Once again, Jiyong jolted awake to the sound of a woman screaming his name. This happened every single day and yet he still could not get used to it. How could he get used to waking up to a voice screaming his name in pain?

“It’s just a dream,” This had become Jiyong’s first words every morning without fail. Every time he woke up, he would tell himself over and over again that it was not real and it will get better soon.

Despite what he told himself, Jiyong didn’t buy it. He only said it to make himself feel better, even if it was only for a brief while.

Jiyong swung his legs over the edge of his bed and just took a deep long breathe. He thought back about his dreams. It was as if he was trapped in a loop. They were the same, nothing new about it. Jiyong knew what was going to happen, and yet he was never prepared for it.

His room felt humid thanks to the warm sunlight that was brightening it. His bed was placed beside the window just so he could see the moon at night and feel the breeze. Back before the nightmare started, Jiyong would wake up to the sound of bird chirping or to the sunlight hitting his face. Now he would wake up in a sweaty state, sometimes feeling humid despite the chill. He didn’t wake up in peace. It was like a battle to him.

Jiyong took a look around his room. Everything was just as how he left it. His room was just the perfect size for him. It was neither too small nor too big, just enough for him and his stuffs. He had an office desk placed at the foot of his bed. Jiyong could have his desk elsewhere but he wanted it to be placed nearby the window so that he wouldn’t feel blocked whenever he was working on a song. His keyboard was placed vertically at the corner of his desk so that he could easily reach it to compose and give a shot at a melody. On his desk, there were stacks and stacks of papers. Some were his assignments, some were love letters but most of them were just songs that he’d composed. His room was clean; not a single rubbish to be found on the floor saved for one crumpled paper he tried to toss into the bin but didn’t make it. He got a few photos of him and his friends pasted on the wall, other than that, it was all just plain white. His wardrobe was on the other side of the room, facing the window and between his wardrobe and his door, there was a corkboard filled with reminders of what he needed to do and the datelines.

Pick up the laundry – Wednesday
Submit the final mash up – 24^th October
Bring Daesung’s cap!
Buy ramen
Collect parcel at the post office

They were all just trivial things that Jiyong jotted down for himself in case he forgot to do any of it. But now, he didn’t forget, he just didn’t do it.

It was well over 11 o’clock in the morning when his friends arrived. Jiyong didn’t have to open the door for them; they let themselves in as they had a spare key. They all had a spare key to each other’s house, just in case of an emergency. He could hear their movements and muffled voices from his room. Instead of joining them, Jiyong remained there. He just let them do whatever they wanted to there.

The five of them had been friends for as long as Jiyong could remember. Sure, he let them have the key to his house in case of an emergency, but mainly because his house had been some sort of a hangout place for them. He knew them all too well to know that they wouldn’t do anything he didn’t approve of in his house. To him, their bond ran deeper than blood.

“Hyung! Be careful not to break anything!” Seungri’s voice was loud and clear. Jiyong just smiled to himself as he shook his head in amusement. He could tell whom Seungri was talking to.

He listened to his friends’ arguments for a while before deciding to put an end to it. He can’t have them disturbing his peaceful morning with their nonsense. Just when Jiyong was about to leave his room, his door swung opened, revealing a young man with black short spiky hair. He was slightly shorter than Jiyong by a few inches but doesn't look any younger than he was..

Youngbae.

Neither of the two said anything as they stared at each other. Youngbae invited himself in and Jiyong stepped aside to make way.
“What are we going to do with you, Ji…?” Youngbae jammed his hands into his pockets as he took a look around the room.
Jiyong just smiled wistfully. “I don’t know.”
His friend looked at the corkboard on the wall and sighed. He didn’t say anything so Jiyong kept quiet too. There was something about the silence that comforted him. Jiyong knew he didn’t always have to talk to Youngbae all the time for them to understand each other.
“I guess you’re not doing anymore of these, huh?” Youngbae just shook his head. “Daesung said he doesn’t care about his cap anymore, so you got to keep it.”
“That—I didn’t know.”
“I’ve picked up your laundry too.” Youngbae made his way to Jiyong’s bed, wanting to sit on it but changed his mind when he saw the papers on Jiyong’s desk.
Most of the time, Jiyong wouldn’t let anyone near his things, let alone his songs. But this was Youngbae and Youngbae was different. Jiyong would give up his life for his friend just as he knew that Youngbae would do the same for him too.
Youngbae picked up a few papers; examining them before saying “You haven’t finished this.”
“I just- I haven’t got the time.” Jiyong shrugged.
“Right, right. You haven’t got the time.”
For a moment there, Jiyong thought Youngbae eyes looked teary. But before he could say anything on that, Youngbae put the papers down instantly and sniffed. He was holding back his tears.
“You okay?” Jiyong asked but Youngbae ignored him.
His friend went straight to the door, wanting to exit the room. He had one foot out, one foot in. His fingers tightened around the doorknob and one last time, Youngbae turned.

“I’ll come by again, Ji.”

After Youngbae was gone, Jiyong had the room all to himself again. He couldn’t blame Youngbae for acting in such ways. He just lost a really close friend. They all did. Out of them all, it must have hit Youngbae the hardest. They all mourned for their lost but life went on. Maybe his friends came to his house was one of the way for them to cope with the death.