So I think I'm going to be heavy on this author's note. 

This song fic was a doozy to write because this song is just so epic that I wanted to try to incorporate a lot of it into the story. I don't know if I did it justice. Here's hoping. Anyway, if you've heard Kanye West's Runaway, you'll understand how this story kind of works, not only in storyline but in how one part of it should sound. Also, I tried to incorporate the music video, so if you've seen it, you'll know what I'm talking about. 

Also, I think I may have flown off the charts for this, meaning it might be a little all over the place. If it is, I'm sorry, I apologize. This song fic was a fricken movie in my head when I wrote it, so I tried my best to be as descriptive, as detailed, and as meticulous as possible with this one. 

Another thing, I know Tabi isn't an in real life - I mean, I'd sure love to think so. So it was really hard for me to write this about him because a] I find it quite hard to write Tabi sometimes, and b] I don't see Tabi being such an . So, I'm sorry if you're a Tabi stan and you read this and you hate it. 

Lastly, this one is for Kayla, who has been patiently waiting for this one. :D

I hope you all enjoy. :D :D :D

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            “Oppa, jeongmal joahaeyo,” the long, raven black-haired girl confessed in a whisper as she pressed her lips against the ear of a man much taller than she was.

            His dark brown eyes widened, surprised at her confession, emotions immediately conflicting with each other.  There was a side of him that wanted to revel at her words, celebrate the fact that he had won the heart of yet another girl.  But there was another side of him that knew better than to do that, the side that wanted to – no, had to push her away.

They’d only been casually dating each other for not more than three months, shared more than a year’s worth of passionate make out sessions and tender kisses, and he had even exchanged more secrets with her than he would surrender to another human being.  He couldn’t deny the instant connection he felt with her.  But he wasn’t one to acknowledge it, either.  If only because he knew the kind of person he was.  He knew what he was capable of doing and what it would cause because of the kind of person he was.

He tried to push her off gently, taking a step back so that her lips peeled off his earlobe.  Doing so resulted in her dropping down from the ball of her feet to her heels, making her stand at her normal height.

“Yah, don’t say something that destructive,” he warned ominously, his voice low but strong as it usually was.  He dropped the sunglasses resting at the top of his head down to rest on the bridge of his nose, concealing all emotion readable in his eyes from her.

For a second, the petite woman – who, despite the small distance set between her and her partner, still had her arm wrapped behind his back – knitted her eyebrows at his statement, as if she were worried that he’d meant what he said.  But she knew he liked to joke around, liked to be playful.  So she wiped the look off her face and giggled.

“You’re silly,” she breathed, getting the last of her giggles out. “How is telling you that I like you be destructive?  You think I’d break your heart?”

He tried to look grave, tried to be serious with his stoic facial expression, his lips spreading out into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed. But he let out one short scoff between his lips.

“You wouldn’t break my heart, you silly girl,” he told her his tone still serious.  “It would be the other way around.”

            Instead of coiling away from him and his words like she should’ve done, like he wanted her to, she instead curled up to him, closing the gap he had made earlier.  She tucked her head so that he could rest his chin on it, which he did.  She wrapped an arm around the front of his body, linking her fingers where they met right at his hip and pulled him even closer to her body.

            “You couldn’t hurt me. I know you too well for you to do that,” she said, still not believing a word he was saying.  He pulled away to only look down at her, meeting her gaze through his dark lenses.

            “You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he told her, giving her his final warning.  “If I were you, I’d run away before you get hurt. Run away as fast as you can.”

            She stared at him, even though she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes because of his sunglasses.  Again, her forehead creased as she scrunched her eyebrows, worry washing over her.  Not once in the three months they’d spent with each other did she have any reason to doubt him or even think he was the type of person to run away from.  But because she couldn’t read the look in his eyes or piece together why he looked so stoic at the moment, not the smiling, goofy, playful man she had come to know, doubt began to cloud her mind, weigh down her heart.

            But she remembered one more thing about him. Just as much as he was a jokester and a playful person, he was also a good actor. Which she justified as being the reason he why he was acting like this. She figured that it was one final joke, one test to see if she was worthy of him before he could confess his own feelings for her.

            She smiled, honestly believing this to be the reason.  Then, she shook her head at him and his frozen expression, as if renouncing his last warning.

