It was a Friday. 

Daniel had finished up early. No overtimes given to his workers, an early break in commemoration of the upcoming weekend. The employees had left with easy smiles and a bow, politely offering Daniel to join them for dinner by the nearby hawker stalls. He had merely shook his head, and they had brushed it off, shrugging.

Jisung didn't think too much of it, packing up his briefcase and peacoat under his arm as he bid his boss a parting term.

When Daniel stepped out of the building complex, the sun was still fringing across the horizon, shadows dragging long and spindly across the asphalt like burnt honey. He had decided to walk home. He didn't bring his car in that morning.

It was the last month of summer that had the temperatures slowing rolling down to a humid, crisp air; when the heat wasn't acting like a compressed second layer to skin. There was the slight cool breeze wafting up papered leaves, the ringing dissonance of children's shrill laughters in the distance. There was the melting ice-cream cone trickling over sticky fingers, bare feet buried in hot seaside sand even. But the summers in Seoul... weren't alike to those in Busan. Minute differences those were- minute, but quintessential in a way.

This time, he didn't have Seongwoo with him. By his side, cracking an inside joke only the two of them understood. Chortling together. No.

Daniel found it simply ironic himself; how walking down a familiar pathway home could have lead to such thoughts. He wasn't much surprised though- his mind had always carouselled around that matter- of a hundred unanswered questions and what if's- like, what if Seongwoo hadn't left? Would they still be together, as best friends? Something more? It had been four years already, and yet he couldn't seem to let go of his first love. 

Seongwoo this, and Seongwoo that.

Frankly, he was sick of it. How his betrayal of a brain couldn't lay the issue a rest. How- every ing time every single thing; whether it be walking home at a fine evening on an equally fine Friday, or even just blindly groping over a stranger's flesh for a paid night of and sin; he would be reminded of Seongwoo, all over again.

Daniel redirected his route then, taking the narrow back alley to lead him to a convenience store.

He needed a cigarette. 

~

It was Seongwoo's last year of highschool.

With a full scholarship under his name, a prestigious college awaited his presence- red carpet, upscale congratulations, and all that jazz- the best in the whole of Korea, supposedly. He deserved that much, at the very least.

Daniel should be feeling proud of his best friend, elated even. All the different synonyms of happiness. But he wasn't.

Just- wasn't.

There was a crowd, bijou at the alcove of a dimly-lit bar. All of Seongwoo's friends- acute delight pressed on their faces, celebrating future goodbyes and quotes of empty nostalgia. Exchanging hugs and occasionally tipping back shots.

Daniel simply sat at the far end, quietly sipping his malt whiskey. Letting the ice cubes collide against stained glass as he swirled his wrist. He felt like an outsider. An intruder to Seongwoo's own personal circle of acquaintances.

What was he thinking? No, what was he doing here?

But Daniel knew, when Seongwoo slipped a verbal invitation to him that evening, his protests and defenses would be absolutely futile. Not when the elder had their hands laced and a smile tugged askew.

Daniel easily agreed in a heartbeat, and Seongwoo had stepped in, arms enveloping around the younger's shoulders. It was like home and warm quilts then- a pleasant, effervescent feeling. No complicated emotions or underlying intentions.

Daniel also knew, that night, as he sat alone at the bar- Seongwoo was different somehow. His grin broader but the straight edges and sloped tangents weren't even close to uplifting his eyes. It appeared plastic. He didn't smell like nature and fresh dew anymore- probably bathed in cologne and musky aftershave instead. His words calculated and posture ramrod rigid. Everything seemed artificial, as if fabricated from scripts and commands. 

It was then, when Daniel brought the drink up to his lips, he saw Park Jihoon. Salutatorian. Darling of all hearts. Wouldn't hurt a fly if he tried.

Pinning Seongwoo against the wall. Disarrayed fingers flat against stomach, grazing skin under fabric.

Jihoon was gorgeous, that Daniel would admit. Blonde hair a neat gel-scraped tuft on his head with tinted oxblood red lips. His face buried in suffocating layers of bronzer, glitter eyeshadow flecked on his eyelids like moonshine. All of his features flawless and guaranteed to earn him brownie points from teenagers and older women.

And maybe even Seongwoo, perhaps.

But when Jihoon's chin had dipped a little lower into the hollow cavity of Seongwoo's neck, Daniel had felt something ignite within him- scorching white pain. The kind of pain that dug your insides out with sharpened claws and poisoned promises. His calm shattering like porcelain thrown at a wall, disintegrating beyond repair.

