“Hello, boys,” a voice hisses from your posterior, causing the faces in front of you to lose all emotion and simply stare for a moment before turning to an expression of pure horror.
                Jongin speaks first.  “Hana…” was all he stutters.
                You look up at Chanyeol to better study his face—you know something odd is going on here, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.  They all know one another, but how?  And why is the only one smiling…Hana?
                Noticing your date was frozen in a state of terror—or would the upmost form of confusion suffice?—you finally decide to give this girl a once over.  You gulp as you realize the beauty standing in front of you.  Well, she doesn’t look hideous; if anything she is flawless.  She has long, slender legs which seemed a mile long (most likely resulting from her three inch pumps) sticking out from under her short denim shorts.  Her figure is curvy in all the right places, slender at others, and tight where it would do nothing but accentuate her already sculpted body.  Her hair is long and wavy, obviously dyed as it was the color of a pomegranate, and hung in lose curls as it frames her face.  Her eyes are obviously sporting contacts because they were large and blue, but nonetheless look absolutely stunning.
                “Can I help you?” her plump, crimson lips move effortlessly, forming shapes and allowing air to pass through and create sounds which sound like a lullaby.  A hand travels to her hip as she leans on it, blinking once, hard.
                “I don’t know,” you say, suddenly on offense and liking an arm protectively around Chanyeol’s, causing him to break free from his trance.  “Can you?”
                She ignores you and flips her hair over her shoulder.  “I see you’ve met Chanyeol, he was nice while it lasted.” She lets out a heavy breath of air while pulling a cigarette and lighter from her right pocket.  She lights it as she speaks the next line: “I’m with Kai now, much, much better.”  She takes a long draw from the cigarette and proceeds to blow the smoke directly in your face.  Yet again, she continues.  “So how are you, Channie?” she takes a step closer to him, ignoring your presence, her left hand cups his face, her slender fingers tracing random patters along his high cheekbones.  “Miss me?” she coos.
                “No, Hana,” Chanyeol replies, his voice even deeper than usual.  “I don’t miss you, and I don’t want to see you.” He is looking down upon her awkwardly, towering over her by at least a whole foot.  Chanyeol turns to Jongin; the difference in height now is not as dramatic.  “When?” was all her said.
                Jongin gulps and widens his eyes as he faces his elder.  “Two months...”  He looks at the floor, digging a shoe into the cement beneath him.
                “I see.”  Chanyeol slips his hand into yours and squeezes: gently enough to convey an acceptable demeanor, but hard enough so that you could feel his pain.  “Why?” At this point his eyes are filled with tears and the corners of his mouth pull back.  “Actually, I don’t care.”  You can hear his voice crack.  He turns to you, now.  “Let’s go.”


                The two of you walk for what seems like an hour before arriving at a small park in the middle of a large city; there are a few trees scattered about, a miniature brook flowing into a small pond, a few benches and a small playground.  Nothing else was needed, nothing else could fit.
                You don’t know what to say or what to do to make him feel better, so you just wrap an arm around his waist and pulled him close.  A tear falls and you gently wipe it away.  He looks at you.
                “I’m sorry you had to see that, especially on our first date,” his wet eyes look into yours, pleading, apologizing, begging for forgiveness.  “I expect you want to know the story?”
                “Yes, but you can tell me whenever you’re ready.  I can wait.”
                “It would be better for you know now, there’s no reason for me to hide anything from you.”
                You nod and wait for him to begin.
                “Hana was my girlfriend, my first and my last.  We dated for two years before she broke up with me.” He let out a painful sigh.  “They were the best years of my life, too, or so I thought.  My world revolved around her, she was the source of my happiness, and I would do anything for her.  She always had a smile on her face; she always knew what to say to me and how to make me feel better about myself.  I would surprise her on weekends, bring her little gifts—things that weren’t worth much, but things that had a small amount of significance.  Jongin is my best friend, again, so I thought.  We did everything together, we were raised together, we were brothers.  I always knew he like Hana, but he never did anything about it.  Anyways, we broke up a month ago…”
                He pauses to let you piece it all together.  “When?”  “Two months…”  “Why?”   “Oh, Chanyeol!”
                You pull yourself up from the bench quickly, fast enough to startle the man beside you.  “I am so sorry!” You burry your face in your hands to try and hide your face and shake your head gently before tilting up Chanyeol’s head and looking into his eyes.  “I would never...” you begin, before losing the words.  “Let me do both,” you finally stammer out, pushing a lock of his hair behind his ear.  “Let me be your best friend, and let me heal your hurt.”
                He joins you standing, and envelopes you in a hug; it was the warmest thing you had ever felt.