            “Ani…I won’t run away,” she stubbornly announced, the cuteness gone from her voice.  She bit her bottom lip, as if second-guessing herself.  But she shook her head like she did earlier, shaking the thought away.  She steadied her gaze at him before repeating her earlier sentiment.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

            He found himself sitting in his regular seat at his favorite bar, the one he always occupied in whenever he dug himself in this particular situation.  He liked it there.  Everyone knew who he was – mostly because of his fame and popularity, but also because he had been going there so often that everyone just treated him like a regular, like they could not give one that he was TOP from Big Bang. Like that ever mattered to him whenever he came here, anyway.  He only came to drown out the feeling of guilt with a drink or two. Or five.

            That’s the drink he was currently nursing in both his hands. Arms resting on the countertop, he held the cool glass half-filled with whiskey in his hand, the condensation sweating off the side giving indication that he was taking his time with this one. 

That was a sign. Usually when he drank to numb the guilt, he didn’t slow down until the realization of his actions hit him.  That was what was happening to him right now.  His actions from earlier in the night were hitting him hard; fighting through the liquid fire he kept pour down his throat to stun his brain from feeling anything.

Unwillingly, his mind flashed back to hours earlier – where he was, who he was with, why he was there.

Where he was – He was sitting in a coveted balcony seat of an opera house, waiting for the most popular ballet to ever hit Seoul city to start. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever be dragged out to watch something like this. But he liked to think of himself as a rather sophisticated man with an open mind, and this was a new venture for him.

Who he was with – The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. From the moment he placed his eyes on her that night, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Maybe it was simple black dress she was wearing that made her look anything but simple, or the way she styled her hair in that messy bun. It could even be the silver stilettos donned on her feet that made her legs look longer and stronger than they were. Whatever it was, he was hooked. Instantly.

Why he was there – He honestly didn’t know.  He knew he had somewhere else to be, and that this place wasn’t it.  He knew why he had to be at that other place, also. But right now, seeing as he couldn’t put a finger on where exactly it was he had to be at that moment, he pushed the thought aside and decided to just enjoy his night at the ballet, doing his best to ignore the gnawing sensation in the back of his mind.

Then suddenly, the lights dimmed and the sound of voices hushing one another over the orchestra tuning their instruments filled the auditorium.  And just as the thick red curtain rose from the stage directly in front of him, the first pang of what he assumed was guilt slowly sank in to the bottom of his stomach.

He tried to push the unwanted feeling away as a thundering echo of footsteps hitting the ground filled the air, the source of it being the handful of lithe women dressed in black tutus, black hair sleeked back into tight bun, rushing to center stage from stage left.  He tried to concentrate on the thundering herd of dancers as they all began to pose on the tips of their toes, situating themselves with bodies bent at the waist – some this way, others that way – all of their hands up in the air creating hoops above their heads. And then the music played.

One strong hit of a piano sounded in the auditorium, prompting the dancers in black to move from one static position to another.  They repeated that swift movement again as the pianist hit the same high note.  And again and again for a good minute until the rest of the orchestra joined in, string instruments humming below the sound of brass instruments.

He didn’t realize it then, but the opening chords of the ballet, the sound of the ghostly repetition of the high E note, was a sound that would haunt him for the rest of the night.  From the moment the ballet ended, to when his date led him to the hotel room they’d be spending the night, and especially when she stood in front of the end of the bed and started undressing in front of him.

Ping – She rolled her hand over her right shoulder and pushed the black strap over it, letting it fall to the side. Ping – She did it to the other side. Ping – She reached over behind her, flexible enough to her dress with ease herself. Ping – The black chiffon dress hit the ground, pooling around her silver heels, leaving her dressed in a lacy, strapless black bra and matching lace . Ping – She stepped out of it and toward him, pulling him in for a kiss as she gently did away with his suit jacket. Ping – She twisted their position so that she could push him on the bed behind them. Ping – At a painstakingly slow pace, she crawled over his body, the lust she felt for him emanating off her own. Ping – When she was right where she wanted to be, her hip resting on his, she slid a hand up his torso, stopping at the top button, ready to start undressing him. Ping – The first button came undone. Ping – Then, the second. And just as she was about done with his buttons and ready to reveal his body beneath his clothing…

Ping – A face popped into his head.  The rounder, paler face of a woman with almond-shaped brown eyes filled with tears and plump, soft pink lips turned down into a frown appeared in his head, an expression he was not unused to. The face of a woman whose heart he consistently broke time and time again, but always came back to him, despite his shortcomings. The face of a woman who, several months ago, confessed her feelings for him, despite his resistance from her words. 

