11:30pm, Thursday (Taeyong)

Taeyong felt like an idiot. He had blurted a string of things he didn’t mean at the Tower when what he had actually wanted to say was ‘thank you’. He wanted to thank Jaehyun for making him smile in the short few days that they had met and tell Jaehyun that he had never felt as free as that night on the double-decker. But all that came out were distorted phrases tied loosely together that conveyed the exact opposite. Taeyong had been defensive when Jaehyun mentioned Yuta. He knew Jaehyun didn’t mean any harm when he reminded Taeyong to stay away from his ex, but he had wanted to prove to himself that he had escaped from Yuta’s hold so bad that he had deflected those emotions onto Jaehyun.

That night, Taeyong ran from the podium of Namsan Tower and bounded downhill. He couldn’t wait for the cable car and the thought of possibly being locked in a tiny compartment with Jaehyun was suffocating. He couldn’t face Jaehyun yet, not when his emotions were all over the place.

Taeyong hurtled down the wooden planks, two steps per stride. His joints were screaming at him to stop, the injuries he had sustained a few years ago were sore from the sudden exertion. It was quite a feat if you viewed it objectively, Taeyong mused as he saw the end of the steps. He had never been an athlete, yet the hike down which was supposed to take half an hour, he had completed using merely three-quarters of the time.

By the time he boarded the bus home, he was panting like a mad dog. The adrenaline had subsided and all that was left in its place was the agonizing pain in his legs. Damn those factory days.

Jaehyun used to joke about how Taeyong was an old man, always two steps behind the younger. Taeyong never told Jaehyun, but there was something reassuring about watching the younger in front of him, making sure he didn’t get lost in the crowd. But perhaps Jaehyun was right, he really was a creaky old man.

Taeyong trudged up the steep hill. The alleys were eerily quiet at this time of the day. Taeyong hadn’t even realised but the clock was about to strike midnight. His legs were numb already, yet he toiled forward as his jaws clenched in discomfort.

When Taeyong was young, he used to kneel by his bed-ridden mother who told him stories of a fictional life that the young boy would lead when he grew up.

‘Study hard in school baby,’ his mother had said, ‘Study hard so you won’t end up like me. Find someone you love too, not one like your father.’

Taeyong’s mother died that winter and two days later, his father had introduced a woman to the Lee household. Taeyong was to call her ‘mother’, but he did not want to. The only redeeming feature about that woman’s existence was the pleasant the children she brought with her. Two scrawny-looking twins, Haechan and Renjun, and a sweet little girl. Taeyong was the closest with Haechan and after his stepmother and father left Seoul to start a new life in Busan, Taeyong was left to care for the three youngsters.

12:30am, Friday (Taeyong)

Lost in thought, Taeyong realised he was already approaching the gates of his house, and there waiting for him was a figure curled up on his doorstep.

‘Yuta, what are you doing here?’ In all honesty, Taeyong felt quite guilty initially when he saw Yuta crouched down and shivering in the cold.

Yuta looked up sheepishly, ‘Just w