RILIE (MARCH, 2011)  

     “Let’s go out for a drink,” Changmin blurts out from the carrel beside mine, shutting down his laptop with a crisp snap. “We deserve one.”

      Scrawling down my last solution of the night, I close my notebook and stretches my arms with a yawn. My watch shows 10:15 p.m., but I have grown to know Changmin well enough to ascertain that he isn’t being suggestive of anything.

      “Alright. One drink.” I agree with a devious smirk, “My treat, your cheque.”

      “Yeah, okay.” He mumbles, then realizes that he has just been tricked as we step outside the study hall. I giggle once, flinging on my coat and leaving him with a crimson face in the wintery night.

      It’s midterm season and the bar near campus is deserted for the night. That March, winter came and stayed longer than usual. The air outside is much colder than normally expected and gigantic icicles still clung to the eaves like crystal darts. Changmin bumps into one as we stumble through the entrance, sending icy shavings crackling down his shirt.

      “.” I hear him curse behind me and grimaced. Being with him is so easy—almost similar to being with an oversized kid.

      “Two gin and tonics.” 

      “Two Casablancas.”

      We order at the same time, and the bartender raises an eyebrow as he wipes the tin shaker behind the counter. I look over at Changmin, and he smiles. “We’ll take both.”

      “I thought we were only having a drink,” I emphasize.

      “Hey, I was already tricked to pay, remember? You don’t have to be too generous with me.”

      I think of the time and my mental to-do list for the next day then instinctively becomes restless. “We have a physics test tomorrow evening. I can’t just goof around.”

      He wrinkles his forehead. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you here all night. It’s just two drinks, relax Rilie.”

      I unwillingly mumble a quiet “okay” and dangle my feet over the tall bar stool as the bartender slides the drink down to us. I reach for my usual gin and tonic automatically and take a sip.

      “Come on, give Casablanca a chance.” Changmin nudges my side.

      I instead push the gin and tonic towards him. “You first.”

      “Alright, but it looks boring.”

      “No, it's not.” I swirl the glass and watch the lime slice float around with the ice cubes, “It’s simple and clean.”

      He doesn’t say anything, as if trying to decode my words. For a minute, neither of us says anything and enjoys the pleasant quiet that cloaks both of us.    

      “Thanks for driving me to the hospital that night.” Changmin breaks the reticence at last; he’s already done with his drink and has started on the gin and tonic. “Really, thanks.”

      “Is Yunho okay?”

      “He is. He just needs to rest.”

      Under the murky lights, I examine the faint dark circles under his eyes and nod. “So do you.” He doesn’t say anything but looks down into his glass. I purse my lips and hesitantly ask, “What happened to him?”

      “He went on an ice-skating show with a twisted ankle, and it was swelling to the point that he couldn’t take out his foot from the skates afterward.”

      “Are you angry with him?”

      He gives his head a small shake, swilling the half-drained glass. “No. I knew I would have done the same thing myself. I just had to be there for him when things like this happen, you know?”

      I lower my eyes to the marble counter, distinctively remembering how rude and insensitive I have been that night. “I’m sorry about the girlfriend jokes.”

      “It’s okay,” he pats me on the head like I’m a lost stray cat, flashing that familiar, childish smile. “I don’t mind it when it’s about projectiles.”

      I sip my drink, unsure if I should be anno