[SHINWOO POV]

I moved into this quiet little house in the Sung Hwa district a little less than eleven years ago.

Since then, I've experienced eleven springs of bright pink blossoms dotting the end of each street, eleven winters of crisp white snow blanketing the sidewalks and framing the windows of every townhouse, eleven autumns of that warm back-to-school, long-sleeved weather, and eleven summers of spending the entire day with Gongchan.

So maybe in the very beginning, we wouldn't spend all of our time together, given that eleven years ago, Gongchan was only four.

But somewhere around the dark-haired, wide-eyed boy's seventh birthday, he strode up to me in a red Power Rangers t-shirt and asked if he could go for a turn on my bike.

Being ten at the time, I remember thinking I was too cool for this kid. He was scrawny, with a tiny frame and mussed up clothing and dark locks that stuck up every-which-way. With his slight sniffle and a lopsided smile, I never would have associated with him, had we been at recess or the park. But being that we were alone, just the two of us standing awkwardly on the little patch of sidewalk before my front porch, I decided to give the boy a chance.

I pushed the handles of my bike so that the wheels slowly approached him, and his lips widened into a grin that squinted his eyes. “Thank you, hyung!”

“Yeah, no problem, um...” I trailed off, hoping for a mention of the fair-skinned boy's name.

“Chansik,” he finished for me with that smile again, somehow warming my ten year old heart. “But Appa calls me Gongchan.”

I tried to muster the best smile I could, but I've never been huge on showing my emotions. “I'm Shinwoo.”

“Shinwoo-hyung,” he mumbled, experimenting with the new words on his tongue, then proceeded to climb onto the bike. With a little struggle on his part and two cautious, out-reached hands ready to catch his fall on mine, he successfully climbed aboard the two-wheeler and placed his tiny feet on the pedals.

I took in the sight in front of me, holding back a snort at the ridiculous image of this kid sitting cheerfully on an object nearly twice the size of him. My face, though, was stoic as I asked, “How old are you?”

A tongue stuck out in concentration as he wiggled the handle bar to keep his balance. “Six,” he replied with a frustrated grunt.

“I'm ten,” I said, but I'm not sure if the highly-focused boy ever heard that statement. He continued to squirm, feet pushing back and forth in tiny spurts as his little hands gripped the rubber ridges on the bar.

“Is this your first time riding a bike?” I ask, one eyebrow raised. My younger self was curious as to why he would ask to use the object if he's never ridden one before.

I never got an answer, though, because in one quick motion the bike jerked forward, a surprised, “Wah!” left Gongchan's small mouth, and he hit the railing of my porch stairs, toppling over.

One skinned knee, a crying six-year-old, and a band-aid from my kitchen cabinet later, Gongchan and I became friends.

That summer, I taught him successfully how to ride a bike.

The following year, we filled the sweltering hot days with video games and red bean slush in whoever's house was more convenient.

Another summer after that, and one more after that, and it was the same routine day after day. We'd play video games, occasionally ride our bikes around the neighborhood until our skin was pink and our brows were damp from the sun, or visit the local pool and swim until the sky dimmed and our lips were purple.

Somehow, despite the age difference, we got along perfectly. Neither of us cared about what others would think of our companionship, because it was June or July or August and our school friends weren't there to watch. Come time for the school year, we'd stop playing, stop nearly all contact besides a neighborhood Christmas party or Memorial Day cookout or the like. It was fine that way, though, because we were just kids and we just wanted to have fun, no strings attached.

When I hit my freshman year of high school, though, and Gongchan made it to junior high, things started to change.

For me, becoming a freshman meant a new pair of dark-framed glasses and a set of neglectful peers to go with them. Any school friends I had slowly left my side, and the ideal lives of fictional characters in novels became more appealing to me. I guess you could say I became that nerdy bookworm figure that kept to himself and spent his lunch period in the library.

As I later learned, Junior High brought a similar fate to Gongchan. When all the other boys were wearing deodorant and gaining deeper voices, Gongchan stayed that thin, small-framed boy he's always been. And he got bullied for that, too. Except for him, it was a lot worse.

In the middle of November that year, Gongchan knocked on my door one evening, invited himself in, and talked to me all the way through the night, despite the fact that we had school the next morning. Once or twice, he burst into tears, and not knowing what to do, I awkwardly sat there. Nonetheless, he poured his young heart out to me, and I listened with open ears and an open mind.

Not too long after that, the same thing happened again. However, this time, when he was done, I gushed all of my own feelings out to him. Then things really started to take a U-turn.

At one point, Gongchan was sleeping over nearly every night. Unlike when we were younger, we'd spend time together nearly every day, no matter what season it was. We became painfully alone, together.

