Kyung couldn’t help it—he felt as though he were walking into a death trap. A very calm death trap.

He glanced around the room, wondering if Jiho had something hidden away to attack him with later. The space was incredibly small, more of a sad walk in closet than a room. There was a desk with a laggy desktop computer at one end, a small, worn, love seat on the opposite end, and pillows scattered around the floor for when the members were laying as sprawled out as they could manage, throwing out ideas, arguing over ideas, or napping from creative exhaustion. The lone window across from the door saved the cramped space from feeling like a complete cell, and beyond that the group did their best to brighten up the plain white walls by putting up posters, pictures, quotes and lyrics. It was a bit tacky, but it was theirs.

Kyung still felt uneasy.

Jiho had closed the door behind him calmly enough, which only left the other more unsettled. The guilt Jaehyo had all but triggered was still coursing through Kyung's veins, and while he felt as though he was being the bigger person by seeking out his best friend, he still couldn’t help but feel Jiho would pull a fast one on him, causing them to argue again. Whenever they fought, they needed to give themselves a few hours of space—no speaking, barely glancing in the other’s direction— before interacting again.

 Minhyuk had once commented that this was borderline childish, but after so many years of friendship (as Jiho coolly pointed out) the two understood what worked for them. The space allowed them not only to cool down, but to also collect their thoughts so that when they did confront each other, less stupid, temper-provoking words were exchanged and forgiveness went smoother. Usually.

This was why, although Jiho looked calm enough, Kyung couldn’t help but eye him warily as the leader sprawled out on one side of on the couch, patting the empty seat next to him.

“Come. Sit,” he said, with an easy smile. Kyung went to open the window before easing himself down, watching his friend’s smile curl into a smirk.

“What? You scared?” Kyung snorted.

“No…just suspicious. You’re looking rather chill.”

“...why do you all have me out to be this goddamn ticking time bomb? My temper isn’t that bad.” Kyung chose not to comment further, simply accepting Jiho’s dirty look in exchange for his silence.

Instead his gaze fell down to the floor where the book Zico had been reading earlier (Kyung wondered if he had actually gotten any further) lay face down next to a lime green pillow. Something caught Kyung’s eyes underneath the book, however: the peeking-out corner of another smaller book that he recognized as Jiho’s shiny Transformers spiral notebook.

He had almost forgotten Jiho had that thing still. It was one of the first notebooks he used to write down his raps—Kyung rarely saw it, and he was pretty sure Jiho kept it  hidden around the dorm to prevent the others from reading some of his earlier, potentially more embarrassing work. Still, it was kind of cute that he couldn’t let it go.

And then Kyung remembered what was (once?) in that particular book, and his breath froze in his lungs as the reality of their situation came back with a cold, jolting swoop. He scrambled to focus back on Jiho, who had been speaking the entire time.

“—and so, I guess you’re right.”

“What?” snapped Kyung, praying that his voice sounded normal. His eyes were itching to travel back down to the beat up little notebook. Had Jiho brought it out on purpose? Had to be.

Jiho’s eyes narrowed. “I said I guess I owe you an apology. You were...right. I was overreacting.” Kyung's head snapped back.

“…what?”

“Kyung! Are you deaf, man?” Jiho rolled his eyes, but now wouldn’t look at the other. Kyung watched him as he picked at one of the many bunches of fraying threads on the couch's armrest, his dark eyes burning into the task at hand. “I’m not going to repeat it, just because you want me to say you’re right, again. Forget that .” Jiho finally muttered, after one last pluck.

“Dude,” started Kyung, nudging Jiho in the shoulder to get his attention, “ …you’re lying.”

Jiho snorted, but said nothing further, only leaning away slightly from Kyung’s touch. “I don’t know what’s freakier, man,” Kyung continued, “You actually apologizing…or you apologizing when you think you’re right anyway.”

Kyung shook his head, watching as Jiho silently folded his arms. This was the very reason why they never bothered with lying to each other face to face anymore—neither could quite mask the deception from the other, and eye contact was usually out of the question.

Kyung sighed. At this rate, they would get nowhere. “Obviously you have something to say, so get the hell over it and say it. I can tell you’re still pissed off,” Jiho’s gaze snapped back to Kyung, the fragile mask of  collectedness shattering away in the wake of a sharp glare.

