- In case of confusion, the Intermissions follow on from the prologue in the 'present' day. I suggest reading the prologue on the front page if you haven't already ^^ -

APRIL 2012

Tap tap.

Minseok’s fingers paused over his laptop The rap on the door sounded too slight to be Chanyeol, so that only left…

Tap tap tap.

He sighed, pushing his chair back across the carpet and grudgingly unravelling his limbs to the front door. Peering through the peep hole confirmed his suspicions.

“What do you want?” he called through the wood.

Kim Jongdae’s chiselled grin suddenly appeared right up close to the lens, rustling a shopping bag in one hand. “I’ve brought gifts. Let me in.”

Minseok reluctantly opened the door and immediately wandered over back over to the table expecting Jongdae to automatically follow. As Jongdae made his way inside, he halted, looking down at his feet in the doorway.

“Hyung, there’s-”

“Leave it.”

With his free hand, Jongdae bent down and lifted up something like paper that flashed with red. “But, you might-”

“I said leave it.”

Jongdae huffed and eventually made his way inside, nudging the door closed with his hip. “I’m not even going to pretend to understand you anymore.” He threw the laden plastic bag onto the counter top and proceeded to stick his head into it to trawl through its insides.

Minseok ignored that comment. “What have you done with your key?”

Jongdae shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out something small and shiny. “Nothing. I just figured you needed to get out of bed at some point.”

Bastard, thought Minseok, shaking his head. “I was up anyway.”

“I can see that.” Jongdae nodded in the direction of the dining room table. “You got my note then?”

“Yeah, thanks for that. I love knowing people are wandering around my flat while I sleep. It’s comforting.”

“I was doing you a favour and you know it. You wouldn’t have got up and stayed up otherwise. Besides, I needed to make sure you were still alive.” Jongdae lifted up his hands, now holding various items of junk food. “…and to check your cupboards. They were empty so I brought fillers.” He threw a bag of chips in Minseok’s direction and it landed neatly in his lap. “See what a good friend I am? Now you won’t starve.”

Minseok nudged the crinkling bag away. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic will you…” Jongdae mumbled. He stared around the room. “Dude, this place is a complete mess. You need to get your act together.”

“It’s fine.”

Jongdae started towards the window. “At least open the curtains or something-”

“No!”

He stopped midstride. “Are you serious? But it’s so dark in here!”

Minseok clenched his jaw. “I said no, okay? Leave the curtains closed. I want them shut.”

Jongdae let out a slow breath. “This is how it’s going to be from now on, huh? Sitting around in the dark, wallowing in misery?” When Minseok didn’t answer, he walked over to his chair and knelt down beside it, grasping Minseok’s hands. “I know you’re hurting, hyung, I do, and I don’t want to be the bad cop in this but…he’s gone and…shutting out the light isn’t going to bring him back. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

Minseok blinked back the emotion now stinging behind his eyes.

He’s gone.

And shutting out the light isn’t going to bring him back.

Jongdae was so right yet, at the same time, he had no idea. The light was gone now. Opening the curtains would only remind Minseok of that since nothing would change. It would still be just as dark, like an eternal night.

He turned his head to hide his reddening face and pulled his fingers from Jongdae’s grip. “I appreciate your concern, Jongdae, but I’ve got things to do. You told me to get on and write the article, remember?”

Jongdae nodded glumly. “Right. Of course.”

He lifted himself off his knees and hesitantly ambled back to the door. In the open doorway, he paused and said in a small voice:

“The band are holding a party tonight at Stripes to celebrate the good news. You should come. It’s at 8.”

Then he was gone with a click.    

And Minseok was alone. Again.

He fought back the wobbling lip and b tears that were on the verge of painful. He wasn’t ready to cry, not yet. It wasn’t time.

He in a deep breath and carried on typing.