It was like an instant reminder that snapped him back to his reality, his life. A cold shower, if you will, from the arousal the woman above him gave him.  Right when her face came to his mind, he knew instantaneously that the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his mind that he’d been trying to ignore the whole night was his guilty conscience telling him he’d screwed up once again. This time, though, he made a bigger mess of things.  This was the first wave of realization he had that night, while he was still beneath his lady for the evening as nipped at his neck and began trailing kisses down his chest. The lower her warm, slightly moist lips went, the harsher the pain of guilt was in his heart. And just as she was about to place a kiss on the skin above his belt buckle…

Ping – He quickly slid out from beneath her, hurrying to grab his clothes so that he could leave before the scantily clad woman could even try to stop him.

And then his memory brought him back to the moment now, where he sat, glass of whiskey still untouched in his hands.  How many times had he been repeating this habit of drinking the guilt away, he wondered to himself.  Six, seven times already? He wasn’t so sure anymore. It had to have been more than that, he scolded himself, knowing how he had a knack for screwing up like this. Generally speaking, he’d probably done this a hundred times before in his previous relationships. Whatever the actual count was, he knew one thing for sure – The repetition of his bad behavior always left him with the same feeling. Nothingness.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Seunghyun remembered the first time he’d done this – the first time he’d broken a girl’s trust, the first time he sat down in that very stool.  She was one of his first girlfriends, someone whose name he couldn’t even remember anymore. She was that insignificant to him.  She was also far from being his first love, but too close for comfort than what he was used to.  In her mind, as soon as they’d reached their hundredth day together, they would be a set couple, comfortable enough for her to call him ‘oppa’, he, her ‘jagiya’.  In his, she was just a girl whose company he'd enjoy until he didn’t anymore, just like the few before and the many after her.  He didn’t want to be in a steady relationship this young in his life and career, especially when he was just months away from his band’s debut.  How ludicrous would it that be? No, he didn’t want that. He wanted his freedom. And to elicit that, he had to get rid of her.

Back then, Seunghyun’s tactic was simple, only because he wasn’t as an experienced a dater as he was now.  Back then, his only out was texting girls left and right and hoping that she’d catch him in the act. She eventually did, on the eve of their hundredth day, reading texts from some other anonymous girl he’d be texting to hang out with that night after he’d finish band practice.  She called him a jerk, a player, a good for nothing and left him before he could do the same to her.  At first, he felt indifferent about the whole thing, like he would so many times after, and decided to celebrate his lose instead of mourn it. He found himself at a small bar that was run by a male friend of his older sister’s, the very same one he’d inevitably occupy after he did his wrongdoings. As soon as he walked in, Kyung Joo, his sister’s friend, immediately noticed him and called him over to the bar, the two quickly making small talk before the topic of conversation led him to tell his sister’s friend about his very recent break-up. The two sharing similar outlooks on relationships and girls – “Little time for relationships, more time for more girls” – Kyung Joo started poured each of them a shot of soju, toasting to their relationship dogma. A dogma he religiously stood behind.

Thus, his new break-up routine began. He would date a girl for no more than two months before he callously threw her aside, finding different things to be the fault of the ill-fated relationship.  If she showed too much interest, she was too clingy. If she wasn’t, she wasn’t committed enough.  If she studied anthropology instead of business, she wasn’t serious about her future. If she was a business major, she was too serious for him. If there wasn’t a fault, he’d make an excuse and find one, and quickly duck out of the relationship, like he was so used to.  He was just never satisfied. Whoever or whatever the “she” was, he was clearly not interested for too long.

            And then one day, Seunghyun met her. Mila. She wasn’t unlike all the girls he used to date before. She fell into the category of ‘beautiful, smart, and easy-going’, a category of girls whose flings with him lasted than any other.  There wasn’t anything that set her apart from the other girls, really, except for the challenge that presented itself in order to get her.

Mila was a friend of a friend, who gave him fair warning to stay the hell away from her or else she’d have to castrate him because she already knew he’d break her poor friend’s heart. But despite the graphic threat given, he went for it anyway and got turned down right away.