“And I can tell you’re still a ing bastard,” he snapped, getting up from the couch.

Kyung knew he was treading (more like diving, really) into dangerous waters with the comment, but unless he pushed his buttons, Jiho wasn’t going to drop his stupid act. They had spent a sizable chunk of their friendship dancing over the one thing they never were able to outright talk about—this wasn’t the time to save face, and continue the dance. He needed to bait his friend, as much as he felt bad for doing so—the guilt within him continued to surge.

 Kyung reached for Jiho’s wrist, and tugged back down.

“I’m a bastard for not wanting some fake apology?” he asked gently, attempting to soothe the sting of the previous remark. For a split second, Jiho’s glare sharpened but Kyung met it with soft, yet steady eyes. The anger he had clung to before had long ebbed away from his system; he wanted to understand what was going on between the two of them, not start another argument. Seeing this, Jiho sighed, shaking his head as he took back his wrist.

“Just…just leave it. Okay? Agree to disagree, whatever.” Kyung frowned as he felt the gulf between the two of them widening. The distance in Jiho’s voice was enough to make his teeth grit—this was what Jaehyo meant, and Kyung finally realized how much it truly ate away at him.

“No, we can’t. We….we need to talk,” he said slowly, then making a face at how cheesy the words sounded in the open. Jiho shared the disgusted sentiment with an eye roll.

“So damn dramatic. Just drop it, Kyung. Really…it’s not that serious,” he muttered, shaking his head. His eyes had averted once again and Kyung wanted wince at the almost chocking discomfort stifling them in the tiny room. Jiho looked uncertain as whether to sit down once more or attempt to leave, and Kyung knew he himself needed to do something before he too fell into uneasy indecision.

“Jiho—“

“Kyung,” the sudden edge in Jiho’s voice could not be missed. “forget about—“        

“I never ing forgot!” Kyung finally snapped, feeling the color jump into his face. For a moment, the tiny burst of frustration was like an electric shock traveling up his skin carrying a short surge of energy with it. He glared up at Jiho whose eyes were now slightly widened, full lips parted.

“…this isn’t just about this afternoon, is it?” the younger said, finally. Kyung could only shake his head.

In the quiet room, he could hear the sharp intake of Jiho’s breath. The leader shook his head, slowly, his surprised face darkening.

“No. No.” Kyung thought he could make out the slight tremble in his friend’s lanky frame, but it was fleeting. Jiho's his voice was firm, if not with a slight rasp. Kyung bent down to grab for the notebook, feeling a painful lurch in his stomach as he moved, and Jiho froze, torn between reaching for the older or reaching for the door. 

Kyung held up the book. “You remember too,” he said quietly, feeling as though his voice was about to give out at any moment. He had wanted to come into this strong. He understood that Jiho might still be hurting, and while that made him feel like a worthless piece of , he had figured that the most he could do was put on a brave face and attempt to confront what needed to be. Yet, one look at Jiho’s distraught face and Kyung was crumbing slowly as his heart sped up. He was afraid, and Jiho looked terrified. This wasn't something Kyung saw often.

“Kyung, stop.” Kyung was impressed at how steady his voice still seemed, despite the nervous tongue swiping at his bottom lip. Jiho reached for his friend. “Give me the damn book, and get over it, okay? It's in the past.” Kyung could almost taste the bitterness washing over Jiho’s words.

Is that what he really thinks, he wondered as he watched a now slightly more collected Jiho frowning at him with an outstretched hand. That it’s something I need to get over? These are his feelings, he’s talking about—how the can I just get over them? Does he think he means that little to me? Damn.

“Alright. If it’s in the past, then why the hell are we likes this?” Kyung challenged, even as more guilt flooded his system, to the point where he was nearly sick with it it. What had he been doing to his friend all these years? Although his stomach twisted at the thought, he needed to find out even if he was going to hate himself for it afterwards.

“What are you talking about?” Jiho snapped, folding his arms impatiently. The atmosphere had sharpened from awkward to testy.

