Hi. I'm back and I missed you.

Jonghyun wishes to hear them; those words coming out of those plush lips. He has been waiting for ten, eleven, twelve days and counting. The feeling won't go away anytime soon, he is sure. He finally divulges to it, because he doesn't want to remorse not doing so earlier. (He likes to believe that he isn't too late yet, this blooming revelation should get him somewhere.)

On New Year's Eve he confines himself within the four walls of his bedroom, eyes shut but heart wide open as he strums and plucks the steel strings of his caramel-painted guitar. The bed underneath him moves as he leans his head back, eyelashes wetting and darkening and he feels useless.

There are music sheets scattered around him, surrounding, drowning, haunting him of his past mistakes. The quarter notes, whole notes, and half rests are staring at him and he can feel it – shouting, screaming, grieving. They have been ever since he decided he was ready to untie a red knot and open a box full of shards of Key's heart. A melody, a symphony of emotions managed to burst out in a swirl of dark colours with a melancholic shade of sunset throwing itself in and blurring an angry red. Jonghyun was held speechless.

It was to the least of his expectations to be greeted by papers covered in long straight lines, circles, and dots. But then again Key was - and is - an unpredicted soul, so vibrant and almost out of reach. The moment Jonghyun's eyes landed on the music sheets, his breath left him and his hands trembled, the melody falling down, down, down until it stilled on the carpeted floor.

Jonghyun is in love with basketball and a lot of other things that drive his soul to the edge, music included. (And maybe Key as well because right now, he is definitely on the edge, about to fall off a cliff.) Thus the tips of his fingers are calloused in more ways than one and he can read them – the notes – as they dance gracefully with all the sharps and flats with so much melancholy.

As the world counts down to a new beginning, a new year of abundant living, Jonghyun tunes out the fireworks going off just outside his window. He hears anything but, because nothing seems to be working out. His fingers tenses, his strumming hardens, and he can feel the passing of vibrations from the wood against his chest. He tries to do it, but obviously he can't.

He has been attempting to revise them, reorganize the placement of the notes and have the arrangement for a different instrument than that of black and white keys. It will ease the guilt in him, to say the least, to let Key know that he is still here, that he is not going anywhere, and that a sad symphony can be arranged into something better – something with blooming flowers and cotton candies.

And then he opens his eyes, a sense of wetness cascading down his cheeks because there, as he looks down, is a short note written just for him saying, "Merry Christmas, Jonghyun. You know I'm no good with words, but I hope you can listen and actually hear what I'm intending to say with this."

(More tears fall. Key, you , he hisses.)

So Jonghyun gets to his feet and takes his guitar with him, walking the short distance from his bed to his study desk and pulling out a paper and pen. He hiccups and wipes his cheeks with the back of his sleeve and then. And then he lets the words flow out of his mind, his hand moving as the lines and circles and curves are penned down to counter the emptiness of the paper.

If Key is no good with words, Jonghyun might as well try to fill in the gap because he can and must. He isn't going to be an idiot anymore. He's done being that.

With the notes flying around his head, he writes. He's going to write with all sincerity and honesty and just. No more denying. He thinks of Kibum, Kibum, Kim ing Kibum, and his dented cheeks and cute little nose and long fingers (and he doesn't even care if they aren't shaped like a candle nor are they small), letting his teeth sink unto his lip and his jaw clench.

There are questions in his head, but that's good because then he can answer them by writing the phrase 'don't leave me'. And then his mind rotates to how Key feels and he is guilty once again and so he writes how he 'waited for words' that are seen but not heard and how god-only-knows he 'struggled to try'.

And, and he hopes that Key can take him back. Because maybe, just maybe, he might be – in love with his best friend.

(For a much longer time than he knows.)

But Key didn't show up on the first day of class, nor did the straight-A student show up the next day. He should be back by now, Jonghyun contemplates as he closes his eyes and lets his fingers dance and glide along the black and white keys.

