Blind with rage, Onew his heels sharply, ready to stalk down the hallway, never to return.

How could Jonghyun – how could he think of Onew in such a manner?

There might be cause of misunderstanding, Onew was willing to give him that, but Jonghyun had no need to deliberately attack him where it hurt most. Words might not be able to physically harm, but they could kill the soul, and the heart that comes along with it.

And Onew was hurting terribly, terribly now.

Struggling to keep the iron façade up on his face, Onew strode down the corridor in massive steps, not even caring when he was trampling on the flowers he bought (what use were flowers if the recipient didn’t even want them?). He would have continued this way, all the way down the apartment, into the carpark and out of this dratted residence if not for the sudden pinging of his phone.

Ping ping ping, it sounded, its tone light and cheerful; a sharp contrast to Onew’s current mood.

Yanking his phone irritably out of the pocket, Onew checked the message (he knew better to ignore messages that came along with 3 pings—they meant the messages came from Post official channels). Eyes quickly scanning through its contents, Onew came to a sudden halt, and the even expression on his face was soon replaced by one of horror.

It disappeared the next second though, and was just as easily taken over by an expression of cool determination. With quick finger movements, Onew was accessing the private Post portal. All real-time updates could be found there—

Ding ding! This time round, Jonghyun’s mobile sounded.

Imitating Onew’s actions a few seconds earlier, Jonghyun was hurriedly withdrawing his phone and checking on his messages. That double ding meant official White House updates, and no self-respecting White House staff ever ignored White House updates.

“Crap,” Jonghyun’s mouth moved without conscious thought, as his eyes remained fixed on the tiny AMOLED screen. The next moment, he was rushing towards the door, grasping urgently at the handle as he wrestled with the key.

“What are you doing—“ Jonghyun’s exclaim was cut short when Onew forcibly pushed him aside, taking the key over from him at the same time.

“I need the TV too,” Onew said in clipped tones, smoothly unlocking the door and pushing it open. Jonghyun could only stare, somewhat flabbergasted as Onew kicked off his shoes and entered Jonghyun’s house.

(Hey dude, trespassing pretty much?)

Onew turned back in frustration when he realized Jonghyun was not rushing forward to switch on the TV, and it was then when he stopped at the look on Jonghyun’s face. He paused in his steps, his socked feet landed gingerly on the marbled floor.

“Lend me your TV,” Onew added almost unwillingly, “Please.”

Jonghyun stared at Onew for an uncomfortable second or two, before he shook his head, seeming to have come to a conclusion. “Oh, what the heck,” he said even as he entered the apartment, not even stopping to take off his shoes. Quickly reaching the couch, Jonghyun begun rummaging beneath the cushions, searching for the remote control he was convinced was trapped somewhere in the couch’s depths. He looked back in annoyance when Onew still appeared to be stuck in his position at the doorway, “Help me find the remote, won’t you?”

Taking that as an invitation, Onew immediately went forward, plucking the remote control easily from the side table and switching it on.

“Which channel?” Onew asked as he flipped through random channels to no avail.

Jonghyun snatched over the remote and pressed triple 1s into it. CNN news channel immediately flashed onto the screen, its familiar logo at the corner overshadowed by the big red banner of ‘breaking news’ at the top.

The TV showed the image of a wrecked, burning bridge. Slowly it zoomed in, and Jonghyun could see people staggering away from danger, people laying down on the ground and people holding onto their loved ones, weeping. All the while law enforcement officers ran into the fray, doing their best to maintain an orderly evacuation. Smog and smoke rose from the air and hung as grey miasma above the scene of destruction.

Jonghyun gripped the remote tightly as the newscaster spoke.

“… of now, 12 deaths have been reported, with 34 people suffering from first-degree burns and requiring immediate medical attention. 76 people were similarly caught up in the explosion, and have received minor burns, bruises and wounds. But even now, the police are finding injured trapped beneath debris and the death count is expected to increase.

While no concrete details have been made available, a high-ranking CIA official claimed that this was an attack by a terrorist group.”

Ping ping ping.

The pinging of the phone once again shook the 2 out of their reverie. Onew immediately checked his messages.

Ding ding!

It was not even a second later before Jonghyun had his phone in hand and was reading the short SMS.

“I need to head back to the office,” Jonghyun said, switching off the TV and heading towards the door. It was an unspoken demand for Onew to leave.

“I need to go to the White House,” Onew followed Jonghyun out of the apartment.

The ride down the elevator was silent, as the two refused to meet each other’s eyes. When the elevator finally reached level 1 (Jonghyun regretted getting an apartment on the 21^st floor), Jonghyun was halfway out of the elevator when he was stopped by a voice.

“The parking lot is at the basement,” Onew said.

Jonghyun turned around, eyes briefly meeting Onew’s before finding the sleek steel surface of the elevator oddly fascinating. Nonetheless, he responded, only because it would be rude to do otherwise, “My car has been sent for maintenance.”

“Oh,” Onew blinked. With that, Jonghyun turned, heading towards the street. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned. 

The elevator doors slid close.

-

Jonghyun scanned the bustling street in frustration. It was hardly empty of traffic, but despite the numerous cars rushing pass every other second, it appeared as if all cabs in Washington were miraculously spirited off Hessington Avenue. He tapped his feet impatiently on the paved walkway, looking down to his phone as he checked his inbox for updates.

Why, oh why was this happening to him? Of all weeks to break down, why must his car choose this particular week to break down? At this rate, Jonghyun felt as if he himself was about to get a mental breakdown too.

Tick tock, tick—

Ding, ding!