“Mianhae, Seunghyun-ssi.  But Chaeyeon unnie wouldn’t approve at all,” Mila declined politely, though Seunghyun could see a familiar look of intrigue in her eyes.  He knew that if it weren’t for their mutual friend’s disapproval, she would’ve accepted.

Despite the rejection, Seunghyun walked away that night with a sense of pride, having scored Mila’s number when Chaeyeon wasn’t looking. Of course, it didn’t take too long for Seunghyun to call Mila and for the two of them to start talking. It did, however, take a while for anything else to pick up between them, mostly due to Mila’s resistance to Seunghyun’s advances.

Mila eventually got around to agreeing to a date with him, dismissing all the warnings and icy glares she got from Chaeyeon.  To her, from the month it took to learn all that she could about Seunghyun, he wasn’t as bad as Chaeyeon depicted. Sure, he looked the part of the bad boy – wearing street clothes, like loose baggy jeans and big jackets with hoods pulled over a flat brim cap; possessing a strong, charismatic persona on stage with Big Bang that made him look tough and unapproachable; always rumored by fans and media bout having a playboy-like lifestyle, being linked to so many actresses and members of girl groups.  But Mila gave him the benefit of the doubt. She liked to see the good in people before she judged them. 

Perhaps it was one of the reasons Seunghyun stayed with her for as long as he did, that she didn’t treat him like other girls did. She never criticized him for the way he looked before he joined Big Bang, which a few girls had done before. She always encouraged him and supported him. But she never kept him on a short leash, like so many others did, or lack trust in him. She allowed him his freedom, granted he did the same for her. In fact, when he gave her the old cop out line – “I hope you know what we’re doing is not serious. It’s just the two of us having fun, you know that right?” – she quickly responded, as if she had never doubted his intentions, “Of course. I could always use a little fun.” Which they always had, in the form of heated and heavy making out thrown into their deep, thought-provoking conversations.

Whatever set off warning flares and alarms about other girls before, Seunghyun never minded with Mila. He actually enjoyed her company, actually really loved being around her. Initially, he planned on dumping her heartlessly dumping her a month shy of their hundredth day, something he’d grown accustom to doing. But he couldn’t see himself doing that to her, not even after she’d declined him to sleep with him the handful of times he asked. That was easily a warning signal in itself, but Seunghyun let it slide. He didn’t know why then, but he just did.

Things with Mila were fine with Seunghyun. Until one day, when she made the biggest mistake a girl who wanted Choi Seunghyun in her life as long as he’d have her could ever make.

She confessed.

            “Oppa, jeongmal joahaeyo.”

            When those words escaped her lips, all bells, horns, and whistles went off in his head.  Any kind of safety and comfort he felt with Mila quickly disappeared.  It was as his plan of keeping things simple was falling apart beneath him when Mila couldn’t keep up her part of the bargain by confessing. It made him mad, angry, upset.  But despite all of that, he didn’t even leave.

            Instead, he did the exact opposite of what he usually did. He stayed.  But at an arm’s length.  He never confessed to her back at all, never really acknowledged his feelings for her. When she’d call him “oppa”, he would act indifferent and unaffected by the term of endearment, and made damn sure he never replied with one of his own. He pushed away when they cuddled, corrected her when introduced to friends as “her boyfriend.” He always made sure she understood that he didn’t want anything too serious, which wasn’t so difficult to do in the beginning. But somehow, she’d found loopholes to his rules and slip through them, getting her way at times. At those times, he always faltered and caved in to her. There just was something so different about her – the way she didn’t heed his warning to run away from him, the way she respected his relationship ideals, but only if he did the same – that he couldn’t quite shake. He didn’t even know why he stayed. But he did.

When they had finally reached their hundredth day, Mila invited Seunghyun to her apartment for dinner with the intention of finally sleeping with him, much to Seunghyun’s delight. But what Mila saw as a night to consummate her feelings for Seunghyun, Seunghyun saw as a night to finally get what he wanted and then slip out as soon as she fell asleep.

            That night, he fell back into his routine that had been put on hold for the past few months he spent with Mila instead.  He hopped back onto the same barstool, waved for his favorite bartender, who looked surprised to see him after so long, and ordered his usual drink.  He made small talk with the Kyung Joo, catching up on the few months they’d miss, which eventually led to Seunghyun telling his hyung what’d brought him to the bar.  He told his friend that he’d just spent the earlier part of the night with a girl, one that he’d been seeing for the past couple of months, the reason why he’d never been around to Kyung Joo’s.  Upon hearing that he almost settling into a relationship, Kyung Joo laughed at his friend’s younger brother and taunted him by telling him he’d gone soft.  He asked where his protégé was, the guy who’d walk into his bar after successfully dumping one girl, only to find a new one within a matter of minutes. 