“I can’t…I can’t always explain it,” Kyung began, feeling everything he wanted to say becoming a mangled mess in his throat, half of which had not been fully processed by his  brain. He was still clutching the notebook much to Jiho's obvious annoyance, “but Jaehyo was right—“

“Jaehyo?” Jiho growled, eyes suddenly narrowed. Kyung, winced. He had wanted to keep the singer out of this, knowing that Jiho’s trust was a hard thing to earn, but the named had spilled before his frustrated and flustered mind could rein his tongue in.

“What,” Jiho began slowly, in low voice, “Did Jaehyo tell you?”

Kyung wasn’t stupid. He could hear the malicious spark crackling behind the other’s controlled tone. He remained silent, biting the inside of his left cheek as he watched Jiho’s narrowed gaze travel over his guilt tinged face. The eventual spark of realization in Jiho’s own eyes lasted approximately half of a second, before it darkened into a fury.

“...I’m gonna kill him,” he snapped, whirling around to reach for the door. Kyung sprung without a second thought, grabbing the taller man by the shoulders.

“Leave him alone!”

“Get the off me, Kyung,” snapped Jiho, attempting to shrug off the other’s grip. Kyung kept rooted.

“Hey,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Talk to him later, if you have to. But I’m trying to talk to you now. Stop avoiding me.” He paused, feeling Jiho tense underneath his hands. “Maybe....” he continued, “maybe I deserve it, kind of. Yeah, I know I do. But, Jiho, I hate when you do this,” he ended quietly, alarm bells ripping through his head at the sheer vulnerability he was projecting. These were things he didn't even let himself contemplate too deeply on. Things he couldn't avoid only on the most sleepless of nights.

 His hold on Jiho’s shoulders softened as the other’s muscles suddenly went limp. There was a light thud as Jiho leaned his head against the door with a low groan.

“Kyung…please,” he pleaded softly, a fragile sound that made Kyung’s throat tighten all over againt. He swallowed once, knowing that he would only be able to do this now, with Jiho’s back to him.

 Jiho lifted up his head, and Kyung ignored his instinct to move as he watched his friend turn around, eyes tired and defeated. He held Kyung’s gaze for a short moment before it dropped to the ground, to where their feet were arlmost touching.

“Why are you doing this?” Jiho asked finally. No sharp remark, not even a “where the do you get off demanding all of this?” which is what Kyung had fully expected—and maybe deserved. Jiho only looked up when a surprised Kyung reached for his arms, giving him the slightest, almost affectionate shake.

“Because, there's no point in trying to forget something we never will. It's about time we talk about it, at least.” He watched Jiho’s eyes widen momentarily before narrowing slightly. The leader said nothing further and simply headed back over to the couch where he snatched up the notebook before settling down and placing it in his lap. He watched Kyung silently, eyes wary and Kyung couldn’t blame him, even if the scrutinizing gaze stung.

“Now what? “Jiho said evenly, tracing the spiral of the book with one finger as he kept his focus on Kyung. Once again, he was dangerously calm and collected with the silent poise of a leader. Once again, it made Kyung uneasy although he knew this was Jiho's coping mechanism, and who the hell was he to deny him of it? He only hoped Jiho wouldn't hold anything back from him.

“Let's just start at the beginning. I owe you my side of it anyway,” Kyung suggested. Jiho silently eyed him, before nodding at Kyung to begin. With a deep breath, Kyung felt the memories of their childhood springing up as they flooded his mind’s eye, until just about everything else melted away and suddenly they were fourteen again.

Flashback; Six Years Earlier

Jiho had been out in the hallway for about twenty minutes now, and Kyung's patience was already worn thin to begin with. He had spent the last four hours of their sleepover, attempting to help his friend pack for Japan, and half of that time the boys had spent arguing over what Jiho really needed.

 No Jiho, you don't need to take six water guns and a pack of firecrackers with you. When you get your put on the “no fly” list, I'm gonna laugh. No, Jiho, you don't need 50 pairs of socks, you need to learn how to do laundry. No Jiho, I will not fit in your extra suitcase, now keep packing!

Jiho's room had looked like a bomb had gone off. Discarded clothes, books, CD's, DVD's, stuffed animals plus everything Kyug had taken out of the suitcases he had deemed unnecessary (much to his friend's complaints) had been strewn over the floor and the boys spent the last hour attempting to get it back into some sort of order.

