“Moon Jong Up!” someone finally yells after what feels like hours of waiting. “You can see him now,” the guard says to me, leading the way back to the visitor’s room, closing the door behind me when I’m in.

“Hyung,” I say after I hear the click of the door. Walking up to the glass window, I just stand there and look at my older brother, waiting for him to talk. “Hyung?”

“What?” he mutters, still not meeting my eyes.

“Hyung, look at me,” I say, tapping on the window. When he finally looks at me, I smile a little. “That’s better.”

“Why are you here, Jongup-ah?” he asks. The sigh he lets out afterwards lets me know he’d really rather not have me here.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask. “I’m here because you’re my brother,” I tell him, pressing the tips of both of my index fingers against the glass.

He scoffs a little, but presses his against the window as well. That’s when I see the handcuffs they have around his wrists. I can’t believe they actually made him wear those to our visit. When he sees me looking at them he puts his arms back down in front of him so that I don’t have to see them. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t already miss having his fingers pressed against mine; even if they weren’t actually touching. It was our way of saying “I love you” to each other without having to actually verbally express it. I wanted him to know that I still thought of him as my brother.

“Can you even still call me that?” he asks, looking away. “Mom and dad have probably already disowned me. They haven’t visited me once in the last three years. It would probably just be better if you disowned me too.”

“Yes, what you did was bad. It was very bad. It was incredibly bad. It was absolutely horrendous. But,” I start, waiting for him to look up at me again. When he finally does, I continue, “You’re still my big brother. You’ve been there every day for the past 19 years of my life. While I definitely don’t approve of what you did – and I don’t, so don’t think this is me just forgiving you – I’ll still be by your side until the day one of us dies.” Putting on my meanest face, which I know looked more adorable than it did scary, I glare at him, “Without one of us choking the other to death while he’s asleep.”

“Jongup-ah, that’s really low,” he says even though we both know it definitely wasn’t.

“No. What’s low is sneaking into Jonghwa hyung’s room while he’s sleeping and killing him,” I say as I turn around to leave. Stopping at the door, I turn around once more, the usual smile back on my face. “Hyung, I’ll see you next week.”

-

The sound of something crashing is what woke me up that night. I can still remember the time it happened. 2:06 a.m. That’s what my watch read when I clicked the little button on the side to light it up. I had almost fallen back asleep when I heard the sound that had woken me up in the first place again. Figuring Jonghwa hyung was drunk again like he usually was that week, I closed my eyes to sleep. And again, when I was almost asleep, I heard it again, a lot louder this time. Pounding on my wall and telling him to be quiet, I could hear his voice calling out for me. It was hoarse, and it sounded like he was struggling to talk.

Letting out a long yawn as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I finally got up to see what his problem was. When I was about to open the door to his bedroom, Jongsoo rushed out, knocking me over as he ran towards the front door. Getting up and walking into my oldest brother’s room, I could see him lying on the floor, staring at me. After calling out his name a few times and getting no answer, I went over to him, grabbing his shoulder to shake him out of whatever trance he was in. When I did, his head turned to face the other way, the pool of blood beneath it becoming visible. I can still remember the loud scream I let out when I saw it. After I had done it, it was still echoing in the room for a few seconds.

“Jongup! What’s the matter?” I could hear my mother yell from behind me. I ignored her though, still trying to shake Jonghwa awake.

“Umma!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision as I continued shaking him. “Umma! Jonghwa’s hurt! Umma, Jonghwa’s bleeding! Umma!” I kept yelling at her, switching from shaking him to slapping his cheeks. “JONGHWA! WAKE UP!” I begged, pushing on his chest the way I’d always seen them do in movies.

I was still shaking and screaming that at him when my father came in to pull me away, telling me to get out of the way so people could help him. I had no idea what he was talking about until three men came running into the room. I didn’t understand why I had to move; they were just doing the exact same thing I was doing. The only difference was I didn’t have an oxygen mask to put on him. Was that really that important?

Apparently, it was important. The oxygen mask they had put on him was the only reason he had been able to become conscious again. It didn’t last long though. Only a few minutes later and his eyes closed for the last time while I sat there holding onto his hand, apologizing over and over for not coming sooner.

-

“Umma, how long until this is over?” I ask, eager to get out of this suit. I know I’m supposed to dress up for Jonghwa’s funeral, but this has got to be the most uncomfortable thing in existence. It isn’t even just that that I hate; I hate this whole thing. Jonghwa shouldn’t be dead; we shouldn’t be having his funeral; I shouldn’t even be here. I’m the reason he’s dead. I know it; everybody knows it. I was too preoccupied with sleep to check on him, and this was the end result.

