The door on Treasure Café burst open and out a guy on his late twenties so furious he tripped over the small trash bin just beside the door, spilling its contents. A couple of strangers saw this as they walked past the café and our guy cursed into the night, pulling his jacket tighter into his body. He shivered. He could feel his eyes begin to well. The door of the Café opened again and out another guy a few feet taller and with a slightly bigger build than the former.

"What the hell, Junkyu?" he said, walking up to our guy.

That was all it took for our guy Junkyu to lose it altogether. He covered one hand over his eyes quick enough to hide the tears but he was sobbing at this point, frustration taking its toll. He ruffled his hair and pressed down his bangs to his forehead in an attempt to shadow his eyes.

". You ing bastard."

The other guy was taken aback. Never had Junkyu used such language, not in the six-month they had been together, in fact never to anyone, as far as he could remember.

Realizing he was embarrassing himself in public, Junkyu huffed. He was a little bit breathless, but he wiped his tears dry with his hands, then with his hood. He bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling and pulled himself together. His mind was racing with things he could and wanted to say to Jihoon but if he so much as spoke, he'd start crying again. He let his exhaustion engulf him. He was done for the day.

"I'm goin—" he hiccupped, "I'm heading back to the apartment."

A moment. No reply. He wanted to cry again. A taxi in sight, he sighed and hailed the cab. The taxi pulled in front of them. Despite Jihoon's silent treatment, Junkyu managed to say goodbye before getting into the cab. He looked up when something or someone kept him from closing the door. Jihoon got in and Junkyu, though still surprised, didn't have a choice but to scoot over.

"Peterson, please," he said to the driver.

"Where in Peterson, sir?"

"Across the covenience store?"

The driver nodded then took off.

Junkyu leaned back; his face averted from Jihoon. He kept his gaze to the window and watched the lights blur into small and big dots. Not that he was expecting Jihoon to talk, not really. Jihoon fought fire with fire. Like always. The very reason Junkyu had stormed out of that coffee shop in the first place.

They had never argued, publicly or just together. Now that Junkyu came to think of it, they had never really fought. Maybe once, but that wasn't exactly a fight. Normally, when something was up, one just simply stopped talking to the other. Tonight's was the first. Words were involved—nasty at that, mostly from Jihoon. They were etched in Junkyu's mind now, and now that it's coming back to him, he wanted to kick Jihoon off the cab.

The quiet, painful drive to Junkyu's apartment took half an hour, thanks to the terrible traffic. Junkyu was thankful of the driver as well, who did not initiate a small talk and therefore impeded the possibility of having to hear Jihoon open his nasty mouth. Junkyu paid the driver and immediately stepped out of the cab. To his surprise, he heard Jihoon do the same. The cab took off.

Scowling, Junkyu snapped at Jihoon, "What are you doing?"

Jihoon's smug face turned to Junkyu and met his eyes. Junkyu rolled his eyes and looked away.

"I'm sleeping over," said Jihoon.

Junkyu ignored this and walked past Jihoon. He fumbled for his keys in his small messenger bag. He felt Jihoon behind him and he had to look.

"Go home, Jihoon," he said, almost pleading. He wanted to curse himself for sounding the way he did and for saying Jihoon's name. Now he had stripped off of his angry façade.

You're too nice, Junkyu, you just can't help it, Jihoon commented once. And this was not a compliment. They were on a flea ma