(He skips basketball practice, but he couldn't care less.)

There is a huge difference between his guitar and the school's piano, he notices it now. His heart compresses when a chord is strummed and plucked, but his spirit seems to leave him whenever the notes are pressed down. He might as well be a masochist because the idea of putting them together appealed to him, hence the recorded guitar accompaniment blaring out of the stereo.

His vision is cut off and he feels numb, but that isn't going to stop him from playing and belting out the lyrics he now knows by heart. He finished it last night – the song; their song. He continues to sing, beg, plead that the walls of the music room seem to shake and melt as Jonghyun lets out a desperate cry while his 'tongue is turning black'.

Because to him, Key is still the best, more or less.

And as he hits the last note, he still doesn't notice the fresh salt water crawling down his cheeks and since when did he become such a cry-baby? Oh, right, since forever. Another thing that slips out of his attention is her. She's there, standing still and listening and watching as the scene unfold before her. Her, Jonghyun has totally no memory of because Key seems to find his way in every corner of his mind. Her, who Jonghyun once thought would complete him, has now become just another girl.

Her, Jonghyun still doesn't notice until she claps with those candle-shaped hands, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. Jonghyun turns around and they lock gazes.

"Beautiful. That was beautiful, Jonghyun," her voice stops the pregnant silence that threatens to show up. She takes three steps forward.

Jonghyun's eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and confusion because she isn't supposed to be here while he's in such a state – weak and vulnerable. He hastily wipes the tears and faces back the piano all while responding to her with, "Thanks. I just finished it last night."

(Though he really has no idea why he just said what didn't need to be said.)

Jonghyun draws a heavy breath and Yoona carefully sits by him, putting a safe distance between them. There comes the silence and suddenly Jonghyun feels like saying something, but then he realizes he has nothing.

"Is that for Key?" Yoona asks, a finger brushing along the piano keys. Jonghyun is stunned. How has she known? Because Nicole couldn't possibly have said anything. "I'm not stupid, Jonghyunnie," she chuckles.

She calls him by it and somehow, it doesn't sound as attractive as it was before anymore. Jonghyun's stomach is calm for once, the absence of somersaults greet him. "Yeah?" Is all he can mutter before Yoona starts talking again.

"Besides, we wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"Wha- why?" Jonghyun raises a brow and (finally) turns to face her. All this time he had thought of his relationship with her as something to cultivate, something that has a great potential to grow.

"I'm not that into short guys," Yoona meets his eyes; a mischievous glint can be seen as she sticks her tongue out at him.

Jonghyun laughs with her and pokes her shoulder and there's actually a clear understanding that none of both wants to ruin a good friendship. They were friends who attempted for something more, but there are just some things that are better left unchanged and they are both clever enough to remain as is – teasing, laughing, loving and wanting somebody else.

And Jonghyun remembers now, as clear as the sun, how often his best friend's name would pop out at every conversation he had with Yoona. He remembers the smallest of things ("Oh, Key loves to wear big hoodies like this!, "My nerd of a best friend takes forever to buy the groceries", "Key is good at dancing, too, but he has no time for it") he keeps on mentioning without his consent because, well, because it feels so, so natural to talk about Key, Kibum, and Key's everyday routine.

"Hey, Yoona," Jonghyun mouths as their laughter dies down. "Just for the record, you're pretty much the perfect lady."

"Just not the perfect one for you, I know," Yoona finishes for him. They share a smile, knowing and really seeing through the whole situation. "Maybe I'll go for Key. He's pretty much the perfect guy, you know."

"You wouldn't dare," Jonghyun gasps. She wouldn't, right?

"Who knows? Maybe I'll get him to fall for me," she smirks, pushing herself off the piano bench and gracefully skipping towards the exit.

"Yah, Im Yoona!" Jonghyun panics, but he doubts she had the guts to turn her words into actions.

