“You look miserable,” Seunghyun doesn’t ask for his permission, claiming the nearest couch and Jiyong’s TV remote bounces against the floor.

“You look ,” Jiyong scoffs but not too much because Seunghyun is having a hard times too. The older male throws him a glare, still.

“You should be grateful that I come visiting.”

“Sure, what gives?” Jiyong twirls his cigarette in between his fingers. The temptation is strong but he is going to present a song soon. “What dragged you here? Who?”

“The hyung in me?” Seunghyun rolls his eyes dramatically. “Where’s Seungri?”

“I’m pretty sure that this is my house.”

“The place you’re hiding in when you’re not in your parents’ house, got it,” Seunghyun snickers. “I was going to scold Seungri for going out a lot.”

“I’m afraid that you’re looking in a wrong place,” Jiyong wants to get drunk before Seunghyun can go further. It’s not because Seunghyun doesn’t know that he’s slicing Jiyong into ribbons; it’s because he knows. “Go back to wherever you were.”

“Can’t,” Seunghyun grins. “Youngbae said he’ll get some food ready if I think about coming over his place.”

“Then go to Youngbae, leave me alone.”

“My ride is on his way.”

“His?”

“Daesung.”

Jiyong sneers. “He lives literally one floor above Youngbae, why would he come to pick you up?”

“Because I don’t drive?” Seunghyun reasons. “He said okay and I didn’t question any kindness.”

“Great. A party without me.”

“I came to invite you, actually.”

“No, thanks.”

“Do you prefer to be miserable alone?”

“I am not miserable, Seunghyun,” Jiyong hisses.

“You are,” Seunghyun mocks. “And you like being miserable alone. The problem is that it’s impossible.”

“What’s impossible?”

“Alone,” Seunghyun sighs.

Jiyong hates to admit so he doesn’t bother to reply.

“You talk to Seungri. Tell him not to be too friendly.”

“I thought you had the hyung in you?” Jiyong laughs. “He is not a kid.”

“He is my kid and it’s your job.”

Jiyong’s throat closing in. “I’m not the leader off stage, Seunghyun.”

“Yeah, but you like him and he likes you more than he likes the rest of us.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jiyong shakes his head. “Stop making excuses.”

“Me?” Seunghyun concludes before he goes out to smoke.

“Hyung, are you coming?” Daesung dresses in his black T-shirt with a pair of jeans that’s been washed out it’s hardly blue. His smile never falters to soften Jiyong.

“No,” Jiyong shrugs. He has many things to do and things to make plans about. “Make sure Seunghyun won’t end up drunk and embarrass himself, yeah?”

Daesung laughs, the sound echoes through Jiyong’s living room and eventually reaches up to Seunghyun who came running like hurricane. “All right, hyung.”

“Shall we go?” Seunghyun frowns. “You’re not coming? I promise Youngbae to bring you along!”

“Go go,” Jiyong urges them. “Be careful, tell Youngbae I say hi.”

.

.

.

Jiyong had lost Seungri once, during their debut days. They were fresh and new and young and scared and full of dreams. Jiyong had turned his head to look at some people on the street, had gotten his mind away from himself when the sun set. The fear sunk in him when he noticed the absent of Seungri, the unmistakably scent of missing. He spun around and the world did too, the light flickered on one by one, the sky darkened inch by inch.

Dizzied with the sudden loss, he stumbled front two steps, torn in between screaming Seungri’s name or asking for a help. Before he could say anything, he felt a tug on his shirt. There, standing Seungri with his eyebrows furrowed and pimples on his cheeks.

“Where were you, hyung?” Seungri asked, annoyed, relieved. “I’ve been looking for you. Let’s go back.”

Jiyong let him lead their way home, following Seungri’s back like a compass.

They never talked about it, Jiyong doubts if Seungri still remembers but sometimes he wonders if Seungri who came back that day wasn’t the Seungri he used to know.

That Jiyong was the one who’s lost and never gotten back home.

.

.

.

“How’s your hangover?”

Youngbae laughs. “On a scale of one to ten? Minus a hundred. We didn’t get drunk.”

“With Seunghyun around? How come?”