He wanted to smack his friend for not packing sooner (his mother had specifically informed Jiho that he needed to learn some responsibility and left the task up to him). There were only three more days left of school, and then Jiho would be off to attend art camp in Japan and remain there for high school—he couldn't afford to visit before winter break. As much as Kyung hated packing, what was really eating him up was that he was helping his best friend get ready to leave him. Each folded shirt was a little reminder that he would be alone for not only the summer, but the next three years. Ormore.

That ing .

“Aren't you probably gonna be in America for high school anyways?” asked Jiho, as Kyung dejectedly threw another balled up sock in the open suitcase. “That'll be so ing awesome.” Kyung shrugged, annoyed at Jiho's enthusiasm.

“I won't know for sure until, like, right before school starts back up again. There were some problems with my visa last time we checked. Plus my English isn’t good enough yet, I don’t think....” he trailed off with a frustrated scowl. To be sure, Kyung always received excellent marks in school, including English, but whenever he tried to watch an American show without subtitles he got so lost it was almost painful. Jiho waved him off.

“ Well my Japanese freakin' , but I don't give a . I just need to get outta here. Stop being so negative,” he said with a laugh.

Outta here...and away from me, Kyung thought, inwardly scowling. Since Jiho had told him that he was leaving for Japan several months ago, not once did his friend actually seem upset about his upcoming departure. He always spoke about the move with a huge grin on his face and sparkling eyes. To be fair, Kyung couldn't totally blame him—both of them were itching to explore life outside of Korea. Jiho had already tried twice and was determined to make this attempt work.

 But it stung that his friend didn't seem to think too much about leaving Kyung behind, beyond the occasional “dude, I'ma send you e-mails, like every day. Be prepared!” or a silly “climb into my suitcase!” which was okay, but sometimes Kyung wondered how much Jiho would actually miss him.

He wasn't (exactly) asking for a teary vow of everlasting friendship, but he wanted something.

By the end of their packing ordeal, Kyung was frustrated and tired—not sleepy, just tired of dealing with Jiho leaving. However, it was late and everyone else was asleep. When he suggested to Jiho that they just go to bed (he wasn't in the mood to do much else), the boy loudly protested, pushing his thick lips into a pout.

“What? Nooo! I wanted to show you something, anyways.” Jiho scrambled off of his spot on the bed—nearly knocking Kyung off the bed in the process—to grab a notebook from off his dresser.

“Something like wh—hey! Isn't that one of my notebooks?” cried Kyung, squinting behind his glasses. It was the Transformers one! He had been looking for that for months now! Jiho rolled his eyes, opening to the first page and scanning it.

“Dude, you bought like 50 for school this year, and used like what? Four? Five?” He muttered. Kyung glared. He liked being prepared; you never knew when a thief would steal one! “Anyways,” continued Jiho, looking up from the page to his friend,“you should feel honored. I'm using it to write down lyrics and stuff, and I want you to listen to this rap I just finished.”

 Kyung shot him another glare, but eventually gave a disgruntled nod. He couldn't lie—he was curious. He would never tell him this, but Kyung always thought Jiho looked so damn cool when he rapped, right down to the very smirk. Even when he messed up, he still looked good. Jiho had only been rapping for the past couple months, but anyone who heard him could tell he had potential, and at school he was able to draw in crowds.

“Alright...cool,” Jiho murmured his voice suddenly softer. He glanced back own at the notebook. “Gimme like, five minutes to practice, ok? Don't try and peek!” He rushed out into the hallway, closing the door behind him, before Kyung could respond.

That was twenty minutes ago. Kyung was tired of waiting. He was just about to open his mouth to complain through the door, when it finally opened and Jiho strode back in with a grin.

“Miss me?”  he wiggled his brows.

“Just get on with it,” Kyung answered lightly. He noticed that Jiho kept his lips—a nervous tic of his. It wasn't too often that Jiho got nervous before rapping, especially not when it was just the two of them. This fueled  Kyung's curiosity even more. Jiho closed his eyes for a moment, most likely trying to envision the beat in his mind before he began.

Is it wrong to love this way?