True enough, she was just messing with Jonghyun. She turns back and winks at him and says her last words before she's out of the picture, "Key is a smart hottie, better snatch him now, Jonghyun, or somebody else might. Oh and, I heard his flight back to Korea is at 11 PM."

Maybe one day Jonghyun would get the chance to talk to her again. Maybe one day he'd see her smile widely again, those bags under her eyes puffing out in a sweet smile. Maybe one day he'd see her cheeks flushing that pretty shade of pink again, but he'd see somebody else in his place. Maybe one day he'd meet her again while pushing a grocery cart, another man's arm curled around her waist.

But how can this be, that Jonghyun never learned how to handle goodbyes from playing house with Key. The contract doesn't contain a single word of farewell; the possibility of finding her and failing to actually work out a relationship with her never crossed his mind.

Because maybe Jonghyun thought she was already perfect, too perfect. But not for him.

(And later, Minho will surely scold him for skipping today's training and he still won't give a 's care because Kim Kibum is coming home tonight.)

Hi, you look wonderful toni—

Oh, hey Key! I'm here to pick you up since I heard—

Hello. Fancy meeting you here at this—

. Jonghyun is screwed. His reflection in the mirror says so. He is quite aware that he's being too worked up over Key's arrival to the extent that he is actually dressed in his best casual clothes; the ones Key would actually deem worthy to wear to a date. But this isn't a date. Key isn't aware of Jonghyun coming to the airport with his the scent of his man perfume clinging onto his black v-neck like a leech and suffocating those around him (aka his team mates).

"Are you wrong somewhere in the head? Because you've been standing in front of that goddamn mirror for almost an hour now and talking to yourself," his great love guru, Onew, hisses while Jonghyun just glares at him from the mirror.

"Don't you have something better to do? Leave me alone," Jonghyun retaliates and shifts his gaze to the raven-haired boy on the windowsill, a mystery novel resting on his lap. "Both of you."

Minho finally looks up and speaks his first words of the night, "May I just remind you that you have all the right to feel guilty for not showing up today. Coach Jung was infuriated. You are aware, though, that our final game is tomorrow, right?"

Jonghyun rolls his eyes. I'm quite aware, he mouths between gritted teeth. He doesn't need this; doesn't need them to remind him that there is a chance of them losing because their point guard is busy being the most romantic young lad out there instead of actually dribbling a ball. But this Romeo isn't fazed. Basketball can wait; Key can't.

Because Key has waited long enough, Jonghyun adds to his previous thought.

He grabs his brown leather jacket from the chair and bids his friends farewell, well for tonight, at least. And maybe tomorrow morning, too. Nothing is quite clear to him right now. His head is a jumbled mess because god dammit, Key needs to come back to him and not come back with the other (tall) guy who, in his opinion, is quite capable of actually taking Key away from him.

(Key needs to come back to him with the contract ripped in half, because Jonghyun sure as hell doesn't need it anymore.)

As his car's engine purrs to life, his hands get sweaty and his breath labours. Time check: 10:15 PM. He still has a lot of time to think of words, phrases, gestures. It has to be perfect because nothing is the same anymore.

He now sees Key in a different light that he starts to wonder how it would feel like to have the blonde in his arms for hours and hours until he is satisfied. Though he doubts he'll ever be because this is Key; this is someone he has known his whole life. He can't this up (more than he already has).

He fumbles with his iPhone, connecting the cable to his stereo and turning the volume up as his own voice starts to echo in his ears: I want you to stay, I still have your taste, don’t let him take my place.

His mind goes down a familiar memory lane. There are snowflakes, many of them, and flushed cheeks. And something yellow – oh, is that a bicycle? Then there is a river of chocolate milk and bacon sandwiches as boats. The numbers also came, dragging with them some parenthesis and plus signs while the digits two and three walk by, hand in hand and smiling. A tub of chocolate ice cream zooms in the picture but all Jonghyun sees are chocolate and endless, pale legs and milky collarbones.

But soon, rules stepped on every single one of them – crushing, powdering, destroying.