Seunghyun, not one to just sit and take it when he was so clearly being mocked, narrowed his eyes at Kyung Joo, slammed his now empty shot glass down on the table, and pushed out of his seat and stood up, ready for self-vindication.  Without another word to his older friend, he walked over to the far end of the bar, where a group of girls sat at a booth, and began chatting them up. After half an hour passed when the group of girls left for the night, Seunghyun returned to his seat and proudly brandished a napkin with a phone number. As a congratulatory gift, Kyung Joo poured him another shot of soju before serving him a half glass of whiskey.  It wasn’t until the second drink touched his lips, and until Kyung Joo finally left him alone to clean up the bar, that the first traces of guilt coursed through Seunghyun’s body. It was like the alcohol sobered him up to what he’d done, instead of rendering him mind- and thoughtless.

Instantly, he felt bad about walking out of Mila’s home after claiming her innocence. But it wasn’t as bad as he felt about taking down that girl’s number just so that he could redeem himself, because he knew he would’ve eventually dumped Mila for a one-night stand. But that night, there was something different, something that changed his mind about his past ways. Because after he bade farewell to Kyung Joo, who joked about Seunghyun calling the random girl up right at that moment for a late night booty call, he threw out the napkin once he was out of sight. And instead of returning to his home like he intended to earlier, he picked some flowers from a random garden and made his way back to Mila’s apartment just as the sky turned from a deep blue to a light gray. 

It was around four in the morning when he stumbled back into Mila’s apartment and walked back into her bedroom, already having sobered up thanks to his guilty conscience.  He waited at the doorframe to her room, just watching her sleeping figure tucked beneath the sheets of her bed before he continued on his way and at next to her at the edge of her bed.  She woke up slowly at the feel of weight shifting on her mattress, surprised to see Seunghyun wide awake and looking down at her, an intense gaze emanating from his eyes that juxtaposed with the softness of the handpicked bouquet of flowers he held out to her.

“You shouldn’t have, oppa.  But thank you so much,” she said softly, her voice still a little course due to just having woken up.  When his lips didn’t move for a reply, she slowly sat up and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the sweetest.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

            There it was again. That familiar, haunting melody from the ballet was in his head again.  Seunghyun’s head had been so wrapped up in all his faults and failures of the night that he had forgotten the chilling tune.  But it was back, playing louder and stronger in his mind than he would’ve liked, softly playing in the background of the silent film playing in his head that was the events of the night.

            Ping ­– Picking up his date from her hotel. Ping  - Slipping his arm over her shoulder as they both found their seats in the theater.  Ping – Her hand making soft circular motions on his thigh as made small talk while waiting for the ballet to start.  Ping – Sneaking into the bathroom during intermission for a quick, hot and steamy make out session. Ping – Being guided by his leggy date as she showed him to her room. Ping – Her undressing seductively in front of him. Ping – A quick shot of a crying Mila flashing in his mind. Ping – Him running away from the last mistake he’ll ever make in his relationship with her.

Still holding his now watered down double shot of whiskey in both his hands, he slowly dragged the drink across the bar top, the condensation leaving a watery trail behind as he did so.  He stared into the cup now directly beneath him, taking in the light brown color of the liquid before he brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip. Once his cup was empty, he slammed it down on the table roughly and groaned.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Kyung Joo called out from behind the bar.  Unbeknownst to Seunghyun, his hyung and long-time role model had been studying him intensely the entire time he came into the bar an hour ago. Now, he was leaning against the back bar behind him as he was drying a glass.  “I haven’t seen you look this ty in months.  What? Can’t find a girl who hasn’t been through your yet?”

Seunghyun slowly lifted his eyes at the man in front of him, hair pulled back into a low ponytail, chin and upper lip decorated with slight stubble.  The glare he threw in Kyung Joo’s direction was dark, heavy. 

“Yah, don’t you have other customers to go bother?” Seunghyun told him harshly and impolitely.  “Leave me alone and go talk someone else.”