Jonghyun was unlocking his phone in the next second. However, before he could even open his Gmail application, another ‘ding, ding!’ sounded. It was during times like this, Jonghyun felt like he was getting served karma for the sporadic support the cab drivers union received from the White House.

He should have never blown them off that easily. Jonghyun deeply regretted calling them ‘time-crazed speed addicts’. Rather, cabs were the haemoglobin of cities. They ensured that people get to where they must be, at when they must be.

Which was not happening to Jonghyun now.

Jonghyun furrowed his brows as he looked up at the street every few moments or so, all the while responding to emails and messages. A streak of silver caught Jonghyun’s eyes then as he spied a Saturn SL rushing pass him.

That was Onew, heading back to the White House.

As it sped past a corner, out of Jonghyun’s sight, Jonghyun was beginning to regret not having asked for a ride back. But he missed the moment then when Onew mentioned he was heading there, and it simply was too awkward to ask later. Besides, Jonghyun’s ego couldn’t stand the beating it would take if he had to ask the man whom he just claimed to despise for a favour.

And so, here Jonghyun was, stuck on the streets, with not a taxi in sight.

It was no help that Jonghyun couldn’t get through to the cab hotline either. Really, the Yellow Cab Company better invest in an improved telephone plan, what with its lacking customer service. Just when Jonghyun was about to consider the viability of walking to the White House on foot, the familiar-looking silver car stopped before him.

The side windows rolled down to reveal Onew. Jonghyun simply stared at him, taken aback by the sudden appearance. Onew looked at him steadily, somewhat hesitating before he offered, “Do you need a ride?”

Jonghyun could not help his immediate reaction of stuttering in response, “Er—er, erm. Ride, yes, sure.”

When he didn’t move to open the door within the next five seconds, Onew said, angling his head at the front seat next to him, “Hop on?”

“Right,” Jonghyun circled around to the other side of the car and entered the passenger seat. The worn leather of the refurbished 15 years old car met him, and Jonghyun settled into the seat stiffly.

It was the first time he had been in Onew’s famed Saturn SL, seeing as to how both of them had their own vehicles and more often than not, when one couldn’t legally drive (without being charged of drink-driving), the other couldn’t either. So it was with some faint sense of wonder that Jonghyun regarded the fact that he was in Onew’s car now. Because it was yet another widely known fact around Washington, that that sharp reporter Lee Onew did not easily let anyone into his personal space, one being his house and the other being this superbly-maintained car.

If it was any other time, Jonghyun would have appreciated this fact much more, but as it was, Jonghyun still felt the bitter taste of betrayal lingering in his mouth.

Onew was probably just trying to appease his guilty conscience by giving him this ride.

No more, no less.

Jonghyun reached his conclusion, all the while typing furiously on his phone.

-

“Jonghyun,” Onew broke the silence after he made a left turn around Ghotti Street, “I am sorry for blowing my top off earlier.”

The words sounded precise, thought-through and almost calculated to Jonghyun’s ears. But being a civilized man with a sense of propriety (an apology always deserved a reply, similar to how all confessions should be properly answered), Jonghyun grunted as response.

Alright, fine, maybe it was not the most gracious of answers. But, at least Jonghyun indicated he heard him, right? That’s better than talking to a wall.

Onew was undeterred. “But what you said earlier,” Onew paused as he smoothly changed gears, “Really hurt me. I—I was hoping that our friendship would be worth more than that.”

Jonghyun was stunned by the gall in Onew’s words. “Friendship?” he repeated in disbelief, “Friendship? When all you have done is precisely otherwise, you will have me believe in a friendship between the two of us?”

“But it’s not a betrayal,” Onew said, “It’s not. It was a blunder on my part, a most unprofessional blunder. But I have never meant to betray the trust you have in me. I told myself, on the night that you were in my house, I would not let you fall.”

Onew quietened and continued when it was evident that Jonghyun did not intend to speak, “And I still won’t. As long as I am the Post correspondent to the White House, I will never write a malicious article to slander and smear simply because it makes more business sense. I will not publish a one-sided article; I will seek balance. I will do all due research and come up with news that may be less palatable to the readers, as opposed to the alternative of finger-pointing articles readers are more comfortable with. I will walk the fine line between the White House’s ally and the Fourth Estate.”

“I will do all those, even if you no longer think me as a friend, Jonghyun,” Onew said, “But I hope you would understand that I never meant to manipulate you, and would never wish to manipulate you. Because, you are simply too precious a person to anyone in the world who have been lucky enough to meet you, Jonghyun.

“No one would ever,” Onew emphasized with conviction, “Ever throw away a gift from heavens with such reckless foolishness.”

The response that met Onew’s words was silence. The tapping of fingers on phone had stopped, and all that could be heard was the silent humming of the engine. Traffic buzzed outside, but all that was white noise to Jonghyun.

There was an undeniable element of sincerity in Onew’s words. And Jonghyun found himself shaken. Not only because of Onew’s declaration of journalism ethics he reclaimed due to Jonghyun (it might shock the average man on the street, but more often than not, releasing fast human-interest pieces took priority over reliable, dense news because the information industry was a business after all), but he also seemed to genuinely –dare he say the word?—treasure the friendship the two of them had previously. And because there was also something deep within Jonghyun that wanted to believe Onew; something deep within Jonghyun that told him this relationship must be salvaged when it could be salvaged, Jonghyun could feel his iron-resolve to treat Onew with no more than wary caution dissolving.

But the world was watching. And his colleagues were judging. Seungho would be ready to pounce the moment he so much indicated he was beginning to yet trust a media man (and the same one at that).

Jonghyun did not speak a word throughout the entire ride.

I am really having some trouble with the story's pacing lol.