To lose sleep over you?

To lose my mind over you?

Kyung nearly fell off of the bed, mouth open.

Kyung had heard his friend rap about everything from difficult parents to money to messed up school systems, heard him trash talk kids from school (usually the ones that used to give Kyung a hard time back in the day) with such clever rhymes that left his audience open mouth and staring before cheering in approval.

But this was different. Not once had Jiho rapped about love. Not this kind of love. And never had he rapped so…tenderly.

Usually Jiho would spit words rapid fire, and depending on what he was rapping about, it was almost like an attack. Now, his words were smooth as usual, but his speed was slower, allowing more time for the lyrics to sink in and Kyung felt himself scrambling to absorb every word, his body in tune to the silent beat, Jiho’s voice gentle, like a caress.

He listened intently to Jiho, who was clearly at home in his own mind, hand moving to the beat of his words, his head bobbing to keep time, his eyes once again closed as his rapped to this uname person. Kyung listened, as his friend spoke of the longing glances, shy smiles, dreams of first dates, stolen kisses (and wanting more), before moving back into nagging doubts, fears of loving the wrong person, and the frustration of loving someone and not being able to tell them.

Kyung could feel himself splitting in two. On the one hand there was the Kyung who was completely under Jiho’s spell, the gentle words captivating him, almost scaring him at how they warmed him, and how deeply the lyrics of Jiho’s uncertainties cut through him.

 On the other hand, there was the Kyung who was frantically wracking his mind to figure out who in the world Jiho was talking about—Jiho was only referring to the mystery person as “you,” with no descriptions what so ever apart from when he mentioned “your odd smile” with a small smile of his own that made Kyung blink in confused wonder at the other's subtle affection. The wonder soon hardened into something darker, however.

Was this why Jiho wasn’t too concerned about leaving him? Because he was hung up on—“in love with,” apparently—this mystery girl?

As if to spite him, Jiho ended his smooth rap with a promise to meet up with his one and only after he returned from Japan. All other colors drained from from Kyung’s vision as red began to seep in. A small voice, buried in the depths of Kyung’s usually sensible young mind whispered that he was being unreasonable—and if there was one thing fourteen-year–old Kyung prided himself in back then, it was being the more reasonable one out of Jiho and himself. And doing better in school, too.

And for a moment, Kyung listened to the voice of reason. The one that attempted to assure him that he was still Jiho’s best friend. The one that chided that this was bound to happen at some point, and that they “both” knew Jiho was going to find someone before Kyung: it was clear to anyone that Jiho, with his mad art skills and rapping abilities was rather popular with girls. He should be prepared for this moment. There was also the voice (a very thin voice) that timidly questioned whether it was wise to feel so strongly in the first place—and what that meant.

And with that, Kyung shoved reason aside. He was losing his friend to Japan, only to realize that he had just about lost him already. When Jiho came back from Japan, he probably wouldn’t even have time to call. With each irrational thought that flew through Kyung’s mind—and without his filter of reason—a coil of bitterness grew within him.

“So…what did you think?” asked Jiho slowly, a few moments after he had finished, the questioning note in his tone slightly higher, when he noticed that Kyung was not only silent, but scowling.

Kyung shrugged, attempting to make the motion as smooth as possible as to not  completely betray his toil of emotion. “It was okay, I guess.”

He had to force himself to meet Jiho’s awaiting, hopeful, gaze head on with a cool one of his own. Something twisted in Kyung’s chest as his saw the disappointment suddenly dull his friend’s eyes, but he fought back the guilt by indulging in his own bruised feelings further.

“That’s… it?” Jiho asked, after another moment passed, brows beginning to furrow. Kyung knew that while his lukewarm reception cut at his friend’s pride, Jiho also always expected constructive criticism from him. To remain silent was to draw suspicions, and Kyung really didn’t need Jiho prying at his wounded feelings just yet. He gave his unfiltered, bitter thoughts free reign.

“Well…it’s way too intense,” he started, shaking his head as if recalling the lyrics.

“Intense how?”