He had wanted to fling the glass in his hand across the room, get up and march over to pry the pair apart. At least, do something. Because- Seongwoo was his...

Wasn't he?

No.

But still, Daniel had thought, but still. Best friends.

He’d thought that they were safe.

And so he had watched Jihoon ravage Seongwoo's neck, the elder's head lolling backwards. Black hair dripping into his eyes like calligraphy ink, mouth ping to let out wrecked, breathy sounds- the most beautiful.

Daniel couldn't move no matter how much he wished to. It felt as if his limbs were put into a deadbolt and screwed into place. A voice was screaming at him; at the back of his head; to move, move, move. Lacerating at his conscience and tearing down his composure, because- ing move already.

In the end, he just sat there. Observing. Still unable to move.

Seongwoo had met his gaze much later. Instantly, his smile was more of a eerie, haunting chasm. The thin gold lighting lacquered over the side of his face, the soft-lit glow of his monolid falling to a half-mast in the pitch darkness. Jihoon had retreated slightly, and Daniel spied a shiny blue-black bruise embossed against Seongwoo's otherwise pearlescent skin. He had raised his vision, and caught the elder staring back.

Seongwoo had smirked.

This time, Daniel could register his legs resurrecting, his bones clicking in perfect place. He had got up, knocked down the empty glass in his haste, and made his way towards the exit of the bar instead- not looking back once.

Such a coward, the voice in his head had whispered, before it thinned into nothingness.

Daniel couldn't agree more, really.

~

"Face to the right a little, chin up... maintain that gaze and... yes, there. Perfect. Now don't move."

Suddenly there was an instantaneous floodlight of spasmodic fluorescence, a million shutter count going off at once. Seongwoo squinted slightly, the back of his eyes flashing echoed pixels of green and red. 

"Alright. Now, show off a hard, feral look. Get the passion in your eyes, Seongwoo. Look seductive."

Seongwoo did as he was told; arching his neck, teeth gently tugging at his lipbalm-coated lower lip. He bent forward gingerly, just enough to show a sliver of milky, unmarked skin outlined by the plunging neckline of his silk shirt. He schooled his facial features into something deemed acceptable of longing temptation, and heard the orchestrated clickings of fingers braced over camera keys later.

The photoshoot passed by with fabricated pastel backdrops and lightings, nimble fingers under jaw and a ferocious set of eyes. Seongwoo himself didn't even know how many varying poses he had performed already, but the slight ache blooming up the block of his spine from sitting for too long, that he knew.

It wasn't even that good of a job actually- modeling. Sitting or standing around for hours looking pretty all dolled-up. It wasn't Seongwoo's thing, but awhile ago someone had complimented his photogenic visuals- a rare inborn treasury of charm or something like that. He looked good, he knew that all too well, but if a person were to tell Seongwoo of four years ago that his future job would be of a model, he would laugh. Cackle, even. Because, what the hell? He wanted to be a lawyer. All prestigiousness with the disgustingly sweet pay.

But here he was. Four years later, a rookie model for minor, irrelevant magazine cover pages nobody would spare a look at, much less their wallets. Lawyer, who again? Definitely not Seongwoo. Now he could laugh at the past him; all those silly childish dreams meant only to be dreams and nothing more. The paycheck was awful too. He barely had enough to feed his own mouth.

And after all, beggars couldn't be choosers, could they? Seongwoo built the future path for himself, and modeling was where he crash-landed at. It was the only thing he could do- look beautiful. And what would be of him once his face started marring down with time and age? Beauty was only so much of a temporary asset.

It was all expected for a college dropout who didn't even properly finish highschool. Having a full scholarship even- and yet he busted the chance. He left everything behind, everyone- Daniel.

Daniel.

A voice cut through his thoughts like a knife through butter, and Seongwoo could vaguely register the director wrapping things up in the background. He hopped off the stool he sat on in a hurry, bowing as he scurried away from the makeshift set. The longer he spent in the cramped perimeter of the filming studio, the more he wanted to rip his hair out. He was too exhausted to even abide by proper coherence at that point, and when he bumped into something- someone, he almost let a curse slip.

"Woah, Ong. Headed somewhere?"

That voice, the fond familiarness that had Seongwoo's insides similar to the contents of a