The older male was unbothered by the informal speech of his younger friend. In fact, he reveled in it.  He smirked at Seunghyun before placing the glass on the back bar and slinging the towel on his shoulder.  Then, he picked up the bottle of whiskey and refilled Seunghyun’s glass.

“As a matter of fact, I will,” he said, looking slightly amused, as he set the bottle down.  He gripped the end of the counter with his hands as he leaned into Seunghyun, his voice lowering as his head turned to his left, Seunghyun’s right.  “There’s a fine- woman over there I will talk to.”

At that comment, Seunghyun’s eyes narrowed.  What the hell was Kyung Joo thinking?

“Yah, you have a girlfriend, you idiot,” Seunghyun reminded him, though he knew it would be to no avail.  Still, he had to try and remind him.  “And a baby.”

Kyung Joo was already walking away, taking careful steps as he walked backwards. He shrugged, arms in the air. “What they both don’t know won’t kill them.”

And with a wink, his friend turned back and went out to finish his mission.  Seunghyun let out a groan and clucked his tongue, sounding out his disapproval now that his friend was gone. He was irritated with him ever since he got his second drink, when his older friend pestered him about why he was present at the bar again. Ever since Seunghyun revealed his relationship with Mila to Kyung Joo, his hyung had been giving him a hard time about it, again teasing him that he’d gone soft and weak.  It had only gotten worse the more he messed up in the relationship and kept coming back to the bar, a tell tale sign he’d done something wrong.  Seunghyun was sick of his hyung’s taunts and tormenting comments, especially since Kyung Joo was in the exact same position as Seunghyun – a man tied down in a relationship, but plagued with a wandering eye.  The only difference, though, was that Seunghyun, for whatever reason, wanted to change that. Badly.

He just didn’t know how.

He was never a romantic kind of guy.  He was never really that intimate, either.  He contemplated that thought for a while as his fingers traced the outline of the rim of his glass.  Sure, he was intimate with Mila, but only in the physical sense. He couldn’t even acknowledge the act as “making love”. It was always “just ing” to him.  He also couldn’t acknowledge their relationship as a relationship, and he never did once call Mila his girlfriend. As far as how he felt for her?  He never once told her he loved her, even when she told him first.  He had still yet to admit that he liked the girl to her face.  But those words were never spoken.

The most romantic Seunghyun ever got with Mila was giving her gifts to make amends for his errors, if you can even call that romantic.  It started with that first bouquet of flowers that night he meant to leave her forever.  Smaller gifts and gestures followed with smaller wrongdoings.  Make up dinners for when he missed dates.  Little cards with “I’m sorry; I was wrong” handwritten in them for times they argued. Movie nights in when he worked late the night before.  Then, when the bigger offenses came to play, the more lavish everything was.  When she found out that he was texting other girls, he’d buy her clothes to apologize. When she saw him flirting with other girls at clubs or work events, she could trust to find a box of chocolates underneath a smaller box filled with jewelry on the end of her bed. And recently, when she accidentally logged into Seunghyun’s email account instead of her own and found a thread of suggestive emails sent out to an American model that was visiting Seoul that weekend, the next day, he booked a one-week trip to Macao for the two of them.

He was a horrible person. And he knew that he didn’t deserve Mila. Not even one bit.  But every part of him selfishly wanted to keep her. And he couldn’t understand why her, out of all the girls. Why her?

“I knew I would find you here,” a familiar voice called out behind him.  He turned slightly to see the messy blond hair of his leader walking up to him. “What are we toasting to this time, huh?”

“To all the douche bags in the world,” Seunghyun slurred, raising his glass.  “We’re toasting to all the douche bags, all the s, all the scumbags, and all the s in the world.”

“One of them being you, I suppose?” Jiyong humorlessly joked as he watched Seunghyun unceremoniously toss back another double shot of whiskey.

Seunghyun grunted as an acknowledgement of the smaller man’s statement.

Jiyong pulled up a stool beside his older band mate and studied the figure next to him.  Shoulders slumped, hands protectively over his glass, with the look of regret and remorse in his eyes. It was a look all too familiar to him now.  Still, it took a moment for him to take in the scene. 

“Spending the night here again?” Jiyong asked after he cleared his throat, clearly trying to think of what to say.

Seunghyun shrugged. “It just seemed natural.”

