns and his finger hover over the snooze button, wanting to have five more minutes, at least. He hits the stop button and drags his body off bed. In an act of defiance on this weekend day where he woke up early, he takes the blankets and wraps it around himself before walking to the window, opening the curtains to reveal the sky slowly lighting up, creating oranges and pinks and blues. Jongin sighs and wraps the blankets around him tighter. 

He lives in a small bungalow just outside Seoul, white paint decorating the interior of the house. Furnitures are either brown or white, sparsely scattered inside. On the living room is an open space where there should have been a sofa and a television set. Instead there are three windows, each beside each other in a slightly circular arrangement, about three feet in height. Trees and bushes surround that part of the house so every day when the sun hits this particular spot, the foilage creates a beautiful pattern on the wooden floor. For now, Jongin opens the curtains here and stares for a fleeting moment before heading back to the mostly still dark house. 

He prepares breakfast which consists of scrambled eggs and toast, with orange juice and water on the side. There are no dining tables, just the counter where he usually eats his meals. Sitting on one of the stools, he relapses into the habit of trying to balance his sitting self onto a leg of the stool. He curls his free hand tightly on the edge of the counter, the other holding the blankets wrapped around him before settling back and eating his eggs and toast in peace. After putting his plate on the sink, he trudges to the other room, the "theatre zone", as it was called. 

This was the only room full of color, from the black Lazy Boys to the red soundproof walls. A projector hangs on a black cage, connected to a computer behind. The television set is bracketed on the sliding wall, behind which is the screen for the projector. There are speakers mounted on two sides, for the full theatre experience. Jongin opens the door and inhales the lemony disinfectant scent, then walks to the computer and turns it open. As it boots up, he slides the wall gently, afraid of the noise it would cause— soundproof or not, he wanted to preserve the silence. The computer immediately projects to the screen and Jongin stares blankly for a second before going to the computer, inserting a hard drive through the USB port. He selects a movie, a good comedy flick, and settles down on one of the chairs, propping up his feet and letting the blankets drape over him. 

The sounds from the movie are enough to make Jongin occupied well until the middle of the day, where his stomach grumbles for food. Grudgingly, he pauses the ongoing movie, another comedy, to grab some instant noodles from the cupboard. He leaves his blanket behind, thinking that he might be back in a few minutes. Once he steps outside, though, the rays from the sun shine brightly into the house, and he sighs and smiles as he decides against his first plan and instead cook, for a change. 

There are only a few things he knows how to cook properly, and one of them is the kimchi stew his mother taught him. He prepares the ingredients meticulously, his hands nimble and quick on the knife. When everything is set and done he starts cooking, the smell wafting through the air. He smiles and sets the table, putting the spoon and chopsticks on a napkin before placing it on the placemat, a round wooden coaster beside it. The hot pot of stew is placed on that coaster, after which Jongin grabs some leftover rice from the night before, places it on a bowl, and eats with gusto. He feels as if his body was being deprived of good food these past few months, and now is the time for him to take it all back. He finishes the small pot of stew, patting his stomach once, twice before getting up and taking the dirty dishes, washing them. 

Jongin starts walking back to the theatre room when he spots the open space by their living room full of sunlight. His feet start moving of their own accord and soon he was standing just where the sun could hit the foilage in front of the house at the angle where Jongin's face would be the shadows of leaves, lightly swaying through the breeze outside. He rushes to the theatre room, opens the music player, and starts blasting classical music from the speakers. He then runs outside, leaving the door of the room open so the sound would encapsulate the house. 

Jongin trained as a ballet dancer before he shifted to contemporary and modern dance. He knew some tricks up his sleeve, turns and jumps that would make anyone swoon. The music now was solemn, mellow even, and his graceful movements were like water flowing through a stream. Jongin closed his eyes and let his feet lead him to steps that he once knew. His steps were light and his turns stable. As he made a pirouette, it came to him, slowly, and then in a cascade. 

He remembers the first time they met, at a bar on Seoul. It wasn't love at first sight, more like love at multiple bumps and spilled cocktails. At the fifth time they met, the other boy smiled. 

"Hey." A deep yet melodious voice said. Jongin looked around for a second before realizing that it was the person in front of him speaking. 

"Oh, hey. We, uh. Keep bumping into each other." Jongin scratched his nape, flustered and had one too many to drink.

"I can see that." Chuckling, the other man offered his free hand, leaning in so they can hear each other better. "I'm Kyungsoo."

Over the smell of booze and sweat, and over the sound of loud EDM music in the background, they exchanged names. "I'm Jongin."

They chatted by the bar; Kyungsoo was with his friend, but they agreed to part ways just a few moments ago. Jongin was alone; he enjoyed bars the best when he was just there, watching. After a few minutes, the two of them agreed to get out and get some fresh air, grab a bite at the nearby fastfood chain, and talk some more. Jongin learned that Kyungsoo was majoring in film, and that he had this great script planned, just didn't know when it would get picked up by any producer. The script would wind up being his big break, but then he stopped writing altogether. He also sings mostly Broadway tunes, and memorized "Dear Evan Hansen" by heart.  Kyungsoo learned that Jongin was majoring in dance, and that the dream was to be a Broadway dancer when he graduates. Hopefully that'll happen, he said. They bonded over their love of musicals, Jongin showing him some of his steps and Kyungsoo imagining what play would be most suitable for him. Over the course of the evening, Jongin saw Kyungsoo dance and Kyungsoo heard Jongin sing. 

Jongin choreographs, lost in his memories. 

