It’s Saturday. My dad went out fishing with his childhood buddies. My mom went shopping, taking advantage of the ‘early bird’ sales. I would have went with her, but I know she’s still a little mad about me about the conversation we had at Christmas dinner so I’ve been making sure to give her some space for the past few days.

Being alone in the house again and with all your friends going AWOL during the holiday break leaves me to be a total recluse.

After several days of the same routine, my stomach begins to reject all the junk food I’m shoveling into my mouth. My mom only decides to cook if my dad or I ask her to because she’s never sure if we’ll be around to eat it with our busy schedules. Plus, ever since Christmas, I’ve been too scared to even ask. I experiment in the kitchen, but the fruits of my labor look inedible and possibly even toxic. I decide buying takeout would be the best option… but I don’t have money. This is when money slapped in a store-bought card would have come in handy…

No matter how hard I try not to think about it, my thoughts always brings me back to the same place, or person that is. I look at my wrist. I don’t think I’ll ever want money slapped in a store-bought card ever again though…

He said we have to stop hanging around each other because of Jeesun, but I did make him a promise. It’s lunchtime, I am famished, and I don’t want him to be alone all the time so it only seems logical.

I take a quick shower because I feel gross and grimy from lazing around the house. I throw my shoes on, slip my jacket on, and slide on my new mittens with a fond smile.

As I turn the key in the ignition and drive slowly to my destination, I ponder what I should say when I get there. I mean, I should really apologize to him, too because my mom was right: what I did wasn’t fair to him. I was selfish.

I pull into his empty driveway. As expected, it’s void of any trace of his parents’ cars. I shake my head in disapproval at the way they handle the rift in their marriage.

I walk to the front door and wrap my fist onto the solid wood. I hear the rustle of pots behind the door and smile at the thought of him cooking. I hear him shouting something before he pulls the door opened swiftly. I flash of shock crosses over his face before he composes himself again to speak.

“Minho… hey,” he says, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he his head to the side. “What are y-“

“How was your Christmas?” I cut his question off with my own question because it would be nice to see Kibum's genuine smiling face again instead of confusion or any other sort of atmosphere falling over his features..

The confusion is wiped from his face but is replaced with something worse. I now wish he kept the confusion because bitter sadness is certainly no upgrade to his expression. “Uh… you know, little ol’ me and a miniature Christmas tree. It was picturesque,” he finishes with a sad smile.

“Kibum…” I say sympathetically as I fight the urge to wrap my long arms around his thin body.

“Don’t worry about it,” he requests, shaking his head.

“But that’s horrible of your parents!” I shout angrily. “You should have called me! I would have had you over and y-“

“No, I would have said no to you like I do to everyone else,” he says apathetically.

“Why? Why do you say no?” I ask, desperate in Kibum's place because he seems so uncaring now. “Christmas is a holiday to spend with family an-“

“That’s exactly it. They’re not my family. They’re other people’s families.”

“You didn’t let me finish. And loved ones,” I tell him.

He scoffs a little before responding. “Loved one…” he sighs with a bitter smile. Why is Kibum so… cold right now? Where is the fun-loving Kibum that I spent so much time with? Or am I only noticing this facet of his psyche now that I know too much?

“I was fine. Really, don’t worry about it,” he continues, this time with a reassuring smile thought it's quite obvious it is forced. “Anyway, what brings you here today? Not just to ask that I’m sure.”  

“It’s Saturday, and I made you a promise,” I tell him plainly, deciding to leave him alone about the situation with his parents because he doesn't seem to want to be reminded of it. Then again, who would want to be reminded that your parents have their priorities mixed up and you're at the bottom of the list.

“Well, yeah, but I thought we discussed this at you house earlier this week.”

“A promise is a promise. I don’t break promises,” I tell him resolutely.

“Are you sure this isn’t just some ploy to eat some of my food?” he smiles a real smile finally.

“Partially…” I state, seeing as how he caught part of my motive. “But don’t get me wrong; I like spending time with you, too,” I tell him seriously.

He leans on his door frame, his smile softening as he turns his gaze to the floorboards of his porch.

“Minho, I told you, we can’t spend any more time together.”

“But it only really matters around Jeesun,” I try to convince him.

“No,” he smiles sadly. “It doesn’t only matter then.”

“But Ki-“

I am cut off by shrieks coming from inside the house.

“Kibum!” I hear a voice wail. It’s clearly octaves higher than the person’s normal speaking voice because of the fear painting his tone. “It’s burning up! I’m charring it! Ahhh! I don’t know what to do! Come help me, Kibum!”

Kibum looks over his shoulder with an amused grin on his face.

“Hold on! I’m talking to someone! You can handle it for now!” he shouts into his house, which is followed by a scream of horror from inside. I furrow my eyebrows, trying to decipher who it is, but with the way he’s altering his voice, there’s no way in telling. Kibum turns to look at me again and sighs.

“Minho,” he starts. “You don’t have to come here because you feel sorry for me.”

“I’m not. I genuinely like hanging out with you, and the food is just a bonus.”

“We really can’t spend any more time together. I’m sorry,” he says, finality dripping in his statement.