“Right, because every time you up, this place is the best one to look for forgiveness,” the younger man said, a hint of scrutiny and condescension.  He turned his body so that he was facing Seunghyun, an elbow resting on the counter.  “What brings you here this time?  Another girl randomly called in the middle of ? Or you were late for dinner and she wasn’t having it anymore? Or maybe, you didn’t go to dinner at all, instead opting to go out with that model instead of spend the night with your girlfriend on her birthday?”

Seunghyun groaned as his shoulder fell lower, as if speaking of his sin out loud put more weight down on his shoulder. 

“What is it today, hyung?” Jiyong pressed on, though it was clear what the answer was.

So, Jiyong knew what he’d done wrong, Seunghyun thought to himself. Then he withdrew a long sigh, but still offered no reply. 

“What is wrong with you, hyung?” Jiyong asked, anger rising in his voice.  He knew this was typical of Jiyong, the most romantic in his group, to be the defender of relationships. All his other members knew of his dishonesty, his infidelity. But Jiyong just was the most vocal about his disapproval.  Seunghyun had heard it all before. 

“Look, things with me and Mila are –“

“– Were going pretty great until you got too scared again and decided to email that model from the Bad Boy video,” Jiyong interjected, revealing the actual truth before Seunghyun could bull his version of it.

As the words sunk in his head, Seunghyun worried his lip as he contemplated them, eyes cast downward. He knew Jiyong wasn’t done with his rebuke, so he stayed quiet and let him speak.

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, hyung, “ Jiyong began, his speech slow, as if he had to put all his thoughts together. “I mean…Mila’s a great girl. She’s the best one you’ve dated so far. No stupid drama, no jealousy, no clinginess or possessiveness.  She’s such a great girl for you.  We all know that. Hell, we all love her for that.  Why can’t you see it?”

“See what?” Seunghyun slurred, the whiskey taking into effect.

“See that you love her, hyung,” Jiyong told him desperately.  When Seunghyun turned to look at Jiyong, he saw that forehead eyebrows furrowed in frustration with his older friend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seunghyun stuttered his denial, shaking his head. Out of nowhere, Jiyong slammed his hand down on the countertop hard.

“God, hyung,” almost shouted, already too fed up to deal with Seunghyun’s bull.  “You come in here every time you things up with Mila, thinking it’s the last straw, that it’s the one thing that’ll end whatever it is you want to call what you have with her. And then you turn around and change your mind, and you crawl back to her.

“You think you want to live your life like Kyung Joo over there,” Jiyong spat out as threw his hand in the direction of Seunghyun’s friend, who was still chatting with the girl he had mentioned earlier.  The man was caressing the girl’s arm, playing with her hair, shamelessly flirting.  “You think you want to be like that guy, so for so long, you’ve tried to be him with all the girls you’ve dated. But you weren’t ever satisfied with that. And then you find Mila, who is too good to be true, and it scares you to think that someone actually really cares about you, that you could really care about her, too. So you try to run away from her. But you can’t anymore because you love her and you know it. Stop denying your feelings for her.  One day, she might just get sick and tired of all your bull and just leave you. And what will you have then?”

The younger blonde relaxed in his seat as he tried to calm himself now that everything he needed to say was out in the open.  The two men sat in silence for a while, Jiyong looking down at his hands, which were entwined and resting on the counter. Seunghyun, on the other hand, occupied himself as he continued to watch Kyung Joo flirt his way further into infidelity.  He didn’t want to be like that, not at all.

He knew what he wanted. He wanted Mila. All of her.  He was ready to finally tell her, much less finally admit it to himself.

“I love her, Ji,” Seunghyun finally said as he turned to look at his best friend.  “I love Mila – honestly, completely, seriously. I’m tired of running away from her.  I love her.”

Jiyong sat there and maintained his steady, heavy gaze on Seunghyun before he leaned in towards him and rested a hand on his shoulder, as if he was going to tell a secret.

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            As soon as Seunghyun left the bar to finally confess his feelings to Mila for the first time in their relationship, the eerie piano chords filled his head again. But this time, they didn’t bother him.  The evocative sound followed him everywhere, paired with the ballet that was his relationship with Mila.

            “Oppa, jeongmal joahaeyo,” the long, raven black-haired girl confessed in a whisper as she pressed her lips against the ear of a man much taller than she was.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he told her, giving her his final warning.  “If I were you, I’d run away before you get hurt. Run away as fast as you can.”

It took her seven long months before she ever took his advice.

Ping – Mila was gone.

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