Up until six months ago, we did everything together. We did homework in the dim light of my table lamp on a Wednesday evening, shoulders pressed together as we sat on the same chair, his laughter bouncing off the thin walls or his eyebrows furrowed as he tapped a pencil on his chin. Or there were times where we climbed out my bedroom window and just laid out on my roof in silence, the buzz of cicadas filling the void of our tired minds.

We were extremely close, and a lot of the time I had wished Gongchan was born as my little brother, so that he'd always be by my side. At the time, a friend like him was a comfort that I needed. I knew, though, that at some point we'd distance ourselves, as what happens to any friendship.

And of course, we eventually parted ways.

It just didn't happen the way I thought it would.

It was one of those nights where we lay out on my roof, staring at the stars and letting our minds wander. I let my hands rest at my sides as I thought about what it would be like to devote my life to the stars, spending all of my days peering through a lens and counting each individual speck of light. My imagination was throwing me into an entire circle of what-ifs and other possibilities when Gongchan's delicate voice spoke up, breaking the silence.

“What's high school going to be like?” he asked, his eyes slightly shiny when I turned my head to look at him. He didn't return the gaze, just continued to stare up.

“Um,” I began, unsure of what to say. For me, high school was a miserable environment; I was only there for the half-decent education it provided. But for someone who had only three weeks left until their first day, what was I supposed to say? Should I cushion the truth or deliver it honestly? For someone like Gongchan, as feminine and small as he was for a fourteen year old boy, it was bound to be a living hell. “I.. I guess it'll be fun,” I replied, settling on not scaring the fragile boy.

He stretched his arms up towards the sky and smiled that lopsided grin that I've loved since the first day we met. “Yeah, it'll have to be, won't it?” he mumbled to the stars.

I watched him, letting the moon trace a tiny highlight over his silhouette and giving me that strange stomach flip I had been experiencing for a few weeks before then. “Why's that?” I questioned.

He turned to look over at me this time, and dropped his hands so that they fell by his sides. Gearing the giant smile towards me, now, he responded, “Because I'll get to spend the whole day, every day, with you.”

My insides flipped once again, but I ignored it, and just watched the boy. His grin slowly turned into a soft smile, and we just looked at each other for what felt like centuries. Lately, his boyish features have turned into something more mature that, even in the poor lighting, I could only define as beautiful. Yes, the word is corny and honestly I hate it, but it's the only description that seems appropriate for the image I was veiwing.

Slowly, this boy is turning into more than my best friend. And I don't like it.

Breaking my train of thought was a tentative brush of skin as Gongchan quickly grabbed the hand that lay by my side. In this light, I could barely register the tint of red that took over his cheeks before he turned back towards the sky, trying to hide it from me.

I realized a while ago.

For nearly a year, I had known that the boy I looked down on as a little brother, looked up towards me as someone he had a little crush on, or maybe more than that.

And when Gongchan gave a soft smile and started playing with my fingers, humming a tune and interrupting both the night's silence and my heart, giving me that strange, but now familiar, feeling in my stomach, I started to wonder if I returned the feelings or not. I've never had a crush on anyone, but I knew I wasn't gay. So I couldn't like him, right?

However, this moment, no, every moment I've spent with the boy, they've all been my happiest...

Three weeks after that night, confused and distraught, I broke all contact with him.

Yet, it's done nothing to help my situation, and to this day, I'm still in love with him.

I don't have much to say about last night.

I will tell you that I regret it. I regret going to the party at all, because then maybe I wouldn't have seen them together, practically grinding on the dance floor, and then maybe I wouldn't have gotten jealous and angry.

I wish I wouldn't have had anything to drink to calm my frustration, because as I watched from the bar as those two had their “moment,” I think it just made me even more irritable, my fist clenching onto the ledge of the granite, rows of teeth gritting against each other.

And I regret not snapping out of it once I realized what I was doing, but instead letting the alcohol take over and give way to only my most sadistic of imaginings. I should have stopped, I should have jerked myself out of it and backed away, even if it was after I already started.

But there was that thing in the back of my mind saying, “He's mine,” and wanting to claim him as my own.

I shouldn't have gone to the party at all.

I hurt him. I took advantage of him.

I completely deserve to wake up like this, with my clothing stained, my head pounding and jaw sore from the punch that the red-head landed on me, and the misery of still remembering clearly what I did.

I deserve it all, and so here I lie in that same spot in the hallway where I passed out during his heart-wrenching sobs.

There's not much more to it than that: I regret it, and I deserve everything that happened to me in return.

All that's left for me to say is that I'm sorry, Gongchan.

I'm really, truly sorry.

[A/N]: Hello all. (: Here I am with Shinwoo's POV, for the first time :D Yay! ^^

OH HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT!

I made a trailer for this story. ^^ I spent a long time on it, so comment and tell me what you think? (:

Thank you for all of your lovely comments <3 And to all of my subscribers and silent readers, I thank you as well. You're all so amazing. :D

Enjoy this chapter, and sleep well, everyone. ^^