“But I promised you Saturdays were our days,” I tell him, eyes pleading for his acknowledgment.

“I freed you from that promise when I came over to give you those and to have that conversation,” he says, looking at my hands. “They look nice on you by the way.”

As I open my mouth to respond, another yell of panic echoes through Kibum’s house.

“Sorry, Minho, but I really have to go,” he says apologetically. “I would offer you some of my amazing food, but it sounds like it’s all burnt to a crisp.”

“That’s okay…” I say, dejected.

“Bye, Minho,” Kibum says as he slowly closes the door.

“Wait!” I beckon for him. He halts his movements and peeks his head around the edge of the door.

“Yes?”

“Uh… I’m really sorry for using you like that,” I say sincerely, looking at him sadly. “It was selfish of me, and it was very inconsiderate of me.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he smiles sweetly at me. “I think a lot of good came out of it. For you and for me,” he fiddles with the door knob as a crash of pans startles the both of us. “Well, I best be going. Bye, Minho,” he pushes the door until it clicks shut.

I stand on his porch for a few more seconds, letting the gravity of our discussion sink in before walking back to my car. As I walk down Kibum’s pathway, I see a familiar car parked across the street; it’s the same car I saw Kibum drive away in when he saw me on Christmas Eve.

I feel anger boil up inside of me. Has he found someone else to replace me already? This guy, the same guy who took Kibum away from me on what was probably the last day I would have the chance to spend time with him, is now in Kibum’s house cooking with him on our lunch day? I don’t like it. Not a single bit. Who is it? Who the is it?

I drive home, my mind racing faster than my car is even capable of going. I pull into our driveway, obviously too fast because I nearly slam into our trash cans, which would have ricocheted into my mother’s car who is apparently back finally from shopping and is parked beside me.

I open the door and drag my feet across the foyer, taking off and leaving my wet shoes on the 'welcome' mat to dry.

“Where have you been?” my mom asks me as I pass the dining room, where she is sitting, eating a cup of yogurt.

“Kibum’s,” I say simply.

“Kibum’s…” she says slowly as she scrapes at the bottom of her yogurt cup. “And what for?”

“Since you put me on a guilt trip, I went over to apologize,” I tell her less than half the story.

“Ah…” she utters with acknowledgement. “And how did he respond?”

“Just fine,” I say as I stand in the archway of the dining room.

“Just fine?” she says, laying her spoon down on a napkin. “So does that mean you guys are the best of friends now and are going to hang out all the time?”

“No,” I reply, eyeing her warily. “We decided it was best if we don’t spend any more time together.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Kibum decided’?” she asks knowingly.

“What?” I say, pretending to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh please, give me a break,” she smirks. “You know I talk to Jinki.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It means I know that you’ve been sulking over a ‘friend who’s being distant,’” she says mockingly as she stands up from her seat, holding her empty yogurt cup and spoon, and walks into the kitchen. I follow behind her.

“Who says I was talking about Kibum?” I ask defensively.

“Oh come on, Minho. If any of your other friends were being ‘distant’ you would be thanking the Lord because you’re teammates are always around whether you like it or not. I think anyone would need a break from them every once in a while. As for Kibum, he’s a different story.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I’m not ‘getting at’ anything,” she says with her back turned to me as she cleans her spoon. “Just stating what I know.”

“I can feel you smirking from here, mom.”

She is silent for a moment before bursting out laughing. “I just think it’s downright hilarious!” she manages to get out between laughs as she places her lone spoon in the dishwasher to dry.

“It’s not funny…” I mutter.

“To me it is,” she says holding onto the counter for support as she doubles over laughing. “You see, this is what happens when you do bad things: God punishes you and I laugh at you.”

“Thanks, mom…” I say sarcastically. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Are you going to go cry over Kibum into your pillow now?” she shouts loud enough for me to hear as I make my way up the stairs while she continues laughing.

I swear to God, I have the oddest mom in the world. But she’s right; I guess I was asking for this. This is what I signed up for. There’s not much I can really do about my friendship with Kibum now that I’m with Jeesun.

I think I’ll be able to get used to not having him around. Everything will naturally go back to how it used to be. I’ll be off in my own little world while he’s off in his... with whoever that new guy is, and our lives will go on their respective divergent paths. I’ll see him from time to time in the hallway and daily in the classroom, but he’ll just be another student to me. It sounds simple enough. We went about our lives that way before so it’s only natural. I’m sure it won’t be too hard getting adjusted to life without Kibum around anymore.

A/N: There goes that mysterious navy blue four door that is owned by that mysterious figure whom Minho still has no clue is because he's just so dense about everything.

Minho's mom strikes again. This time, armed with a different strategy to make her son feel like a stupid butthole.

To TkeChan, I swear you are a mind reader... Kibum's Christmas... as sad as ever. You're worries have been confirmed. Then again, you're a psychic mind reader so you probably don't need confirmation since you already knew.

To desyta, yes, the whole world hates Jeesun. I made her just so I could hate her. Now, Minho just needs to realize he hates her, too. Haha.

Thanks for reading! Until next time!