Jonghyun abruptly drives a little over the speed limit; a little too reckless, even. He's the playmaker, dammit. He can still fix this.

Day sixty-four is about to come to an end and Jonghyun swears things can't get any worse.

His teeth are chattering; he shouldn't have dressed to impress because the wind is still cold and spring has yet to come. He looks at the time - thirteen minutes past eleven - and learns from the boards that Key's flight has been delayed due to air traffic. So he waits, out in the cold with only his leather jacket to keep him company. He is determined to make Key smile by surprising him and telling him that hey, I understand everything now and hey, I think we should dump this contract and actually kiss for real.

Until Jonghyun realizes that he came empty-handed: no flowers, no expensive chocolates, nothing to deem him romantic and forgivable (and boyfriend-able).

He looks to his left then turns to his right – well, . There's really nothing. All his eyes can make of are white glossy walls and bright lights and people dragging with them big suitcases of various colours. Security guards stand firm as they scan the perimeter and Jonghyun swears one of the uniformed men is eyeing him questioningly, what with him awkwardly standing there and nipping on his nails.

He starts rehearsing his lines again instead of stalling, because stalling will do him no good. His eyes dart from the boards and- oh, Key's plane has landed.

And oh, there he is.

That bundle of curly blonde locks, those high cheekbones, those cat-like orbs, those soft, heart-shaped lips – Jonghyun's breath hitches and he curses under his breath because this is no Korean drama. Things like this only happen in television.

He suddenly realizes how much he misses Key, and that's pretty damn much.

Key's arms are busy carrying a sleeping Haneul (who Jonghyun thinks is addicted to wearing dresses in shades of red) and the blonde is just standing there, waiting for their suitcases to come out of the inspection machine. Key doesn't notice Jonghyun and the latter takes this chance to just admire what was supposed to be his since a long time ago.

Jonghyun grits his teeth and clenches his fists as he ponders on: all the time wasted in finding his perfect fit, he could've been holding Key in his strong arms and showering him with kisses and, yeah.

Because now, as he silently stands there, in awe of the beauty that is his best friend, another man steps in the scene, running over Jonghyun's confidence and whatever was left in him. Sleeping Haneul is gifted a kiss on the forehead, and Key as well, on the cheek. Key's cheeks redden, but his smile is the sweetest Jonghyun has ever seen.

Jonghyun feels his stomach flip and churn – in the worst possible way, because now he thinks it's creeping its way up his heart and slowly driving him to insanity. So leave me, he sings the lyrics in his head.

If only Key isn't grinning like a fool in love, Jonghyun will surely walk up to him and tell him, "Hey, we're perfect for each other," no matter how sappy it may sound. And he'll eventually earn a slap on the arm, but they both know that a sweet kiss is coming their way. If only Key isn't giggling at the unheard words of another man, Jonghyun will surely curl an arm around his tiny waist and cup Key's delicate face with the other. And Key will eventually pull back gently, flustered and shy and all sorts of adorable.

If only, then Jonghyun will definitely say them -- those threewords. If only; if.

But at twelve midnight, he finds himself speeding the almost empty highway, fingers gripping the wheel a little too tight. He listens to his song, their song, and his body feels numb as the speakers boomed out the words: The bitter in you and the quitter in me are bigger than the both of us.

If only he commanded his feet to stay rooted, if only he wasn't so easily angered – but if is where his thoughts halt.

So maybe Jonghyun is a coward and maybe he's a little too late.

Jonghyun skips all of his classes the next morning. He doesn't think he'll be able to understand a word anyway. Instead, he heads straight to the school gymnasium; the texture of the rough, orange ball feels almost alien to him.

He pulls a hundred and more free throws, another hundred and more jump shots, and a hundred and more lay-ups. It takes him a whole of twenty minutes to really focus, mind clear of distractions. The ball comes in contact with the floor and Jonghyun’s body finally moves on its own accord. His heels work in a circular motion, an invisible rival formed by the pigment of his imagination. Jonghyun changes course. He dashes under the net and leaps, sweat trickling down his biceps as his hands go above his head and aim for a jump shot.