“All the love this and love that,” said Kyung, his voice sharp and he could see Jiho frowning at its edge. “I know you write about stuff in your life but...really? Are you really in l—”

“Yeah. I am,” cut in Jiho quickly, but firmly, his voice as rigid. Kyung adjusted his glasses which framed the disbelief clouding his dark eyes.

Jiho's response ached like a solid punch to the gut. Kyung felt even more distanced from his friend—not only did Jiho never mentioned liking (or being in love with) any girl to him, Kyung himself had never fallen in love before, and at the age of fourteen couldn't really imagine falling in love any time soon, not when his “game” was about as smooth as sandpaper due to his quiet nature.

It baffled Kyung. He always considered himself the more mature one out of Jiho and himself, so how the hell did the other manage to figure out what love was before him? And write a frustratingly heartfelt and impressive rap about it? The more Kyung thought about it (as Jiho glared at him from across the room), the more he resented Jiho. His bitterness continued to cloud his judgment, and he couldn't keep it from controlling his tongue.

“So...this must be some girl then,” snapped Kyung as he felt the the sneer curling on his lip. “She's so special that you couldn't even tell me about her?” Jiho sighed, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. His frustrated expression only made Kyung angrier—why the did he get get to be annoyed? It should have been the other way around. It was the other way around.

“It's not like that man.”

“Right. Then what's it like, huh?” Jiho was the one that had made him promise, back when they were little kids, that they would tell each other everything. That's what best friends did.

Kyung felt his fingers gripping the edge of the bed till his hands began to sting.

“I...look, I just thought you wouldn't understand!” Jiho cried, though he bit his lip at once as soon as the protest sank heavily into the room.

Kyung blinked. It was as if Jiho had now plunged a knife in his gut and twisted the handle. Since when did Kyung not understand Jiho?

Kyung sprang up from the bed, and it almost scared him how angry he felt—his skin was tight and hot while his stomach and throat ached.

“I wouldn't understand? Why the not? Cause you're the only one who can ing talk to girls? Cause I can barely look at them?” He was nearly choking himself with insecurity, but he couldn't stop, not even as Jiho jerked back, hands raised and eyes narrowed as if he didn't recognize the person in front of him. This only added more fire to Kyung's flame.

“Kyung, I didn't—”

“Whatever. I feel sorry for the girl, anyway.” He almost felt satisfied by the other's slackened jaw.

“What?”

“I mean, when she hears what you wrote—you sound like a freakin' stalker! Watching her in class, watching her walk home, always thinking about her—what the ?” Kyung noticed how the color suddenly drained from Jiho's face. How his lips suddenly pressed together tightly, and how his hands were now shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants to hide his balled fists. Kyung didn't miss a single second of it, in fact, he ate it up. He wanted Jiho to feel wrung out and raw—for just once in his life.

“If it were me,” Kyung continued,“I'd freak out! I'd never want you to talk to me again!” It was here Kyung brain finally began to scream at him to calm down. Jiho was now looking down at the floor. His body was beginning to tremble. Kyung knew he should stop, he had to. He was beginning to feel the sting of everything he said, and the sight of his friend in front of him like this was making the ache in his body overpower the fire burning through him.

But he couldn't just yet.

“I'd be disgusted,” muttered Kyung, suddenly feeling worn. And yet, from the way Jiho's head suddenly jerked up, his eyes widening before turning to steel, his mouth open, before snapping shut, Kyung knew he had pierced a nerve like no other.

“Fine,” hissed Jiho. Unease washed over Kyung as the last of his range left him and cold prickles traveled up his spine in their place. He crossed his arms to keep them still.

“Be ing disgusted then. Because it is you. I wrote it about you.”

It was as if all of the air left the room in one second. Followed by all of the warmth. The coldness making its way up Kyung's spine suddenly exploded like a blast of  numbing frost as he lungs struggled for breath. Kyung couldn't feel a thing, could barely hear his thoughts, and  Jiho, with his rigid stance and the sharpest, darkest glare that Kyung had ever seen on his face, looked as though he were a million miles away. Or maybe it was Kyung who was a million miles away—a million miles away where nothing made any ing sense.

“Wait...w—” Kyung began, before his brain had actually processed anything. But he needed to hear his own voice again before he completely lost himself.

“Shut the up.”