Putting her hand on my back, my mother pushes me off, knowing how guilty I feel. “Go home, Jongup-ah. We’ll be home in a little while.”

Nodding, I walk off towards home, loosening the noose-like tie around my neck.

-

“Oof,” I grunt as I run into someone, too wrapped up in the memory of Jonghwa. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I apologize, reaching out to help them up.

“It’s fine,” a female voice says as they take my hand, pushing themselves up as I pull. “Nothing bad happened,” she says, reaching down to straighten her skirt.

“Are you sure? You’re not hurt anywhere?” I ask her.

“No, I’m fine,” she answers, standing straight. “My phone probably got the worst of it,” she jokes, holding it up. “No, keep your money,” she says after she sees me pull my wallet from my back pocket, my fingers grabbing for a few bills. “I don’t need it.”

I’d agree with that just by looking at her. Her clothes, albeit a little messy because of our little collision, are obviously name brand. Her nails are perfectly manicured. Her hair, long and black, hangs just below her shoulders, styled as if she were a celebrity. Even her lipstick, dark red and intense, looks like it would put a serious dent in someone’s wallet. Her eyes were a light shade of blue, but her eyes were shaped similar to mine; if it wasn’t for that one thing, I could easily mistake her for a foreigner. Simply put, she’s gorgeous. If I played for that team, I’d already be asking her for her number.

She actually gawks at me when I reach up to fix my hair; it’s a little uncomfortable. “Wow, I love your hair,” she says; she almost sounds awestruck.

“Um… thank you. It’s just hair,” I mutter, moving to walk around her, wanting to get away.

When I look behind me as I turn the corner, I can see her still staring at me. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was even holding when she’s finally out of my line of sight, reaching up to finish fixing my hair as I walked.

-

After leaving the funeral, the first place I went to was my best friend’s house, collapsing into her arms when she opened the door.

“Oppa? Why are you here?”

“Misoo-yah. Can you do something for me?” I asked her.

“Of course, oppa,” she answered as she pulled me inside, shutting the front door behind me. “What is it?”

“Can you do my hair?”

“Your… hair?” she asked, the expression on her face showing how odd she found my request. “Why?”

“Because you’re the only person I know who can do it,” I answer, reaching up and running my finger over the technicolor streaks she had in her hair. “And because I know you’re the only person that would do it.”

“It’s nice and all that you have so much faith in me, but why,” she asked again, “do you want to change your hair?”

“Not change it,” I say, running my fingers through it. “I like it. I just want to add streaks like yours.”

“Oppa, your mom would kill me if I gave you rainbow-colored streaks. No,” she says, pushing me towards the front door. “No, I’m not doing it.”

“Misoo-yah!” I yell, stamping my foot. “I want to do it for Jonghwa.” She stops pushing me when I say that, and I know that she’ll do it now. “I want to put green streaks in it.”

“Green?” she asks. “Why green? I don’t think that’ll fit right.”

“No, it has to be green. That’s… that was… Jonghwa’s favorite color,” I explain, eyes starting to water as I hold my watch up, my knees hitting the floor when I can’t stand anymore. “See? He bought this for me two weeks ago,” I tell her, showing her the green wristband. “Please, Misoo, do it for me.”

Sighing, she reached down and put her hands below my armpits, pulling me up and leading me to her bathroom.

When we were done, I was so happy to have Jonghwa’s favorite color in my hair that I kissed her cheek; then I kissed her other cheek; then I pressed my lips against hers. That was the first and last time I had with a girl.

-

“Oppa?” She asked when she opened her front door. “We didn’t have any plans today, did we?”

I shook my head, squeezing by her into the house. “No. I just came by to see if you could redo these,” I say, pointing at the streaks in my hair. “Some chick complimented them earlier and it reminded me that I needed to ask you that.”

“Oppa, I’m –“

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I interrupt her. “That’s all.”

“Oppa, later,” she says, pushing me towards the door. “I’m really busy right now,” is the last thing I hear before the door shuts.

-

I remember last time she was busy. It was when I came back the second time for my hair. She kept telling me how busy she was, but she obviously wasn’t doing anything, so I just walked in and made my way towards her bathroom. When I opened the door, I saw Jongsoo stepping out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. He didn’t see me because he was busy drying his hair with a second towel, but I would’ve recognized his body anywhere. I’d seen him shirtless hundreds of times before.