“He was too busy scolding Seungri.”

Jiyong bites his nail. “Oh, he was there too?”

“Yeah, he made it. Were you busy?” Youngbae questions.

“I didn’t know we had gathering,” Jiyong apologies. “I’ll make it up next time.”

“We didn’t,” Youngbae clarifies. “I told Seunghyun hyung that I’d get him some food ready if he’s coming over and he wanted to come right away.”

Jiyong smiles. “I don’t feel left out, Youngbae.”

“Then why?”

“There’s no why,” Jiyong speaks softly. “Just tired.”

“Seungri is worried.”

“Seungri,” the name rolls off of Jiyong’s tongue like cotton candy, sweet and melting and linger and present. “He gets so many things to worry about.”

“He’s worried about you,” Youngbae scolds. “It’s not funny.”

Jiyong pulls a thread from his pajama. “It’s not.”

“He said he’ll fly to Hong Kong today.”

“He told you his schedule? Is the world coming to its end today?”

“I asked,” Youngbae snorts. “He’d tell you if you ask too.”

“I don’t have to know.”

“Because you don’t want to?”

Because I’m afraid, Jiyong hangs up.

You should’ve tell me that you’re going to Youngbae’s place yesterday. I’d come if I knew you’d be there.

Jiyong sends the text because Seungri is miles away. Because it means he can’t find Jiyong even if he wants to.

Let’s have a party when I go back, hyung?

Jiyong doesn’t reply. He might want that too.

.

.

.

The first time it happened, the music was too loud. Seungri walked –waltzed –his way in the sea of people, looking expensive with his suit and charming smile. He talked, he joked, he laughed obnoxiously and everyone stared, everyone knew him. Jiyong sat in one corner, surrounded by drinks and conversations and alias. Nobody was real. Nothing was.

“Aren’t you G-Dragon?”

“Hey, I saw you in the magazine yesterday!”

“Wanna go for a drink next time? It’ll be exclusive, I promise.”

People caught him by his appearance, by his mask. It was nothing new to Jiyong so he smiled, playing along. The dance started, colors splayed on the floor, and Seungri leaped to his side, wearing his cacophonous laughter.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Jiyong sunk into the familiar warmth and he’s not drunk yet. “Done expanding your circle yet?”

Seungri pressed closer to his side, thigh by thigh and reaching for a drink. “Don’t pick on me, I was just having fun.”

“Glad you had fun,” Jiyong leaned on Seungri’s shoulder. “Don’t get into trouble.”

“I won’t,” Seungri shrunk and Jiyong caught his wrist before he went away again. “I’m careful.”

“Good,” Jiyong’s thumb explored Seungri’s palm, tracing the lines of fate that barely glowed under the dim light.

“You should be too, hyung.”

“I’m having fun,” Jiyong closed his eyes, still very sober. His pack of cigarette was within reach.

“Careful,” Seungri sighed. “There are so many people here.”

“You like that.”

There was a pause that stretched to eternity. “I like you.”

Jiyong smiled and maybe he’s a little drunk because his stomach felt hot, Christmas light. “I know.”

“Do you like me too?”

“Hyung,” Jiyong corrected. “Just because we’re –”

“Hyung,” Seungri grinned, his teeth sparkling, uncrooked. He’s been trying to be great, to achieve perfection and Jiyong wasn’t supposed to feel uneasy about him now growing up. Jiyong didn’t want anyone to stare at him like he owned the galaxy and if Seungri no longer saw him as a goal, then be it that way; best that way.

“I like you.”

Seungri shifted their position so he could bore his eyes into Jiyong’s. “How much?”

“So much,” that was Jiyong’s mistake and he should shut up, should drink, should get drunk.

Seungri’s fingers fitted in between Jiyong’s. “I love you.”

Everything inside Jiyong stirred and time ticked, began, pacing slowly. They’re not on stage and Jiyong was on alert when Seungri blinked, his eyelashes fluttered; dragonfly’s wings. The music was long gone, replaced by thunders in his ears as Seungri squeezed his hand a little harder than before. Jiyong’s heart was on his sleeves, dangling dangerously on the edge. “I love you too.”

It was the first time.