The younger boy turned away sharply, reaching for the door. Kyung reacted instantly, as panic out of nowhere suddenly shot through his numbness.

“Jiho, sto—” Jiho's grunt—near growl—interrupted him, and the boy turned around, face no longer pale, eyes just as dark.

“No man,“ he said quietly but in a in a voice sharp enough to cut through bone. He had never directed it towards his friend before. “You don't get to ing say anything to me right now. You've said enough, and guess what? It's nothing new. You think I don't know the answer to my question? You think I don't know that this is wrong? That it's ed up?”

“B-but I didn't know! I wouldn't have...I mean...” Kyung all but spluttered, and it was the first sentence that he managed to somewhat piece together clearly enough. And it was the first piece of truth he had spoken since his tirade against Jiho.

For a split second, Jiho's demeanor changed. His face softened a fraction, as a jolt of surprise traveled across it. But soon it was gone, and his eyes narrowed once again. “What difference does it make? Look, thanks for your honest opinion,” the words honest opinion stung like a a slap to the face, especially when coupled with the curling sneer on Jiho's lips. Panic was crawling up Kyung's throat now, scraping at his insides. What the hell had he done?

 “It is what it is,” Jiho continued. “Now leave me the alone. Goodnight.”

It chilled Kyung to the bone at how steady Jiho's voice remained.  Although the pain that tightened the younger boy's face was battling the thick contempt clouding his eyes, his voice was stiff like steel and just as cold. Kyung felt his stomach twist against a thick wave of nausea. His mind was reeling, but not a single thought made sense to him—there was nothing else he could say, besides I'm sorry but those words wouldn't come; disbelief continued to grip him ever so tightly.

Jiho stalked out of the room. Kyung fell backwards onto the bed, ripping his glasses off of his face and pressing his palms onto his eyes. Sleep met him restlessly that night.

The next day, Kyung packed up his things and left the Woo residence early without having any breakfast. Jiho's mother protested, despite Kyung's stiff, yet extremely polite apologies. Jiho silently watched him go.

The last day of school (and the two days before that) came and went without either of them speaking to each other. During the flurry of yearbook signing, Kyung somehow ended up with Jiho's yearbook after switching with one of the boys next to him. He stared at it for a moment, heart leaping in his ribcage.

In the end he passed it off to someone else without having signed it.

When looked through his own yearbook later that night, he realized Jiho had not signed his either.

The day Jiho was supposed to leave for Japan Kyung woke up feeling heavier than lead. He planned to stay in bed the entire day, but his mother shot down  every excuse he could muster, claiming that they were going to give Jiho a proper sendoff “fight or no fight” (both family chalked up the boy's silent treatments as their strange way of coping).

Thirty minutes later, Kyung found himself back at the Woo residence. Their fathers were packing Jiho's things into the car and their mothers were in a deep conversation, while their older siblings were in an awkward one. Kyung and Jiho were sitting alone in the back, listening to the kitchen clock tick off their last moments together.

Kyung had spent a lot of time thinking about Jiho over the past couple of days, but over that time, he hadn't thought up much to say to him, besides an obvious apology. A part of him wanted to be mad at Jiho, just slightly. His confession—and Kyung had to use that term with a bit more than just a grain of salt—had dropped a new element in their friendship. It complicated it. And Kyung just wanted it to be simple again.

He glanced over at Jiho, who was staring down at the grass, mindlessly swiping at random shoots. Regardless of whatever Jiho felt, Kyung knew he owed the other an apology.

But before he could open his mouth, Jiho rose his head suddenly and turned to look at Kyung. “ Hey, listen. If I write to you in Japan, will you write me back?” he asked, quite bluntly.

Kyung blinked. “Uh...yeah?” His voice sounded hoarse, but his surprise was obvious. Jiho raised on thick eyebrow.

“You promise?” Kyung nodded.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Jiho stared at him for a few moments, eyes softer than Kyung had seen them in a while. His heart quickened at this, and at that moment his body ached with how much he had been missing his friend. Jiho nodded once, firmly.