Jonghyun misses and the ball bounces back on the ground.

His body is clearly out of shape; his mind also on the verge of disassembling itself from him. This is nowhere near good, great, best. But he needs to be in his best condition because no , Sherlock, the game is happening this afternoon. Not tomorrow, not the week after, but today.

He tries again.

Jonghyun is downright aware that he came to school today. And that was one – if not the only – of the reasons Jonghyun kind of ditched his classes entirely. But he can’t help but feel a little squeeze on his heart every time he remembers his empty locker this morning. He would be lying if he told himself that he wasn’t hoping for it to be there; quietly rooted in place, staring at him, and waiting to be consumed.

But the infamous carton of chocolate milk wasn’t there; Key didn’t seem to have the time and thought to even bother putting one in Jonghyun’s locker. And that was the biggest change for Jonghyun; the biggest thing he had to deal with while keeping his head in check for this afternoon’s game.

And there’s the thing with the absence of a worn-out yellow bicycle. Jonghyun had the smallest hope and anticipation when he parked his motorcycle this morning at his usual place, but Key has turned him into nothing but a hopeless idiot. Did Kris take him to school, was his first thought and he didn’t like it one bit.

He wasn’t told that love came with the constant constricting inside your chest, no. Nobody ever told him.

Maybe love is never for him; maybe.

“I’d hit you hard right now for skipping classes, but I won’t. Someone told me you worked your off throwing jump shots,” Onew says and claps him on the back, his million-dollar smile showing.

Jonghyun responds with a hum and a small smile, a little forced, while bending down and trying to tie his shoelaces. He doesn’t think he can do it naturally. His whole system is down and he kind of hates it in the worst ways possible. Onew senses the change of aura and backs off, excusing himself by saying, I’ll just be seeing Jessica for a moment.

At least somebody is happily in love, Jonghyun says to himself, still fumbling with his shoelaces and cursing them out loud for not going the way he wants them to. And for a moment he deliberates whether or not he should just go and see Key because his best friend is the only person who knows how to work the magic – of soothing his nerves down during important games such as this (and not to mention Key’s dexterous hands seem to be the only ones who can tie his shoelaces the best).

It seems that the gods are still on his side, though.

“They’ll come loose if you do it like that. Let me.”

Jonghyun looks up and sees nothing but pure heaven, the all-too-familiar carton of chocolate milk is placed by his foot and he knows: this afternoon’s game is theirs to claim.

“Hi, I’m back,” Key says and Jonghyun stops breathing for the next few seconds. He lets go of his shoelaces and abruptly stands up. It’s only a matter of time before he hears Key say, “I missed you,” and then. And then the world stops revolving but Jonghyun doesn’t really care anymore if it’s the most cliché thing to do because he wants this, really wants this; He truly wants to envelop his best friend in a bittersweet embrace. The longing, the understanding, the need – the need to confess and lay out all his hidden cards for Key to see and take, if Jonghyun is fortunate.

Jonghyun’s eyes starts to blur and he doesn’t even mind that his other team mates are in the same sweaty locker room as him and Key. He just wants – no, needs – to have Key in his arms right now more than ever or he thinks he’s going to lose it. Screw it, he tosses all fears and worries aside; he throws the thought of last night’s event aside and tries his hardest not to think of Key looking oh-so-perfect standing by Kris’ side. He stretches an arm out and tugs on Key’s uniform, closing their distance and feeling the warmth he has been trying to grasp for the last couple of days, weeks, and month.

In a matter of seconds, he is face is buried unto Key’s neck; the sweet scent of apples invading his nostrils. Don’t you leave me, he mutters softly yet desperately against Key’s smooth skin. He isn’t sure why he has said it; he just knows he did. But when he feels fingers trailing – lingering – down his spine, he knows he’s understood; forgiven.