He started talking, thinking I was Misoo, asking if she had a toothbrush he could use. He was the reason I was down to one brother, and here he was worried about his stupid teeth. Before he could look up, I grabbed for whatever I could reach and started throwing things at him. It was the bottle of shampoo that did it. When I had thrown it, it bounced off of him and fell right onto the floor, cap open. The first time he stepped on it, half of the shampoo inside came gushing out; his next step landed him right on the puddle he had just made, causing him to slip. When he fell backwards, hitting his head on the edge of the tub, he was knocked unconscious right away, a little pool of blood forming beneath him.

Unlike the blood lost from when he bashed the back of my oldest brother’s head against the floor multiple times, the one bathtub hit he took wasn’t enough to kill him. He was only out for a couple of hours; that was all the time I needed to call the cops.

When he finally woke up he was handcuffed to the a hospital bed, the cop outside asking me questions, making me relive every single thing that had happened from the night Jonghwa died to when I saw Jongsoo hours earlier in Misoo’s bathroom.

The next day, after making sure he was alright after the fall, they took him right from the hospital to the police station. He’s been locked up since.

-

Cracking my knuckles a few times and getting up from the steps in front of Misoo’s house, I wipe the dirt from my pants and walk off, going to the only place I go to when I don’t know what else to do.

-

Peeking into Jongsoo’s room when I was only ten, I saw him dancing. He looked so cool when he would spin or when he would go down to the floor, quickly coming back up. I wanted to be like him.

I spent the next month locked in my room most of the time, practicing the same dance I had watched him do. The only time I would come out would be for school and meals. Whenever my family would ask what I was doing, I would tell them it was a surprise for Jongsoo, and they’d drop it. My parents thought it was cute; my oldest brother thought it cute as well. Jongsoo just thought I was a dork. When I pulled him into my room one day though and sat him on my bed though, he couldn’t hide the curiosity on his face to see what it was. When I finished dancing he started clapping so hard that his hands were turning red, telling me how awesome it was. After that day, whenever my parents would ask again what it was, Jongsoo would just smile at me and tell them it was our secret.

The next day, he picked me up from school and took me to his favorite practice spot. It was an abandoned building virtually in the middle of nowhere. It was huge though. If it had been anybody other than Jongsoo, I probably would’ve pissed myself out of fear, but he held my hand and took me to the room he would practice in. It was towards the back of the building. I never really found out why he chose that one out of all the rooms. It seemed stupid to use the one way at the back when there were tons of other ones closer to the front.

When we got back there, the first thing he did after dropping his backpack was start stretching. He looked back at me and told that I needed to always stretch before I danced. Putting my backpack down next to his, I went to stand beside him, mimicking every movement he made.

Over the new few weeks, he taught me the dance he was currently practicing. At the end of each day he would clap until his hands hurt and tell me how good I was getting.

The first time I danced in front of an audience, I was twelve. Jongsoo had entered a talent show and he told me that he wanted me to do it with him. I was as nervous as one could be at that age, but I did it. Jongsoo was my idol. I would’ve done anything he’d asked. We got third place that year. I was disappointed, but he was ecstatic. He took me out for ice cream after, and for the next 4 years, dancing together in the talent show turned into our brotherly tradition.

Well… until… you know…

-

As I walked into the abandoned building that had practically turned into my second home, I headed right for the back room. Jongsoo was right; mom and dad had disowned him. This is where I had brought all of his stuff that they had wanted to throw out.

Not wanting to practice today, I let myself fall onto the big stuffed bunny in the corner.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly someone’s hand is on my shoulder, shaking me. “Excuse me. Who are you and why are you here?”  a boy with bright pink hair asks.

______

A/N: I've discovered that it's quite difficult to write about a sad Jongup. I had this done yesterday, but couldn't proofread it because writing about Jongup crying just killed me. ㅠ_ㅠ

Also, you'll have to forgive my fail attempt at giving people names. I did my best. Lol. If someone knows his brothers actual names, I'd love you forever if you told me. <3

@Kawaii_Hana3454 - Oh, thank you. Writing it was so awkward at first that I was so unsure about it. Lol.
@krismaticlove - The worst part about being a guy is those horrible random s. xD
@bokunoonew - Will do my best! :D

-Runs off to watch Music Bank-
Hope you enjoyed this update. :3