“Alright then. Cool.” For the second time in the past few days, Kyung felt as though his world had been flipped again. Had Jiho forgiven him? The joy that danced in his chest however, did not cancel out the fact that Kyung still felt the need to apologize. Jiho had returned to look back out at the small yard again, and Kyung cleared his throat, apology perched on the tip of his tongue—

“Boys, it's time for Jiho to leave. Let’s go,” called Mrs. Park through the opened back door. Kyung felt his nerve quickly fizzle away. The moment shattered around him as Jiho scrambled up and jogged back into the house. Kyung followed with a sigh.

After the trunk had been closed and Jiho's parents were already in the car, Jiho thanked the Park family for the sendoff. Kyung attempted to blink away the burning in his eyes, but when Jiho reached him, the older boy could not stop himself from throwing his arms around his friend. He caught Jiho's gasp, but only wrapped his arms tighter around the other boy, attempting to express his regret through the embrace and vowing to say it in words one day.

“I'll still miss you, you know,” whispered Jiho against his ear as his hands slowly found Kyung's back. The dam inside of Kyung broke at the innocent reminder of his terrible actions and the reality of Jiho leaving, as the tears began to fall like rain. He nodded his answer, a sob lodged too deep in his throat to talk. When he pulled away, Jiho's eyes were beginning to swell and his cheeks were wet. With one last wave to Kyung, he dashed into the car swiping at his eyes as the car pulled out and began in the direction of the airport.

It was a week before Jiho wrote to him. The subject title was: Hey listen to this! And Kyung's heart raced first with joy at the sight of the e-mail, and then panic as he loaded the sound file while remembering the last thing Jiho had written.

But the file was only a small rap Jiho had composed, chronicling an episode of one of his adventures in Japan. It was a funny little thing about Jiho losing a fight with a puppy and a baby, and Kyung couldn't wipe the smile off of his face as he listened. He wrote Jiho back with his approval, his fingers itching to slip in an apology somewhere. But he held back.

I have time, he figured. He could always write it in the next e-mail. Or the next. Or maybe say it over the phone. Or in person when Jiho visited. Or write it in an actual letter.

He never did.

****

Authors Notes: WHAT is wrong with me? Why can't I keep these chapter's short?! OTL I just don't understand how my writing gets away from me sometimes, but as you can see it does.  I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I KNOW it's pretty long, and trust me, I'm really envious of authors who can say so little and mean so much T-T But I think part of the reason I got a little carried away because this is ZIKYUNG, and I have a soft spot for them. Teehee. But I swear they were only supposed to get one chapter T-T

Anyways, I know what I wanted to get across in this chapter, but I'd much rather hear what you all think!

 Zico and Kyung's resolution comes in the next chapter! As well as a group resolution on the whole. And hopefully a nice little epilogue!

Next order of buisness (lol): Ahh! 46 subscribers! Over 1,000 views! Man, you guys don't know how happy this makes me~! I'm glad everyone's been enjoying the ride so far! Thank you for commenting and subscribing, and heck, even just reading it :D

Author Responses:

newbie23: So glad you like the U-bomb part! I was so nervous O.O

pandoraaa: U-bomb is definitely a nice OTP to have :) I'm glad you thought the tapeyo was beautiful! It was really hard to figure out how they would interact though...I struggled a lot lol

raiha328 : Thanks! One of my goals in this was definitely to try and give each member his own voice/quirk/habit/something, to kind of set them all apart. Thank you for noticing :) I think I may have failed with Jaehyo though, eek!

Halil16: Thanks for commenting! As you can see, Zico and Kyung still need all the luck they can get. Keep sending them some!

PlatonicLover: You are just too sweet, hehe. Yes, keep on loving Block B, and I'm sorry you had to wait so long! D:

Mintaeshawol : We DO?! Excellent! Now go write some Zikyung fanfic, with a dose of Taeil :P

charliekim: Thank you! Sorry I couldn't update sooner...

berittist: Wow, thank you so much! And I'm the same way too, actually. I really really don't like angst, and if a fanfic gets too angsty for me, it's hard for me to finish it. Though if you read this chapter (which is rather angsty!) don't give up on the story yettttt~!

YaNa_Angel: I'm glad you found this realistic! That was definitely something I was aiming for, but I'm pretty sure there's not much of a chance this happened haha. I'm really flattered that you're anticipating the story so much! Thank you for reading!