So he musters up all the courage before it’s really too late, he speaks, “I’m sorry. I never knew until Nicole told me. I’m sorry.” And then he’s shamelessly sobbing.

Forget that his team mates are watching as the scene unfolds before them. Forget that Coach Jung might be in the corner, too, observing and waiting for something else to happen. Forget that some of the cheerleaders are standing just by the doorway, eyes wide and mouth gasping as they witness something tremendous as their team’s point guard shedding tears for another boy. Forget that Key may or may not hear the words that were said in between.

Jonghyun takes a fistful of Key’s uniform, tightening his embrace and just feeling the boy’s chest heave uncontrollably against him. I won’t, Key gently says and Jonghyun can feel the blonde’s lips having in contact with his crown. I won’t, Key repeats.

“Just kiss already!” Jonghyun hears in the background and he’s pretty sure Onew is there with Jessica, devious smiles and all.

Key shifts a little and Jonghyun takes this time to lift his head up. He watches as Key reaches a hand behind him and pulls something out of his back pocket: the contract. Key gives him a dented smile and announces, “How ‘bout we forget about this and-“

“Yeah, I’d like that. Very much,” and Jonghyun takes the useless paper in Key’s hands, crumpling it and letting it fall on the ground; forgotten, over, and done.

Jonghyun is sure of it – every soul in the room have their heart on a pause as he snakes a hand up to cradle Key’s face and slowly leans in. Closer, closer, and then there are fireworks going above his head and he’s about to protest because this is too damn cliché and cheesy, but when Key presses in, well, he couldn’t really complain. Everything feels beautiful and perfect and nothing short of addicting. Key’s lips are the softest and sweetest he has ever tasted – not that he got to taste many, but whatever. His heart isn’t in its right place anymore as it threatens to jump out of his chest because damn, Jonghyun has been missing out on this his whole life.

Eyes closed and cheeks flushed, Jonghyun nourishes the feeling of Key’s hands wrapped around his neck. They both smile into the kiss and then they hear it, their audience shouting in celebration, and that is when they pull apart with flustered faces. Jonghyun’s caramel orbs fix on Key’s features and he thinks this straight-A student might just be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life. Perfect, in every sense of the word. Perfect, for him, for his heart.

Jonghyun is a practical man. He used to believe that at the age of eighteen, love can’t be found. But then again, not everybody has Kim Kibum in their life. And so he revises his theories and rearranges them into something a little different. Love is not just about having a her; not just about looking perfect for each other. He thinks he might just agree when one says that love, as perfect as the word is supposed to ring in one’s ear, comes with sacrifices (and a little jealousy on Jonghyun’s part).

But he’s cool with it, totally okay with it as long as Key is there with him – for him.

And so he grins widely, his thumb Key’s cheek in the softest way ever, and then his tongue finds the words for him, “ the rules. I’ve always been a rule breaker anyway.”

(So what if he’s eighteen and stupid and maybe a little in love? The constant flipping in his stomach right now is doing one hell of job at keeping him happy anyway.)

Day sixty-five ends it all with a parade of warm hugs and honey kisses in bed and their song playing in the background. And Jonghyun finds the bed underneath him as soft and comfortable after all.

When their moist lips touch for the last time tonight, the words ‘I love you’ need not be said anymore.

A/N: Hi. I'm posting this in between my hectic schedule. I'm sorry, okay? T.T There goes my OTP. Anyway, there's still the Epilogue left, so~ for more inquiries about Kris, please refer to the final chapter which will be uploaded on I-still-don't-know-when.

I actually have a favor to ask: who feels like requesting for a one-shot? Gawd, I have all these unfinished drabbles loitering around my AFF folder but I wanted to try something different. I'm crazy, aren't I? Fine. *hmpf*

Oh, and if you were wondering what the song was, it's Lover Dearest by Marianas Trench. I love the song to pieces, okay? This has been planned since... since this story is yet to be written. LOL.