The nightmares came as fast as the dreams did; Kyungsoo coming home one day, sick, called Jongin to come and rest with him. When he came, the floor near Kyungsoo was littered with pills, and he lie there gasping for air. Jongin could only cry and try to lift Kyungsoo up, giving him water and dragging him to the car. Jongin drived, his knuckles turning pale, as Kyungsoo grunted in pain and a mutter of "no" on his mouth, barely there. When they reached the hospital, soaked in bodily fluids, Jongin could only weep as Kyungsoo was rushed to the emergency area. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep, his head beside Kyungsoo's. 

The first words he heard as he woke up were "myocardial infarction", and he remembered where he was. Sitting up, he looked around to see people crouching over an concious Kyungsoo looking at him— and tears just welled in his eyes as he realized that this was almost it; he could have lost Kyungsoo. And that wouldn't happen again, not on his watch. The day of their graduation was the day that they first moved in together in this same house. 

It wasn't long before Jongin noticed that Kyungsoo kept clutching his chest and taking one too many deep breathes. When Jongin asked, the smaller of the two always shook his head and smiled at him, as if everything was okay in this world and nothing was wrong. He'd be consoled by the fact that Kyungsoo was regularly going to the doctor for a check-up, with him waiting by the door and listening to every word the doctor said. He was consoled by the fact that Kyungsoo now had a stable job as a film critic in a magazine and also a videographer, when he can. Jongin, on the other hand, had jobs for musicals in Seoul and, in one instance, had an offer for a Broadway musical. He flat out refused, saying that he had to take care of his boyfriend. This resulted in an argument that Jongin quickly diffused by saying that the offer was still on the table and he'd email immediately and reconsider. He never got around to doing that, not even with Kyungsoo's nagging. After a while he bought his first studio, which he manages himself.

They were perfect. There wad never a time that they shouted or became cranky to each other. mainly because of Kyungsoo's condition, but also because of the fact that they understood each other very well. They knew what they had to say at the right moment. They had this connection that went beyond their physical or emotional love for each other. They would dance around the house, just the two of them with a soft ballad playing, and as Jongin spins Kyungsoo, he cannot help but be mesmerized by how lucky he was. 

Jongin spins fast once, twice, thrice, never forgetting to snap his head later than his body so that he would not get dizzy. The song reaches the , and with it comes the downpour. 

The inevitable happened one day as Jongin was practicing with the students in his studio. The company phone rang, and a kid went and answered it before looking at him with wide, terrified eyes, the receiver visibly shaking in his outstretched hand. Jongin ran and grabbed it, taking a deep breath before taking the call. 

"Hello?" Jongin's voice shaked ever so slightly. 

"Is this Kim Jongin?" the voice on the other line said. 

"Yes, speaking. What is it?" 

"I'm so sorry, you have to come to the hospital right now."

Jongin's whole body froze. He went numb, his brain refused to process this event. "Why should I?"

"Kyungsoo's had another heart attack and I'm afraid it turned int–"

"I'll be there."

Jongin hung up the phone, rushed out outside and revved his motorcycle, holding tight on to the bracelet Kyungsoo gave him for their first anniversary as a couple. He was biting his lips until it bled; he needed to feel something. He rushed his way to the hospital, criss-crossing every other car and making sure he was as fast as he dared to go.The motorcycle stopped directly in front of the emergency room and he took off his helmet, only to see a doctor walking to him with a sullen look on his face. 

"Are you Kyungsoo's guardian?"

Jongin could only nod. 

"Let's get you in a scrub."

Aimlessly, and still feeling numb, Jongin followed the doctor to the ICU, where he was given a suit to wear and a mask, as well as a medical cap. He saw Kyungsoo through the glass, tubes sticking out of his body. The parents of Kyungsoo were there and they hugged Jongin as he entered the room.

They talked for a moment about Kyungsoo's health, how all these time he had been diligently going to the doctor, how they made sure that Kyungsoo experienced everything he wanted to, and how Jongin gave him the fullest life possible. Jongin could only tear up and hold Kyungsoo's hand; he cannot believe this is happening. 

At around 4:55 am, September 25, Jongin woke up to Kyungsoo still in a comatose because of the resulting cardiac arrest after his heart attack, but a single drop of tear could be seen on his right cheek. Jongin wanted to wipe it away and placed a soft kiss on Kyungsoo's forehead, murmuring I love you's and Please be fine's. He stared blankly instead across ths glass and closed his eyes for a moment. The next thing he heard was the doctors rushing in, the beep replaced by a monotonous sound, the line flat. Jongin started to run for the door, doctors be damned, but Kyungsoo's father pulled him back, weeping. Jongin started to bawl, he started to resist and scream but nothing changed.

Kyungsoo died at 5:00 am.

The song stopped. 

Jongin opens his eyes, red rimmed and full of tears. His knees starts to shake, then he falls on the floor with a thud, his pain now out into the world while the sun still shone so bright outside. He screams, agony filling the void spaces of the house. He screams for his soulmate lost forever, he screams for his love, his best friend, the only person he dedicated his life to, now gone just like that. The bracelet that Kyungsoo gave him, his last gift, leaves imprints on Jongin's palm as he grasps around it tightly. His tears wet the wooden floor and he does not stop screaming and crying until he closes his eyes and lets in a dark, dreamless nap. 

When he opens his eyes again, it is past 4 and his eyes are raw and swollen from all the crying. He decides not to prolong his agony, take a bath and put on decent clothes, and drive to the cemetery. He arrives and is greeted by Kyungsoo's parents who give him a warm hug. They treated Jongin as their own now, and would visit him from time to time when they had a chance. As they gathered around Kyungsoo's plaque, Jongin looks up at the sky and for a brief moment, feels as if Kyungsoo is there with them.

A year later, and it is again September 25, the day Kyungsoo died.